he also learned that she was a real Indian, and that there were three or four others like her, male and female, in that vicinity; that from a “skeena mowitch” (little baby) they were all like that, and that their parents were of the same color, but never a white or “waugee” man or woman among them; that they were looked upon as a distinct and superior caste of Indians, and enjoyed certain privileges with the tribe; that they superstitiously avoided white men, of whom they had the greatest fear, and that they were protected in this by the other Indians; that it was marvelous and almost beyond belief that Pomfrey had been able to see one, for no other white man had, or was even aware of their existence.

How much of this he actually understood, how much of it was lying and due to Jim’s belief that he wished to abduct the fair stranger, Pomfrey was unable to determine.  There was enough, however, to excite his curiosity strongly and occupy his mind to the exclusion of his books—­save one.  Among his smaller volumes he had found a travel book of the “Chinook Jargon,” with a lexicon of many of the words commonly used by the Northern Pacific tribes.  An hour or two’s trial with the astonished Jim gave him an increased vocabulary and a new occupation.  Each day the incongruous pair took a lesson from the lexicon.  In a week Pomfrey felt he would be able to accost the mysterious stranger.  But he did not again surprise her in any of his rambles, or even in a later visit to the sweat-house.  He had learned from Jim that the house was only used by the “bucks,” or males, and that her appearance there had been accidental.  He recalled that he had had the impression that she had been stealthily following him, and the recollection gave him a pleasure he could not account for.  But an incident presently occurred which gave him a new idea of her relations towards him.

The difficulty of making Jim understand had hitherto prevented Pomfrey from intrusting him with the care of the lantern; but with the aid of the lexicon he had been able to make him comprehend its working, and under Pomfrey’s personal guidance the Indian had once or twice lit the lamp and set its machinery in motion.  It remained for him only to test Jim’s unaided capacity, in case of his own absence or illness.  It happened to be a warm, beautiful sunset, when the afternoon fog had for once delayed its invasion of the shore-line, that he left the lighthouse to Jim’s undivided care, and reclining on a sand-dune still warm from the sun, lazily watched the result of Jim’s first essay.  As the twilight deepened, and the first flash of the lantern strove with the dying glories of the sun, Pomfrey presently became aware that he was not the only watcher.  A little gray figure creeping on all fours suddenly glided out of the shadow of another sand-dune and then halted, falling back on its knees, gazing fixedly at the growing light.  It was the woman he had seen.  She was not a dozen