“Oh, the horrible igloo where they confine the marriageable girls for half a year. They stay in there, in the dark all that time, never seeing the face of man; and they come out cowed, and fat, and pallid; and then they’re for sale as wives. Those that no man takes are looked down upon, and left to shift for themselves and must earn their own living. The Yakutat girl was pounced on instantly by a man she hated for some reason. He took her off, but she escaped and made her way to the mission. Nobody was at home at the time but Björk and me. I saw her come in, and I saw her come flying out of the mission parlor wilder even than she’d entered it, and go tearing down to the village. She found shelter there, for a while, with the woman who had brought her up. But public opinion was all against her; and when it was found that the reason her ‘husband,’ Peddykowchee, didn’t come and get her, was that he was ill, they said she had bewitched him. His younger brother said she’d done the same to him, and then a miserable little baby—oh, it was a ghastly business. ’Sh—” and Mar fished in silence for a full hour, with occasional sharp glances through the alder thicket behind him, down among the reeds by the deserted cabin. The next day the store left in the cracker-box was found to be untouched. “She’s seen Björk!” said Mar under his breath. “She’s afraid to come any more.” “Why don’t you help her to get out of the country?” Cheviot asked, setting alight the smudge on the window-sill. “I was planning that when you came, but I don’t want to mix you up in any such ticklish business.” “It’s no more ticklish for me than for you.” “Oh, I’m blown upon already. The people here have been red hot about it. They haven’t cooled down yet.” “They never will,” said Cheviot. “No,” agreed Mar, “but I’ve made the cause mine, you see. After you’re gone—” “I’m not going till you do.” “That’s nonsense.” “If you like,” said Cheviot. “It’s on account of that letter of Hildegarde’s?” “Whatever the reason is, I’m going to stay if you are, and you may as well let me in for my share of the fun.” “Your ‘share!’” repeated Mar reflectively, and stroked his long gray mustache. “I was arranging to get the girl away,” he went on presently, “when you came. I had bought this boat and made a habit of being out all day.” “Exactly! All we need is provisions.” “No, I sent Christianson to St. Michaels for provisions. They’re at the mission now.” “Of course, we brought them up with us! Then we’ve nothing to do but to get the stuff into the boat.” “Without exciting suspicion.” “And pick the girl up somewhere on the coast.” “—before they realize we’re gone for good.” “Surely you and I could start off on an excursion together without exciting suspicion. Why, you told them when you first came, you were going up the coast, ‘to have a look at the country,’” he added, remembering Christianson’s phrase. Mar studied him an instant with uncommon intentness.