oubtless be
in on the morrow. Mrs. Eppingwell experienced a great relief on hearing
this; Floyd Vanderlip was safe up-creek, and ere the Greek girl could
again lay hands upon him, his bride would be on the ground. But that
afternoon her big St. Bernard, valiantly defending her front stoop, was
downed by a foraging party of trail-starved Malemutes. He was buried
beneath the hirsute mass for about thirty seconds, when rescued by a
couple of axes and as many stout men. Had he remained down two minutes,
the chances were large that he would have been roughly apportioned and
carried away in the respective bellies of the attacking party; but as it
was, it was a mere case of neat and expeditious mangling. Sitka Charley
came to repair the damages, especially a right fore-paw which had
inadvertently been left a fraction of a second too long in some other
dog's mouth. As he put on his mittens to go, the talk turned upon
Flossie and in natural sequence passed on to the--"er horrid woman."
Sitka Charley remarked incidentally that she intended jumping out down
river that night with Floyd Vanderlip, and further ventured the
information that accidents were very likely at that time of year.

So Mrs. Eppingwell's thoughts of Freda were unkinder than ever. She
wrote a note, addressed it to the man in question, and intrusted it to a
messenger who lay in wait at the mouth of Bonanza Creek. Another man,
bearing a note from Freda, also waited at that strategic point. So it
happened that Floyd Vanderlip, riding his sled merrily down with the last
daylight, received the notes together. He tore Freda's across. No, he
would not go to see her. There were greater things afoot that night.
Besides, she was out of the running. But Mrs. Eppingwell! He would
observe her last wish,--or rather, the last wish it would be possible for
him to observe,--and meet her at the Governor's ball to hear what she had
to say. From the tone of the writing it was evidently important;
perhaps-- He smiled fondly, but failed to shape the thought. Confound it
all, what a lucky fellow he was with the women any way! Scattering her
letter to the frost, he _mushed_ the dogs into a swinging lope and headed
for his cabin. It was to be a masquerade, and he had to dig up the
costume used at the Opera House a couple of months before. Also, he had
to shave and to eat. Thus it was that he, alone of all interested, was
unaware of Flossie's proximity.

"Have them do