something--don't you remember?--the canoe races in the river, and the
obstacle races down the main street?"

The terror faded out of her eyes and her whole body relaxed. "Oh, yes, I
do remember," she said. "And you won one of the canoe races."

"How's Dave been makin' it lately? Strikin' it as rich as ever, I
suppose?" Lon asked, with apparent irrelevance.

She smiled and nodded, and then, noticing that I had unlashed the bed
roll, she indicated the end of the cabin where I might spread it. Her
own bunk, I noticed, was made up at the opposite end.

"I thought it was Dave coming when I heard your dogs," she said.

After that she said nothing, contenting herself with watching Lon's
cooking operations, and listening the while as for the sound of dogs
along the trail. I lay back on the blankets and smoked and watched. Here
was mystery; I could make that much out, but no more could I make out.
Why in the deuce hadn't Lon given me the tip before we arrived? I looked
at her face, unnoticed by her, and the longer I looked the harder it was
to take my eyes away. It was a wonderfully beautiful face, unearthly, I
may say, with a light in it or an expression or something "that was never
on land or sea." Fear and terror had completely vanished, and it was a
placidly beautiful face--if by "placid" one can characterize that
intangible and occult something that I cannot say was a radiance or a
light any more than I can say it was an expression.

Abruptly, as if for the first time, she became aware of my presence.