he was a hole in the ice."

It may have been the memory of that heavy whip handle, it may have
been the moral effect of stray biographical bits garnered here and
there around the gambling-table, or it may have been merely a high
and natural chivalry, totally unsuspected until now, which prompted
Petersen to treat Ponatah with a chill and formal courtesy when he
returned from St. Michaels. At any rate, the girl arrived in Nome with
nothing but praise for the mail-man. Pete Petersen, so she said, might
have his faults, but he knew how to behave like a perfect gentleman.

Ponatah took up her new duties with enthusiasm, and before a month had
passed she had endeared herself to her employers, who secretly assured
Doctor Thomas that they had discovered a treasure and would never part
with her. She was gentle, patient, sweet, industrious; the children
idolized her. The Indian girl had never dreamed of a home like this;
she was deliriously happy.

She took pride in discharging her obligations; she did not forget the
men who had made this wonder possible. They had rented a little cabin,
and, after the fashion of men, they make slipshod efforts at keeping
house. Since it was Ponatah's nature to serve, she found time somehow
to keep the place tidy and to see to their comfort.

Laughing Bill was a hopeless idler; he had been born to leisure and
was wedded to indigence, therefore he saw a good deal of the girl on
her visits. He listened to her stories of the children, he admired her
new and stylish clothes, he watched her develop under the influence of
her surroundings. Inasmuch as both of them were waifs, and beholden
to the bounty of others, thy had ties in common--a certain