“Well, there was the young nobleman, in the winter of ’98, Dane, I think—­fine family and all that—­big, yellow-haired boy.  He wanted to marry her, but a faro-dealer shot him.  Then there was Rock, of the mounted police, the finest officer in the service.  He was cashiered.  She knew he was going to pot for her, but she didn’t seem to care—­and there were others.  Yet, with it all, she is the most generous person and the most tender-hearted.  Why, she has fed every ‘stew bum’ on the Yukon, and there isn’t a busted prospector in the country who wouldn’t swear by her, for she has grubstaked dozens of them.  I was horribly in love with her myself.  Yes, she’s dangerous, all right—­to everybody but Glenister.”

“What do you mean?”

“She had been across the Yukon to nurse a man with scurvy, and coming back she was caught in the spring break-up.  I wasn’t there, but it seems this Glenister got her ashore somehow when nobody else would tackle the job.  They were carried five miles down-stream in the ice-pack before he succeeded.”

“What happened then?”

“She fell in love with him, of course.”

“And he worshipped her as madly as all the rest of you, I suppose,” she said, scornfully.

“That’s the peculiar part.  She hypnotized him at first, but he ran away, and I didn’t hear of him again till I came to Nome.  She followed him, finally, and last week evened up her score.  She paid him back for saving her.”

“I haven’t heard about it.”

He detailed the story of the gambling episode at the Northern saloon, and concluded:  “I’d like to have seen that ‘turn,’ for they say the excitement was terrific.  She was keeping cases, and at the finish slammed her case-keeper shut and declared the bet off because she had made a mistake.  Of course they couldn’t dispute her, and she stuck to it.  One of the by-standers told me she lied, though.”

“So, in addition to his other vices, Mr. Glenister is a reckless gambler, is he?” said Helen, with heat.  “I am proud to be indebted to such a character.  Truly this country breeds wonderful species.”

“There’s where you’re wrong,” Struve chuckled.  “He’s never been known to bet before.”

“Oh, I’m tired of these contradictions!” she cried, angrily.  “Saloons, gambling-halls, scandals, adventuresses!  Ugh!  I hate it!  I hate it!  Why did I ever come here?”

“Those things are a part of every new country.  They were about all we had till this year.  But it is women like you that we fellows need, Miss Helen.  You can help us a lot.”  She did not like the way he was looking at her, and remembered that her uncle was up-stairs and asleep.

“I must ask you to excuse me now, for it’s late and I am very tired.”