miles off the coast here. Cape Katleean is the nearest land. The
Japan current gives it a milder climate and we know that the beach sand
carries gold--a little gold."

"Anyone living there?" interrupted Boreland eagerly.

"Not a soul. The Alaska Fur and Trading Company did send a party out
there some years ago, to start a fox-farm. That's how I got my
information. They were a hootch-drinking, lazy lot and the farm wasn't
a success. But Add-'em-up Sam, a bookkeeper I used to have, spent a
winter there. He told me many things about the place." The White
Chief paused a moment. A new idea had just come to him. "Silvertip,
who used to be on the whaler _Sophie Sutherland_, has stopped there for
water, too."

Boreland, rising from his chair thrust both hands into his pockets and
began to pace up and down the room.

"By thunder, Kilbuck, I'm interested in that island, whether it's the
Lost Island or not! Kon Klayu . . . Kon Klayu . . ." He repeated the
name thoughtfully. "Seems to me that's the Thlinget for ruby sand,
which in itself suggests possibilities. Ruby sand is a gold carrier!"
There was a note of enthusiasm in Boreland's voice, but as he noticed
the look on his wife's face he crossed to her side and put an arm over
her slender shoulders. "But we'll talk that over some other time,
Chief. I don't want to bore Ellen with too much mining----"

A flinging open of the door that led to the store cut short his speech
as an indignant little boy burst in on them.

"Mother! Mother!" he shouted. "That big old Indian, Swimming Wolf,
called my Auntie Jean a squaw!"

"And the wretch put his hand on my foot, Ellen!" Jean following close
on the heels of her nephew, stopped before her sister, her slim hands
clenched at her sides, each outraged shake of her head loosening the
ribbon that bound her hair. "I hate this place, Shane!" she cried,
turning swiftly to her brother-in-law. "I wish we were all back aboard
the _Hoonah_!" Her voice trembled with unshed tears of mortification,
and both her sister and Shane started toward her with exclamations of
sympathy and alarm.

The White Chief regarded the attractively disheveled little figure with
appreciation, but he realized that something had happened which
endangered the stay of his visitors. He rose to place a chair for her.
When he spoke his voice, the voice that had charmed many women, soothed
while it promised.

"There now, Miss Wiley, things may not b