"'Harp of the North that mouldering long has hung,'" she recited in a low voice.

The fingers on the keys suddenly ceased their drifting, the dreamy look faded from the musician's face. A smile lighted his eyes as, turning about, he spoke in a cheery voice:

"Come in. I have been waiting for you. You are welcome to an old man's lonely house; doubly welcome, coming as you do in time for Sunday vespers."

This strange, almost uncanny proceeding so startled the girl that for a second she was tempted to turn and flee. The next second she had complete control of herself. Pushing the door open, as if entering the chamber of the king of fairies, she made a little bow and said:

"Thank you."

Then, realizing how perfectly absurd her action had been, she broke into a hearty laugh and in this laugh the old man joined.

So, with the ice broken, they became friends at once.

To her vast relief she found that the old man, though he had undoubtedly been expecting them or someone else, did not know all about them. He asked if they travelled with dog team or reindeer. Upon being told that they drove reindeer, he smiled and said:

"Good. It's lucky I have feed for your deer. Reindeer people seldom come this way. Once I was caught unprepared to entertain them, so last autumn I put in a good stock of moss and willow leaves. Your deer shall be safely housed and richly fed, and so shall you. Go bring them at once. Or shall I go with you?"

"Oh no; that is not necessary," Marian hastened to a.s.sure him.

"Very well then, while you go I will put the birds on to broil. You are doubtless very hungry."

Ten minutes later Marian was chattering to Attatak:

"The queerest place you ever saw; and the strangest old gentleman. But really, I think he is a dear."

CHAPTER XVI THE BARRIER

The curiosity of the two girls knew no bounds as they neared the strange abode. Who was this man? Why did he live here all by himself? How had he brought his pipe organ to this remote spot? Whence had come those peculiar skylights through which the yellow light gleamed? Whence came the power for those electric lights? How had this strange man known of their coming? Or had he known? Had he been expecting someone else and had he, as a perfect host, pretended it was Marian he had known to be at the door? These, and many other questions, flashed through Marian's alert mind as she guided her deer over the remaining distance and up to the entrance to the cave-like structure.

Lights flashed on here and there as they pa.s.sed inside. A long corridor, walled on either side by hewn logs, led to a stall-like room where was food in abundance for their reindeer, and, what was better still, perfect protection from any night prowler.

Marian was wondering what sort of meal was being prepared for them when they were at last led into the large room. Here, on the side opposite the pipe organ, great logs crackled merrily in a fireplace half as wide as the room itself.

After taking their fur parkas, the host motioned them to seats beside the fire. There, charmed by the drowsy warmth, Marian experienced great difficulty in keeping awake. Strange fancies floated through her mind.

She fancied she was aboard a ship at sea; the walls about her were the walls of her state-room; the huge beams above, the ship's beams; the strange cupola affairs above, the lights to her cabin.

As she shook herself free from this fancy, she realized that aside from the fireplace, the inside of the room was very like a cabin of a high cla.s.s schooner.

"It must all come from some vessel," she reasoned. "Even the lighting fixtures look as if they had been taken from a ship. I wonder what ship, and why?"

She thought of stories she had read of beach combers who wrecked ships by displaying fake sh.o.r.e lights on stormy nights that they might gather the wreckage from the beach. For a moment she fancied this bearded patriarch playing such a role. Finding this too absurd even for fancy, she shook herself free from it.

"Food," she murmured to herself, "I'm ravenously hungry. He spoke of putting on the birds. I wonder what he could have meant?"

She did not have long to wait. A moment later there came to her nostrils the delicious aroma of perfectly brewed coffee. Mingled with it were various savory odors which gave promise of a rich meal.

"You are not yet fully warmed," said their host, "so you may eat by the fire."

He was pushing before him a tea-wagon of wonderful design and craftsmanship. This was fairly creaking under its load of chinaware of exquisite design, and silver which did not require a second look to tell that it was sterling. Marian barely avoided a gasp at sight of it.

If the service was perfect, the food was no less so. Four ptarmigan, those wonderful "quail of the Arctic," broiled to a delicious turn, were flanked with potatoes, gravy, peas and apple sauce. The desert was blueberries preserved in wild honey.

"Only idleness or indifference," smiled their host as he caught their looks of appreciation, "can hinder one from securing appetizing foods in any land."

"And now," he said as they finished, "there are questions you may wish to ask; information that you may wish to impart."

"Why-we-" Marian began in some confusion.

He interrupted her with a wave of the hand. "It will all keep until morning. This habit young people have, of sitting up talking all hours of the night because life seems too exciting for sleep, is all wrong. You are in need of rest. 'Everything in its good time' is my motto.

Fortunately my guest room is warm. The fire is not yet burned out. Last night I had the honor of furnishing a night's lodging to the Agent of our Government."

"The Agent?" Marian asked in surprise.

"Yes. He came up here to ask me about the lay of the land above here. I think," there was a merry twinkle in his eye, "that I may lay claim to being the oldest resident of this town. No doubt I was able to give him some valuable information."

"And he is-is gone?" Marian gasped.

"Left this morning. Why? Did you wish to see him? Surely-yes, you would.

Being connected with the reindeer business, you would. Unfortunate that you did not reach here a few hours earlier. He left on foot. The trail around the rapids is rough. He did not try to bring his dogs and sleds through. Left them with his driver at the foot of the rapids. Well enough that he did. Couldn't have made it."

Upon realizing that she had missed the man she had come so far to see, Marian could have burst into tears.

"You may find him at the Station, though," her host a.s.sured her. "I believe he means to stay there a day or two. His dogs are footsore from travelling over crusted snow."

Marian's heart gave a leap of joy. But what was this about the trail and the rapids?

"Did-did you say that one could not pa.s.s over the trail with a sled?" she asked in the calmest tone she could command. "Are the rapids not yet frozen over?"

"Frozen?" he stared at her incredulously. "Have you not heard them? Ah, then, you came from up stream. The forest shuts out the sound. Slip on your parka and come with me, and you shall hear. It is grand music, that ceaseless rush and roar, that beating of waters and tumbling of ice."

It may have seemed glorious to the old man, but to Marian, who listened to the wild tumult of waters, it was frightening and disheartening.

"Can a boat run the rapids?" she asked, though she knew the question was foolish and that no boat could run them.

"None ever has."

"Can-can a sled pa.s.s over the trail above?"

"None has. None can. The way is too rough; the trees too closely crowded together. Dogs, reindeer, men, yes; but sleds, no."

"How far is it to the station?" Marian faltered.

"Three days journey."