There was only one thought in my mind--that was to find some man or woman in all that country to whom I could go for shelter and for aid. I knew naught of Swiftwater and Bera, except that they had left me. Swiftwater’s child, I felt as if he was my own--that little babe smiling up into my face as I had held him in my arms but a few minutes before, seemed to me as if he was my own. I knew instinctively that there was none in all that multitude of carefree or careworn miners who thronged the three cafes and the dance halls of Dawson who could do much, if anything, to help me. Past the dance halls and saloons and gambling halls of Dawson I went my way, down beyond the town and finally found the dark trail that led to the barracks of the mounted police. I told the captain exactly what had happened. I said: “Captain, I am left all alone here by Swiftwater Bill and I have to find some place to shelter his little two months’ old child and to feed and clothe him. He told me to live in his cabin. But I have no home there now as long as that man Wilson lives there.” No woman who has never known the hard and seamy side of life in Dawson can possibly understand how good are the mounted police to every human being, man, woman or child, who is in trouble without fault of their own. The captain said. “Mrs. Beebe, I have long known of you, and I do not doubt that a wrong has been done you. You and your little grandson shall not suffer for want of shelter or food tonight.” With that the captain detailed two officers with instructions to accompany me to Swiftwater’s cabin and to see that I was comfortably and safely housed there, no matter what the circumstances. We went back that long, dark way, a mile over the trail to the cabin. When we arrived there, the two officers went inside. “Place this woman’s clothes and belongings where they were before you came in here, and do it at once,” commanded one of the mounted police. Wilson looked at me in amazement, and then his face was flushed with an angry glow as he saw that the two officers meant business. Without a word, he picked up all the baby’s clothes and my own and put them back where they had been before. Then he took his pack of clothes and belongings and left without a word. It would merely encumber my story to tell how I was summoned into court by Phil Wilson, and how the judge, after hearing my story of Swiftwater’s brutality--of his leaving me in Dawson penniless with his baby--said that he could hardly conceive how a man could be so inhuman as Swiftwater was, to leave the unprotected mother of his wife and his baby alone in such a place as Dawson and in such hands as those of the man who stood before him. He said that such brutality, in his judgment, was without parallel in Dawson’s annals and that, while he felt the deepest sympathy for me, left as I had been helpless and with Swiftwater’s baby, yet the law gave Phil Wilson the right to the cabin.