With the coming of February Lou Gordon completed her plan for the future. As soon as the spring thaws hardened the surface of the snow she would hit the trail--the long trail to the unknown Colville, and there, somewhere in those Arctic wastes she would find _Huloimee Tilakum_. Oh, why had she not interpreted the look she had often surprised in his eyes? Why had she remained blind to its meaning? She knew, now. There, in the night it had come to her--the night she had reached for her rifle--to be rid, forever, of the eyes that glowed in the dark. And there, in the high North, they two should find life--life, and love, and happiness. She would sell her dogs in Bettles--all but the twelve great race dogs which she would keep for a trail team. And then she would hit straight up the Alatna, and cross to the Kobuk, and there she would find the Eskimos who had carried the supplies to _Huloimee Tilakum_ through the long years of his exile in the land of red gold. If only Dalzene had forgotten her. Maybe he would not dare to risk a trip to Myrtle even for the purpose of carrying out his threat, when he knew that the hand of every man upon the Koyukuk was against him. But, she dismissed this hope, as she recalled the terrible gleam of his eyes as the threat was uttered. No, Dalzene would come--sometime. She prayed that his coming should be delayed until after the snow hardened in the spring. But, Dalzene had a toboggan! One evening soon after she had returned from feeding her dogs the sound of a voice startled her. It was a man urging on tired dogs. Stepping to the doorway she peered into the gloom. There he stood upon the creek, looking at her. For a long moment she scrutinized him as well as the starlight would permit. He was a bearded man. His shoulders drooped slightly. He was tired. He had come from the direction of Nolan, but he was no man of Nolan, that she knew. Nor was it Dalzene. She would instantly have recognized the burly form of the hooch-runner. Who was he? And why did he stand and stare at her without speaking. Possibly, some confederate of Dalzene, who had been sent ahead to see if the coast were clear. Dalzene would not risk his life lightly. With terror in her heart she slammed the door, and shot the heavy bar that she had contrived after the death of her father. Then, rifle in hand she seated herself on the edge of her bunk, and waited. The man was approaching the door. She could hear his footsteps crunching the packed snow. The footsteps ceased and a moment later a voice called from the darkness: “Hello, in there! Can I stop for the night?” For a moment the girl hesitated, but only for a moment. Here was a trail-weary man, stumbling in the night upon the only cabin on the whole creek that afforded warmth and comfort, and she must refuse him! Outside, the man awaited his reply, and with an effort the girl steeled herself to violate tradition and deny him the comfort he asked.