The one puzzling factor which he could not drive out of his thoughts was the girl.

Her sweet face haunted him.

At every turn he saw it--now over the table in the opium den, now in the white starlight of the trail, again as it had looked at him for an instant from the sledge.

Vainly he strove to discover for himself the lurking of sin in the pure eyes that had seemed to plead for his friendship, in the soft lips that had lied to him because of their silence.

"Please forgive me for what I have done--" He unfolded the crumpled note and read the words again and again.