Cap in hand, his heart beating heavily at the prospect of merely seeing her, he came on noiseless soles to her door. He could hear her stirring inside, so he took a deep breath and rapped softly.
She uttered a cry when she saw him standing there; then a sudden pallor crept into her cheeks, a queer constraint enveloped her. Nevertheless, she put both her hands in his and drew him across the threshold. She said something which neither of them understood.
'Poleon's ears were roaring, but after a few moments he discovered that she was gently chiding him. Where had he been? Why had he delayed so long, knowing all the time that she was dying to see him and to hear his story? He could not understand her embarrassment, her shyness, the fact that she seemed hurt.
"Wal, I'm tucker' out wit' travelin'," he declared. "Dat's hardes' trip ever I mak'. You hear 'bout 'im, eh?—'bout how McCaskey tell de truth?"
Rouletta nodded, with a curious little smile upon her lips. "Yes. I heard all about it, the first thing—how Rock ran down those fellows—everything. The town was ringing with his name inside of an hour. Of course, I went to the Barracks, finally, looking for you. I'm just back. I saw the lieutenant and—he told me the true story."
'Poleon stirred uncomfortably.
"He swore at you roundly and said he'd take it out of your skin as soon as he was able—giving him the credit. He told me it was you who did it all—how you followed those men over the Line, alone, after he played out; how Joe McCaskey killed his own brother in trying to kill you. But the whole thing is public now. I heard it as I came back. You're quite a famous character in Dawson to-night, 'Poleon dear, what with this and with Frenchman's Hill."
"Ho! Dat Frenchman' Hill," the man broke out, hurriedly. "It's beeg s'prise for us, eh? Pierce told you 'bout dat?"
"Pierce?" The girl shook her head vaguely.
"You 'member I stake two claim', one for you, one for me. By golly! ma soeur, you're millionaire."