Mrs. Sayther, whose flush had deepened and whose heart was urging
painfully, had been prepared for almost anything save this coolly
extended hand; but she tactfully curbed herself and grasped it heartily
with her own.

"You know, Dave, I threatened often to come, and I would have, too,
only--only--"

"Only I didn't give the word." David Payne laughed and watched the
Indian girl disappearing into the cabin.

"Oh, I understand, Dave, and had I been in your place I'd most probably
have done the same. But I have come--now."

"Then come a little bit farther, into the cabin and get something to
eat," he said genially, ignoring or missing the feminine suggestion of
appeal in her voice. "And you must be tired too. Which way are you
travelling? Up? Then you wintered in Dawson, or came in on the last
ice. Your camp?" He glanced at the _voyageurs_ circled about the fire
in the open, and held back the door for her to enter.

"I came up on the ice from Circle City last winter," he continued, "and
settled down here for a while. Am prospecting some on Henderson Creek,
and if that fails, have been thinking of trying my hand this fall up the
Stuart River."

"You aren't changed much, are you?" she asked irrelevantly, striving to
throw the conversation upon a more personal basis.