The Spoilers | Page 4

light. They were active eyes,
he thought, and they flashed swift, comprehensive glances at the two
men. Her hair had fallen loose and crinkled to her waist, all agleam.
Otherwise she showed no sign of her recent ordeal.
Glenister had been prepared for the type of beauty that follows the
frontier; beauty that may stun, but that has the polish and chill of a
new-ground bowie. Instead, this girl with the calm, reposeful face
struck a note almost painfully different from her surroundings,
suggesting countless pleasant things that had been strange to him for
the past few years.
Pure admiration alone was patent in the older man's gaze.
"I make oration," said he, "that you're the gamest little chap I ever
fought over, Mexikin, Injun, or white. What's the trouble?"
"I suppose you think I've done something dreadful, don't you?" she said.
"But I haven't. I had to get away from the Ohio to-night for--certain
reasons. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow. I haven't stolen anything,
nor poisoned the crew--really I haven't." She smiled at them, and
Glenister found it impossible not to smile with her, though dismayed by
her feeble explanation.
"Well, I'll wake up the steward and find a place for you to go," he said
at length. "You'll have to double up with some of the women, though;
it's awfully crowded aboard."
She laid a detaining hand on his arm. He thought he felt her tremble.
"No, no! I don't want you to do that. They mustn't see me to- night. I
know I'm acting strangely and all that, but it's happened so quickly I
haven't found myself yet. I'll tell you to-morrow, though, really. Don't
let any one see me or it will spoil everything. Wait till to-morrow,

please."
She was very white, and spoke with eager intensity.
"Help you? Why, sure Mike!" assured the impulsive Dextry, "an', see
here, Miss--you take your time on explanations. We don't care a cuss
what you done. Morals ain't our long suit, 'cause 'there's never a law of
God or man runs north of Fifty-three,' as the poetry man remarked, an'
he couldn't have spoke truer if he'd knowed what he was sayin'.
Everybody is privileged to 'look out' his own game up here. A square
deal an' no questions asked."
She looked somewhat doubtful at this till she caught the heat of
Glenister's gaze. Some boldness of his look brought home to her the
actual situation, and a stain rose in her cheek. She noted him more
carefully; noted his heavy shoulders and ease of bearing, an ease and
looseness begotten of perfect muscular control. Strength was equally
suggested in his face, she thought, for he carried a marked young
countenance, with thrusting chin, aggressive thatching brows, and
mobile mouth that whispered all the changes from strength to abandon.
Prominent was a look of reckless energy. She considered him
handsome in a heavy, virile, perhaps too purely physical fashion.
"You want to stowaway?" he asked.
"I've had a right smart experience in that line," said Dextry, "but I never
done it by proxy. What's your plan?"
"She will stay here to-night," said Glenister quickly. "You and I will go
below. Nobody will see her."
"I can't let you do that," she objected. "Isn't there some place where I
can hide?" But they reassured her and left.
When they had gone, she crouched trembling upon her seat for a long
time, gazing fixedly before her. "I'm afraid!" she whispered; "I'm afraid.
What am I getting into? Why do men look so at me? I'm frightened. Oh,
I'm sorry I undertook it." At last she rose wearily. The close cabin

oppressed her; she felt the need of fresh air. So, turning out the lights,
she stepped forth into the night. Figures loomed near the rail and she
slipped astern, screening herself behind a life-boat, where the cool
breeze fanned her face.
The forms she had seen approached, speaking earnestly. Instead of
passing, they stopped abreast of her hiding-place; then, as they began to
talk, she saw that her retreat was cut off and that she must not stir.
"What brings her here?" Glenister was echoing a question of Dextry's.
"Bah! What brings them all? What brought 'the Duchess,' and Cherry
Malotte, and all the rest?"
"No, no," said the old man. "She ain't that kind--she's too fine, too
delicate--too pretty."
"That's just it--too pretty! Too pretty to be alone--or anything except
what she is."
Dextry growled sourly. "This country has plumb ruined you, boy. You
think they're all alike--an' I don't know but they are--all but this girl.
Seems like she's different, somehow--but I can't tell."
Glenister spoke musingly:
"I had an ancestor who buccaneered among the Indies, a long time
ago--so I'm told. Sometimes I think I have his disposition.