"If you'd lay off the 'family' subject we'd get along better."
Once again the fray was on; it raged intermittently throughout the evening; it did not die out until bedtime put an end to it.
Rouletta and her three companions were late in reaching town on the following day, for they awakened to find a storm raging, and in consequence the trails were heavy. Out of this white smother they plodded just as the lights of Dawson were beginning to gleam. Leaving the men at the Barracks, the girl proceeded to her hotel. She had changed out of her trail clothes and was upon the point of hurrying down-town to her work when she encountered Hilda Courteau.
"Where in the world have you been?" the latter inquired.
"Nowhere, in the world," Rouletta smiled. "I've been quite out of it." Then she told of her and 'Poleon's trip to the mines and of their success. "Pierce will be at liberty inside of an hour," she declared.
"Well, I've—learned the truth."
Rouletta started; eagerly she clutched at the elder woman. "What? You mean—?"
"Yes. I wrung it out of Courteau. He confessed."
"It WAS a frame-up—a plot? Oh, my dear—!"
"Exactly. But don't get hysterical. I'm the one to do that. What a night, what a day I've put in!" The speaker shuddered, and Rouletta noticed for the first time how pale, how ill she looked.