It was the clarion call of the Countess Courteau which first made itself heard above the din.  She had climbed to the railing and was poised there with one arm outflung, a quivering finger leveled at Jim McCaskey’s head.

“Look!” she cried.  “Look, men—­at his head!  There’s proof that he’s been lying!” The victim of the assault had lost his cap in the scuffle, and with it had gone the bandage.  His head was bare now, and, oddly enough, it showed no matted hair, no cut, no bruise, no swelling.  It was, in fact, a perfectly normal, healthy, well-preserved cranium.

Phillips ceased his struggles; he passed a shaking hand over his eyes to clear his vision; his captors released him and crowded closer to Jim McCaskey, who was now showing the first signs of returning consciousness.

“He told you he was held up—­that his skull was cracked, didn’t he?” The Countess threw back her head and laughed unrestrainedly.  “My!  But you men are fools!  Now, then, who do you suppose got young Phillips’ money?  Use your wits, men.”

There was a great craning of necks, a momentary hush, the while Jim McCaskey rolled his head loosely, opened his eyes, and stared wildly about.

The Countess bent down toward him, and now her cheeks had grown white, her blue eyes were flaming.

“Well, my man,” she cried, in a shaking voice, “now you know what kind of a woman I am.  ‘Counting percentage checks,’ eh?” She seemed upon the point of reaching out and throttling Jim with her long strong fingers.  “Let’s see you and your precious brother do a little counting.  Count out a thousand dollars for this boy.  Quick!”

It was ’Poleon Doret who searched the palsied victim.  While other hands restrained the older brother he went through the younger one and, having done so, handed Pierce Phillips a bulky envelope addressed in the latter’s handwriting.

“She’s yours, eh?” ’Poleon inquired.

Phillips made a hasty examination, then nodded.

The Countess turned once more to the crowd.  “I move that you apologize to Mr. Phillips.  Are you game?” Her question met with a yell of approval.  “Now, then, there’s a new case on the docket, and the charge is highway robbery.  Are you ready to vote a verdict?” Her face was set, her eyes still flashed.

“Guilty!” came with a roar.

“Very well.  Hang the ruffians if you feel like it!”

She leaped down from her vantage-point, and without a word, without a glance behind her set out along the Dyea trail.

CHAPTER V

“Looked kind of salty for a spell, didn’t it?” The grizzled leader of the posse, he who had effected the capture of the thieves, was speaking to Pierce.  “Well, I’m due for a private apology.  I hope you cherish no hard feelings.  Eh?”

“None whatever, sir.  I’m only too glad to get out whole and get my money back.  It was quite an experience.”  Already Phillips’ mind had ranged the events of the last crowded hour into some sort of order; his fancy had tinged them with a glamour already turning rosy with romance, and he told himself that his thrills had been worth their price.