"Who's arrived?" demanded Britton.
"H–l!" cried Laurance, in a non-committal fashion, and dashed into the yard.
Vociferous shouting drifted in to Britton, and when the Klondiker reappeared, he asked with a shade of anxiety: "Anything wrong out there?"
"She's gone," spluttered Laurance. "She's hiked with that bloody fast team of hers."
Britton leaped from the bunk to the doorway. Around the bend of the trail the girl's outfit was disappearing. Full of a strange thrill of disappointment and sense of indignity, he turned the blame on Laurance.
"You blasted fool!" he roared, angrily.
"'Tain't my fault," the Klondiker threw back. "How'd I know she was goin' to vamoose? Must ha' thought we wasn't respectable inhabitants."
"She said she intended to travel by night," explained Britton. "I told her it wasn't safe, but she laughed. I'm going after her!"
Jim Laurance put his back to the door with a certain grim determination.
"No, you ain't," he said, quietly. "Sift some sense into your cracked head. Them dogs are gee-whiners. Yours wouldn't catch 'em in a year. No, siree! That girl knows what she's a-doin'. She's been on trails afore this, and don't you forgit it."