are like his looks,--unusual. He's an
unsociable beast. Been in the country more years than he can number
acquaintances. Truth to say, I don't think he has a friend in all
Alaska, not even among the Indians, and he's chummed thick with them
off and on. 'Johnny Sorehead,' they call him, but it might as well be
'Johnny Break-um-head,' for he's got a quick temper and a rough hand.
Temper! Some little misunderstanding popped up between him and the
agent at Arctic City. He was in the right, too,--agent's mistake,--but
he tabooed the Company on the spot and lived on straight meat for a
year. Then I happened to run across him at Tanana Station, and after
due explanations he consented to buy from us again."

"Got the girl from up the head-waters of the White," Bill Brown told
St. Vincent. "Welse thinks he's pioneering in that direction, but Borg
could give him cards and spades on it and then win out. He's been over
the ground years ago. Yes, strange sort of a chap. Wouldn't hanker to
be bunk-mates with him."

But St. Vincent did not mind the eccentricities of the man, for he
spent most of his time on Split-up Island with Frona and the Baron.
One day, however, and innocently, he ran foul of him. Two Swedes,
hunting tree-squirrels from the other end of Roubeau Island, had
stopped to ask for matches and to yarn a while in the warm sunshine of
the clearing. St. Vincent and Borg were accommodating them, the latter
for the most part in meditative monosyllables. Just to the rear, by
the cabin-door, Bella was washing clothes. The tub was a cumbersome
home-made affair, and half-full of water, was more than a fair match
for an ordinary woman. The correspondent noticed her struggling with
it, and stepped back quickly to her aid.

With the tub between them, they proceeded to carry it to one side in
order to dump it where the ground drained from the cabin. St. Vincent
slipped in the thawing snow and the soapy water splashed up. Then
Bella slipped, and then they both slipped. Bella giggled and laughed,
and St. Vincent laughed back. The spring was in the air and in their
blood, and it was very good to be alive. Only a wintry heart could
deny a smile on such a day. Bella slipped again, tried to recover,
slipped with the other foot, and sat down abruptly. Laughing
gleefully, both of them, the correspondent caught her hands to pull her
to her feet. With a bound and a bellow, Borg was upon them. Their
hands were torn a