She put herself, smiling, between the two men, who stood glaring at each
other in silence. She was annoyed at the dance being broken off, but she
saw in Stephen's interference the great tribute paid to her own
attraction, and therefore forgave him. At the same time she had no wish
to have her vanity further gratified by bloodshed. There was a certain
hardness but no cruelty in her nature. She turned from the men and
strolled very slowly in the direction of the bar, and they followed her
as if her moving feet were shod with magnets and theirs with steel.
Talbot went too, and in a few minutes the four were standing at the
counter with glasses in their hands.

Peters kept close beside Katrine, and he and Stephen did not exchange a
word. Katrine kept up the chatter between herself and the two other men.

"May I see you home?" Peters said abruptly to her, interrupting the
general talk.

"No," returned Katrine, lightly; "to-morrow night, not to-night. I have
my escort," and she smiled at Stephen and Talbot.

"I will say good-night then," and Peters, after a slight bow to Talbot,
withdrew, taking no notice of Stephen, who since the girl's surrender of
the dance had looked very self-contented and happy, and was now standing
glass in hand, his eyes fixed upon her face.

"I think I really will go home now," she said. "We've had a jolly time.
I only wish you'd have joined us. Are you always so very good?" she said
innocently to Stephen. He flushed angrily and said nothing.

A few seconds later they were on the way to Good Luck Row. One of the
neatest-looking cabins in it had a light behind its yellow blind, and
here Katrine stopped and thanked them for their escort. They would both
have liked to see the interior, but she did not suggest their coming in.
She wished them good-night very sweetly, and before they had realised it
had disappeared inside.

They walked on down the row slowly, side by side. The next thing to do
was to find a lodging for the night, and they both felt about ready to
appreciate a bed and some hours' rest.

"There's Bill Winters," said Stephen, after a moment's silence. "He said
he'd always put us up when we came down town; let's go and try him."

"Do you know where his cabin is?"

"I think so. Turn down here; now it is the next street, where those
little black cabins are."

They walked on quickly, following Stephen's directions, and made for a
block of cabins that had been pitched over and sho