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STUDENTS' PUBLICATION
OF STETSON UNIVERSITY.
VOL. XXIII
DE LAND, FLA., THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 10J1.
No. 20
THE COUNTRY OF
GREAT SILENCES
By A. R. Phillips.
"All this I swear without any mental
evasion, equivocation or secret reservation. "So help me God."
With these simple and solemn words,
Jack Northworth had entered into
the service of his Majesties' "North-
West Mounted Police." That clean
cut body of men from all parts of
the world; some having tucked away
in their mess-kits medals won in South
Africa, Egypt, and Afghanistan; whose
duty it is to keep law and order in that
vast wilderness known as Canada^
who's beat is from the Hudson Bay
to the Pacific, and from the forty-ninth
parallel to the frozen Artie.
Jack Norworth sitting in his cabin
dreaming, while his " Bunkie" tinkled
away on a Mandolin, playing to his
own tune "Mandalay," and as he
caught the words—"On the road to
Mandalay where the flying fishes play,
and the dawn comes up like thunder
outer China cross the Bay,*' his thoughts
took another course; "for it was in the
silence that proceeds the dusk, as it
does the dawn," when all music is
sweet and forgotten faces arise to
haunt, he thought of his fast life, of
his home, when he had graudated from
Oxford, and had told his father that
life in England was too slow for him.
So he had left home to have a fling at
his King's Colonies; he had spent his
time in Africa and from there to Australia. At this point his head sunk
into his hands and he felt a scar.
Ah, that reminded him of a street
brawl in Sydney, when he was attacked
by a bunch of "Thugs," and had only
escaped with his life by the intervention of a stranger, whose timely
assistance and good fighting had saved
him. He v well he recalled it. The
fellow was a young Englishman like
himself by he name of Johnstone,
whom he was very grateful to, and
had promised the't if he, Jack Norworth,
would ever have the chance to repay
him he would do it."
Tiring of Australia he had made
his way to Canada, the greatest of
all Colonies, and thence to Edmonton,
where he joined the North-West Mounted Police, and a pretty figure he had
made when he had first received his
gaudy uniform. But now it was
different; for on the young man, with
the twitch of the swagger stick, and
the lift of the shoulder which gave
a hint of the devil-may-care; fatigue
and suffering, thirst and cold had
drawn their marks, but the lift of the
eye brow and thin nostril was still
there, and they were the real marks
of breeding. His work had trained
down his lean frame, "For he had been
weighed in the heavy balances of the
North and had not been found wanting."
Tap, tap; some one was knocking
at the door. "Come in," called Jack.
It was the Corporal of the Guard, who
saluted, and said, "The Colonel desires your presence immediately." He
again saluted and retired.
The bugles were sounding "retreat"
as the young officer made his way to
head-quarters wondering what was to
be his mission. Coming to the long
building in the center of the quadrangle
be knocked. "Come in," said a gruff
voice in reply to his knock. He opened
the door, advanced, and saluted, a
look of inquiry upon his face. Colonel Mines grown gray the in service, looked him over with admiration, which he
tried hard to conceal, then tersely
said, "You and Sergeant Walker are
to start to-morrow for the dead-man's
country, for contraband whiskey dealers."
Jack saluted and went his way, to
look up the sergeant, to get his instructions for the long, nerve racking
journey into the Northland. He found
the sergeant writing a letter home,
the last he would ever write for all
ke knew, for the ice and men are
treacherous and one never knows when
he will succumb to cither.
He asked for his instructions, but
the sergeant told him he knew best,
and to take only necessities.
The next morning when the first
streak of dawn came across the plains,
two men in a canoe could be seen pushing their way up the river.
They had eaten their breakfast
before daybreak, and their muscles
were aching at their new exercise. The
world before them seemed even more
inhospitable and wind-swept than the
land they had left below them to the
west. The air was filled with flying
snow, the river seemed a writhing
snake fighting against them. The wind
blew against them with terrible force,
and the cold nipped every limb like a
famishing white wolf.
For the long hazardous journey up
the Mackenzie had begun, for twelve
hundred miles these two had to push
their way Northward, representing
the enraged British government.
Day after day passed, the Great
Slave lake was crossed, then Smith
Rapids, Athabasca lake and Athabasca river were reached until at last
the land of "frozen snows" under the
"Great Bear" where there was nothing
but silence, but continue they must,
for the maxim, of the Force is "Maintain le droit" which means, "go where
you are sent," and they were of the
Force.
Gaining the "Laird," they bore
swiftly down upon the North-Mackenzie, reaching that broad stream without
mishag or a glimpse of even a company
runner. Turning into the Mackenzie
they began the long southern tack,
paddling steadfastly against the current, which goes smoothly down to
the Artie sea.
After weeks of travel they reached
tne outer edge of the " Dead man's
country" or "No man's land." Then
for the first time, their tired muscles
relaxed for their journey was fast
coming to an end.
Dusk came down. They drew ashore,
made camp in the screen of a willow-
fringed beach, boiled their tea, and
after singing fragments of an old
