In his joy and ecstacy he reached out his hand to touch her, but in an instant she vanished from his sight. He strove to follow, when the sound of voices fell upon his ears, and caused him to awake with a start.

He rubbed his eyes, as he looked around the cabin to be sure that he was not dreaming, for there before him, talking with old Pete, was the very woman he had seen in his dream, and whose picture was in the locket.

She was beautiful, he could see that at once. The hood which covered her head could not hold in thrall the entire wealth of her dark-brown hair. Some tresses had escaped, and the wind had tossed them across her cheeks and brow. She was thinly clad for such a night. Her dress of dark-blue serge, and a shawl over her shoulders, were little protection in that furious storm, while her hands, he noticed, were bare.

All this Keith intuitively beheld, for he was endeavoring to grasp the drift of the conversation, in order to solve the problem of her mysterious presence. She was speaking, but he could only catch the word "father" now and then. Presently Pete jerked his thumb toward the bunk, and in a louder voice, said:

"I wish yon lad was awake, fer he's a doctor, an' understands sich things. But he's been knocked out mighty bad in this storm, an' I hate to distarb 'im."

At this Keith rolled out of the bunk, and stood before the two.

"Pardon me," he said, "but I have just awakened, and would like to do anything in my power to help you."

At the sudden appearance of the tall, unkempt figure, the woman gave a start of surprise. Keith, noticing this, felt somewhat abashed, when he realized how he must look. But it was not fear or disgust which caused the woman to start. It was the picturesque figure he presented by the dim candle light.

"What a subject for a sketch," she thought. "I wish I had my pencil and paper."

"La.s.sie--Miss Radhurst, I mean," Pete began, "this is my old friend, Keith Steadman, an' he'll fix up yer dad if any man kin."

At once the woman held out her hand to the missionary. As he grasped it, he noticed how small it was, and rough, too. It evidently knew hard work. Holding it for an instant, and looking into her eyes, he felt like saying:

"I know you, Miss Radhurst. I have known you for days, and your face has been so often in my mind."

"Oh, Mr. Steadman," she said, trembling with excitement, "I am so glad you are here. My poor father has been strange all day. To-night he got up, opened the cabin door, and fell down the steps. With great difficulty, I managed to get him back into the room, where he now lies moaning as if in great pain. I fear his arm is broken. Will you come over to see him?"

"Certainly, I shall go at once," and Keith started for his cap and medicinal companion. "And, Pete, you'll come too?" he continued. "You may be needed."

"Lead on, pard," returned the old man. "I'll stand by, never ye fear that." To himself, however, he said: "Thar's more'n colors here, I kin see that at a glance, an' when two gold veins meet thar's sure to be rich diggin'."

CHAPTER IX

THE NIGHT WATCH

As Keith bent over the prostrate man, he noticed how delicate were his hands, not cramped and hardened like the ordinary prospector's. He looked upon his face, white and worn, the face of an old man. What could such a person do in the rigorous north, where only the hardiest had any chance of existence? He was not asleep, but lying on the cot, moaning in a pitiful manner. His eyes wandered constantly about the room, but seemed to notice nothing.

"Miss Radhurst," said Keith. "I find what you surmised is only too true. Your father's arm is broken. It is not a serious fracture, however, only one of the bones, which can be quite easily re-set."

When at length the work was completed, Keith stepped back and viewed his patient.

"There," he said. "I think he will do now. We've done the best we could."

"Thank you. Oh, thank you," replied Constance. "You are very good."

"That's nothing, Miss Radhurst. I'm so glad I happened to be here to help your father. Now, you and Pete had better rest a while, as I wish to remain here for a time."

"Very well, laddie," returned the prospector. "I'll go home now."

Then, turning to Constance, he continued: "Ye kin trust 'im, la.s.sie.

He'll bring yer dad through, if any one kin."

The old man chuckled as he waded through the snow to his own cabin.

"They think I'll rest, do they? Waal, they don't know Pete Martin yit.

Mebbe they'll see afore mornin', though."

"May I watch with you, Mr. Steadman?" Constance asked, when Pete had gone.

"Do you not need rest, Miss Radhurst? You must be tired after such an anxious day."

"No, no. I could not rest with my father moaning in that pitiful manner. He is very dear to me, and I must stay by his side for a while anyway."

"Connie, Connie," came from the sick man. "The paper, the paper; give me the paper! Don't let any one have it!"

"Yes, father dear," said Constance, gently stroking his forehead, and thin gray hair. "The paper is safe; no one shall get it, so do not worry."

The man, however, did not heed her remarks, but rambled on. "The gold!

the gold! I see the gold! Look, Connie, see how it shines! We'll get it yet."

"Hush, hush, father dear." Constance's eyes were moist as she listened to his wandering words, and watched his wan face.

"Oh, Mr. Steadman," she said, "it is so hard to see him this way. He does not know me at all."

"Gold! The trail! I see the gold! Connie, Kenneth," moaned the sufferer.

"Your father seems to have some trouble pressing on his mind," said Keith. "He talks so much about the gold, the trail, and yet he does not look like a man who has roughed it in this country."

"My father never did any mining," Constance responded. "He knows nothing about it. Oh, Mr. Steadman," she continued, after a pause, "I want to speak to some one concerning this very matter. It is almost breaking my heart. You are a clergyman and a doctor, and I know I can trust you. May I speak?"

"I a.s.sure you, Miss Radhurst," Keith replied, "that I will not only listen to your story, but I shall consider it a great honour, as well, to be thus taken into your confidence."

But Constance did not begin at once. For a time she was silent, lost in thought. She made a fair picture, sitting on the rude bench, with her right arm resting upon the table, supporting her head.

The room was bare, painfully bare, dest.i.tute of the little comforts so precious to a woman's heart. The walls of rough-hewn logs were unrelieved by picture or knick-knack. The uneven floor was as scrupulously clean as a pair of small hands could make it. This was kitchen, sitting, dining, and Mr. Radhurst's sleeping room combined. A portion of the building was hidden by several dark blankets, and served as Constance's own private apartment.

"What a life for such a woman!" thought Keith, sitting on the opposite side of the table, watching the flickering light of the one small candle playing upon Constance's face and hair. He admired this woman, who was living so bravely amid such dreary surroundings. Yes, he more than admired, for a sense of pity stole into his heart at the thought of her position, alone with her helpless father.

"You asked about my father," Constance at length began, fixing her eyes upon the missionary. "No, he was never a miner. Several years ago he was a prosperous business man in Vancouver. Our home was a happy one, where I tried to fill the place of my dear mother, who had died several years before. But I wished to be a nurse, and so attended the public hospital in that city.

"At the end of my second year, I was placed in charge of a man who had been terribly exposed on the trail. We did what we could to save his life, but in vain. When he learned that he could not recover, he one day confided to me a strange secret.

"He was a prospector, and had spent several years in the North along the Yukon Valley. One day he and a partner discovered a valuable ledge of gold far back from the river in an easterly direction. They filled their pockets with nuggets, and, as winter was fast approaching, and they had little food, they started for the coast. They had proceeded only a short distance when they were set upon by several Indians, who resented the intrusion of the white men into what they considered their rightful domain. One man was instantly killed, while the other escaped. After a terrible struggle he reached the coast, where a pa.s.sing steamer took him on board, and landed him in Vancouver. Here he was at once taken to the hospital, and placed in my care.

"When the man had finished his story, he gave me a piece of paper, on which was sketched a rude map of the Yukon region, describing the exact spot where the gold was to be found. I will show you this paper; it is the one of which my father speaks.

"The next day the prospector died, and I laid the map away, and thought little of it at the time, being very busy with my work. When next I saw my father, I told him the whole story, and though he seemed interested, I little thought what an impression it would make upon his mind.

"A year later my father, suffered severe losses in his business, which caused him great worry. Then I found what an effect the prospector's story had made upon him. He had been thinking of it continually, and talked much with Kenneth, my only brother, about the matter. Both believed that the story was real, and that the gold was there, only waiting some one bold enough to go for it.

"When the financial trouble swept down upon us, my brother determined to start upon the quest, notwithstanding our entreaties to the contrary. He boarded a coast steamer for the North, and that was the last we heard of him.