As MacShane stepped from the door of the saloon and headed toward the hotel, Lou Gordon drew swiftly back from the window of her room and sinking upon the edge of her bed, stared for a long time at the opposite wall. Quite by accident, she had happened to glance out of her window, at the moment Dalzene had accosted MacShane upon the sidewalk opposite. She had seen them converse for a few moments, and then, together, walk down the street and enter the saloon, and she had watched for an hour or more until they reappeared, separately, but within a few minutes of each other. What did it mean? Who was _Huloimee Tilakum_? And what on earth could he have in common with that prince of all devils, Dalzene? The girl pressed her hand to her breast. There was a strange lump--almost a pain, that seemed pressing upon her--weighting her down. For more than a week this clear-eyed, handsome stranger had been her constant companion. Frankly she had admitted to herself that she liked him. Deep down in her heart she knew that her regard for him had swiftly ripened into a far deeper emotion. In her mind’s eye she had compared him with other men, and she knew that he stood above them all. His very presence stirred unsuspected depths within her. When they were together the whole world sang with happiness, when they were apart, there was a void. And now, with her own eyes she had seen him apparently hand in glove with Jake Dalzene! Oh, what did it mean? In vain her shocked brain groped for an answer. “He _is_ good!” she half-sobbed. “I know he is good! I can see it in his eyes--and the dogs know! Surely Skookum would know--Skookum that distrusts all men. And I have trusted him with money I brought down from Nolan, and he has worked hard in placing it all.” Mechanically, as though to corroborate the statement, she produced the sheaf of receipts signed by the proprietor of the Malamute Saloon, which showed that the money was in his possession. Surely, if he had been anything but the soul of honor, he could have made away with the money, and pursuit would have been impossible--she didn’t even know his name. But--why didn’t she know? What possible reason could he have for concealing his identity? What possible connection could he have with Dalzene? He had told her that he had bet heavily on her dogs himself. Why, then should he have anything in common with Dalzene, who bore her only hatred? A sharp knock upon her door brought her to her feet. She answered the knock to be confronted by a police official. “Sorry to trouble you, Miss,” he said, not unkindly, “But we’ve got a hooch-runner locked up, an’ he says he’s your father, an’ he wants you should come down to the jail right away an’ fetch bail. But, they ain’t no use botherin’ with the bail part of it. Judge Cross, he’s declared a holiday till after the race, an’ they ain’t no one else got the authority to fix the bail. You’re welcome to come down an’ talk to him, though. He ain’t takin’ his arrest none easy.”