When winter closed down June began to see more and more of Harry Hope. And she began to like him, too; for he was the sort to win women's hearts, being big and boyish and full of merriment. He had spent several years in the Northland, and its winds had blown from him many of the city-born traits, leaving him unaffected, impulsive, and hearty. While the frontier takes away some evil qualities it also takes some good ones, and Harry Hope was not by any means a saint. As the nights grew longer he gained the habit of dropping in to talk with June on his way up-town. One evening he paused before leaving and asked:
"Can you take care of something for me, June?"
"Of course," she answered.
He flung a leather wallet into her lap, laughing. "You're the banker for the community; so lock that up overnight, if you please."
"Oh-h!" she gasped. "There are thousands of dollars! I'd rather not."
"Come! you must! I didn't get it in time to put it in the company's safe, and if I carry it around somebody will frisk me."
"Where are you going?"
"Down to Sternberg's. I'm going to outguess his faro-dealer. This is my lucky night, you know."
Realizing full well the lawlessness of the camp, June felt a bit nervous as she laid the money away. In the course of the evening, however, she gradually lost her fears.
Some time after midnight, when the big front room of the bunk-house was empty, the outside door opened, admitting a billow of frost out of which emerged two men. They were strangers to June, and when she asked them if they wished beds they said "No." They backed up to the stove and began staring at their surroundings curiously.