d relented and was helping her.
Then came the cleansing of the kitchen. But the floor still shrieked the
tragedy, until Hans planed the surface of the stained wood away and with
the shavings made a fire in the stove.

The days came and went. There was much of darkness and silence, broken
only by the storms and the thunder on the beach of the freezing surf.
Hans was obedient to Edith's slightest order. All his splendid
initiative had vanished. She had elected to deal with Dennin in her way,
and so he left the whole matter in her hands.

The murderer was a constant menace. At all times there was the chance
that he might free himself from his bonds, and they were compelled to
guard him day and night. The man or the woman sat always beside him,
holding the loaded shot-gun. At first, Edith tried eight-hour watches,
but the continuous strain was too great, and afterwards she and Hans
relieved each other every four hours. As they had to sleep, and as the
watches extended through the night, their whole waking time was expended
in guarding Dennin. They had barely time left over for the preparation
of meals and the getting of firewood.

Since Negook's inopportune visit, the Indians had avoided the cabin.
Edith sent Hans to their cabins to get them to take Dennin down the coast
in a canoe to the nearest white settlement or trading post, but the
errand was fruitless. Then Edith went herself and interviewed Negook. He
was head man of the little village, keenly aware of his responsibility,
and he elucidated his policy thoroughly in few words.

"It is white man's trouble," he said, "not Siwash trouble. My people
help you, then will it be Siwash trouble too. When white man's trouble
and Siwash trouble come together and make a trouble, it is a great
trouble, beyond understanding and without end. Trouble no good. My
people do no wrong. What for they help you and have trouble?"

So Edith Nelson went back to the terrible cabin with its endless
alternating four-hour watches. Sometimes, when it was her turn and she
sat by the prisoner, the loaded shot-gun in her lap, her eyes would close
and she would doze. Always she aroused with a start, snatching up the
gun and swiftly looking at him. These were distinct nervous shocks, and
their effect was not good on her. Such was her fear of the man, that
even though she were wide awake, if he moved under the bedclothes she
could not repress the start and the quick reach for the