ot hold in thrall the entire wealth of her dark-brown
hair. Some tresses had escaped, and the wind had tossed them across
her cheeks and brow. She was thinly clad for such a night. Her dress
of dark-blue serge, and a shawl over her shoulders, were little
protection in that furious storm, while her hands, he noticed, were
bare.

All this Keith intuitively beheld, for he was endeavoring to grasp the
drift of the conversation, in order to solve the problem of her
mysterious presence. She was speaking, but he could only catch the
word "father" now and then. Presently Pete jerked his thumb toward the
bunk, and in a louder voice, said:

"I wish yon lad was awake, fer he's a doctor, an' understands sich
things. But he's been knocked out mighty bad in this storm, an' I hate
to distarb 'im."

At this Keith rolled out of the bunk, and stood before the two.
"Pardon me," he said, "but I have just awakened, and would like to do
anything in my power to help you."

At the sudden appearance of the tall, unkempt figure, the woman gave a
start of surprise. Keith, noticing this, felt somewhat abashed, when
he realized how he must look. But it was not fear or disgust which
caused the woman to start. It was the picturesque figure he presented
by the dim candle light.

"What a subject for a sketch," she thought. "I wish I had my pencil
and paper."

"Lassie--Miss Radhurst, I mean," Pete began, "this is my old friend,
Keith Steadman, an' he'll fix up yer dad if any man kin."

At once the woman held out her hand to the missionary. As he grasped
it, he noticed how small it was, and rough, too. It evidently knew
hard work. Holding it for an instant, and looking into her eyes, he
felt like saying:

"I know you, Miss Radhurst. I have known you for days, and your face
has been so often in my mind."

"Oh, Mr. Steadman," she said, trembling with excitement, "I am so glad
you are here. My poor father has been strange all day. To-night he
got up, opened the cabin door, and fell down the steps. With great
difficulty, I managed to get him back into the room, where he now lies
moaning as if in great pain. I fear his arm is broken. Will you come
over to see him?"

"Certainly, I shall go at once," and Keith started for his cap and
medicinal companion. "And, Pete, you'll come too?" he continued. "You
may be needed."

"Lead on, pard," returned the old man. "I'll stand by, never ye fear
that." To himself, however, he said: