left their mark. Even with those brave, frightened eyes on his face; even with the realization that it was Jennifer, the woman he loved, the eager hunting instinct leapt up in him as he came forward.
Jennifer had dropped her work with an exclamation of fear. And that nailed his suspicions home to the wall of fact. Ducane was on special business—dangerous business; and she knew it.
"Oh—what have you come for?" she said.
"I would like to say that it was to see you. But I'm afraid I gave myself away just now." He sat down on the bench beside her. "You don't know how curious it seems to me—to see you here—with your work. Like the real essence of home-life among all us men."
Jennifer flushed, with her fear fading out under his look and his words. He was so familiar, so reliable, such a piece of home at this edge of all things new. It was impossible that he should give reason for fear. She smiled at him.
"I can generally adapt myself to my surroundings somehow," she said.
"You do very much more than that. You can adapt your surroundings to yourself."
"Indeed I can't. You, for instance. I wouldn't let you wear that leather loop round your head at the back. It roughs your hair up."
He took off his Stetson and contemplated the narrow strap.
"I can't wear hat-pins," he complained. "Besides, it's part of the equipment. Do you really think I'm a surrounding that couldn't be adapted?"
She glanced up, half-startled, half-puzzled at his earnest tone.
"Give me my work-bag, please," she said, evading the issue, and she took the little silken thing from his hands and sought for her scissors. "Where do you people of the outside edges get your chivalry from? I have never been so waited on in all my life. Antoine carried my grip into every cabin there is, and Louis Peaceful followed with the captain's sweet-grass mattress. Mrs. Carter and I could have had every blanket in the scows if we'd wanted
