The old man greeted the affably, but as his glance fell on his daughter he stopped stock-still on the threshold.  
"I told you never to wear that dress again," he said, in a dry, harsh voice.
 
The girl made no answer, for her heart was breaking, but turned and went into her room. Burrell had an desire to tell that he wanted his daughter for his wife; it would be an unwonted pleasure to startle this iron-gray old man and the shawled and shambling mummy of red, with the unwinking eyes that always reminded him of two ox-heart cherries; but he had given Necia his promise. So he to the exchange of ordinary topics, and inquired for news of the .
 
"Necia's ground is getting better every hour," the trader said. "Yesterday they found a sixty-dollar pan."
 
"Have you struck pay on yours?"
 
"No; Poleon and I seem to hold bad hands. Some of his are quitting work. They've cross-cut in half a dozen places and can't find a color."
 
"But surely they haven't his claims yet; there must be plenty of room for a pay-streak somewhere, mustn't there?"
 
"It looks like he had three blanks," said Gale, "although we can't tell for sure. They're breaking most as bad for me, too; but I've got a new , and I'm running up a dreen to catch bed-rock along the left . I've got twenty men at work, and I'll know before long. You heard about Runnion, of course?"
 
"Yes; the usual story—the bad men get the good mines, and the good ones get the hungry spots. Well, I might have been one of the unfortunates if I had staked for myself; but I hardly think so, I'm pretty lucky." He laughingly bade them good-night, content with himself and at peace with the world.
 
Gale went to Necia's door and called her, but when she appeared he was unprepared for the face with which she greeted him.
 
"Daughter," he said, "don't feel bad over what I said; I didn't mean to be cross with you, but—I don't like that dress."
 
"Were you cross with me, daddy?" she said, dully. "I didn't hear. What did you say?"
 
He looked at her in . "Necia, little girl, what is the trouble?"
 
She was staring past him, and her fingers were helplessly with the lace of her gown, but she began to show signs of .
 
"I sent him away—I—gave him up, when he wanted me—wanted me—Oh, daddy! he wants to marry me—and I sent him away."
 
Alluna uttered a short, satisfied , and, looking at Gale meaningly, said:
 
"It is good. It is good. He is a stranger."
 
But the man disregarded her interruption.
 
"He asked you to marry him in—in—in spite of who you are and what I am?"
 
"Yes; he is ready to give up his ambition, his army, his future, his family, everything, for me—to sacrifice it all; and so, of course, I couldn't let him." She simply, as if her father would surely understand and approve her action, while in her voice was a note of resignation. "You see, I never understood what my blood would mean to him until to-night. I've been selfish and thoughtless, I guess. I just wanted him, and wanted him to take me; but now that he is mine, I love him more than I thought. He is so dear to me that I can't drag him down—I can't—I can't!" She went to the open door and stood leaning against the casing, facing the cool outer darkness, her face hidden from them, her form wearily, as if the struggle had sapped her whole strength.
 
Alluna crept to the trader and looked up at him eagerly, whispering:
 
"This will end in a little while, John. She is young. She can go back to the Mission to-morrow. She will soon forget."
 
"Forget! Do you think she can forget?"
 
"Any woman can forget. Only men remember."
 
"It is the red blood in you—lying. You know you lie."
 
"It is to save your life," she said.
 
"I know; but it's no use." To Necia he said; "You needn't worry, little daughter." But her ears were deaf. "You needn't give him up, I say—this will end all right."
 
Seeing that she gave no sign of , he stepped closer, and swung her about till she faced him.
 
"Can't you trust me this one time? You always have before, Necia. I say he'll marry you, and it will all come out right."
 
She raised her hopeless eyes and strove gamely to meet his, then, failing, broke away, and turned back to the door. "I knew you couldn't understand. I—I—oh, God, I love him so!" With a cry like that of a wounded animal she fled out into the night, where she could give to her unseen; for she had never wept before her father, but always crept away and hid herself until her grief was spent. Gale would have started after her, but Alluna dragged him back fiercely.
 
"No, no! It means your life, John. Let the secret die, and she will forget. She is so young. Time will cure her—time cures everything. Don't tell her—don't tell any one—and, above all, don't tell that soldier! He would not believe, nor would she. Even I have doubted!"
 
"You?"
 
"Yes, John. And if I don't believe, what is a stranger to say? No man knowing you would believe the tale—without proof. Suppose she doubted—have you ever thought of that? Would you not rather have her die still loving you than live and disbelieve?"
 
"Yes, yes! Of course, I—I've thought of that, but—Woman, you're worse than a rattlesnake!"
 
"Even if he knew, he might not marry her. You at least are clean, and that other man was a devil. A brave man's life is too great a price to pay for a grief that will die in a year." Alluna was speaking swiftly in her own language, her body tense, her face , and no man seeing her could ever again have called her people .
 
"You think time will cure a love like that?" he said.
 
"Yes, yes!"
 
"That's all you know about it. Time may act that way perhaps in cities and such places, but out in the hills it is different. When you've got the breath of the forest in you, I say it is different. Time—why, I've lived fifteen years in the open with a living memory. Every night I've dreamed it over, every day I've lived it through; in every camp-fire I see a face, and every wind from the south brings a voice to me. Every stormy night a girl with eyes like Necia's calls to me, and I have to follow. Every patch of moonlight shows her smiling at me, just beyond, just in the shadow's edge. Love! Time! Why, Alluna, love is the only thing in the world that never dies, and time only makes it the more enduring."
 
He took up the white slouch hat he had thrown down when he came in, and stepped to the door.
 
"Where are you going?" inquired the squaw, fearfully.
 
"To the barracks to give myself up!"
 
She flung herself at him with a great cry, and seized him about the waist.
 
"You never loved me, John, but I have been a good woman to you, although I knew you were always thinking of her—and had no thought of me. I have loved this girl because you loved her. I have hated your enemies because you hated them, and now I remember while you forget."
 
"Forget! What do you mean?"
 
"!"
 
The man paused. "I did almost forget him—and after fifteen years!"
 
"Let us kill him to-night; then we will go to the soldier together, side by side—I am your woman. Necia will look after the little ones."
 
Gale stared at her, and as he gazed the red her skin, the straight-hanging, mane-like hair, the shawl she never went without, the shapeless, skin-shod feet, the , ill-fitting of a mis-cast woman vanished, and he saw her as she was on a day long past, a slim, shy, silent creature, with great, , trusting eyes and a soul unspoiled. No woman had ever been so loyal, so uncomplaining. He had robbed her of her people and her gods. He had shifted hither and yon at the call of his uncertain fortune, or at a sign of that fear that always dogged him, and she had never left his side, never questioned, never doubted, but always served him like a slave, without asking for a part in that other love, without sharing in the he had to a woman she had never seen.
 
"By Heaven! You're game, Alluna, but there's a limit even to what I can take from you," he said, at last. "I don't ever seem to have noticed it before, but there is. No! I've got to do this thing alone to-night, all of it, for you have no place in it, and I can't let the little girl go on like this. The sooner that soldier knows the better." He leaned down and touched her brown mouth with his grizzled lips. "Thank you, Alluna, for making a man of me when I'd nearly forgotten. Now you stay here." He knew he could count on her , and so he left her. When he had gone she drew the shawl up over her face and in the , straining her eyes after him through the dark. In time she began to rock and sway, and then to chant, until the night moaned with the death-song of her people.
 
Necia had no idea whither she went; her only thought was to flee from her , who could not understand, to hide under cover in some place, to let the darkness swallow her up, so that she might give way to her grief and be just a poor, weak woman. So, with a dull and aching heart, she wandered, bareheaded, bare-necked, half-demented, and wholly to her surroundings, without sense of her incongruous or of the water that squeezed up through the soggy at her tread and soaked her . On she stumbled blindly through the murk like some fair creature of light cast out and .
 
The night was cloudy and a wind came sighing from the north, tossing the girl's hair and at the careless folds of her dress, but she heard nothing save the devil's that rang in her head, and felt nothing beyond the pain at throat and breast, which in time became so bitter that the tears were from her dry eyes, and she began to weep in a pitiful woman fashion, as if her heart would burst. The first drops cleared a way for others, and soon she was freely, alone and without , lost in the night.
 
She had not succeeded in herself, however, for a man who was his course by the sense of feel and the wind's direction heard her and paused. His steps were in the soft footing, so that she had no warning of his presence until he was near enough to distinguish her dimly where she leaned against the log wall of a half-completed cabin.
 
To his question, "What's the trouble here?" she made no answer, but moved away, whereupon he detained her. "There's something wrong. Who are you, anyhow?"
 
"It's only Necia, Mr. Stark," said the girl, at which he advanced and took her by the arm.
 
"What you, child? What in the world are you doing here? Come! It's only a step to my cabin; you must come in and rest awhile, and you'll soon be all right. Why, you'll break your neck in this darkness."
 
She hung back, but he compelled her to go with him in spite of her .
 
"Now, now," he , with unusual for him; "you know you're my little friend, and I can't let you go on this way; it's scandalous. I won't stand for it. I like you too much."
 
In truth he had done things during these last few weeks to make her think so, having never missed an opportunity to stop and pass a word with her, at the same time showing her a queer courtesy and consideration quite foreign to his habits. She had never mentioned the fact to her father or the others, for she had developed a sort of sympathy for the man, and felt that she understood him better than they did.
 
He led her inside his cabin, and closed the door in the face of the night wind before he struck a light.
 
"I can't stand to see you cry," he repeated, as he adjusted the wick. "Now, as soon as—" He stopped in , for he had turned to , instead of the little half-breed girl, this slender, sorrowful stranger in her amazingly wonderful raiment.
 
"By—" He checked himself insensibly, and stood motionless for a long time, while she wiped her eyes and, woman-like, straightened out her gown and smoothed her hair with little feminine touches.
 
"I—I—hope you'll excuse me for this way," she smiled at him, piteously; then, observing his strange features, "Why, what is the matter, Mr. Stark; are you angry?"
 
His face was strained and colorless, his black eyes fierce and eager, his body as if to upon a victim. In truth he was now the predatory animal.
 
"No," he replied, as if her question carried no meaning; then, coming to himself, "No—no! of course not, but—you gave me a start. You reminded me of some one. How do you come to be dressed like that? I never knew you had such clothes?"
 
"Poleon brought them from Dawson; they are the first I ever had."
 
He shook his head in a slow, puzzled fashion.
 
"You look just like a white girl—I mean—I don't know what I mean." This time he roused himself fully, the effort being more like a .
 
"So I have always thought," she said, and her eyes filled again.
 
"Your skin is like milk beneath your tan, and—I don't mean any disrespect, but—Well, I'm just so damned surprised! Come over here and sit down while I mix you something to put the heart back into you."
 
He shoved forward a big chair with a wolf-skin flung over it, into which she sank dejectedly, while he stepped to the shelves beside the Yukon stove and took down a bottle and some glasses. She glanced about with faint curiosity, but the interior of the cabin showed nothing out of the ordinary, consisting as it did of one room with a cot in the corner, upon which were tumbled blankets, and above which was a row of . Opposite was a sheet-iron box-stove supported knee-high on a tin-capped framework of wood, and in the centre a table with oil-cloth cover. Around the walls were some cooking , a few cases of canned goods, and clothes hanging in a row.
 
"I'm not up very well yet," he apologized; "I've been too busy at the saloon to waste time on living quarters. But it's comfortable enough for an old roadster like me, for I've around the frontier so long that I've learned there's only three things necessary to a man's comfort—warm clothes, a full stomach, and a dry place to sleep. All ............