"You know I never cared much for theaters and girls," he added slyly, giving Gregson a good-natured nudge.

"How about 'em up here ?" "Nothing--not a cursed thing." Suddenly his eyes lighted up.

"By George, Howland, but I _did_ see the prettiest girl I ever laid my eyes on to-day! I'd give a box of pure Havanas--and we haven't had one for a month!--if I could know who she is!" They had entered through the low door of the log boarding-house and Gregson was throwing off his heavy coat.
"A tall girl, with a fur hat and muff ?" queried Howland eagerly.
"Nothing of the sort.

She was a typical Northerner if there ever was one--straight as a birch, dressed in fur cap and coat, short caribou skin skirt and moccasins, and with a braid hanging down her back as long as my arm.

Lord, but she was pretty!" "Isn't there a girl somewhere up around our camp named Meleese ?" asked Howland casually.
"Never heard of her," said Gregson.
"Or a man named Croisset ?" "Never heard of him." "The deuce, but you're interesting," laughed the young engineer, sniffing at the odors of cooking supper.