The Silver Horde | Page 9

the mail-boat at Katmai. I am taking Fraser
along for company; it's hard travelling alone in a strange country. He's
a nuisance, but he's rather amusing at times."

"I certainly am," agreed that cheerful person, now fully at his ease.
"I've a bad memory for names!"--he looked queerly at his hostess--"but
I'm very amusing, very!"
"Not 'very,'" corrected Emerson.
Then they talked of the trail, the possibilities of securing supplies, and
of hiring a guide. By-and-by the girl rose, and after showing them to a
room, she excused herself on the score of having to see to the dinner.
When she had withdrawn, "Fingerless" Fraser pursed his thin lips into a
noiseless whistle, then observed:
"Well, I'll--be--cussed!"
"Who is she?" asked Emerson, in a low, eager tone. "Do you know?"
"You heard, didn't you? She's Miss Malotte, and she's certainly some
considerable lady."
The same look that Emerson had noted when their hostess introduced
herself to them flitted again into the crook's unsteady eyes.
"Yes, but who is she? What does this mean?" Emerson pointed to the
provisions and fittings about them. "What is she doing here alone?"
"Maybe you'd better ask her yourself," said Fraser.
For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Emerson detected a
strange note in the rogue's voice, but it was too slight to provoke reply,
so he brushed it aside and prepared himself for dinner.
The Indian girl summoned them, and they followed her through the
long passageway into the other house, where, to their utter
astonishment, they seemed to step out of the frontier and into the heart
of civilization. They found a tiny dining-room, perfectly appointed, in
the centre of which, wonder of wonders, was a round table gleaming
like a deep mahogany pool, upon the surface of which floated gauzy
hand-worked napery, glinting silver, and sparkling crystal, the dark

polish of the wood reflecting the light from shaded candles. It held a
delicately figured service of blue and gold, while the selection of
thin-stemmed glasses all in rows indicated the character of the
entertainment that awaited them. The men's eyes were too busy with
the unaccustomed sight to note details carefully, but they felt soft
carpet beneath their feet and observed that the walls were smooth and
harmoniously papered.
When one has lived long in the rough where things come with the husk
on, he fancies himself weaned away from the dainty, the beautiful, and
the artistic; after years of a skillet-and-sheath-knife existence he grows
to feel a scorn for the finer, softer, inconsequent trifles of the past, only
to find, of a sudden, that, unknown to him perhaps, his soul has been
hungering for them all the while. The feel of cool linen comes like the
caress of a forgotten sweetheart, the tinkle of glass and silver are so
many chiming fairy bells inviting him back into the foretime days. And
so these two unkempt men, toughened and browned to the texture of
leather by wind and snow, brought by trail and campfire to disregard
ceremony and look upon mealtime as an unsatisfying, irksome period,
stood speechless, affording the girl the feminine pleasure of enjoying
their discomfiture.
"This is m--marvelous," murmured Emerson, suddenly conscious of his
rough clothing, his fur boots, and his hands cracked by frost. "I'm afraid
we're not in keeping."
"Indeed you are," said the girl, "and I am delighted to have somebody
to talk to. It's very lonesome here, month after month."
"This is certainly a swell tepee," Fraser remarked, staring about in open
admiration. "How did you do it?"
"I brought my things with me from Nome."
"Nome!" ejaculated Emerson, quickly.
"Yes."

"Why, I've been in Nome ever since the camp was discovered. It's
strange we never met."
"I didn't stay there very long. I went back to Dawson."
Again he fancied the girl's eyes held a vague challenge, but he could
not be sure; for she seated him, and then gave some instructions to the
Aleut girl, who had entered noiselessly. It was the strangest meal Boyd
Emerson had ever eaten, for here, in a forgotten corner of an unknown
land, hidden behind high-banked log walls, he partook of a perfect
dinner, well served, and presided over by a gracious, richly gowned
young woman who talked interestingly on many subjects, For a second
time he lost himself in a maze of conjecture. Who was she? What was
her mission here? Why was she alone? But not for long; he was too
heavily burdened by the responsibility and care of his own affairs to
waste much time by the way on those of other people; and becoming
absorbed in his own thoughts, he grew more silent as the signs of
refinement and civilization about him revived memories long stifled.
Fraser, on the contrary, warmed by the wine, blossomed