“No, corporal, I’d like to go.”
“It isn’t an easy life,” Rand informed him. “The pay is small. One never knows what tomorrow may bring forth. Your greatest reward will be the satisfaction of knowing that you have strived to do your duty. If I were you, I’d think long and seriously before I took the step.”
“But you took it. Do you mean to say that you regret your move? Would you change places with someone else?”
The corporal’s face had become very sober. He too stared dreamily into the fire. In the steel-gray eyes was a look Dick had never seen before. There was a catch in the policeman’s voice when he spoke again:
“It’s too late to think about that now. I’ve crossed my Rubicon. It was my own choice—but I’m not sorry. I think I’ve run the gamut of human emotion. I’ve experienced every phase of physical suffering. On the other hand, there have been times when the mere joy of living paramounted every other thing. The rugged life that we lead gets into the blood. Even if I should return to civilization, I doubt very much whether I would ever be happy or satisfied.”
Dick smiled reminiscently.
“That reminds me of what Sergeant Richardson told me about a year ago, just before he received his promotion. He said that there were times when he gloried in the service; at other times he positively hated it. When he first came to this region, the Inspector sent him out to arrest an Eskimo murderer. It took him eight months. In all that time never once did he see the face of a white man. The memory of that exploit still haunts him. He weighed a hundred and seventy-eight pounds when he set out on that trip and one hundred and fifty when he returned with his prisoner. All that remained of his uniform was his service hat. His hair and beard were so long that he looked like a wild man. Habit was so strong that when the Inspector addressed him, he answered in Eskimo.”
Corporal Rand laughed, but made no comment.
Not long afterward, Toma appeared. His usually expressionless face radiated good nature. He too seemed to be very happy. He sat down in front of the fire, pulled an harmonica out of his pocket and commenced to play. Rand leaned back against a convenient tree trunk and filled and lit his pipe. As time passed, Dick began to wonder if it were good policy to leave the prisoners so long alone. Under no circumstances, ought they to trust Murky.
“Will the prisoners be all right, corporal?” Dick finally blurted out. “Isn’t there danger that one of them may become untied?”