ied to drown me.
Mein head--he hold it under the water."

"Ain't that just like a Swede?" retorted the mate in disgust. "Mac saves
his life. Then the roughneck kicks because he got a belly full of Yukon.
Sure Mac soused him some. Why shouldn't he?"

"I ain't no Swede," explained the big miner sullenly.

The mate did not think it worth his while to explain that "Swede" was
merely his generic term of contempt for all foreigners.

CHAPTER III

THE GIRL FROM DROGHEDA

Gordon Elliot was too much of a night owl to be an early riser, but
next morning he was awakened by the tramp of hurried feet along the
deck to the accompaniment of brusque orders, together with frequent
angry puffing and snorting of the boat. From the quiver of the walls he
guessed that the Hannah was stuck on a sandbar. The mate's language gave
backing to this surmise. Divided in mind between his obligation to the
sleeping passengers and his duty to get the boat on her way, that
officer spilled a good deal of subdued sulphurous language upon the
situation.

"All together now. Get your back into it. Why are you running around
like a chicken without a head, Reeves?" he snapped.

Evidently the deck hands were working to get the Hannah off by poling.

Elliot tried to settle back to sleep, but after two or three ineffectual
efforts gave it up. He rose and did one or two setting-up exercises to
limber his joints. The first of these flashed the signal to his brain
that he was stiff and sore. This brought to mind the fight on the
hurricane deck, and he smiled. His face was about as mobile as if it
were in a plaster cast. It hurt every time he twitched a muscle.

The young man stepped to the looking-glass. Both eyes were blacked, his
lip had been cut, and there was a purple weal well up on his left cheek.
He stopped himself from grinning only just in time to save another
twinge of pain.

"Some party while it lasted. I never saw more willing mixers. Everybody
seemed anxious to sit in except Mr. Wally Selfridge," he explained to
his reflection. "But Macdonald is the class. He's there with both right
and left. That uppercut of his is vicious. Don't ever get in the way of
it, Gordon Elliot." He examined his injuries more closely in the glass.
"Some one landed a peach on my right lamp and the other is in mourning
out of sympathy. Oh, well, I ain't the only prize beauty on board this
morning." The young man forgot and smiled. "Ouch! Don't do that, Gord