Theodore Seixas Solomons

“ When the Cudahy became part and parcel of the Yukon ice field, Collins, cautiously venturing ashore, found an Indian village, somewhere up a tributary valley, and returned with the news that there were dogs to be had—and he had them; enough for one good team, which would be ready in a day or two. He and his friend Hennessy, a short, red-whiskered, intemperate individual, and Miss O'Brien, and also Miss Manners—if she would like to go—would run down-river to the Kaltag cut-off. They were all bound for Nome, and that was the way. ”

“ Before the steamer was out of sight around a three-mile bend, Joan suspected that she had made a mistake, but it was not till toward evening, when it was too late to return alone, that she was sure of it. Collins, riding upon the back of the sled, had patted her shoulder earlier in the day. Now he essayed franker familiarities. She turned and rose in the sled.
“Surely, you don't wish to make me walk all the way back to the Cudahy!”
“My dear little girl,' he replied, “you couldn't do it and live, to-night. We've made too good time. Forget it, and be a good little sport. ”

“ But her quiet heart and nerves reassured her.
“We'd better camp, I think,” suggested the young man, a little awkwardly.
“Of course,” agreed Joan, in as bravely casual a way as she could.
“Mush on, little fellers,” he called to the dogs, “Gee!” He swerved them to a wooded river bar, and brought them to a halt at the edge of the ice.
After a hearty supper, their backs to a blazing fire, she told him of what had led to her predicament. Her father, professionally a lawyer of not a little repute in his home State, had been a miner in the Yukon camps since she was a little girl. ”

“ It'll spoil our trip. He don't mean nothing. Take it from me.”
“Miss O'Brien is right,” said Collins soberly, “I meant-no harm at all. Most gals like a little pettin' now and then.”
Joan had resumed her seat, in silent misery, and was debating whether to chance freezing to death, in an attempted return to the steamer, or to go on—and keep incessant vigil over this suspiciously affectionate miner. She was in the throes of indecision, when suddenly she heard a faint jingle, and soon, in the dusk, she saw approaching them another sled. ”

“ Then she finished her story.
“Poor father is heartbroken. And, naturally, he sent for me, at once. But I couldn't dispose of our things and get away until the last boat. And the beastly old thing waited too long!” ”