The Silver Horde | Page 8

stop here!" cried Constantine violently. "You speak! I
make them go."
"I--I--beg pardon," began Emerson. "We didn't intend to take forcible
possession, but we're played out--we've been denied shelter
everywhere--we felt desperate--"
"You tried the canneries above?" interrupted the girl.
"Yes."
"And they referred you to the priest? Quite so." She laughed softly, her
voice a mellow contralto. "The Father has been gone for a month; he
wouldn't have let you in if he'd been there."
She addressed the Indian girl in Aleut and signalled to Constantine, at
which the two natives retired--Constantine reluctantly, like a watch-dog
whose suspicions are not fully allayed.
"We're glad of an opportunity to thank you for your timely service this
afternoon," said Emerson. "Had we known you lived here, we certainly
should not have intruded in this manner." He found himself growing
hotly uncomfortable as he began to realize the nature of his position,
but the young woman spared him further apologies by answering,
carelessly:
"Oh, that was nothing. I've been expecting you hourly. You see,
Constantine's little brother has the measles, and I had to get to him
before the natives could give the poor little fellow a Russian bath and
then stand him out in the snow. They have only one treatment for all
diseases. That's why I didn't stop and give you more explicit directions
this morning."
"If your--er--father--" The girl shook her head.
"Then your husband--I should like to arrange with him to hire lodgings
for a few days. The matter of money--"

Again she came to his rescue.
"I am the man of the house. I'm boss here. This splendor is all mine."
She waved a slender white hand majestically at the rough surroundings,
laughing in a way that put Boyd Emerson more at his ease. "You are
quite welcome to stay as long as you wish. Constantine objects to my
hospitality, and treats all strangers alike, fearing they may be Company
men. When you didn't arrive at dark, I thought perhaps he was right this
time, and that you had been taken in by one of the watchmen."
"We throwed a Swede out on his neck," declared Fraser, swelling with
conscious importance, "and I guess he's 'crabbed' us with the other
squareheads."
"Oh, no! They have instructions not to harbor any travellers. It's as
much as his job is worth for any of them to entertain you. Now, won't
you make yourselves at home while Constantine attends to your dogs?
Dinner will soon be ready, and I hope you will do me the honor of
dining with me," she finished, with a graciousness that threw Emerson
into fresh confusion.
He murmured "Gladly," and then lost himself in wonder at this
well-gowned girl living amid such surroundings. Undeniably pretty,
graceful in her movements, bearing herself with certainty and
poise--who was she? Where did she come from? And what in the world
was she doing here?
He became aware that "Fingerless" Fraser was making the
introductions. "This is Mr. Emerson; my name is French. I'm one of the
Virginia Frenches, you know; perhaps you have heard of them. No?
Well, they're the real thing."
The girl bowed, but Emerson forestalled her acknowledgment by
breaking in roughly, with a threatening scowl at the adventurer:
"His name isn't French at all, Madam; it's Fraser--'Fingerless' Fraser.
He's an utterly worthless rogue, and absolutely unreliable so far as I can
learn. I picked him up on the ice in Norton Sound, with a marshal at his

heels."
"That marshal wasn't after me," stoutly denied Fraser, quite unabashed.
"Why, he's a friend of mine--we're regular chums--everybody knows
that. He wanted to give me some papers to take outside, that's all."
Boyd shrugged his shoulders indifferently:
"Warrants!"
"Not at all! Not at all!" airily.
Their hostess, greatly amused at this remarkable turn of the ceremony,
prevented any further argument by saying:
"Well, French or Fraser, whichever it is, you are both welcome.
However, I should prefer to think of you as a runaway rather than as an
intimate friend of the marshal at Nome; I happen to know him."
"Well, we ain't what you'd exactly call pals," Fraser hastily disclaimed.
"I just sort of bow to him"--he gave an imitation of a slight, indifferent
headshake--"that way!"
"I see," commented their hostess, quizzically; then recalling herself, she
continued: "I should have made myself known before; I am Miss
Malotte."
"Ch--" began the crook, then shut his lips abruptly, darting a shrewd
glance at the girl. Emerson saw their eyes meet, and fancied that the
woman's smile sat a trifle unnaturally on her lips, while the delicate
coloring of her face changed imperceptibly. As the fellow mumbled
some acknowledgment, she turned to the younger man, inquiring
impersonally:
"I suppose you are bound for the States?"
"Yes; we intend to catch