Read Online The Call of the Wild: Klondike Cannibals, Vol. 2 by Herbert Ashe - Free Book Online
Authors: Herbert Ashe
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and possible partners. When the deal was done Jack carefully put the cash in his wallet and wished Joe luck.
He left the wareh ouse with a spring in his step, just after 5 pm.
* * * * *
Jack walked back towards the Ferry Terminal through the crowds.
He knew how Eliza felt about the prospect of him carrying so much cash around, so he resolved to keep his hand on his wallet the whole way home. There was no way a pickpocket would be able to get it from him without a fight.
As he walked, he smiled. He was enormously proud of the fact that, in just a couple of hours, he’d returned a twenty percent profit upon Eliza’s investment. This was a hopeful start to his adventure, surely: he knew now—he felt with every part of his being—that he would succeed in the Klondike.
He would make Eliza proud.
For a moment he thought of what Mabel would say, if she could see him now. He felt a mad desire to make a detour by her house on his way home. He wanted her mother, father, and brother Ted, to see him like this, in his moment of glory. The way Annie had seen him.
But he fought it back.
What was the point? To torment them both before he left? It had been calf love between them, that was all, though it hadn’t felt any less painful for all its innocence. He’d begun to feel the limitations in Mabel’s love. Now that it was over, he could see the inseparable gulf that had always existed between them.
A t first Mabel’s education and refinement had broadened Jack’s horizons, but in their most recent conversations he’d begun to see just how far he’d gone beyond her. The divine creature he’d once seen her as was just flesh and bone, no less a product of her environment and station in life than he was. This thought tired him out, and dimmed the fires of his love.
But there was no looking backwards, only forwards, and if that meant—
Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
U p ahead, through the shifting crowds, he’d caught sight of the green dress again.
* * * * *
Annie stood with her aunt in a small huddle of people just off the main dockland road, in the shadow of a large brick warehouse.
Jack walked a little closer.
A tall Indian with sad eyes stood behind a hastily-erected gaming table, smoking a cigar. Beside him stood a pale showman of middle age, wearing tiny, round-rimmed glasses fitted with dark-blue lenses. He had a dark goatee, an ivory-tipped cane, a slick long-coat and top hat. A cheap showbiz poster pasted on the brick wall behind them announced their names: The Uncanny Dr. Fiddler and Indian Jack, “Wendigo Hunter.”
On the surface of the table were three upside-down clamshells.
Alarmed now, Jack quickly pushed his way towards the front of the crowd, where Annie stood.
“… but it’s obvious it’s the one on the left,” Jack overheard Annie say to her aunt.
Dr. Fiddler stroked hi s goatee, and fixed Annie with an intense stare. “Are you sure?”
Annie nodded nervously.
At Dr. Fiddler’s signal, Indian Jack lifted the clamshell, revealing nothing. No pea.
The crowd booed.
“We lost again, dear!” Annie’s aunt croaked.
At that moment Annie noticed Jack. She seemed genuinely surprised and somewhat embarrassed to see him standing there.
Jack seized the opportunity to walk to her side. “What are you doing here?” he whispered. “It isn’t safe, this game.”
“I know !” She grabbed the back of his arm tightly, and he felt a singular thrill shoot through his body. “But now I owe them money…”
S he let go of Jack’s arm and stepped forward. Reaching both hands up behind her ears, she unclasped her necklace. “This is all I have… Please…”
A nnie laid the necklace down on the table.
Jack saw that it was a cameo: a profile portrait of a woman, carved in cowry-shell.
Annie’s aunt was aghast. “But that was your mother’s, dear!”
Jack looked around the circle, coolly sizing up the crowd. There were a number of dangerous-looking men eyeing Annie
He left the wareh ouse with a spring in his step, just after 5 pm.
* * * * *
Jack walked back towards the Ferry Terminal through the crowds.
He knew how Eliza felt about the prospect of him carrying so much cash around, so he resolved to keep his hand on his wallet the whole way home. There was no way a pickpocket would be able to get it from him without a fight.
As he walked, he smiled. He was enormously proud of the fact that, in just a couple of hours, he’d returned a twenty percent profit upon Eliza’s investment. This was a hopeful start to his adventure, surely: he knew now—he felt with every part of his being—that he would succeed in the Klondike.
He would make Eliza proud.
For a moment he thought of what Mabel would say, if she could see him now. He felt a mad desire to make a detour by her house on his way home. He wanted her mother, father, and brother Ted, to see him like this, in his moment of glory. The way Annie had seen him.
But he fought it back.
What was the point? To torment them both before he left? It had been calf love between them, that was all, though it hadn’t felt any less painful for all its innocence. He’d begun to feel the limitations in Mabel’s love. Now that it was over, he could see the inseparable gulf that had always existed between them.
A t first Mabel’s education and refinement had broadened Jack’s horizons, but in their most recent conversations he’d begun to see just how far he’d gone beyond her. The divine creature he’d once seen her as was just flesh and bone, no less a product of her environment and station in life than he was. This thought tired him out, and dimmed the fires of his love.
But there was no looking backwards, only forwards, and if that meant—
Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
U p ahead, through the shifting crowds, he’d caught sight of the green dress again.
* * * * *
Annie stood with her aunt in a small huddle of people just off the main dockland road, in the shadow of a large brick warehouse.
Jack walked a little closer.
A tall Indian with sad eyes stood behind a hastily-erected gaming table, smoking a cigar. Beside him stood a pale showman of middle age, wearing tiny, round-rimmed glasses fitted with dark-blue lenses. He had a dark goatee, an ivory-tipped cane, a slick long-coat and top hat. A cheap showbiz poster pasted on the brick wall behind them announced their names: The Uncanny Dr. Fiddler and Indian Jack, “Wendigo Hunter.”
On the surface of the table were three upside-down clamshells.
Alarmed now, Jack quickly pushed his way towards the front of the crowd, where Annie stood.
“… but it’s obvious it’s the one on the left,” Jack overheard Annie say to her aunt.
Dr. Fiddler stroked hi s goatee, and fixed Annie with an intense stare. “Are you sure?”
Annie nodded nervously.
At Dr. Fiddler’s signal, Indian Jack lifted the clamshell, revealing nothing. No pea.
The crowd booed.
“We lost again, dear!” Annie’s aunt croaked.
At that moment Annie noticed Jack. She seemed genuinely surprised and somewhat embarrassed to see him standing there.
Jack seized the opportunity to walk to her side. “What are you doing here?” he whispered. “It isn’t safe, this game.”
“I know !” She grabbed the back of his arm tightly, and he felt a singular thrill shoot through his body. “But now I owe them money…”
S he let go of Jack’s arm and stepped forward. Reaching both hands up behind her ears, she unclasped her necklace. “This is all I have… Please…”
A nnie laid the necklace down on the table.
Jack saw that it was a cameo: a profile portrait of a woman, carved in cowry-shell.
Annie’s aunt was aghast. “But that was your mother’s, dear!”
Jack looked around the circle, coolly sizing up the crowd. There were a number of dangerous-looking men eyeing Annie
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