The Spoilers | Page 5

He comes
and whispers things to me in the night. Oh, he was a devil, and I've got
his blood in me--untamed and hot--I can hear him saying something
now--something about the spoils of war. Ha, ha! Maybe he's right. I
fought for her to-night--Dex--the way he used to fight for his
sweethearts along the Mexicos. She's too beautiful to be good--and
'there's never a law of God or man runs north of Fifty-three.'"
They moved on, his vibrant, cynical laughter stabbing the girl till she
leaned against the yawl for support.
She held herself together while the blood beat thickly in her ears, then

fled to the cabin, hurling herself into her berth, where she writhed
silently, beating the pillow with hands into which her nails had bitten,
staring the while into the darkness with dry and aching eyes.
CHAPTER II
THE STOWAWAY
She awoke to the throb of the engines, and, gazing cautiously through
her stateroom window, saw a glassy, level sea, with the sun brightly
agleam on it.
So this was Bering? She had clothed it always with the mystery of her
school-days, thinking of it as a weeping, fog-bound stretch of gray
waters. Instead, she saw a flat, sunlit main, with occasional sea-parrots
flapping their fat bodies out of the ship's course. A glistening head
popped up from the waters abreast, and she heard the cry of "seal!"
Dressing, the girl noted minutely the personal articles scattered about
the cabin, striving to derive therefrom some fresh hint of the
characteristics of the owners. First, there was an elaborate,
copper-backed toilet-set, all richly ornamented and leather-bound. The
metal was magnificently hand-worked and bore Glenister's initial. It
spoke of elegant extravagance, and seemed oddly out of place in an
Arctic miner's equipment, as did also a small set of De Maupassant.
Next, she picked up Kipling's Seven Seas, marked liberally, and felt
that she had struck a scent. The roughness and brutality of the poems
had always chilled her, though she had felt vaguely their splendid pulse
and swing. This was the girl's first venture from a sheltered life. She
had not rubbed elbows with the world enough to find that Truth may be
rough, unshaven, and garbed in homespun. The book confirmed her
analysis of the junior partner.
Pendent from a hook was a worn and blackened holster from which
peeped the butt of a large Colt's revolver, showing evidence of many
years' service. It spoke mutely of the white-haired Dextry, who, before
her inspection was over, knocked at the door, and, when she admitted

him, addressed her cautiously:
"The boy's down forrad, teasin' grub out of a flunky. He'll be up in a
minute. How'd ye sleep?"
"Very well, thank you," she lied, "but I've been thinking that I ought to
explain myself to you."
"Now, see here," the old man interjected, "there ain't no explanations
needed till you feel like givin' them up. You was in trouble--that's
unfortunate; we help you--that's natural; no questions asked--that's
Alaska."
"Yes--but I know you must think--"
"What bothers me," the other continued irrelevantly, "is how in blazes
we're goin' to keep you hid. The steward's got to make up this room,
and somebody's bound to see us packin' grub in."
"I don't care who knows if they won't send me back. They wouldn't do
that, would they?" She hung anxiously on his words.
"Send you back? Why, don't you savvy that this boat is bound for
Nome? There ain't no turnin' back on gold stampedes, and this is the
wildest rush the world ever saw. The captain wouldn't turn back--he
couldn't--his cargo's too precious and the company pays five thousand a
day for this ship. No, we ain't puttin' back to unload no stowaways at
five thousand per. Besides, we passengers wouldn't let him--time's too
precious." They were interrupted by the rattle of dishes outside, and
Dextry was about to open the door when his hand wavered uncertainly
above the knob, for he heard the hearty greeting of the ship's captain.
"Well, well, Glenister, where's all the breakfast going?"
"Oo!" whispered the old man--"that's Cap' Stephens."
"Dextry isn't feeling quite up to form this morning," replied Glenister
easily.

"Don't wonder! Why weren't you aboard sooner last night? I saw
you--'most got left, eh? Served you right if you had." Then his voice
dropped to the confidential: "I'd advise you to cut out those women.
Don't misunderstand me, boy, but they're a bad lot on this boat. I saw
you come aboard. Take my word for it--they're a bad lot. Cut 'em out.
Guess I'll step inside and see what's up with Dextry."
The girl shrank into her corner, gazing apprehensively at the other
listener.
"Well--er--he isn't up yet," they heard Glenister stammer; "better come
around later."
"Nonsense; it's time he was dressed."