question at a time."

"Oh, nothing much. Sitka Charley had an appointment there with somebody
you may know, and not being anxious for a man of your known charm to be
present, fell back upon me to kindly help him. That's all. They're off
now, and a good half hour ago."

"Where? Down river and without me? And he an Indian!"

"There's no accounting for taste, you know, especially in a woman."

"But how do I stand in this deal? I've lost four thousand dollars' worth
of dogs and a tidy bit of a woman, and nothing to show for it. Except
you," he added as an afterthought, "and cheap you are at the price."

Freda shrugged her shoulders.

"You might as well get ready. I'm going out to borrow a couple of teams
of dogs, and we'll start in as many hours."

"I am very sorry, but I'm going to bed."

"You'll pack if you know what's good for you. Go to bed, or not, when I
get my dogs outside, so help me, onto the sled you go. Mebbe you fooled
with me, but I'll just see your bluff and take you in earnest. Hear me?"

He closed on her wrist till it hurt, but on her lips a smile was growing,
and she seemed to listen intently to some outside sound. There was a
jingle of dog bells, and a man's voice crying "Haw!" as a sled took the
turning and drew up at the cabin.

"_Now_ will you let me go to bed?"

As Freda spoke she threw open the door. Into the warm room rushed the
frost, and on the threshold, garbed in trail-worn furs, knee-deep in the
swirling vapor, against a background of flaming borealis, a woman
hesitated. She removed her nose-trap and stood blinking blindly in the
white candlelight. Floyd Vanderlip stumbled forward.

"Floyd!" she cried, relieved and glad, and met him with a tired bound.

What could he but kiss the armful of furs? And a pretty armful it was,
nestling against him wearily, but happy.

"It was good of you," spoke the armful, "to send Mr. Devereaux with fresh
dogs after me, else I would not have been in till to-morrow."

The man looked blankly across at Freda, then the light breaking in upon
him, "And wasn't it good of Devereaux to go?"

"Couldn't wait a bit longer, could you, dear?" Flossie snuggled closer.

"Well, I was getting sort of impatient," he confessed glibly, at the same
time drawing her up till her feet left the floor, and getting outside the
door.

That same night an inexplicable thing happened to the Reverend James
Brown, missionary, who lived among the natives seve