Part 2 (1/2)

”You are not going to dance any more to-night,” he said with sombre emphasis.

The young man's face went from red to purple. He put his hand to his hip with an oath, and had half drawn his pistol, when Katrine sprang forward and seized his wrist.

”Now don't be silly; I'm tired anyway, d.i.c.k. I'll dance with you to-morrow night. This is Mr. Stephen Wood. Mr. Wood--Mr. Peters. Now let's go and have some drinks. I'm not going to have any fighting over me.”

She put herself, smiling, between the two men, who stood glaring at each other in silence. She was annoyed at the dance being broken off, but she saw in Stephen's interference the great tribute paid to her own attraction, and therefore forgave him. At the same time she had no wish to have her vanity further gratified by bloodshed. There was a certain hardness but no cruelty in her nature. She turned from the men and strolled very slowly in the direction of the bar, and they followed her as if her moving feet were shod with magnets and theirs with steel.

Talbot went too, and in a few minutes the four were standing at the counter with gla.s.ses in their hands.

Peters kept close beside Katrine, and he and Stephen did not exchange a word. Katrine kept up the chatter between herself and the two other men.

”May I see you home?” Peters said abruptly to her, interrupting the general talk.

”No,” returned Katrine, lightly; ”to-morrow night, not to-night. I have my escort,” and she smiled at Stephen and Talbot.

”I will say good-night then,” and Peters, after a slight bow to Talbot, withdrew, taking no notice of Stephen, who since the girl's surrender of the dance had looked very self-contented and happy, and was now standing gla.s.s in hand, his eyes fixed upon her face.

”I think I really will go home now,” she said. ”We've had a jolly time.

I only wish you'd have joined us. Are you always so very good?” she said innocently to Stephen. He flushed angrily and said nothing.

A few seconds later they were on the way to Good Luck Row. One of the neatest-looking cabins in it had a light behind its yellow blind, and here Katrine stopped and thanked them for their escort. They would both have liked to see the interior, but she did not suggest their coming in.

She wished them good-night very sweetly, and before they had realised it had disappeared inside.

They walked on down the row slowly, side by side. The next thing to do was to find a lodging for the night, and they both felt about ready to appreciate a bed and some hours' rest.

”There's Bill Winters,” said Stephen, after a moment's silence. ”He said he'd always put us up when we came down town; let's go and try him.”

”Do you know where his cabin is?”

”I think so. Turn down here; now it is the next street, where those little black cabins are.”

They walked on quickly, following Stephen's directions, and made for a block of cabins that had been pitched over and shone black and glossy in the brilliant moonlight. When they got up to them the men were puzzled, each was so like its neighbour, and Stephen declared he had forgotten the number, though Bill had given it to him.

”Well, try any one,” said Talbot, impatiently, as Stephen stopped bewildered. They were standing on the side-walk, now a slippery arch of ice, between two rows of the low black cabins. There was no light in any of them; it was two o'clock; the moon alone shone up and down the street. Talbot felt his moustache freezing to his face, and his left eye being rapidly closed by the lashes freezing together, and that's enough to make a man impatient. Stephen did not move, and Talbot went up himself to the nearest cabin and knocked at the door. They waited a long time, but at last a hand fumbled with the catch inside, and the door was opened a little way; through the crack came out a stream of warm air, the fumes of tobacco and wood smoke; within was darkness.

”Is this Bill Winters'?” Talbot asked, and the door opened wider.

”I guess it is,” said a voice in reply. ”Why, it's Mr. Talbot and Mr.

Wood--come in, sirs.”

Talbot and Wood stepped over the threshold into the thick darkness, and the door closed behind them. There was a shuffling sound for an instant as Mr. Winters groped for a light, then he struck a match and lighted up a little tin lamp on the wall. The light revealed a good-sized cabin with a large stove in the centre, round which, with their feet towards it, four or five men rolled up in skins or blankets were lying asleep.

”You want a bed for the night, I expect,” Winters went on; ”we've all turned in already, but I guess there's room for two more.”

Wood and Talbot both expressed their sense of contrition at disturbing him, but Winters would not listen.

”Oh, stow all that,” he said, as he set about dragging forward two trestles and covering them with blankets. ”You two fellows are so d.a.m.ned polite, you don't seem suited to this town, you don't seem natural here, that's a fact.”