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Updated: July 2, 2025
But her eyes were clear, and her hair glowed softly, so softly that he would never forget it, as she stood there with her back against the door, nor the strange desire that came to him even then to touch it with his hand. He nipped off the end of his cigar and lighted a match. "It is Rossland," he said. "You're afraid of Rossland?" "In a way, yes; in a large way, no.
I have several in my cabin." Without waiting for an answer Rossland coolly moved away. Alan did not follow. There was nothing for him to resent, nothing for him to imprecate but his own folly. Rossland's words were not an insult. They were truth. He had deliberately intruded in an affair which was undoubtedly of a highly private nature. Possibly it was a domestic tangle. He shuddered.
A man named Ross Thompson had staked out a town at the foot of Le Roi dump and called it Rossland. The Governor put men to work quietly in the mine and then went back to his plank palace at Regina, capital of the Northwest Territories, to a capital that looked for all the world like a Kansas frontier town that had just ceased to be the county seat.
He shuddered and held himself below the opening of the window. Graham and his men were more than capable of such a crime. Rossland's voice rose above the crackle and roar of the burning cabin. "Alan Holt! Are you there?" "Yes, I am here," shouted Alan, "and I have a line on your heart, Rossland, and my finger is on the trigger. What do you want?"
There was a moment of silence, as if the thought of what he was facing had at last stricken Rossland dumb. Then he said: "We are giving you a last chance, Holt. For God's sake, don't be a fool! The offer I made you today is still good. If you don't accept it the law must take its course." "The law!" Alan's voice was a savage cry. "Yes, the law. The law is with us.
He had no inclination to spy upon either Mary Standish or Graham's agent, but he possessed an inborn hatred of fraud and humbug, and what he had seen convinced him that Mary Standish knew more about Rossland than she had allowed him to believe. She had not lied to him. She had said nothing at all except to restrain him from demanding an apology.
Not until Juneau hung before him in all its picturesque beauty, literally terraced against the green sweep of Mount Juneau, did he go down to the lower deck. The few passengers ready to leave the ship gathered near the gangway with their luggage. Alan was about to pass them when he suddenly stopped. A short distance from him, where he could see every person who disembarked, stood Rossland.
She loved him, and she had come into his arms. She had given him her lips to kiss. And he laughed softly as he came to her side again, and looked over the tundra where Rossland had gone. "How long before you can prepare for the journey?" he asked. "You mean " "That we must start tonight or in the morning. I think we shall go through the cottonwoods over the old trail to Nome.
Her eyes were flaming, and two vivid spots burned in her cheeks. She saw him and gave the slightest inclination to her head as she passed. When she had gone, he could not resist looking into the salon. As he expected, Rossland was seated in a chair next to the one she had occupied, and was calmly engaged in looking over the breakfast card.
"I guess only a fool would refuse an offer like this, Rossland." "Yes, only a fool." "And I am that fool." So quietly did Alan speak that for an instant the significance of his words did not fall with full force upon Rossland. The smoke cleared away from before Alan's face. His cigar dropped to the floor, and he stepped on it with his foot. The check followed it in torn scraps.
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