red of the mountains and the open and had nothing in common with
the insincere brand which develops in the softer and more luxurious laps
of civilization. Years of aloneness had put their mark upon him. Men of
the north, reading the lines, understood what they meant. But only now
and then could a woman possibly understand. Yet if in any given moment a
supreme physical crisis had come, women would have turned instinctively
in their helplessness to such a man as Alan Holt.

He possessed a vein of humor which few had been privileged to discover.
The mountains had taught him to laugh in silence. With him a chuckle
meant as much as a riotous outburst of merriment from another, and he
could enjoy greatly without any noticeable muscular disturbance of his
face. And not always was his smile a reflection of humorous thought.
There were times when it betrayed another kind of thought more
forcefully than speech.

Because he understood fairly well and knew what he was, the present
situation amused him. He could not but see what an error in judgment
Miss Standish had made in selecting him, when compared with the
intoxicating thrill she could easily have aroused by choosing one of the
young engineers as a companion in her evening adventure. He chuckled.
And Mary Standish, hearing the smothered note of amusement, gave to her
head that swift little birdlike tilt which he had observed once before,
in the presence of Captain Rifle. But she said nothing. As if
challenged, she calmly took possession of his arm.

Halfway round the deck, Alan began to sense the fact that there was a
decidedly pleasant flavor to the whole thing. The girl's hand did not
merely touch his arm; it was snuggled there confidently, and she was
necessarily so close to him that when he looked down, the glossy coils
of her hair were within a few inches of his face. His nearness to her,
together with the soft pressure of her hand on his arm, was a jolt to
his stoicism.

"It's not half bad," he expressed himself frankly. "I really believe I
am going to enjoy answering your questions, Miss Standish."

"Oh!" He felt the slim, little figure stiffen for an instant. "You
thought--possibly--I might be dangerous?"

"A little. I don't understand women. Collectively I think they are God's
most wonderful handiwork. Individually I don't care much about them.
But you--"

She nodded approvingly. "That is very nice of you. But you needn't say I
am different from the others. I