The seaman’s deference was obvious.  But Nancy remained oblivious to it.  To her it was just kindliness, and she was more than grateful.  But his final remark about Sachigo left her pathetically disquieted.  For the first time in her life she doubted the all-powerful position of the people to whom she had sold her services.

“Yes, thanks,” she returned, smiling to disguise her feelings.  Then she added, “I’m glad we don’t sail till to-morrow evening.  You see, I couldn’t leave—­this, without a big look around.”

* * * * *

The ship-master had hurried away.

Bat’s deep-set eyes were steadily regarding the beautiful face before him.  He was gazing into the hazel depths of Nancy’s eyes without a sign.  He had noted everything as the girl had come down the gangway.  The height, the graceful carriage in the long plucked-beaver coat which terminated just above the trim ankles in their silken, almost transparent, hose.  Not even at Captain Hardy’s pronouncement of her name had he yielded a sign.  And yet—­

“Miss—­Nancy McDonald?”

Bat’s tone had lost its usual roughness.  His mind had leapt back over many years to a time when he had been concerned for that name in a way that had stirred him to great warmth.  He smiled.  It was a baffling, somewhat derisive smile.

“You’re the lady representing the—­Skandinavia?” he added.

“Why, yes,” Nancy cried, “and I feel I want to thank you for the privilege of obtaining even an outside view of your wonderful, wonderful place here.”

Bat raked thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin.

“If you feel that way, Miss, it’ll hand me pleasure to show you and tell you about things,” he said.  “You come right out of what the folks around here like to call the enemy camp, but it don’t matter a little bit.  Not a little bit.  The whole of Sachigo’s standin’ wide open for you to walk through.”  Then he dashed his hand across his face to clear the voracious mosquitoes.  “But if we stop around here mor’n ha’f another minute, the memory you’ll mostly carry away with you from Labrador’ll be skitters—­an’ nothing much else.  Will you come right along up to Mr. Sternford’s office?  It’s quite a piece up the hill, which helps to keep it clear of skitters an’ things?”

Nancy laughed.  Her early impression of the super-lumberjack had passed.  The man’s smile was beyond words in its kindliness.  His deep, twinkling eyes were full of appeal.

“Why, surely,” she assented.  “If you’ll show me the way I’ll be glad.  The flies and things are certainly thick, and as I intend leaving Sachigo with happy memories, well—­”

“Come right along.  I’m here for just that purpose.”

As they made their way up the woodland trail they talked together with an easy intimacy.  Nancy was young.  She was full of the joy of life, full of real enthusiasm.  And this rough creature with his ready smile appealed to her.  His frank, open way was something so far removed from that which prevailed under the Skandinavia’s rule.