Glenister had been prepared for the type of beauty that follows the frontier; beauty that may stun, but that has the polish and chill of a new-ground bowie.  Instead, this girl with the calm, reposeful face struck a note almost painfully different from her surroundings, suggesting countless pleasant things that had been strange to him for the past few years.

Pure admiration alone was patent in the older man’s gaze.

“I make oration,” said he, “that you’re the gamest little chap I ever fought over, Mexikin, Injun, or white.  What’s the trouble?”

“I suppose you think I’ve done something dreadful, don’t you?” she said.  “But I haven’t.  I had to get away from the Ohio to-night for—­certain reasons.  I’ll tell you all about it to-morrow.  I haven’t stolen anything, nor poisoned the crew—­really I haven’t.”  She smiled at them, and Glenister found it impossible not to smile with her, though dismayed by her feeble explanation.

“Well, I’ll wake up the steward and find a place for you to go,” he said at length.  “You’ll have to double up with some of the women, though; it’s awfully crowded aboard.”

She laid a detaining hand on his arm.  He thought he felt her tremble.

“No, no!  I don’t want you to do that.  They mustn’t see me to-night.  I know I’m acting strangely and all that, but it’s happened so quickly I haven’t found myself yet.  I’ll tell you to-morrow, though, really.  Don’t let any one see me or it will spoil everything.  Wait till to-morrow, please.”

She was very white, and spoke with eager intensity.

“Help you?  Why, sure Mike!” assured the impulsive Dextry, “an’, see here, Miss—­you take your time on explanations.  We don’t care a cuss what you done.  Morals ain’t our long suit, ’cause ’there’s never a law of God or man runs north of Fifty-three,’ as the poetry man remarked, an’ he couldn’t have spoke truer if he’d knowed what he was sayin’.  Everybody is privileged to ‘look out’ his own game up here.  A square deal an’ no questions asked.”

She looked somewhat doubtful at this till she caught the heat of Glenister’s gaze.  Some boldness of his look brought home to her the actual situation, and a stain rose in her cheek.  She noted him more carefully; noted his heavy shoulders and ease of bearing, an ease and looseness begotten of perfect muscular control.  Strength was equally suggested in his face, she thought, for he carried a marked young countenance, with thrusting chin, aggressive thatching brows, and mobile mouth that whispered all the changes from strength to abandon.  Prominent was a look of reckless energy.  She considered him handsome in a heavy, virile, perhaps too purely physical fashion.

“You want to stowaway?” he asked.

“I’ve had a right smart experience in that line,” said Dextry, “but I never done it by proxy.  What’s your plan?”

“She will stay here to-night,” said Glenister quickly.  “You and I will go below.  Nobody will see her.”