Glen of the High North

by H. A. Cody

It seemed to Glen as if the morning would never wear away as she sat and guarded her prisoner. The severe strain was showing its effect upon her face, which was unusually pale. Her eyes never once left the man before her, and the revolver, as it rested lightly upon her lap, was pointed straight toward him, ready for immediate action. She would not allow Curly to speak, and whenever he made the attempt she sternly checked him and menacingly raised her weapon of authority. Her brain was very active, and her thoughts were by no means happy ones. Suppose her father and lover should be shot ere Sconda could do anything, what would be the outcome? she asked herself. She was well aware that Sconda and Natsu would be more than a match for Dan, but he might escape and get back to the cabin first. Her face became stern as she thought of this, and she made up her mind what she would do. She could deal with Curly all right, and settle his account. She would then have only Dan to face. Anyway, she was determined that she would never fall into the hands of those two villains so long as her revolver held true and while the last cartridge remained.

And thus she retained her post through the slow morning hours. The sun rode high in the heavens and beat upon her throbbing head. Birds flitted and sang around her, and squirrels chattered and scolded among the trees. Would Sconda never return? she wondered. What could be keeping him! At times she felt that she could endure the strain no longer, but when she realised how much was at stake she always nerved herself by a mighty effort.

Curly watched Glen's every movement, and seeing how weary she was becoming trusted to catch her off guard, spring forward, strike the revolver from her hand, and seize her in his arms before she could shoot. This was his only hope, but whenever he was on the point of making the desperate attempt, the stern word of command and the slightly lifted weapon caused him quickly to desist. Glen seemed to divine his purpose, and always checked him in time.

So desperate did Curly at length become that he decided to throw all caution to the wind. He was very anxious over Dan's tardiness in returning, and feared lest his scheme had failed. He knew full well that if Jim Weston should suddenly appear and find him in such an embarrassing situation it would go hard with him. It would be death, anyway, without any chance of defending himself. He knew how furious Weston would be at the attempt made not only upon his own life but upon his daughter's honor. The perspiration poured in great beads down his face as he thought of this. Glen saw his agitation, and attributed it to the heat of the sun and weariness. She little knew what was passing through the villain's mind. And, in fact, she never learned, for at this critical moment Sconda bounded from the forest and stood by her side. A cry of joy escaped Glen's lips as she beheld her deliverer and knew that she was saved.

In a twinkling Sconda grasped the situation, and with a terrible roar of rage be brought his rifle to his shoulder and would have shot Curly where he stood, had not Glen leaped to her feet and laid her hand firmly upon the smooth barrel.

"Don't shoot!" Curly yelled, wild with terror, ere Glen could say a word. "Fer God's sake, let me go!"

But the enraged Indian was not easily diverted from his purpose, and it was only with much difficulty that Glen was able to make him listen to reason.

"Curly bad," he argued. "Curly all same black bear. Ugh!"

"I know that, Sconda," Glen agreed. "But I want you to mind me now, and let him go. Search him, and take his gun."

Very reluctantly Sconda obeyed, and in a few seconds he was holding in his hand Curly's revolver and a big, sharp, dangerous knife.