Gordon smiled: “Aye, but ye do not know MacShane. Camps are nothin’ to him. He knows the North as no other man knows it, an’ always he plays a lone hand. ’Tis not because he does not like man, or the company of his kind, for he does. Everywhere, by white men, an’ by red men alike, he is held in regard. An’ when he foregathers with men he is the life of the camp. It was him, d’ye mind, that planned an’ carried out the Christmas ye had that year in Dawson.” He turned to the girl who had been listening. “An’ ’twas him that lifted ye in his two hands to the top of the piano, the better ye could see, an’ ’twas him that give ye the doll, the prettiest doll of the lot it was, an’ he picked it out for ye.” Lou smiled, “I have the doll yet,” she said, “And I remember that a big man picked me up and stood me on the piano, but I can’t remember his face. It must be awfully lonesome for him--to be always alone.” “It is too bad he has never married,” said Mrs. Gordon. “A man like that would make some woman a good husband.” “Losh, woman!” cried Gordon, “An’ who would he marry? Who are the women he knows--Injun squaws, Eskimo klooches, an’ the strumpets of the dance halls! MacShane would have none of them. For, he’s clean.” “He must get his supplies at Coldfoot,” said Mrs. Gordon, “There is no place else.” “Aye, but ye must remember there was no Coldfoot when he passed this way, if he ever passed.” “What do you mean, if he ever passed?” “I mean that the Koyukuk is not the only river that lies North from the Yukon. There are many. An’ knowin’ MacShane by his reputation on the trail, he may be this minute anywhere between Hudson Bay an’ Bering Sea. An’ even if he traded in Coldfoot today, he might do his next tradin’ at Fort MacPherson.” “Oh, I wish we could find him and thank him for--what he did.” “Aye, woman,” answered Gordon, heavily, “I’ve sought him this long time. My humility weighs heavy upon me. But, as the Gude Book says, ‘Everything comes to him who waits.’ ’Tis doubtless the Lord’s will I should carry my load long.” Inquiry at the Commercial Company’s store revealed the fact that only two months before MacShane had come into camp from the northward, remained for several days, and purchasing supplies, had suddenly pulled out. “An where did he hit for?” asked Gordon. “Lord knows, I don’t. Myrtle Creek, maybe. That’s where most of ’em are hittin’ for now. There has be’n some pretty good sacks of dust brought down off of Myrtle this summer. Goin’ to locate?” Gordon nodded: “Aye. An’ can ye tell me how I’ll reach Myrtle Crick?” “Sure, just follow up Slate Creek, an’ it’s the third creek that runs into it.” “Maybe it’s all staked?”