"Let 'em warm themselves, can't you?" exclaimed one of the men sitting at a table and shuffling cards for a game. "Whose hinderin' 'em? I aint! All I'm objectin' to is the length of time she held the door open when she came in." "Wal, she's in now, and the door's shut, aint it?" drawled the card player. "Yes." "Then close your gab!" and lowering his tone to his partner opposite he said shortly, "Play, wont you?" In the meantime Estella was warming herself beside the fire. On her knees she held the boy whose head soon drooped drowsily in spite of his hunger. It was a long, bare room, newly boarded as to ceiling, flooring and walls. A smooth and shining counter stretched along the west side of the room, behind which stood rows of well filled bottles, ready to be uncorked. For ornament, upon the opposite wall there hung a great mirror, trying its best to duplicate the owner's stock in trade, as though he would be needing such help before the winter was over, when his whiskies were gone. For further brightening the room there hung suspended from gilt buttons close below the ceiling, certain representations of personages in garments too filmy to assure the observer that they were intended for this Arctic world, because rivalling the costumes of two solitary gardeners in the long ago. However that may be, the pictures did not disturb Estella--as to the miners they were accustomed to these and many other sights. Something far worse to her troubled the Eskimo. It was hunger. Suddenly one of the loungers, considerably younger that the others, said to his neighbors: "I'll bet she's hungry." "Very likely, Sam, they mostly always are. There's nothin' here to eat if she is, by George." "There's plenty of booze!" "Yes, at two bits a drink." "Then straightening himself in his seat the first speaker called out: "Stella!" "What?" answered the woman in a low voice. "Are you hungry?" Quick as thought she raised her head and looked appealingly into his face. "Yes." Her lips trembled, and tears sprang into the dark eyes. "Have you had anything to eat to-day?" "No--little fish yesterday," she said quietly, holding up one finger to indicate the number. "Good God! She's starving! Here, you toddy slinger, there! I say, can't you give this woman something to eat?" to the man behind the bar. "Wal, I'm sorry to say it, but there aint no grub here; leastwise that's good for Eskimo," he added with a wink. "I guess most anything would be good for her, and you hand out something real sudden, too," said the young man, tossing a bright silver dollar toward the counter. "Oh, wal', if that's the game, I'm here. Oyster cocktail and crackers, eh, Stella?" The woman's eyes brightened at the last words, which she understood; the first she was a stranger to, but if it was something to fill the awful void beneath she could eat it. She nodded eagerly.