expression,
the ghost of some buried misery achieving swift resurrection. But the
next moment, and by an effort of will, the ghost was laid again. His
face was as placid as before, though he was still alert, dissatisfied
with what the feeble light had shown him of the woman's face.

Automatically, her first act had been to set the coffee-pot back. It was
not until she had done this that she glanced at Messner. But already he
had composed himself. She saw only a man sitting on the edge of the bunk
and incuriously studying the toes of his moccasins. But, as she turned
casually to go about her cooking, he shot another swift look at her, and
she, glancing as swiftly back, caught his look. He shifted on past her
to the doctor, though the slightest smile curled his lip in appreciation
of the way she had trapped him.

She drew a candle from the grub-box and lighted it. One look at her
illuminated face was enough for Messner. In the small cabin the widest
limit was only a matter of several steps, and the next moment she was
alongside of him. She deliberately held the candle close to his face and
stared at him out of eyes wide with fear and recognition. He smiled
quietly back at her.

"What are you looking for, Tess?" the doctor called.

"Hairpins," she replied, passing on and rummaging in a clothes-bag on the
bunk.

They served their meal on their grub-box, sitting on Messner's grub-box
and facing him. He had stretched out on his bunk to rest, lying on his
side, his head on his arm. In the close quarters it was as though the
three were together at table.

"What part of the States do you come from?" Messner asked.

"San Francisco," answered the doctor. "I've been in here two years,
though."

"I hail from California myself," was Messner's announcement.

The woman looked at him appealingly, but he smiled and went on:

"Berkeley, you know."

The other man was becoming interested.

"U. C.?" he asked.

"Yes, Class of '86."

"I meant faculty," the doctor explained. "You remind me of the type."

"Sorry to hear you say so," Messner smiled back. "I'd prefer being taken
for a prospector or a dog-musher."

"I don't think he looks any more like a professor than you do a doctor,"
the woman broke in.

"Thank you," said Messner. Then, turning to her companion, "By the way,
Doctor, what is your name, if I may ask?"

"Haythorne, if you'll take my word for it. I gave up cards with
civilization."

"And