The Wag-Lady Page #5

"The Wag-Lady" by Rex Ellingwood Beach is a novel that revolves around the life of a spirited and independent woman who navigates the complexities of love, ambition, and societal expectations. Set against a vivid backdrop, the story explores themes of romance and personal growth as the protagonist deals with the challenges of her unconventional lifestyle while pursuing her dreams. Beach's engaging narrative and rich character development provide readers with a glimpse into the struggles and triumphs of the human experience, all infused with wit and charm.

• Short story

								

the bone behind him, enticing the animal by degrees to the Wag-boys'
cabin, where he promptly tied it up. He repeated the performance seven
times. The matter of harness and sled was but a detail; so June enjoyed
a ride that put pink roses into her cheeks and gave the Scrap Iron Kid a
feeling of pure, exalted joy such as he had never felt in all his
adventurous career.

The day she walked over to the Wag house unassisted was one of such wild
rejoicing that she was forced to tell them shyly of her own happiness, a
happiness so new that as yet she could scarcely credit it. She was to be
Mrs. Harry Hope, and asked them to wish her joy.

Llewellyn made a speech that evoked the admiration of them all, even to
the Kid, who was miserably jealous, and June went home with her heart
very warm and tender toward these six adventurers who had been so true
to her.

It was to be expected that Hope would share in his sweetheart's
extravagant gladness, for he loved her deeply, with all the force of his
big, strong nature, yet he acted strangely as time went on. Now he was
sad and worried, again he seemed tortured by a lurking disquietude of
spirit. This alarmed the Wag-lady, and she set out to find the secret of
his trouble.

The ice was breaking when he made a clean breast of it, and when he had
finished June felt that her heart was breaking also. It was the
commonplace story of a young man tempted beyond his strength. Hope's
popularity had made him a host of friends, while his generosity had made
"no" a difficult answer. He had plunged into excesses during the early
winter; gambled wildly, not to win, but for the fun of it. He had lost
company money, trusting to his ability to make it good from his own
pocket when the time came. The time was coming, and his pockets were
empty. Spring was here, the first boats would arrive any day, and with
them would come the P. C. men to audit his accounts. It was possible to
cover it up, to be sure, but he scorned to falsify his books.

"I should have stayed in Council City," he said, "but when I heard you
were--sick--" He buried his brown face in his hands.

The girl's lips were white as she asked, "How much is it?"

"Nearly twenty thousand."

She shook her head hopelessly. "I haven't nearly that much, Harry, but
perhaps they would let us pay off the balance as we are able."

"June!" he cried. "I wouldn't let you! I'll go to jail first! I--I
suppose you won't want to marry me, now that you know?"

"I love you more than twenty thousand dollars' worth," she replied.
"We'll face it out together."

"If only I had time I could pay it back and they'd never know, for I
have property that will sell, once the season opens."

"Then you must take time."

"I can't. Sternberg will tell."

"What has Sternberg to do with it?"

"I lost the money in his place--his books will show. He suspects, even
now, and he's talking about it. He doesn't like me, you know, since he
heard of our engagement."

The days fled swiftly by; the hills thrust their scarred sides up
through the melting snow; the open sea showed black beyond the rim of
anchor ice. As nature awoke and blossomed, June faded and shrank until
she was no more than the ghost of her former self. Then one day smoke
was reported upon the horizon, and the town became a bedlam; for the
door of the frozen North was creaking on its hinges, and just beyond lay
the good, glad world of men and things.

June could stand it no longer; so she told her sorrow to Llewellyn, who
had half guessed it, anyhow, and he in turn retold it to his
fellow-Wags.

The Scrap Iron Kid was for killing Hope at once, and argued that it was
by far the simplest way out of June's trouble, carrying with it also an
agreeable element of retribution. Hope had hurt the Wag-lady, therefore
the least atonement he could offer was his blood. But Dummy, the foxy
old alibi man of the outfit, said:

"I've got a better scheme. Hope wants to do the right thing, and June'll
make him if she has a chance. The company will get its coin, she'll get
her square guy, an' nobody'll be hurt, provided he has time to swing
himself. The ace in the hole is Sammy Sternberg; he's got the books. Now
what's the answer?"

"Steal the books!" chorused the Wags; and Dummy smiled.

"Why, sure."

"You can't stick up no saloon full of rough-necks and sleepers," said
Scrap Iron. "Sammy caches his books in the safe when he's off shift, and
we can't blow the safe, 'cause the joint never closes."

But the Dummy only grinned, for this was the sort of job he liked, and
then he proceeded to make known his plan.

Those were terrible hours for June. She prayed with all the earnestness
of her earnest being that her lover might be spared; repeatedly she
strained her tear-filled eyes to the southward. As for Hope, he had
tasted the consequences of his guilt, and his face grew lined and
haggard with the strain of waiting. He could have met the future with
some show of resignation had it not been for the knowledge of his
sweetheart's suffering; but as the hours passed and that thin black line
of soot still hung upon the horizon, he thought he would go mad.

On the second day a steamer showed, hull down, having wormed her way
through the floes, and Nome marched out upon the shore ice in a body.

June and Harry went with the others, hand in hand, and the man walked as
if he were marching to the gallows. It was not the P. C. steamer, after
all; it was the whaler Jeanie. The fleet was in the offing, however,
so she reported, and would be in within another twenty-four hours, if
the pack kept drifting.

Hope ground his teeth, and muttered: "Poor little June! I wish it were
over for your sake!" and she nodded wearily.

But as they neared the shore again they heard rumors of strange doings
in their absence. There had been a daring daylight hold-up at the
Miners' Rest. Six masked men had taken advantage of the exodus to enter
and clean out the place at the point of the gun, and now Sammy Sternberg
was poisoning the air with his complaints.

Details came flying faster as they trudged up into Front Street, and Doc
Whiting paused to say:

"That's the nerviest thing yet, eh, Harry?"

"Was anybody hurt?"

"No damage done except to Sammy's feelings."

"They surely didn't get much money?"

"Oh, no! Their total clean-up wasn't a hundred dollars; but they lugged
off Sammy's books."

June felt herself falling, and grasped weakly at her lover's arm, for
she saw it all. "Come!" she said, and dragged him up to her own cabin,
then on to the Wag-boys' door. They were all there, sprawled about and
smoking.

"You did this!" she said, shakingly. "You did it for me!"

"Did what?" they asked in chorus, looking at her blankly.
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