"Then you must take time."
"I can't. Sternberg will tell."
"What has Sternberg to do with it?"
"I lost the money in his place—his books will show. He suspects, even now, and he's talking about it. He doesn't like me, you know, since he heard of our engagement."
The days fled swiftly by; the hills thrust their scarred sides up through the melting snow; the open sea showed black beyond the rim of anchor ice. As nature awoke and blossomed, June faded and shrank until she was no more than the ghost of her former self. Then one day smoke was reported upon the horizon, and the town became a bedlam; for the door of the frozen North was creaking on its hinges, and just beyond lay the good, glad world of men and things.
June could stand it no longer; so she told her sorrow to Llewellyn, who had half guessed it, anyhow, and he in turn retold it to his fellow-Wags.
The Scrap Iron Kid was for killing Hope at once, and argued that it was by far the simplest way out of June's trouble, carrying with it also an agreeable element of retribution. Hope had hurt the Wag-lady, therefore the least atonement he could offer was his blood. But Dummy, the foxy old alibi man of the outfit, said:
"I've got a better scheme. Hope wants to do the right thing, and June'll make him if she has a chance. The company will get its coin, she'll get her square guy, an' nobody'll be hurt, provided he has time to swing himself. The ace in the hole is Sammy Sternberg; he's got the books. Now what's the answer?"
"Steal the books!" chorused the Wags; and Dummy smiled.
"Why, sure."