It was soon noised about that the ‘Russian Princess’ was not Freda Moloof.  Interest deepened.  Here was a fresh enigma.  They knew Freda though they could not find her, but here was somebody they had found and did not know.  Even the women could not place her, and they knew every good dancer in the camp.  Many took her for one of the official clique, indulging in a silly escapade.  Not a few asserted she would disappear before the unmasking.  Others were equally positive that she was the woman-reporter of the Kansas City Star, come to write them up at ninety dollars per column.  And the men at the scales worked busily.

At one o’clock every couple took to the floor.  The unmasking began amid laughter and delight, like that of carefree children.  There was no end of Oh’s and Ah’s as mask after mask was lifted.  The scintillating ‘Aurora Borealis’ became the brawny negress whose income from washing the community’s clothes ran at about five hundred a month.  The twin ‘Sun-Dogs’ discovered mustaches on their upper lips, and were recognized as brother Fraction-Kings of El Dorado.  In one of the most prominent sets, and the slowest in uncovering, was Cal Galbraith with the ‘Spirit of the Pole.’  Opposite him was Jack Harrington and the ‘Russian Princess.’  The rest had discovered themselves, yet the ‘Greek Dancer’ was still missing.  All eyes were upon the group.  Cal Galbraith, in response to their cries, lifted his partner’s mask.  Freda’s wonderful face and brilliant eyes flashed out upon them.  A roar went up, to be squelched suddenly in the new and absorbing mystery of the ‘Russian Princess.’  Her face was still hidden, and Jack Harrington was struggling with her.  The dancers tittered on the tiptoes of expectancy.  He crushed her dainty costume roughly, and then—­and then the revelers exploded.  The joke was on them.  They had danced all night with a tabooed native woman.

But those that knew, and they were many, ceased abruptly, and a hush fell upon the room.

Cal Galbraith crossed over with great strides, angrily, and spoke to Madeline in polyglot Chinook.  But she retained her composure, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was the cynosure of all eyes, and answered him in English.  She showed neither fright nor anger, and Malemute Kid chuckled at her well-bred equanimity.  The King felt baffled, defeated; his common Siwash wife had passed beyond him.

‘Come!’ he said finally.  ‘Come on home.’  ‘I beg pardon,’ she replied; ’I have agreed to go to supper with Mr. Harrington.  Besides, there’s no end of dances promised.’

Harrington extended his arm to lead her away.  He evinced not the slightest disinclination toward showing his back, but Malemute Kid had by this time edged in closer.  The Circle City King was stunned.  Twice his hand dropped to his belt, and twice the Kid gathered himself to spring; but the retreating couple passed through the supper-room door where canned oysters were spread at five dollars the plate.