He puffed at his cigar.  Rossland’s interference had spoiled a perfect lighting of it, and he struck another match.  This time he was successful, and he was about to extinguish the burning end when he hesitated and held it until the fire touched his flesh.  Mary Standish was coming through the door.  Amazed by the suddenness of her appearance, he made no movement except to drop the match.  Her eyes were flaming, and two vivid spots burned in her cheeks.  She saw him and gave the slightest inclination to her head as she passed.  When she had gone, he could not resist looking into the salon.  As he expected, Rossland was seated in a chair next to the one she had occupied, and was calmly engaged in looking over the breakfast card.

All this was rather interesting, Alan conceded, if one liked puzzles.  Personally he had no desire to become an answerer of conundrums, and he was a little ashamed of the curiosity that had urged him to look in upon Rossland.  At the same time he was mildly elated at the freezing reception which Miss Standish had evidently given to the dislikable individual who had jostled him in passing.

He went on deck.  The sun was pouring in an iridescent splendor over the snowy peaks of the mountains, and it seemed as if he could almost reach out his arms and touch them.  The Nome appeared to be drifting in the heart of a paradise of mountains.  Eastward, very near, was the mainland; so close on the other hand that he could hear the shout of a man was Douglas Island, and ahead, reaching out like a silver-blue ribbon was Gastineau Channel.  The mining towns of Treadwell and Douglas were in sight.

Someone nudged him, and he found Stampede Smith at his side.

“That’s Bill Treadwell’s place,” he said.  “Once the richest gold mines in Alaska.  They’re flooded now.  I knew Bill when he was worrying about the price of a pair of boots.  Had to buy a second-hand pair an’ patched ’em himself.  Then he struck it lucky, got four hundred dollars somewhere, and bought some claims over there from a man named French Pete.  They called it Glory Hole.  An’ there was a time when there were nine hundred stamps at work.  Take a look, Alan.  It’s worth it.”

Somehow Stampede’s voice and information lacked appeal.  The decks were crowded with passengers as the ship picked her way into Juneau, and Alan wandered among them with a gathering sense of disillusionment pressing upon him.  He knew that he was looking with more than casual interest for Mary Standish, and he was glad when Stampede bumped into an old acquaintance and permitted him to be alone.  He was not pleased with the discovery, and yet he was compelled to acknowledge the truth of it.  The grain of dust had become more than annoying.  It did not wear away, as he had supposed it would, but was becoming an obsessive factor in his thoughts.  And the half-desire it built up in him, while aggravatingly persistent, was less disturbing than before.  The little drama in the dining-room had had its effect upon him in spite of himself.  He liked fighters.  And Mary Standish, intensely feminine in her quiet prettiness, had shown her mettle in those few moments when he had seen her flashing eyes and blazing cheeks after leaving Rossland.  He began to look for Rossland, too.  He was in a humor to meet him.