‘You sit down on that chair and keep quiet,’ he continued, addressing the Jesuit.  ’I’ll take my innings now.  You can have yours after.’

Father Roubeau bowed courteously and obeyed.  He was an easy-going man and had learned to bide his time.  Wharton pulled a stool alongside the woman’s, smothering her hand in his.

‘Then you do care for me, and will take me away?’ Her face seemed to reflect the peace of this man, against whom she might draw close for shelter.

‘Dear, don’t you remember what I said before?  Of course I-’ ’But how can you?—­the wash-up?’ ’Do you think that worries?  Anyway, I’ll give the job to Father Roubeau, here.

‘I can trust him to safely bank the dust with the company.’  ’To think of it!—­I’ll never see him again.’  ‘A blessing!’ ’And to go—­O, Clyde, I can’t!  I can’t!’ ’There, there; of course you can, just let me plan it.—­You see, as soon as we get a few traps together, we’ll start, and-’ ‘Suppose he comes back?’ ’I’ll break every-’ ‘No, no!  No fighting, Clyde!  Promise me that.’  ’All right!  I’ll just tell the men to throw him off the claim.  They’ve seen how he’s treated you, and haven’t much love for him.’

‘You mustn’t do that.  You mustn’t hurt him.’  ’What then?  Let him come right in here and take you away before my eyes?’ ‘No-o,’ she half whispered, stroking his hand softly.

’Then let me run it, and don’t worry.  I’ll see he doesn’t get hurt.  Precious lot he cared whether you got hurt or not!  We won’t go back to Dawson.  I’ll send word down for a couple of the boys to outfit and pole a boat up the Yukon.  We’ll cross the divide and raft down the Indian River to meet them.  Then—­’ ‘And then?’ Her head was on his shoulder.

Their voices sank to softer cadences, each word a caress.  The Jesuit fidgeted nervously.

‘And then?’ she repeated.

’Why we’ll pole up, and up, and up, and portage the White Horse Rapids and the Box Canon.’  ‘Yes?’ ’And the Sixty-Mile River; then the lakes, Chilcoot, Dyea, and Salt Water.’  ’But, dear, I can’t pole a boat.’  ’You little goose!  I’ll get Sitka Charley; he knows all the good water and best camps, and he is the best traveler I ever met, if he is an Indian.  All you’ll have to do, is to sit in the middle of the boat, and sing songs, and play Cleopatra, and fight—­no, we’re in luck; too early for mosquitoes.’

‘And then, O my Antony?’ ’And then a steamer, San Francisco, and the world!  Never to come back to this cursed hole again.  Think of it!  The world, and ours to choose from!  I’ll sell out.  Why, we’re rich!  The Waldworth Syndicate will give me half a million for what’s left in the ground, and I’ve got twice as much in the dumps and with the P. C. Company.  We’ll go to the Fair in Paris in 1900.  We’ll go to Jerusalem, if you say so.