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The Ruling Passion [69]

By Root 857 0
fifteen miles

across the sea. All night long that big bright eye was opening and

shutting. "BAGUETTE!" said Thibault, "it winks like a one-eyed

Windigo."



The Department of Marine and Fisheries sent down an expert from

Quebec to keep the light in order and run it for the first summer.

He took Fortin as his assistant. By the end of August he reported

to headquarters that the light was all right, and that Fortin was

qualified to be appointed keeper. Before October was out the

certificate of appointment came back, and the expert packed his bag

to go up the river.



"Now look here, Fortin," said he, "this is no fishing trip. Do you

think you are up to this job?"



"I suppose," said Fortin.



"Well now, do you remember all this business about the machinery

that turns the lenses? That 's the main thing. The bearings must

be kept well oiled, and the weight must never get out of order. The

clock-face will tell you when it is running right. If anything gets

hitched up here's the crank to keep it going until you can

straighten the machine again. It's easy enough to turn it. But you

must never let it stop between dark and daylight. The regular turn

once a minute--that's the mark of this light. If it shines steady

it might as well be out. Yes, better! Any vessel coming along here

in a dirty night and seeing a fixed light would take it for the Cap

Loup-Marin and run ashore. This particular light has got to revolve

once a minute every night from April first to December tenth,

certain. Can you do it?"



"Certain," said Fortin.



"That's the way I like to hear a man talk! Now, you've got oil

enough to last you through till the tenth of December, when you

close the light, and to run on for a month in the spring after you

open again. The ice may be late in going out and perhaps the

supply-boat can't get down before the middle of April, or

thereabouts. But she'll bring plenty of oil when she comes, so

you'll be all right."



"All right," said Fortin.



"Well, I've said it all, I guess. You understand what you've got to

do? Good-by and good luck. You're the keeper of the light now."



"Good luck," said Fortin, "I am going to keep it." The same day he

shut up the red house on the beach and moved to the white house on

the island with Marie-Anne, his wife, and the three girls, Alma,

aged seventeen, Azilda, aged fifteen, and Nataline, aged thirteen.

He was the captain, and Marie-Anne was the mate, and the three girls

were the crew. They were all as full of happy pride as if they had

come into possession of a great fortune.



It was the thirty-first day of October. A snow-shower had silvered

the island. The afternoon was clear and beautiful. As the sun

sloped toward the rose-coloured hills of the mainland the whole

family stood out in front of the lighthouse looking up at the tower.



"Regard him well, my children," said Baptiste; "God has given him to

us to keep, and to keep us. Thibault says he is a Windigo. B'EN!

We shall see that he is a friendly Windigo. Every minute all the

night he shall wink, just for kindness and good luck to all the

world, till the daylight."







II



On the ninth of November, at three o'clock in the afternoon,

Baptiste went into the tower to see that the clockwork was in order

for the night. He set the dial on the machine, put a few drops of

oil on the bearings of the cylinder, and started to wind up the

weight.



It rose a few inches, gave a dull click, and then stopped dead. He

tugged a little harder, but it would not move. Then he tried to let

it down. He pushed at the lever that set the clockwork in motion.



He might as well have tried to make the island turn around by

pushing at one of the little spruce trees that clung to the rock.



Then it dawned fearfully upon him that something must be wrong.
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