nd ask you what you're doing here," Hiram retorted
coldly.

Lucy shrugged. "Oh, I don't make any pretenses of piety--now," she
said significantly. Then, casting a defiant glance at him, she
produced a silver cigarette case, took a cigarette from it, and begged
for the end of his cigar at which to light it. "They say Jerkline Jo
is grabbing off big jack. How 'bout it?" She puffed indolently,
greatly to her companion's disgust.

"She works hard and earns money," Jo's supporter defended. "She raised
the wages of all of us, too, as soon as business began to look up. We
skinners get ninety dollars a month and board now."

"Ninety dollars a month!" Lucy said jeeringly. "D'ye call that money!
I didn't think you'd continue to be such a fish as long as this, Hiram."

"Well, I'm investin' it," said Hiram. "It may be more some day."

Luck looked suddenly into Hiram's eyes, then let her lashes cover her
own.

"I guess this pious Jerkline Jo has got you goin'," she observed.

"I work for her," said Hiram awkwardly.

"Any man would, I guess. Men are all suckers."

Hiram said nothing to this, and presently, stating that he would be
obliged to return to camp, asked Lucy if she was ready to go.

Rather petulantly she gave in, and just outside the door they
encountered the glowering Al Drummond.

"Lucy," he said sharply, "come here!"

"I'll have to go," Lucy said to Hiram. "See you later, honey boy from
the woods. Good night!"

Hiram saw Drummond take a step and roughly grab Lucy's arm as she
tripped up to him. They walked away, plainly indulging in a heated
argument.

"'Honey boy,' huh!" and Hiram snorted. "Men are suckers--till they
meet a regular woman!"

He hurried back to camp and rolled himself in his blankets without
further thought of the girl who had caused him to make such a fool of
himself in San Francisco. Had he but known it the advent of Lucy
Dalles in Ragtown was to have a great deal to do with the future
fortunes of both Jerkline Jo and himself.

CHAPTER XXI

LUCY SEES A PROSPECT

There was so much freighting that summer that the combined outfits of
Jerkline Jo Modock and Al Drummond were taxed to capacity. The new
settlers made constant demands upon them, and, though their wants were
puny in comparison with those of the camps, Jo accommodated them
whenever she could. Water had been struck at the surprisingly shallow
depth of forty-five feet in some places, and many pumping p