rus skin to get a clear view of the interior. This he did
quickly and silently.

He swung his arm in disgust as he peered inside. Only an old Chukche
woman sat in the corner, chewing and sewing at a skin boot sole.

Johnny hesitated. Had he mistaken the igloo? Had the Russian purposely
misled him? He was beginning to think so, when his eye caught the end of
a sleeping bag protruding from a pile of deer skins. This he instantly
recognized as belonging to the Russian.

"Evidently our friend is out. Then I'll wait," he whispered to himself.

He had been there but a few moments, when the native woman, putting away
her work, went out. She had scarcely disappeared through the flap than
a dark brown streak shot into the room. As Johnny watched it, he
realized that it was a small woman, and, though her clothing was
unfamiliar, he knew by certain quick and peculiar movements that this
was the Jap girl.

Ah ha! Now, perhaps, he should learn some things. Perhaps after all
these three were in league; perhaps they were all Radicals with a common
purpose, the destruction of all organized society; Japanese Radicals are
not at all uncommon.

But what was this the Jap girl was doing? She had overturned the pile of
deer skins and was attempting to reach to the bottom of the Russian's
sleeping bag. Failing in this, she gave it a number of punches. With a
keen glance toward the entrance she at last darted head foremost into
the bag, much as a mouse would have gone into a boot.

She came out almost at once. Her hands were empty. Evidently the thing
she sought was not there. Next she attacked a bundle, which Johnny
recognized as part of the Russian's equipment. She had examined this and
was about to put it in shape again when there came the faint shuffle of
feet at the entrance. With one wild look about her, she darted to the
pile of deer skins and disappeared beneath it.

She was not a moment too soon, for instantly the sharp chin and the
sullen brow of the Russian appeared at the entrance.

When he saw the bundle in disorder, he sprang to the center of the room.
His hand on his belt, he stared about the place for a second, then much
as a cat springs at a tuft of grass where a mole is concealed, he sprang
at the pile of deer skins.

Johnny's lips parted, but he uttered not a sound. His hand gripped the
blue automatic. If the Russian found her, there would be no more
Russian, that was all.

But to his intense surprise, he saw th