"Daddy, what do girls do in the great outside world when they grow up?"

Nance and Martin had just finished their breakfast. It was early, and the morning sun, streaming in through the window, fell athwart the table. Pete, the invalid, was still asleep, for the movements in the room had not disturbed him in the least. Martin looked curiously at Nance as she asked the question. He pushed back the bench upon which he was sitting, and began to fill his pipe. Nance sat with her elbows upon the table, her hands supporting her chin, watching him thoughtfully.

"Young women generally get married," Martin at length replied. "That is about all they think of."

"But suppose they don't get married, daddy?"

"Then they stay at home and help their mothers."

"But suppose they have no mothers, what then?"

"Oh, they get out and shift for themselves."

"And what do they do to make a living?"

"Some become servants, others are clerks in stores, dressmakers, school teachers, and so on."

"And some become nurses, do they not?"

"Certainly; I forgot all about them."

"Well, that is what I want to be, daddy."

Martin looked up quickly into the flushed face of the young woman before him.

"Who put such a notion as that into your head?" he quietly remarked. "Was it that young man?"

"No, not altogether. I have been thinking about it for some time. Ever since I read the story of Florence Nightingale in one of my books I have longed to be a nurse. I am practising every day upon Pete, and I know I should like the work so much. I want to be of some use in the world, daddy."

"But you are of some use, little one, of great use to me, at least. What would I do without you? You would go away, and I should be left alone."

"But I am not of much use to you now," and there was a note of sadness in Nance's voice. "You are away all day long out on the hills, so we only see each other morning and evening. Once we were together all the time."

Martin lowered the pipe from his mouth, and his eyes dropped. He knew how true were the words he had just heard, and his heart reproached him. Yes, he had spent most of his time on the hills since the arrival of the miners, and he had left Nance alone. He had almost forgotten her, in fact, so engrossed had he been with his own thoughts, and the perplexing questions which were always disturbing his peace of mind. But of these he could not speak to Nance. He had to bear his burden alone, and not even to the one who was so dear to him could he confide. He looked at her now longingly, and a great fear came over him lest in any way she should learn something about his past life. That she had perfect confidence in him he was well aware. How terrible it would be if she should hear what kind of a man he really was.

"Are you not happy here, Nance?" and his voice was somewhat hoarse as he asked the question. "Would you like to go away? If so, we shall start at once. There will yet be time to cross the mountains, and catch the steamer on her return from the north. Then, when once outside, if you so desire, you can train to be a nurse."

"No, no, daddy, I don't want to go away," Nance hastened to reply. "And, besides, there is no need of it, as I can be just as happy here. Some one will be needed to care for the miners, and why cannot I help?"

"You are talking somewhat wildly, are you not?" Martin replied a little sharply. "Though you have cared for Pete, and have done it well, yet you know hardly anything about nursing. A very thorough training is necessary to make one proficient."

"But I may learn here, daddy. Dick," and at the mention of the name the flush upon her face became more apparent—"told me that he expects a trained nurse in soon on one of the steamers."

"Did he! Well that's news to me. Where is she to stay, pray?"

"At the hospital, which is to be built."

"H'm. Is that so?"

"Yes. And Dick told me something about the woman he expects will be sent in to take charge of the hospital. She is known only as Nurse Marion. She has been working along the Yukon River for years, and she has done so much for the miners. They love her just like the soldiers loved Florence Nightingale. Dick thinks that she will come, for it is always she who goes into new places, and starts the hospital work. I do hope that Nurse Marion will come, for I long to see her. I never saw a white woman, except my mother, and I was too young when she died to know anything about her."

"She was very beautiful, Nance," Martin replied, "and you look just like her."

"Do I, daddy? I didn't know that I am beautiful. But if I look like my mother used to then I must be. You have often told me about Beryl, how beautiful she is, and I have often wished to look just like her. Dick says that Nurse Marion is beautiful, that she has a sweet face, wonderful eyes, and can sing better than any one he ever heard. He said that it is fine to hear her sing by the side of sick people. Her voice is so comforting, and she always seems to know exactly how the patient feels and so sings accordingly. Dick said that she had some great trouble in her life which turned her mind to nursing that she might help others who suffer. Oh, I think her life must be so grand. I know that I shall like her, and I hope that she will let me help her in the hospital. So you see, daddy, I will be of some use in the world, and be right near you at the same time."

Martin made no reply to these words, for his mind was strangely disturbed. The description Nance had given of Nurse Marion made him think of Beryl. Yes, she, too, was beautiful, had a sweet face, wonderful eyes, a rich voice, and her life had been a troubled one. Tom had said that she had become a trained nurse after she had recovered from her illness. There was such a strong resemblance between Nurse Marion and Beryl that Martin felt that they must be one and the same person. Only the name puzzled him somewhat. But perhaps she had changed it when she entered the nursing profession as she had changed the whole manner of her life. And was it possible that she was coming, the only woman in the whole world whom he longed to see, and yet the only woman he dreaded to meet face to face? Yes, he knew something about those wonderful eyes of which Nance had spoken. With what a loathing scorn would they be turned upon him if he should ever see her again. But, then, that must never be. If the nurse proved to be Beryl she must not know that he lived at Quaska. A sudden impulse seized him to leave the place, such as had come over him when Dick Russell and the miners had arrived. Then it was for Nance's sake he had remained. Now this sudden longing to flee was restrained by a strong desire to behold once more the face of the woman who, during all the years of his voluntary exile, had been so much in his mind. He wondered if she had changed much since he last saw her at the church in the city years before. Would she recognise him if she met him now? he mused. It was hardly likely, for she would not associate a rough bearded man with the trim Martin Rutland she had known so long ago. But one thing was certain: she must never be allowed to cross the threshold of his house. If she did come to Quaska, and Nance should become acquainted with her it was only natural that Nance should wish to bring her home. No, such a thing must not happen.

"Nance," and Martin lifted his eyes to the place where she had been sitting. He was surprised to find that she was not there.

"What is it, daddy?" was her cheery response, as she came to his side. "I am looking after Pete, getting his breakfast."

"Why, I didn't know that you had moved. I did not hear a sound."

"And didn't you hear Pete and me talking?"

"No, not a word," at which remark both Pete and Nance laughed heartily. Martin also smiled at what he called his own foolishness.

"Nance, come close, I want to speak to you," he commanded. "Promise me," and here his voice dropped to a whisper, "that if any white woman comes to Quaska you will never invite her to this house without speaking to me first."

Seeing the surprised look upon Nance's face, he caught both of her hands in his, and held them firm.

"Promise me," he ordered.

"I promise, daddy," was the somewhat faltering reply.

"There, that will do," and Martin released her hands. "You have never told me a falsehood, nor disobeyed me, so I know that I can trust you."

Nance was deeply puzzled over Martin's words and manner. Never before had he spoken to her so sternly and mysteriously. She was disappointed as well, for she had been revolving in her mind of late what a great pleasure it would be to have Nurse Marion come over to their house very often. They would be such friends, so she had planned. And now she must always ask her father's permission, and even then he might not grant her request.

A form bulking large in the doorway caused her to cease her meditation, and look keenly at a thickset man standing there. Without knocking he entered, followed by another man. The night prowlers had arrived to take formal possession of the claims they had staked.

Martin rose to meet them, and looked inquiringly into their faces. They were strangers to him, and he thought that perhaps they had come to see the invalid.

"Are you looking for Pete?" he asked. "He's over there," and he pointed toward the bunk.

"Naw. We've come to see you," Dave replied. "We wish to inform you that you're settled upon our claims, an' we're here to give you notice to quit."

Martin looked first at the one and then at the other, uncertain whether they were in earnest or only joking. But the expression upon their faces, and the look in their eyes told him that they meant business.

"I don't understand you," he at length replied. "What do you mean by 'claims,' and 'notice to quit'?"

"Ye don't? Well, ye damn soon will," was the gruff response. "We've staked our claims upon the ground where your shanty is pitched. The land is ours, so you get out at once. See?"

At these words Martin straightened himself up with a sudden jerk.

"Don't you know that I own this place?" he asked. "I cleared this land, and built this house years and years ago. I hold it by possession. Why should you wish to take it from me? There is all the land on this side of the river unstaked. Can you not let me live here in peace? Why do you need my small piece of ground?"

"That's nothin' to do with it," Sam retorted. "We've staked this spot, an' we want it, so that's all there is about it."

"But suppose I am not willing to give it up, what then?"

"Oh, we'll soon settle that," and the men laughed as they clapped their hands to their hip-pockets. "We've something here which speaks pretty loud, an' to the point."

"But is this legal?" Martin insisted. "I have the land surely by possession, so it is mine by right of ownership."

"Might is right in this country," and Dave spat contemptuously upon the floor. "That is the only law we know here, or pay any attention to."

"Is that so?"

These three brief words caused The Twins to look quickly to the right, and at once their faces underwent a marvellous change. Nance was standing there, with her lithe figure as straight as a reed. She was looking quietly along the barrel of Martin's rifle, and the slight forefinger of her right hand was gently pressing the trigger. The visitors had paid no attention to her before, so engrossed had they been with Martin. But now they suddenly realised that here was a new force to be reckoned with upon which they had not counted. Nance stood before them transformed. Her face was very pale, but her eyes glowed with the light of determination, which the two baffled men were not slow to notice.

"I will shoot the first one of you that moves a hand," Nance warningly remarked.

"Fer God's sake ye wouldn't, Miss," Dave faltered. "Ye don't mean it, surely?"

"Indeed she does," Martin replied. "Don't fool with her if you value your lives. She's a dead shot, as many a grizzly has found out to his cost."

In the silence which followed these words it was almost possible to hear the heart-beats of the two confounded men.

"Are you going to leave this place?" Nance asked slowly and deliberately. "Will you promise never to come here to bother us again?"

No response coming to this request, Nance continued:

"I am going to count ten, and while I am doing it you can think over what I have said. That is all the time I shall give you. One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine——"

"Hold, hold, Miss," Sam interrupted. "I'll leave. I'm not going to have my brains blown out."

"So will I," Dave assented.

"And you will never trouble us again?"

"No, no," came simultaneously from both men.

"Wait a minute," Nance commanded. "I am not through with you yet. Might is right, so you say. Just put your hands above your heads. There, that's better. Now, daddy, please take those weapons out of their pockets; they are not safe things for such men to carry."

Never before had The Twins been in such a fix. It was bad enough to be held up, but to be held up by a woman was gall and wormwood to their reckless natures. Yet they had great respect for the blank frowning muzzle of that rifle, and the determined figure holding it so confidently in her hands. They did not dare to lower their arms, and they were forced to submit to the ignominy of having their revolvers removed from their hip-pockets.

"Nice weapons these," Martin calmly remarked, as he held the two revolvers in his hands. "Suppose we keep them, Nance, as souvenirs. They might come in handy some other time. And perhaps they'll be useful now," he continued, after a pause. "You say that you staked claims here last night, eh?"

"Yes," was Dave's surly response.

"Well, then, you can just go out and pull them up. Nance, keep the rifle upon them until they finish the job, and I'll bring these weapons along, too, in case they are needed."

"Yes, daddy," Nance replied. "I am not going to lower this rifle until the stakes are all up, and these men have cleared out."

The feelings of the two scoundrels were by no means enviable as they were ordered out of the house, and then commanded to undo their work of the past night. Not only were their hearts bursting with rage, but they felt very deeply the humiliation of their position. To be driven by a woman from stake to stake like slaves before a taskmaster upon whom they could not wreak their revenge was something they had never before experienced. Then, while in the midst of their work, the arrival of Dick, Tom, and the rest of the band, filled their cup of shame to overflowing.

The miners took the whole situation in at a glance, and derisive shouts of laughter burst from their lips.

"Hard at it, boys?" Tom shouted. "It's rather early, isn't it, to be workin' so hard?"

"When did ye make up yer minds to obey a woman?" Dad asked. "Ye've changed yer tune since last winter about being bossed by any female, ha, ha!"

"Got yer claims all worked?" sneered another. "Yer pullin' up yer stakes mighty soon. Where's yer clean-up?"

To all of these jibes the two wretched men made no response. They hurried from stake to stake, and when the last had been torn out and thrown savagely upon the ground, they turned and faced their fair young captor.

"Now, will ye let us go?" Sam snarled. He longed to express his feelings in more vehement words, but his courage was not equal to the occasion.

"Yes, you may go now," Nance replied, as she dropped the butt of the rifle upon the ground. "My! that tired my arms."

The Twins were about to scuttle away, when Tom stopped them.

"Hold on a minute," he commanded. "I want a word with ye. Ye may consider yerselves mighty lucky to git clear of this job with whole skins. The lassie an' her dad have been mighty good to ye. Mebbe it wouldn't have been the same if we'd happened along a little sooner. Ye might as well know first as last, Dave Pelchie, and Sam Purvis, that if ye interfere with this property agin ye won't git off as easy as ye have this time. So git out of this as quick as ye kin, fer the sight of yer measly faces makes me sick."

The miners watched for a while two defeated and crestfallen men as they skulked down to the river. Then, with Tom leading, they all shook hands with the heroine of the day.

"We're proud of ye, Miss, that's what we are," Tom exclaimed.

"Hear, hear!" agreed his companions.

But Dick, as he took her hand, held it a little longer than the rest. Their eyes met, and though no word fell from their lips, a language which the others could not understand passed between them—the language of the heart.