Like so many on Bonanza, the Superintendent could not always sleep when the time came.  He was walking about “showing things” to a stranger, “a newspaper woman,” it was whispered—­at all events, a lady who, armed with letters from the highest British officials, had come to “write up the Klondyke.”

Seymour had left her at his employer’s call.  The lady, thin, neat, alert, with crisply curling iron-gray hair, and pleasant but unmistakably dignified expression, stood waiting for him a moment on the heap of tailings, then innocently followed her guide.

Although Austin lowered his voice, she drew nearer, prepared to take an intelligent interest in the “new riffles up on Skookum.”

When Austin had first called Seymour, the Colonel started, looked up, and watched the little scene with suspicion and growing anger.  Seeing Seymour’s eyes turn his way, the Kentuckian stopped shovelling, and, on a sudden impulse, called out: 

“See here, Austin:  if you’ve any complaints to make, sah, you’d better make them to my face, sah.”

The conversation about riffles thus further interrupted, a little silence fell.  The Superintendent stood in evident fear of his employer, but he hastened to speak conciliatory words.

“No complaint at all—­one of the best hands.”

“May be so when he ain’t sick,” said Austin contemptuously.

“Sick!” the Boy called out.  “Why, you’re dreamin’.  He’s our strong man—­able to knock spots out of anyone on the creek, ain’t he?” appealing to the gang.

“I shall be able to spare him from my part of the creek after to-night.”

“Do I understand you are dismissing me?”

“Oh, go to hell!”

The Colonel dropped his shovel and clenched his hands.

“Get the woman out o’ the way,” said the owner; “there’s goin’ to be trouble with this fire-eating Southerner.”

The woman turned quickly.  The Colonel, diving under the sluice-box for a plunge at Austin, came up face to face with her.

“The lady,” said the Colonel, catching his breath, shaking with rage, but pulling off his hat—­“the lady is quite safe, but I’m not so sure about you.”  He swerved as if to get by.

“Safe?  I should think so!” she said steadily, comprehending all at once, and not unwilling to create a diversion.

“This is no place for a woman, not if she’s got twenty letters from the Gold Commissioner.”

Misunderstanding Austin’s jibe at the official, the lady stood her ground, smiling into the face of the excited Kentuckian.

“Several people have asked me if I was not afraid to be alone here, and I’ve said no.  It’s quite true.  I’ve travelled so much that I came to know years ago, it’s not among men like you a woman has anything to fear.”

It was funny and pathetic to see the infuriate Colonel clutching at his grand manner, bowing one instant to the lady, shooting death and damnation the next out of heavy eyes at Austin.  But the wiry little woman had the floor, and meant, for peace sake, to keep it a few moments.