urned
over with a groan and lay still.

The new passenger looked across the huge, sprawling body at the group
of miners facing him. They glared in savage hate. All they needed was a
leader to send them driving at him with the force of an avalanche. The
man at whom they raged did not give an inch. He leaned forward slightly,
his weight resting on the balls of his feet, alert to the finger tips.
But in his eyes a grim little smile of derisive amusement rested.

"Next," he taunted.

Then the mate got busy. He hustled his stevedores forward in front of
the miners and shook his fist in their faces as he stormed up and down.
If they wanted trouble, by God! it was waiting for 'em, he swore in
apoplectic fury. The Hannah was a river boat and not a dive for wharf
rats. No bunch of roughnecks could come aboard a boat where he was mate
and start anything. They could not assault any passengers of his and
make it stick.

The man with the suitcase did not wait to hear out his tirade. He
followed the purser to his stateroom, dropped his baggage beside the
berth, and joined the Kusiak group on the upper deck.

They greeted him eagerly, a little effusively, as if they were anxious
to prove themselves on good terms with him. The deference they paid and
his assured acceptance of it showed him to be a man of importance. But
apart from other considerations, he dominated by mental and physical
virility the circle of which he instantly became the center. Only Mrs.
Mallory held her own, and even she showed a quickened interest. Her
indolent, half-disdainful manner sheathed a soft sensuousness that held
the provocation of sex appeal.

"What was the matter?" asked Selfridge. "How did the trouble start?"

The big man shrugged his shoulders. "It didn't start. Some of the outfit
thought they were looking for a row, but they balked on the job when
Trelawney got his." Turning to Mrs. Mallory, he changed the subject
abruptly. "Did you have a good time down the river?"

Gordon, as he watched from a little distance, corrected earlier
impressions. This man had passed the thirties. Salt and pepper sprinkled
the temples of his strong, lean head. He had the thick neck and solid
trunk of middle life, but he carried himself so superbly that his whole
bearing denied that years could touch his splendid physique. The suit he
wore was a wrinkled corduroy, with trouser legs thrust into high-laced
boots. An outdoor tan had been painted upon his face and ne