They mounted the steps of the nigh building, and, without knocking, flung the door open, entered, then tossed their bundles to the floor. With a sharp exclamation at this unceremonious intrusion, an Indian woman, whom they had surprised, dropped her task and regarded them, round-eyed. "We're all right this time," observed Emerson, as he swept the place with his eyes. "It's a store." Then to the woman he said, briefly: "We want a bed and something to eat." On every side the walls were shelved with merchandise, while the counter carried a supply of clothing, skins, and what not; a cylindrical stove in the centre of the room emanated a hot, red glow. "This looks like the Waldorf to me," said "Fingerless" Fraser, starting to remove his parka, the fox fringe on the hood of which was white from his breath. "What you want?" demanded the squaw, coming forward. Boyd, likewise divesting himself of his furs, noticed that she was little more than a girl--a native, undoubtedly; but she was neatly dressed, her skin was light, and her hair twisted into a smooth black knot at the back of her head. "Food! Sleep!" he replied to her question. "You can't stop here," the girl asserted, firmly. "Oh yes, we can," said Emerson. "You have plenty of room, and there's lots of food"--he indicated the shelves of canned goods. The squaw, without moving, raised her voice and called: "Constantine! Constantine!" A door in the farther shadows opened, and the tall figure of a man emerged, advancing swiftly, his soft soles noiseless beneath him. "Well, well! It's old Squirrel-Tail," cried Fraser. "Good-evening, Constantine." It was the copper-hued native who had rescued them from the river earlier in the day; but although he must have recognized them, his demeanor had no welcome in it. The Indian girl broke into a torrent of excited volubility, unintelligible to the white men. "You no stop here," said Constantine, finally; and, making toward the outer door, he flung it open, pointing out into the night. "We've come a long way, and we're tired," Emerson argued, pacifically. "We'll pay you well." Constantine only replied with added firmness, "No," to which the other retorted with a flash of rising anger, "_Yes!_" He faced the Indian with his back to the stove, his voice taking on a determined note. "We won't leave here until we are ready. We're tired, and we're going to stay here--do you understand? Now tell your 'klootch' to get us some supper. Quick!" The breed's face blazed. Without closing the door, he moved directly upon the interloper, his design recognizable in his threatening attitude; but before he could put his plan into execution, a soft voice from the rear of the room halted him. "Constantine," it said.