"I am so glad," Nance replied, "but I cannot help feeling sorry for those men. They did look so funny, though, pulling up the stakes, while Tom and the rest were making all kinds of remarks."
"You have been a heroine among the miners ever since," Dick returned. "There is nothing that they would not do for you now. You are under their special protection, and they have vowed to lynch the first man who ever interferes with you or this place again."
A blush suffused Nance's cheeks at these words, while Martin gave a sigh of relief. He had been worried and annoyed over the affray, but now he felt thankful that they were to be left undisturbed in the future.
One morning, just a week after this conversation, Martin and Nance were aroused by several raucous blasts of a steamer. Rushing outside, they saw the Northern Light ploughing across the lake, straight toward the new mining town. Her decks were black with people, and as the two watchers hurried to the shore they could see a number of women among the passengers. There was considerable excitement on board, and much cheering as well both on the steamer and on land, where the miners had gathered on the bank. There was no wharf, but the boat curved gracefully around, and as the water was deep, she was able to swing close to the shore. When tied up, and the gang-planks run out a great scramble took place, while the hum of voices fell strangely upon the ears of the two silent ones over the river. Nance was all excitement now. Never before had she beheld the forms of white women in the Quaska region, and she was most anxious for a closer inspection.
"Oh, daddy!" she exclaimed, "those women must be nurses. Dick didn't expect so many, I am sure. Isn't it too bad that he is up at the diggings with Tom? Suppose we go over and tell them where he is?"
But Martin laid a heavy hand upon her shoulder, which caused her to look up into his face in surprise. He surmised only too well who the women were, and the object of their visit into the country. But how should he tell Nance? How could he explain?
"They are not nurses, little one," he at length answered, and then remained silent, uncertain how to proceed.
"Not nurses! Then who are they?" and Nance looked her astonishment.
"They are bad women who flock into every camp such as this. They drink, gamble, and—lead men astray."
"Oh! I thought that all women were good, daddy."