The steam-whaler, Karluke, a whole year overdue, pushing her way south through the ice-infested Strait, her crew half mutinous, and her food supply low, was subjected to two vexatious delays.  Once she halted to pick up a man who signaled her from the top of a shattered tower of wood which topped an ice pile.  The man was a Russian.  Again, the boat paused to take on board a youth, whom they supposed to be a Chukche hunter who had been carried by the floes from his native shores.

The Russian paid them well for his passage to Seattle.  The supposed Chukche was sent to the galley to become cook’s helper.

This Chukche boy was no other than the Jap girl.  She realized at once the position she was in; a perilous enough one, once her identity was disclosed, and she did all in her power to play the part of a Chukche boy.  She drew maps on the deck to show the seamen that she was a member of the reindeer Chukche tribes, who spoke a different language from the hunting tribes, thus explaining why she could not converse freely with the veteran Arctic sailors who had learned Chukche on their many voyages.  She was fortunate in immediately securing a cook’s linen cap.  This she wore tightly drawn down to her ears, covering her hair completely.

One thing she discovered the first night on board:  The Russian had in his stateroom a bundle.  This had been hidden when she searched him on the ice.  To have a look into that bundle became her absorbing purpose.  Three times she attempted to enter his stateroom.  On the third attempt she did actually enter the room, but so narrowly escaped having her linen mask torn from her head and her identity revealed by the irate Russian, that she at last gave it up.

Upon docking at Seattle both the Russian and the girl mingled with the crowd on the dock and quickly disappeared.

The clerks in Roman & Lanford’s department store were more than mildly curious regarding an Eskimo boy, who, entering their store that day and displaying a large roll of bills, demanded the best in women’s wearing apparel.  They had in stock a complete outfit, just the size that would fit the strange customer, who was no other than the Jap girl.

* * * * *

Johnny Thompson and Hanada, after two weeks of fruitless watching and waiting in Nome, took a steamer for Seattle.  Johnny had not been in that city a day when, while walking toward the Washington Hotel, he felt a light touch on his arm, and turned to look into the beaming face of the Jap girl.

“You—­you here?” he gasped in amazement.

“Yes.”

“Why!  You look grand,” he assured her.  “Regular American girl.”

She blushed through her brown skin.  Then her face took on a serious look: 

“The Russian—­” she began.

“Yes, the Russian!” exclaimed Johnny eagerly.

“He is here—­no, not here.  This morning he takes train for Chicago. 
To-night we will follow.  We will get that man, you and I, and—­Iyok-ok.” 
Her lips tripped over the last word.