nd some few of the
older men followed them; and in the house of Pere Marquette, in the
yellow light of a half dozen kerosene lamps and many tall candles, the
real affair of the evening began.

Great logs oozing molten pitch were burning noisily in the two rock
fireplaces, the red flames swept up into the blackened chimneys to
spread cheer within and to scatter sparks like little stars in the
clear night without, the punch bowl had at last been allowed to stand
empty not because men were through drinking but because stronger drink,
men's drink, had appeared in many bottles upon the shelves, a game of
poker was running in one corner of a room, a game of solo in another;
yonder, seen through an open door, six men were shaking dice and
wagering little and bigger sums recklessly; a little fellow with a
wooden leg and a terribly scarred face was drawing shrieking rag time
from an old and asthmatic accordion while four men, their big boots
clumping noisily upon the bare floor, danced like awkward trained bears
when the outer door, closed against the chill of the evening, was flung
open and a stranger to MacLeod's settlement stood a moment framed
against the outside night. A score of eyes, going to him swiftly,
studied him with unhidden curiosity.

CHAPTER II

THE COMING OF NO-LUCK DRENNEN

All sorts and conditions of men come to the North Woods; some because
they want to, some because they have to. Some because they are drawn
by the fine lure of adventure and the urge of the restless spirit, some
because they are driven by that bloodhound which is the law. All
types, all classes. And yet now, standing jauntily upon Pere
Marquette's threshold, was a type of which as yet the Settlement had
had no knowledge.

He was young and wore his black mustaches with all of the fierceness of
youth. His boots were at once the finest and the smallest which
MacLeod's had ever seen upon a man's feet. He wore gloves, and when in
due time the hands came out of the gloves, they were little like a
woman's and white and soft. He was a handsome young devil-of-a-fellow
with all of the soft, graceful beauty of the far southland. His mouth,
smiling now, was red lipped, his teeth a glistening white. Eyes very
big, very black, very soft, very tender, smiling too. From the crown
of his wide black hat to the tall heels of his dainty boots he was such
a dandy as demanded more than a casual glance.

"_Amigos_," he cried, the door closed