ttlements and lay only upon the high hills and great mountain tops
surrounding. Down gulches and canyons flowed swift, icy streams of what
had until lately been great snow masses, but which on melting had left
bare the sides of the tundra-covered hills where the brightest of wild
flowers were beginning to spring into beauty.

The girl was not blind to their loveliness. Upon leaving the cabin she
had determined to bring back all she could carry of the blossoms, but
not until she had well scanned the horizon for ships. Her father might
even now be approaching the islands, and perhaps he could see her
through his glass. With this thought in mind she pulled her handkerchief
from her pocket and waved it enthusiastically, although as yet no ship
had she seen. Seeing some little children far below in the village
playing near the priest's school she laughed aloud.

[Illustration: _She scanned the horizon_]

"They will surely say I am bewitched if they see me, and what a joke
that would be! I am certain to be badly quizzed by the youngsters when I
get home, for there is no such luck as to escape their sharp eyes while
standing upon this hill-top. It will be a wonder if some of them do not
follow me. If they do, they will not find me," and she laughed again as
she hastened on over the brow of the bluff.

Eyllen was lithe of limb and supple. To mountain climbing she had been
accustomed since a baby, and was well and hardy. She now stood for a
moment to take a fresh survey of the bay. A slight breeze was blowing,
and had tinted her smooth round cheeks with crimson. Her eyes sparkled,
and her whole face betokened earnest and animated thought. Down her back
hung two thick braids of dark hair, but the ends had become free, and,
left unconfined, floated picturesquely about her shoulders.

An Aleut Indian she surely was not. She had not their short, dumpy
stature, but was slender and graceful, and would not have seemed out of
place in civilization.

Having satisfied herself that no vessel could put into the harbor for
some hours, if at all that day, she strolled farther on. Down one hill
and up another, picking a flower here and one there, humming as she went
some old Russian song, her time passed in evident enjoyment though with
more or less abstraction.

"I will visit that spot again, and find out what there is so strange and
uncanny about it," she murmured. "I am not afraid, for nothing can harm
me. It is said that a woman has