Part 3 (2/2)
”Yes.”
”And they referred you to the priest? Quite so.” She laughed softly, her voice a mellow contralto. ”The Father has been gone for a month; he wouldn't have let you in if he'd been there.”
She addressed the Indian girl in Aleut and signalled to Constantine, at which the two natives retired--Constantine reluctantly, like a watch-dog whose suspicions are not fully allayed.
”We're glad of an opportunity to thank you for your timely service this afternoon,” said Emerson. ”Had we known you lived here, we certainly should not have intruded in this manner.” He found himself growing hotly uncomfortable as he began to realize the nature of his position, but the young woman spared him further apologies by answering, carelessly:
”Oh, that was nothing. I've been expecting you hourly. You see, Constantine's little brother has the measles, and I had to get to him before the natives could give the poor little fellow a Russian bath and then stand him out in the snow. They have only one treatment for all diseases. That's why I didn't stop and give you more explicit directions this morning.”
”If your--er--father--” The girl shook her head.
”Then your husband--I should like to arrange with him to hire lodgings for a few days. The matter of money--”
Again she came to his rescue.
”I am the man of the house. I'm boss here. This splendor is all mine.” She waved a slender white hand majestically at the rough surroundings, laughing in a way that put Boyd Emerson more at his ease. ”You are quite welcome to stay as long as you wish. Constantine objects to my hospitality, and treats all strangers alike, fearing they may be Company men. When you didn't arrive at dark, I thought perhaps he was right this time, and that you had been taken in by one of the watchmen.”
”We throwed a Swede out on his neck,” declared Fraser, swelling with conscious importance, ”and I guess he's 'crabbed' us with the other squareheads.”
”Oh, no! They have instructions not to harbor any travellers. It's as much as his job is worth for any of them to entertain you. Now, won't you make yourselves at home while Constantine attends to your dogs? Dinner will soon be ready, and I hope you will do me the honor of dining with me,” she finished, with a graciousness that threw Emerson into fresh confusion.
He murmured ”Gladly,” and then lost himself in wonder at this well-gowned girl living amid such surroundings. Undeniably pretty, graceful in her movements, bearing herself with certainty and poise--who was she? Where did she come from? And what in the world was she doing here?
He became aware that ”Fingerless” Fraser was making the introductions.
”This is Mr. Emerson; my name is French. I'm one of the Virginia Frenches, you know; perhaps you have heard of them. No? Well, they're the real thing.”
The girl bowed, but Emerson forestalled her acknowledgment by breaking in roughly, with a threatening scowl at the adventurer:
”His name isn't French at all, Madam; it's Fraser--'Fingerless' Fraser.
He's an utterly worthless rogue, and absolutely unreliable so far as I can learn. I picked him up on the ice in Norton Sound, with a marshal at his heels.”
”That marshal wasn't after me,” stoutly denied Fraser, quite unabashed.
”Why, he's a friend of mine--we're regular chums--everybody knows that. He wanted to give me some papers to take outside, that's all.”
Boyd shrugged his shoulders indifferently:
”Warrants!”
”Not at all! Not at all!” airily.
Their hostess, greatly amused at this remarkable turn of the ceremony, prevented any further argument by saying:
”Well, French or Fraser, whichever it is, you are both welcome. However, I should prefer to think of you as a runaway rather than as an intimate friend of the marshal at Nome; I happen to know him.”
”Well, we ain't what you'd exactly call pals,” Fraser hastily disclaimed.
”I just sort of bow to him”--he gave an imitation of a slight, indifferent headshake--”that way!”
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