rry it through, not stopping
at death, or at many deaths. This had been Johnny's mental analysis of
the character of the man, and at once he began to half hate and half
admire him. He had lost sight of him immediately, and had not discovered
him again. Whether the Russian had left town before the native band did,
Johnny could not tell. But, if he had moved on, where did he go?

The other shock was similar in character. The woman who had bought furs
for the North had also been in Khabarask. Whether she was a Japanese
Johnny was not prepared to say, and that in spite of the fact that he
had studied her carefully for five days. She might be a Chukche who,
through some strange impulse, had been led south to seek culture and
education. He doubted that. She might be an Eskimo from Alaska making
her way north to cross Behring Strait in the spring. He doubted that
also. Finally she might be a Japanese woman, but in that case, what
could be the explanation of her presence here, some two hundred miles
north of the last vestige of civilization?

Now, not ten feet from the spot where Johnny lay in an igloo assigned
for her private use by the natives, that identical girl slept at this
moment. Only four hours before, Johnny had bade her good night, after an
enjoyable repast of tea, reindeer meat and hard bread prepared by her
own hand over a small wood fire. It was she who was his fellow
passenger, whose igloo he had erected, close to his own. Yes, there was
mystery enough about the whole situation to keep any fellow awake; yet
Johnny hated himself for not sleeping. He felt that the time was coming
when he would need stored strength.

He had half dosed off when a sound very close at hand, within the walls
of canvas he thought, started him again into wakefulness. His arm ready
and free for action, he lay still. His breathing well regulated and
even, as in sleep, he watched through narrow slit eyes the deer skin
curtain rise, and a head appear. The ugly shaved head of a Chukche it
was; and in the intruder's hand was a knife.

The knife startled Johnny. He could not believe his eyes. He thought he
was seeing double; yet he did not move.

Slowly, silently the arm of the native rose until it hung over Johnny's
heart. In a second it would--

In that second something happened. There came a deadly thwack. The
native, without a cry, fell backward beyond the curtain. His knife shot
outward too, and stuck hilt downward in the snow.

Joh