Together they made their way into town, and after bidding her good night, MacShane took a long, long walk and then went to bed. In the morning they met at breakfast, and MacShane asked after her father. “I hardly ever see him,” laughed the girl, “His room is always empty by the time I get up, and he’s had his breakfast and is off to watch those boilers work.” “And, what do you find to do here all alone?” he asked. “Oh, I take the dogs out for a run in the morning, and manage to fill in the rest of the day just looking around, or reading, or sewing. Would you like to go with me, out on the trail with the dogs?” she asked. “I sure would!” exclaimed the man, so quickly that for some reason they both blushed furiously, and laughed. From that time on the two were together every day, and for the greater part of every day. “Do you know,” said the girl, one day when they were out on the trail with the dogs, “That you have never told me your name!” MacShane laughed: “You never asked me,” he said. “But, I don’t think I’d tell you if you did--not yet, anyway.” “But, why not?” she asked, searching his smiling eyes. “Oh, we’ll just pretend it’s a kind of a game we’re playing. I know you, but you don’t know me. You’ll just have to take my word for it that I ain’t a hooch-runner, or a criminal of some sort. I ain’t really. I’m somethin’ of a minin’ man--in a small way--like your father, an’ thousands of others up here in the big country.” “But,” objected the girl, “I’ve got to call you something!” “Call me--_Huloimee Tilakum_.” “_Huloimee Tilakum_,” repeated the girl, “Stranger. I don’t know whether I like that, or not.” “It’s the name you, yourself gave me--back there on the trail the first time we met,” he smiled, “Don’t you remember you warned me that Skookum didn’t like strangers.” “But, sometime you will tell me your name?” The man was silent for a space of seconds. “Yes,” he answered as he raised his eyes to hers, “yes, sometime, I think I shall tell you my name.” It was through MacShane that Lou Gordon was enabled to place the money that the men of Nolan had sent down to bet on her dogs. At first he readily got odds of ten-to-one, but as more and more money appeared to back the unknown Koyukuk dogs, the odds shrank to eight, to seven, to six, and on the last day before the race, MacShane found difficulty in placing the last thousand at five-to-one. During all this time he had only seen Old Man Gordon once. The old man did not recognize him, and with Lou sitting by and endeavoring to turn the conversation into other channels, MacShane listened patiently to a two-hour discourse on the absolute supremacy of “b’ilers” over wood-thawing. Later, when Lou apologized for her father’s harangue, MacShane laughed. “Oh don’t bother about that,” he assured her, “I believe he’s right.” * * * * *