Rouletta gazed up into the gray face above her.  “Dad, look at me.”  She took his hand.  “Haven’t we had enough trouble for one day?”

The gambler was irritated at this persistence and he showed it.  “Don’t be foolish,” he cried, shortly.  “I know what I need and I know what I can stand.  These men are friends of mine, and you needn’t be uneasy.  Now, kid, you let me find a place for you to spend the night.”

“Not until you’re ready to go along.”

“All right, stick around for a little while.  I Won’t be long.”  Old Sam drew a bench up beside the stove and seated the girl upon it.  “I’m all broke up and I’ve just got to keep moving,” he explained, more feelingly.  Then he returned to the bar.

Realizing that he was completely out of hand and that further argument was futile, Rouletta Kirby settled herself to wait.  In spite of her misery, it never occurred to her to abandon her father to his own devices, even for an hour—­she knew him too well to run that risk.  But her very bones were frozen and she shivered wretchedly as she held her shoes up to the stove.  Although the fire began slowly to dry her outer garments, the clothes next to her flesh remained cold and clammy.  Even so, their chill was as nothing to the icy dread that paralyzed the very core of her being.

Pierce Phillips told himself that this had been a wonderful day—­ an epoch-making day—­for him.  Lately he had been conscious that the North was working a change in him, but the precise extent of that change, even the direction it was taking, had not been altogether clear; now, however, he thought he understood.

He had been quite right, that first hour in Dyea, when he told himself that Life lay just ahead of him—­just over the Chilkoot.  Such, indeed, had proved to be the case.  Yes, and it had welcomed him with open arms; it had ushered him into a new and wondrous world.  His hands had fallen to men’s tasks, experience had come to him by leaps and bounds.  In a rush he had emerged from groping boyhood into full maturity; physically, mentally, morally, he had grown strong and broad and brown.  Having abandoned himself to the tides of circumstance, he had been swept into a new existence where Adventure had rubbed shoulders with him, where Love had smiled into his eyes.  Danger had tested his mettle, too, and to-day the final climax had come.  What roused his deepest satisfaction now was the knowledge that he had met that climax with credit.  To-night it seemed to him that he had reached full manhood, and in the first flush of realization he assured himself that he could no longer drift with the aimless current of events, but must begin to shape affairs to his own ends.