What he expected soon came.  It was not the usual giggling, the usual exchange of badinage and coarse jest beyond the closed curtains.  Quade did not come out rubbing his huge hands, his face crinkling with a sort of exultant satisfaction.  The girl preceded him.  She flung the curtains aside and stood there for a moment, her face flaming like fire, her blue eyes filled with the flash of lightning.  She came down the single step.  Quade followed her.  He put out a hand.

“Don’t take offence, girly,” he expostulated.  “Look here—­ain’t it reasonable to s’pose——­”

He got no farther.  The man in the door had advanced, placing himself at the girl’s side.  His voice was low and unexcited.

“You have made a mistake?” he said.

She took him in at a glance—­his clean-cut, strangely attractive face, his slim build, the clear and steady gray of his eyes.

“Yes, I have made a mistake—­a terrible mistake!”

“I tell you it ain’t fair to take offence,” Quade went on.  “Now, look here——­”

In his hand was a roll of bills.  The girl did not know that a man could strike as quickly and with as terrific effect as the gray-eyed stranger struck then.  There was one blow, and Quade went down limply.  It was so sudden that he had her outside before she realized what had happened.

“I chanced to see you go in,” he explained, without a tremor in his voice.  “I thought you were making a mistake.  I heard you ask for shelter.  If you will come with me I will take you to a friend’s.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble for you, I will go,” she said.  “And for that—­in there—­thank you!”

CHAPTER II

They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town.  It was chiefly of canvas.  Now and then a structure of logs added an appearance of solidity to the whole.  The girl did not look too closely.  She knew that they passed places in which there were long rows of cots, and that others were devoted to trade.  She noticed signs which advertised soft drinks and cigars—­always “soft drinks,” which sometimes came into camp marked as “dynamite,” “salt pork,” and “flour.”  She was conscious that every one stared at them as they passed.  She heard clearly the expressions of wonder and curiosity of two women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in front of a rooming-tent.  She looked at the man at her side.  She appreciated his courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship.  In her eyes was a ripple of amusement.

“This is all strange and new to me—­and not at all uninteresting,” she said.  “I came expecting—­everything.  And I am finding it.  Why do they stare at me so?  Am I a curiosity?”

“You are,” he answered bluntly.  “You are the most beautiful woman they have ever seen.”

His eyes encountered hers as he spoke.  He had answered her question fairly.  There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look.  She had asked for information, and he had given it.  In spite of herself the girl’s lips trembled.  Her colour deepened.  She smiled.