hiding-place. Alan turned
to speak, but what he saw in the girl's face held him silent. Her lips
were parted, and she was staring as if an unexpected thing had risen
before her eyes, something that bewildered her and even startled her.

And then, as if speaking to herself and not to Alan Holt, she said in a
tense whisper: "I have seen this place before. It was a long time ago.
Maybe it was a hundred years or a thousand. But I have been here. I have
lived under that mountain with the waterfall creeping down it--"

A tremor ran through her, and she remembered Alan. She looked up at him,
and he was puzzled. A weirdly beautiful mystery lay in her eyes.

"I must go ashore here," she said. "I didn't know I would find it so
soon. Please--"

With her hand touching his arm she turned. He was looking at her and saw
the strange light fade swiftly out of her eyes. Following her glance he
saw Rossland standing half a dozen paces behind them.

In another moment Mary Standish was facing the sea, and again her hand
was resting confidently in the crook of Alan's arm. "Did you ever feel
like killing a man, Mr. Holt?" she asked with an icy little laugh.

"Yes," he answered rather unexpectedly. "And some day, if the right
opportunity comes, I am going to kill a certain man--the man who
murdered my father."

She gave a little gasp of horror. "Your father--was--murdered--"

"Indirectly--yes. It wasn't done with knife or gun, Miss Standish. Money
was the weapon. Somebody's money. And John Graham was the man who
struck the blow. Some day, if there is justice, I shall kill him. And
right now, if you will allow me to demand an explanation of this man
Rossland--"

"_No_." Her hand tightened on his arm. Then, slowly, she drew it away.
"I don't want you to ask an explanation of him," she said. "If he should
make it, you would hate me. Tell me about Skagway, Mr. Holt. That will
be pleasanter."

CHAPTER VI

Not until early twilight came with the deep shadows of the western
mountains, and the _Nome_ was churning slowly back through the narrow
water-trails to the open Pacific, did the significance of that afternoon
fully impress itself upon Alan. For hours he had surrendered himself to
an impulse which he could not understand, and which in ordinary moments
he would not have excused. He had taken Mary Standish ashore. For two
hours she had walked at his side, asking him questions and listening to
him as no other had ever questioned him