Kirby stooped and kissed his daughter’s cheek.  “You’ve always been our mascot, and you’ve always brought us luck.  I’d go to hell in a paper suit if you were along.  You’re a game kid, too, and I want you to be like that, always.  Be a thoroughbred.  Don’t weaken, no matter how bad things break for you.  This cargo of rum is worth the best claim in Dawson, and it’ll put us on our feet again.  All I want is one more chance.  Double and quit—­that’s us.”

This was an extraordinarily long speech for “One-armed” Kirby; it showed that he was deeply in earnest.

“Double and quit?” breathed the girl.  “Do you mean it, dad?”

He nodded:  “I’m going to leave you heeled.  I don’t aim to take my eyes off this barge again till she’s in Dawson.”

Rouletta’s face was transformed; there was a great gladness in her eyes—­a gladness half obscured by tears.  “Double and quit.  Oh—­ I’ve dreamed of—­quitting—­so often!  You’ve made me very happy, dad.”

Royal, who knew this girl’s dreams as well as he knew his own, felt a lump in his throat.  He was a godless little man, but Rouletta Kirby’s joys were holy things to him, her tears distressed him deeply, therefore he walked away to avoid the sight of them.  Her slightest wish had been his law ever since she had mastered words enough to voice a request, and now he, too, was happy to learn that Sam Kirby was at last ready to mold his future in accordance with her desires.  Letty had never liked their mode of life; she had accepted it under protest, and with the passing years her unspoken disapproval had assumed the proportions of a great reproach.  She had never put that disapproval into words—­she was far too loyal for that—­but Danny had known.  He knew her ambitions and her possibilities, and he had sufficient vision to realize something of the injustice she suffered at her father’s hands.  Sam loved his daughter as few parents love a child, but he was a strange man and he showed his affection in characteristic ways.  It pleased Royal greatly to learn that the old man had awakened to the wrong he did, and that this adventure would serve to close the story, as all good stories close, with a happy ending.

In spite of these cheering thoughts, Danny was unable wholly to shake off his oppressive forebodings, and as he paused on the river-bank to stare with gloomy fascination at the jaws of the gorge they returned to plague him.  The sound that issued out of that place was terrifying, the knowledge that it frightened him enraged the little man.

It was an unpropitious moment for any one to address Royal; therefore, when he heard himself spoken to, he whirled with a scowl upon his face.  A tall French-Canadian, just back from the portage, was saying: 

“M’sieu’, I ain’t good hand at mix in ’noder feller’s bizneses, but—­dat pilot you got she’s no good.”

Royal looked the stranger over from head to foot.  “How d’you know?” he inquired, sharply.