next moment Lon had rapped on the
door, and a woman's voice bade him enter.

"Have you seen Dave recently?" she asked.

"Nope," Lon answered carelessly. "I've been in the other direction, down
Circle City way. Dave's up Dawson way, ain't he?"

The woman nodded, and Lon fell to unharnessing the dogs, while I unlashed
the sled and carried the camp outfit into the cabin. The cabin was a
large, one-room affair, and the woman was evidently alone in it. She
pointed to the stove, where water was already boiling, and Lon set about
the preparation of supper, while I opened the fish-bag and fed the dogs.
I looked for Lon to introduce us, and was vexed that he did not, for they
were evidently old friends.

"You are Lon McFane, aren't you?" I heard her ask him. "Why, I remember
you now. The last time I saw you it was on a steamboat, wasn't it? I
remember . . . "

Her speech seemed suddenly to be frozen by the spectacle of dread which,
I knew, from the tenor I saw mounting in her eyes, must be on her inner
vision. To my astonishment, Lon was affected by her words and manner.
His face showed desperate, for all his voice sounded hearty and genial,
as he said--

"The last time we met was at Dawson, Queen's Jubilee, or Birthday, or
something--don't you remember?--the canoe races in the river, and the
obstacle races down the main street?"

The terror faded out of her eyes and her whole body relaxed. "Oh, yes, I
do remember," she said. "And you won one of the canoe races."

"How's Dave been makin' it lately? Strikin' it as rich as ever, I
suppose?" Lon asked, with apparent irrelevance.

She smiled and nodded, and then, noticing that I had unlashed the bed
roll, she indicated the end of the cabin where I might spread it. Her
own bunk, I noticed, was made up at the opposite end.

"I thought it was Dave coming when I heard your dogs," she said.

After that she said nothing, contenting herself with watching Lon's
cooking operations, and listening the while as for the sound of dogs
along the trail. I lay back on the blankets and smoked and watched. Here
was mystery; I could make that much out, but no more could I make out.
Why in the deuce hadn't Lon given me the tip before we arrived? I looked
at her face, unnoticed by her, and the longer I looked the harder it was
to take my eyes away. It was a wonderfully beautiful face, unearthly, I
may say, with a light in it or an expression or something "that was never
on la