They
trotted up a low ridge and disappeared.
"It's none of my business," persisted Stampede, "but you didn't seem to
expect her--"
"You're right," interrupted Alan, turning toward his pack. "I didn't
expect her. I thought she was dead."
A low whistle escaped Stampede's lips. He opened his mouth to speak and
closed it again. Alan observed him as he slipped the pack over his
shoulders. Evidently his companion did not know Mary Standish was the
girl who had jumped overboard from the _Nome_, and if she had kept her
secret, it was not his business just now to explain, even though he
guessed that Stampede's quick wits would readily jump at the truth. A
light was beginning to dispel the little man's bewilderment as they
started toward the Range. He had seen Mary Standish frequently aboard
the _Nome_; a number of times he had observed her in Alan's company, and
he knew of the hours they had spent together in Skagway. Therefore, if
Alan had believed her dead when they went ashore at Cordova, a few hours
after the supposed tragedy, it must have been she who jumped into the
sea. He shrugged his shoulders in deprecation of his failure to discover
this amazing fact in his association with Mary Standish.
"It beats the devil!" he exclaimed suddenly.
"It does," agreed Alan.
Cold, hard reason began to shoulder itself inevitably against the
happiness that possessed him, and questions which he had found no
interest in asking when aboard ship leaped upon him with compelling
force.
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