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It was a strange scene, this, a sick and friendless girl mothered by a gang of crooks. When June’s condition improved they rejoiced with a deep ferocity that was pitiful; when it grew worse they went about hushed and terror-stricken. Through it all she called incessantly for Harry Hope, and it was Llewellyn who finally volunteered to go to Council City and fetch him–an offer that showed the others he was game.

But before the weather had settled sufficiently to allow it, Hope came. He arrived one night in a blinding smother which whined down over the treeless wastes, driving men indoors before its fury. Hearing of June’s illness, he had taken the trail within an hour, fighting his way for a hundred trackless miles through a blizzard that daunted even a Wag-boy, and he showed the marks of battle. His face was bitten deeply by the cold, his dogs were dying in the harness, and it was evident that he had not slept for many hours. He whimpered like a child when Llewellyn met him at June’s door; then he heard her wearily babbling his name, as she had done these many, many days, and he went in, kneeling beside her with his frozen breath still caked upon his parka hood.

Llewellyn stood by and heard him tenderly calling to the wandering girl, saw the peace that came into her face as something told her he was near; then the Wag-boy who had once been a gentleman came forward and gave Hope his hand, and thanked him for his coming.

June began to mend after that, and it was not long before Whiting said she might recover if she had proper food. She would, however, need nourishment–milk; but there was only one cow in camp, and other sick people, and not sufficient milk to go round. The Wag-boys lumped their bank-rolls and offered to buy the animal from its owner, but he refused. So they stole the cow and all her fodder.

Now it is no difficult matter to steal a cow, even in a mining-camp in the dead of winter, but it is not nearly so easy for a cow to remain stolen under such conditions, and the Wags were hard put to prevent discovery. It would have been far easier, they realized, to steal a two-story brick house or a printing-office, and then, too, not one of them knew how to secure the milk even after they had gained the cow’s consent. They made various experiments, however, one of which resulted in Reddy’s having the breath rammed out of him, and another causing Thomasville to adopt crutches for a day or so. But eventually June got her milk, a gallon of it daily. Every night or two the cow had to be moved, every day they gagged her to muffle her voice. Then, when discovery was imminent, they made terms of surrender, exacting twenty-five per cent. of the gross output as the consideration for her return.

They breathed much easier when the cow was off their hands.

Spring was in sight when June became strong enough to take up her duties, and she was surprised to find her hotel running as usual, also a flour-sack full of currency beneath her bed, together with a set of books showing her receipts. It was signed by Llewellyn and witnessed by the other Wags. There was no record of disbursements.

One day Whiting advised her to get out in the air, and the Scrap Iron Kid volunteered to take her for a dog ride.

“I didn’t know you had a team,” she said.

“Who? Me? Sure! I got as good a team as ever you see,” he declared, and when she accepted his invitation he proceeded to get his dogs together in a startling manner. He tied a soup-bone on a string and walked the back streets; then, when he beheld a likely-looking husky, he dragged the bone behind him, enticing the animal by degrees to the Wag-boys’ cabin, where he promptly tied it up. He repeated the performance seven times. The matter of harness and sled was but a detail; so June enjoyed a ride that put pink roses into her cheeks and gave the Scrap Iron Kid a feeling of pure, exalted joy such as he had never felt in all his adventurous career.