One--two--three, one--two--three.' Round
and round went Prince and Madeline in an interminable waltz. The
table and stools had been shoved over against the wall to
increase the room. Malemute Kid sat on the bunk, chin to knees,
greatly interested. Jack Harrington sat beside him, scraping away
on his violin and following the dancers.
It was a unique situation, the undertaking of these three men
with the woman.
The most pathetic part, perhaps, was the businesslike way in
which they went about it.
No athlete was ever trained more rigidly for a coming contest,
nor wolf-dog for the harness, than was she. But they had good
material, for Madeline, unlike most women of her race, in her
childhood had escaped the carrying of heavy burdens and the toil
of the trail. Besides, she was a clean-limbed, willowy creature,
possessed of much grace which had not hitherto been realized. It
was this grace which the men strove to bring out and knock into
shape.
'Trouble with her she learned to dance all wrong,' Prince
remarked to the bunk after having deposited his breathless pupil
on the table. 'She's quick at picking up; yet I could do better
had she never danced a step.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157