When at last he received a brief note from Natalie asking him to call, he raced to Hope afraid, yet eager to hear what she might say.  She met him on the dock as he left the S. R. & N. motorboat and led him directly to the house.

Natalie went straight to the point.  “I’m in dreadful trouble,” she said, “and I sent for you to tell you that I had no idea of betraying confidences.”

Dan uttered some inane platitude, but his eyes lighted with relief.

“When I saw in the papers what a stir that North Pass & Yukon story had made I was afraid I had done something dreadful.  Tell me, is it so?  Did I make trouble?”

“You certainly did.  O’Neil was furious, and nobody knows yet what the result will be.  It—­it nearly cost me my head.”

“Does he blame me?”

“N-no!  He says you’re on Gordon’s side now.  He blames me, or did, until he generously took it on himself.”

“What does it all mean?  I’m nearly distracted.”  Natalie’s eyes were pleading.  “Did you think I spied on you?”

Dan glowed with embarrassment and something more.  “I didn’t know what to think,” he said.  “I was wretchedly miserable, for I was afraid.  And yet I knew you couldn’t do such a thing.  I told O’Neil I wasn’t responsible for what I did or said when with you.”

“Mr. Gordon sent me to Omar purposely.  He sent me twice.  It was I who brought him word that the road was saved.  I told all I’d learned because I believed he no longer hated Mr. O’Neil.  I was happy to tell all I knew, for he deceived me as he deceives every one.  I learned the truth too late.”

“Why do you stay here?” Dan demanded, hotly.

“Why?  I—­don’t know.  Perhaps because I’m afraid to leave.  I’m alone—­you see mother believes in him:  she’s completely under his sway, and I can’t tell her the sort of man he is.  She’s happy, and her happiness is worth more to me than my own.  But—­I shall go away.  I can’t stand it here much longer.”

“Where will you go?”

“Back to my old home, perhaps.  Somewhere—­anywhere away from Alaska.”

“I suppose you know I can’t get along without you.”

“Please don’t!  You have been very good and sweet to me, but—­” She shook her dark head.  “You couldn’t marry me—­even if I cared for you in that way.”

“Why?  I intend to marry you whether you want to or not.”

“Oh, Dan, it wouldn’t do.  You know—­about—­mother.  I’ve nearly died of shame, and—­it would be sure to come up.  Somebody would speak of it, sometime.”

Dan’s blue eyes went cold and smoky as he said: 

“It would take a pretty brave person to mention the subject in my presence.  I don’t care a whoop for anything Gordon or your family may say or do.  I—­”

There was a stir in the hall outside, and the speaker turned to behold Curtis Gordon himself in the doorway.  The latter in passing had been drawn by the sound of voices and had looked into the library.  Recognizing Natalie’s caller, he frowned.