e
was glad to see she did not perceive.

"There are some of the lucky men from El Dorado Creek," she informed
him, pointing out certain people on the deck. "They are going out to
the States to get something to eat. They say that nothing like those
mines have ever been heard of in the world. I wish father had gone up
last year when the news came."

"Why didn't he?" asked the Lieutenant. "Surely he must have been among
the first to learn of it."

"Yes. 'Stick' George sent him word a year ago last fall, when he made
the first discovery, but for some reason father wouldn't go."

The men were pouring off the boat now, and through the crowd came the
tall Frenchman, bearing in the hollow of each arm a child who clasped a
bundle to its breast. His eyes grew brighter at sight of Necia, and he
broke into a flood of patois; they fairly bombarded each other with
quick questions and fragmentary answers till she remembered her
companion, who had fallen back a pace and was studying the newcomer,
whereupon she turned.

"Oh, I forgot my manners. Lieutenant Burrell, this is Napoleon
Doret--our Poleon!" she added, with proud emphasis.

Doret checked his volubility and stared at the soldier, whom he
appeared to see for the first time. The little brown people in his arms
stared likewise, and it seemed to Burrell that a certain distrust was
in each of the three pairs of eyes, only in those of the man there was
no shyness. Instead, the Canadian looked him over gravely from head to
heel, seeming to note each point of the unfamiliar attire; then he
inquired, without removing his glance:

"Were'bouts you live, eh?"

"I live at the post yonder," said the Lieutenant.

"Wat biznesse you work at?"

"I am a soldier."

"Wat for you come 'ere? Dere's nobody fightin' roun' dis place."

"The Lieutenant has been stationed here, foolish," said Necia. "Come up
to the store quick and tell me what it's like at Dawson." With a
farewell nod to Burrell, she went off with Doret, whose speech was
immediately released again.

In spite of the man's unfriendliness, Burrell watched him with
admiration. There were no heels to his tufted fur boots, and yet he
stood a good six feet two, as straight as a pine sapling, and it needed
no second glance to tell of what metal he was made. His spirit showed
in his whole body, in the set of his head, and, above all, in his dark,
warm face, which glowed with eagerness when he talked, and that was
ever--when he wa