"In the mining-camps, yes, but we fishermen live lonely lives." "But the coy, shrinking Indian maidens? I have read about them." "They are terrible affairs," Marsh declared. "They are flat of nose, their lips are pierced, and they are very--well, dirty." "Not always!" Boyd gave voice to his general annoyance and growing dislike for Marsh in an abrupt denial, "I have seen some very attractive squaws, particularly breeds." "Where?" demanded the other, sceptically. "Well, at Kalvik, for instance," "Kalvik!" ejaculated Marsh. "Yes; your home. You must know Chakawana, the girl they call 'The Snowbird'?" "No." "Come, come! She knows you very well." "Ah, a mystery! He is concealing something!" cried Miss Wayland. Marsh directed a sharp glance at Boyd before answering. "I presume you refer to Constantine's sister; I was speaking generally--of course, there are exceptions. As a matter of fact, I wasn't exactly right when I said we had no white women whatever at Kalvik. Mr. Emerson doubtless has met Cherry Malotte?" "I have," acknowledged Boyd. "She was very kind to us." "More damning disclosures," chuckled Mr. Wayland. "Pray, who is she?" "I should like very much to know," Emerson answered. "Oh, delightful!" exclaimed Mildred. "First, a beautiful Indian girl; now, a mysterious white woman! Why, Kalvik is decidedly interesting." "There is nothing mysterious about the white woman," said Marsh. "She is quite typical--just a plain mining camp hanger-on who drifted down our way." "Not at all," Boyd disclaimed, angrily. "Miss Malotte is a fine woman;" then, at Marsh's short laugh, "and her conduct bears favorable comparison with that of the other white people at Kalvik." Marsh allowed his eyes to waver at this, but to Mildred he apologized. "She is not the sort one cares to discuss." "How do you know?" demanded Cherry's champion. "Do you know anything against her character?" "I know she is a disturbing element at Kalviks and has caused us a great deal of trouble." It was Boyd's turn to laugh. "But surely that has nothing to do with her character." "My dear fellow"--Marsh shrugged his shoulders apologetically--"if I had dreamed she was a friend of yours, I never would have spoken." "She is a friend," Emerson persisted doggedly, "and I admire her because she is a girl of spirit. If she had not been possessed of enough courage to disregard your instructions, I might have been forced to eject your watchman and take possession of one of your canneries." "We can't entertain all comers. We leave that to Miss Malotte." "And George Balt, eh?" "Dear! dear!" laughed Miss Wayland. "I feel as if I were at a meeting of the Woman's Guild." "In our business we must adhere to a definite policy," Marsh explained to the others. "Sometimes we are misjudged by travellers who consider us heartless, but we can't take care of every one."