’Poleon’s ears were roaring, but after a few moments he discovered that she was gently chiding him.  Where had he been?  Why had he delayed so long, knowing all the time that she was dying to see him and to hear his story?  He could not understand her embarrassment, her shyness, the fact that she seemed hurt.

“Wal, I’m tucker’ out wit’ travelin’,” he declared.  “Dat’s hardes’ trip ever I mak’.  You hear ’bout ’im, eh?—­’bout how McCaskey tell de truth?”

Rouletta nodded, with a curious little smile upon her lips.  “Yes.  I heard all about it, the first thing—­how Rock ran down those fellows—­everything.  The town was ringing with his name inside of an hour.  Of course, I went to the Barracks, finally, looking for you.  I’m just back.  I saw the lieutenant and—­he told me the true story.”

’Poleon stirred uncomfortably.

“He swore at you roundly and said he’d take it out of your skin as soon as he was able—­giving him the credit.  He told me it was you who did it all—­how you followed those men over the Line, alone, after he played out; how Joe McCaskey killed his own brother in trying to kill you.  But the whole thing is public now.  I heard it as I came back.  You’re quite a famous character in Dawson to-night, ’Poleon dear, what with this and with Frenchman’s Hill.”

“Ho!  Dat Frenchman’ Hill,” the man broke out, hurriedly.  “It’s beeg s’prise for us, eh?  Pierce told you ’bout dat?”

“Pierce?” The girl shook her head vaguely.

“You ‘member I stake two claim’, one for you, one for me.  By golly! ma soeur, you’re millionaire.”

“I remembered, of course,” Rouletta said, faintly.  I—­” She closed her eyes.  “I couldn’t believe it, however.  At first I didn’t understand where the strike had been made; then I couldn’t credit it.  I thought I was dreaming—­”

“You dream as much as you can,” ’Poleon said, warmly.  “Dey all come true now.  What?  Everyt’ing come out nice, eh?”

Rouletta opened her eyes.  They were shining; so, too, was her face.  “Yes, my dream has come true—­that is, my biggest, finest dream.  I’m—­the happiest girl in the world, ’Poleon.”

“Ma soeur!” the man cried brokenly and with a depth of feeling that even Rouletta could not fathom.  “I give my life to hear you say dose word’, to see dat light in your eye.  No price too high for dat.”

A silence, throbbing, intense, fell between them, Rouletta felt her heart-beats swaying her.  She opened her lips, but no sound issued.  The figure before her was growing misty and she had to wink the tears back into place.

“‘Ma soeur!’” she echoed, faintly.  “I love to hear you say that, dear.  It has grown to be a caress, a—­kiss, when you say it.  But I’ve something to tell you—­”

“I know.”

“Something you don’t know and would never guess.  I’ve found another brother.”  When he stared at her in open bewilderment she repeated:  “Yes, another brother.  I took him for something altogether different, but—­” She laughed happily.  “What do you think of a girl who doesn’t know her own mind?  Who lets the one man, the real man, go away?  She doesn’t deserve much, does she?”