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“There must be a chance for a girl like you in Nome,” Thomas continued, thoughtfully. “You’d make a good hand with children. Suppose I try to find you a place as governess?”

“Would you?” Ponatah’s face was suddenly eager. “Children? Oh yes! I’d work my fingers to the bone. I–I’d do anything–“

“Then I’ll do what I can.”

For some time longer the three of them talked, and gradually into the native girl’s eyes there came a light, for these men were not like the others she had met, and she saw the world begin to unfold before her. When at last they left she laid a hand upon the doctor’s arm and said, imploringly:

“You won’t forget. You–promise?”

“I promise,” he told her.

“He don’t forget nothing,” Bill assured her, “and if he does I’ll see that he don’t.”

After they had gone Ponatah stood motionless for a long time, then she whispered, breathlessly:

“Children! Little white children! I’ll be very good to them.”

“She’s a classy quilt,” Laughing Bill said, on the way back to the road-house.

“She’s as pretty as a picture, and little more than a child,” the doctor admitted.

“You made a hit. She’d do ‘most anything for you.” The doctor muttered, absent-mindedly. “She’s stood off Petersen and these red-necks, but she’d fall for you.” Mr. Hyde was insinuating.

Thomas halted; he stared at his partner curiously, coldly. “Say! Do you think that’s why I offered to help her?” he inquired.

“Come clean!” The invalid winked meaningly. “You’re a long ways from home, and I’ve knew fellers to do a lot worse. You can grab her, easy. And if you do–“

Thomas grunted angrily. “I’ve put up with a lot from you,” he said, then he strode on.

“And if you do,” the other resumed, falling into step with him, “I’ll bust you right where you’re thickest.”

“Eh?”

“I’ll bust you wide open. Oh, me ‘n’ that gal in the leather frame had a long talk while I was sick in St. Mikes, and she asked me to keep you in the middle of the trail. Well, I’m the little guy that can do it.”

“Bill!” Evan Thomas’s eyes were twinkling. “I believe I’m going to cure you, after all,” said he.

Late that afternoon Mr. Hyde disappeared; he did not show up until after dark.

“I been to see Lo, the poor squaw,” he readily confessed. “She ain’t the pure domestic leaf, she’s a blend–part Rooshian, or something. Seems there was a gang of Rooshians or Swedes or Dagoes of some sort used to run this country. She says they horned into some of the best Injun families, and she’s one of the ‘overs.'”

“They were Russians.”

“Rooshians is a kind of white people, ain’t they? Well, that’s how she come so light-complected. You remember she said our folks had treated her bad? It’s a fact, Doc. She spilled the story, and it made a mouthful. It’s like this: when Nome was struck a Swede feller she had knew staked her a claim, but she couldn’t hold it, her bein’ a squab–under age, savvy? There’s something in the law that prevents Injuns gettin’ in on anything good, too; I don’t rightly recollect what it is, but if it’s legal you can bet it’s crooked. Anyhow, Uncle Sam lets up a squawk that she’s only eighteen, goin’ on nineteen, and a noble redskin to boot, and says his mining claims is reserved for Laps and Yaps and Japs and Wops, and such other furrin’ slantheads of legal age as declare their intention to become American citizens if their claims turn out rich enough so’s it pays ’em to do so.

“Well, Ponatah’s Swede friend gets himself froze, somehow, so she has to pass the buck. Naturally, she turns to her pals, the missionaries. There’s a he-missionary here–head mug of the whole gang. He’s a godly walloper, and he tears into Satan bare-handed every Sunday. He slams the devil around something shameful, and Ponatah thinks he’s a square guy if ever they come square, so she asks him to re-locate her claim, on shares, and hold it for the joint account. Old Doctor M.E. Church agrees to split fifty-fifty, half to her and half to heaven, then he vamps to Nome and chalks his monaker over the Kid’s. Now get me: the claim turns out good, and Ponatah’s heavenly pilot makes a Mexican divvy–he takes the money and gives her his best wishes. He grabs everything, and says he never knew nobody by the name of Ponatah–he gets so he can’t even pronounce it. He allows her face is familiar, but he can’t place her, and the partnership idea allus was repugnant to him. He never was partners with nobody, understand? He blows the show; he bows out and leaves the Kid flat. He forsakes the Milky Way for the Great White one, and he’s out there now, smokin’ Coronas and wearin’ a red vest under his black coat, with a diamond horseshoe in his tie. It looks to me like the James boys could ‘a’ learned something from this gospel hold-up.”