The latter were mostly men, for new gold diggings had been discovered
back in the hills bordering the Yukon River, and old-timers were
flocking northward, anticipating another Klondyke, and all that it
might mean.

Tom Reynolds stood on the wharf noting the excitement that was taking
place around him. Apart from the article he would prepare for the next
day's issue of _The Telegram_; he was more than usually interested in
what he beheld. As he watched several bronzed and grizzly veterans of
many a long trail and wild stampede, a desire entered into his heart to
join them in their new adventure. He would thus find excitement enough
to satisfy his restless nature, and perhaps at the same time share in
the golden harvest.

This longing, however, was held in check by the thought of the story he
had heard the evening before, and also by the hope of seeing again the
face he had beheld for a few fleeting seconds at the street crossing.
In fact, he had thought more of it than of the mysterious disappearance
of Henry Redmond. For the greater part of the night and all the next
day the girl had been in his mind. He tried to recall something more
about her, the color of her hair, how she was dressed, and whether she
was tall or short. But he could remember nothing except the face which
alone stood out clear and distinct. Several times during the day he
had been on the point of transferring his impressions to paper, but he
always deferred action, preferring to muse upon the beautiful vision he
had seen and to dream of meeting her again. She must still be in the
city, he reasoned, and should he go away now his chance of finding her
would be lost forever. That he would find her he had not the slightest
doubt, for among the crowds that passed daily along the streets he
would surely see her, and when he did--well, he was not certain what