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Test Bank for Introduction to Critical
Care Nursing, 5th Edition: Mary Lou
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Sole: Introduction to Critical Care Nursing, 5th Edition
Chapter 01: Overview of Critical Care Nursing
Test Bank
MULTIPLE CHOICE
1. Which of the following professional organizations supports critical care nursing
practice?
a. American Association of Critical-Care Nurses
b. American Heart Association
c. American Nurses Association
d. Society of Critical Care Medicine
ANS: A
The American Association of Critical-Care Nurses is the specialty organization that
supports and represents critical care nurses.
Incorrect:
B: The American Heart Association supports cardiovascular initiatives.
C: The American Nurses Association supports all nurses.
D: The Society of Critical Care Medicine represents the multiprofessional team.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Knowledge REF: Page 3
OBJ: Discuss the purposes and functions of the professional organizations that support
critical care practice. TOP: Nursing Process Step: N/A
MSC: NCLEX: Safe, Effective Care Environment

Test Bank 1-2
2. You have been working as a staff nurse in the surgical intensive care unit for 2 years
and are interested in certification. Which credential would be most applicable for
you?
a. ACNPC c. CCRN
b. CCNS d. PCCN
ANS: C
The CCRN certification is appropriate for nurses in bedside practice who care for
critically ill patients.
Incorrect:
A: The ACNPC certification is for acute care nurse practitioners.
B: The CCNS certification is for critical care clinical nurse specialists.
D: The PCCN certification is for staff nurses working in progressive care or step-down
unit settings.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Application REF: Page 5
3. The main purpose of certification is to:
a. assure the consumer that you will not make a mistake.
b. prepare for graduate school.
c. receive a raise for passing the examination.
d. validate knowledge of critical care nursing.
ANS: D
Certification assists in validating knowledge of the field.
Incorrect:
A: Certification validates knowledge.
B: Certification validates knowledge; it does not prepare one for graduate education.
C: Certification validates knowledge; some nurses receive a pay differential for
certification; however, that is not its main purpose.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Analysis REF: Pages 4 to 5
OBJ: Explain certification options for critical care nurses. TOP: Nursing Process
Step: N/A
4. The synergy model of certified practice focuses on:
a. allowing unrestricted visiting for the patient 24 hours each day.
b. holistic and alternative therapies.

Test Bank 1-3
c. needs of patients and their families, which drives nursing competency.
d. patients' needs for energy and support.
ANS: C
The synergy model of certified practice states that the needs of patients and families
influence and drive competencies of nurses.
Incorrect:
A: The synergy model of certified practice states that the needs of patients and families
influence and drive competencies of nurses; it may involve allowing unrestricted
visiting to meet needs, but that is not the focus.
B: The synergy model of certified practice states that the needs of patients and families
influence and drive competencies of nurses; application may involve use of
alternative therapies, but that is not the focus.
D: The synergy model of certified practice states that the needs of patients and families
influence and drive competencies of nurses; it does not focus on the patient’s energy
needs.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Application REF: Page 5
5. The first critical care units were (choose all that apply):
a. burn units. c. recovery rooms.
b. coronary care units. d. neonatal intensive care units.
ANS: B
C
Recovery rooms and coronary care units were the first units designated to care for
critically ill patients.
Incorrect:
A: Recovery rooms and coronary care units were the first units designated to care for
critically ill patients; burn units were developed as specialty units evolved.
D: Recovery rooms and coronary care units were the first units designated to care for
critically ill patients; neonatal intensive units were developed as specialty units
evolved.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Knowledge REF: Page 3 OBJ: Define critical care
nursing.
TOP: Nursing Process Step: N/A MSC: NCLEX: Safe, Effective Care
Environment

Test Bank 1-4
6. The AACN Standards for Acute and Critical Care Nursing Practice use what
framework to guide critical care nursing practice?
a. Evidence-based practice c. National Patient Safety Goals
b. Healthy work environment d. Nursing process
ANS: D
The AACN Standards for Acute and Critical Care Nursing Practice delineate the nursing
process as applied to critically ill patients.
Incorrect:
A: The AACN Standards for Acute and Critical Care Nursing Practice delineate the
nursing process as applied to critically ill patients.
B: The AACN Standards for Acute and Critical Care Nursing Practice delineate the
nursing process as applied to critically ill patients; AACN promotes a healthy work
environment, but this is not included in the Standards.
C: The AACN Standards for Acute and Critical Care Nursing Practice delineate the
nursing process as applied to critically ill patients; the Joint Commission has
established National Patient Safety Goals.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Analysis REF: Page 5
OBJ: Describe standards of professional practice for critical care nursing.
Environment
7. The vision of the American Association of Critical-Care Nurses is a health care
system driven by:
a. a healthy work environment.
b. care from a multiprofessional team under the direction of a critical care physician.
c. needs of critically ill patients and families.
d. respectful, healing, and humane environments.
ANS: C
The AACN vision is a health care system driven by the needs of critically ill patients
and families where critical care nurses make their optimum contributions.
Incorrect:
A: The AACN promotes a healthy workplace; however, the AACN vision is a health
care system driven by the needs of critically ill patients and families where critical
care nurses make their optimum contributions.
B: The SCCM promotes care from a multiprofessional team under the direction of a
critical care physician.
D: The AACN supports a healing environment; however, the AACN vision is a health
care system driven by the needs of critically ill patients and families where critical
care nurses make their optimum contributions.

Test Bank 1-5
8. The most important outcome of effective communication is to:
a. demonstrate caring practices to family members.
b. ensure that patient teaching is done.
c. meet the diversity needs of patients.
d. reduce patient errors.
ANS: D
Effective communication has been identified as an essential strategy to reduce patient
errors and resolve issues related to patient care delivery.
Incorrect:
A: Communication may demonstrate caring; however, effective communication has
been identified as an essential strategy to reduce patient errors and resolve issues
related to patient care delivery.
B: Effective communication facilitates teaching; however, effective communication has
been identified as an essential strategy to reduce patient errors and resolve issues
C: Effective communication assists in meeting diversity needs of patients; however, it
has been identified as an essential strategy to reduce patient errors and resolve issues
9. The family members of a critically ill 90-year-old patient bring in a copy of the
patient’s living will to the hospital, which identifies the patient’s wishes regarding
health care. You discuss contents of the living will with the patient’s physician. This
is an example of implementation of which of the AACN Standards for Acute and
Critical Care Nursing Practice?
a. Acquires and maintains current knowledge of practice
b. Acts ethically on the behalf of the patient and family
c. Reflects knowledge of professional practice standards
d. Uses clinical inquiry in practice
ANS: B

Test Bank 1-6
Discussing end-of-life issues is an example of a nurse acting ethically on behalf of the
patient and family.
Incorrect:
A: Discussing end-of-life issues is an example of a nurse acting ethically on behalf of
the patient and family.
C: Discussing end-of-life issues is an example of a nurse acting ethically on behalf of
D: Discussing end-of-life issues is an example of a nurse acting ethically on behalf of

Test Bank 1-7
DIF: Cognitive Level: Synthesis REF: Page 5 | Box 1-3
OBJ: Describe standards of care and performance for critical care nursing.
Environment
10. Which of the following assists the critical care nurse in ensuring that care is
appropriate and based on research?
a. Clinical practice guidelines
b. Computerized physician order entry
c. Consulting with advanced practice nurses
d. Implementing Joint Commission National Patient Safety Goals
ANS: A
Clinical practice guidelines are being implemented to ensure that care is appropriate and
based on research.
Incorrect:
B: Clinical practice guidelines are being implemented to ensure that care is appropriate
and based on research.
C: Clinical practice guidelines are being implemented to ensure that care is appropriate
D: Clinical practice guidelines are being implemented to ensure that care is appropriate
DIF: Cognitive Level: Analysis REF: Page 6
OBJ: Identify current trends and issues in critical care nursing. TOP: Nursing
Process Step: N/A
11. Which of the following is NOT an example of a National Patient Safety Goal?
a. Encourage patients and family members to be actively involved in care
b. Eliminate use of patient restraints
c. Reconcile medications across the continuum of care
d. Reduce risks associated with patient falls
ANS: B
Hospitals have policies regarding use of restraints; however, this is not a National
Patient Safety Goal.
A: Encourage patients and family members to be actively involved in care is a National
C: Reconcile medications across the continuum of care is a National Patient Safety
Goal.
D: Reduce risks associated with patient falls is a National Patient Safety Goal.

Test Bank 1-8
DIF: Cognitive Level: Analysis REF: Page 5 | Box 1-3
OBJ: Describe standards of care and performance for critical care nursing.
Environment
12. Comparing patient’s current (home) medications with those ordered during
hospitalization and communicating a complete list of medications to the next
provider when patients are transferred within an organization or to another setting
are strategies related to:
a. improving accuracy of patient identification.
b. preventing errors related to look-alike and sound-alike medications.
c. reconciliation of medications across the continuum of care.
d. reducing harms associated with administration of anticoagulants.
ANS: C
These are steps recommended in the National Patient Safety Goals to reconcile
medications across the continuum of care.
Incorrect:
A: Improving accuracy of patient identification is another National Patient Safety Goal.
B: Preventing errors related to look-alike and sound-alike medications is done to
improve medication safety, not medication reconciliation.
D: Reduce harms associated with administration of anticoagulants is another National
DIF: Cognitive Level: Comprehension REF: Page 7
Process Step: N/A
MULTIPLE RESPONSE
1. Which of the following is (are) official journal(s) of the American Association of
Critical-Care Nurses (choose all that apply)?
a. American Journal of Critical Care
b. Critical Care Clinics of North America
c. Critical Care Nurse
d. Critical Care Nursing Quarterly
ANS: A, C
A & C: American Journal of Critical Care and Critical Care Nurse are two official
AACN publications.

Test Bank 1-9
Incorrect:
B: American Journal of Critical Care and Critical Care Nurse are two official AACN
publications.
D: American Journal of Critical Care and Critical Care Nurse are two official AACN
publications.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Analysis REF: Page 6 | Box-1-4
Process Step: N/A
2. Which of the following nursing activities are examples of implementation of the
AACN Standards for Acute and Critical Care Nursing Practice (choose all that
apply)?
a. Attending a meeting of the local chapter of the American Association of Critical-
Care Nurses in which a continuing education program on sepsis is being taught
b. Collaborating with a pastoral services colleague to assist in meeting spiritual needs
of the patient and family
c. Posting an article from Critical Care Nurse on management of venous
thromboembolism for your colleagues to read
d. Using evidence-based strategies to prevent ventilator-associated pneumonia
ANS: A, B, C, D
A: Attending a program to learn about sepsis—Acquires and maintains current
knowledge and competency in patient care.
B: Collaborating with pastoral services—Collaborates with the health care team to
provide care in a healing, humane, and caring environment.
C: Posting information for others—Contributes to the professional development of peers
and other health care providers.
D: Evidence-based practices—Uses clinical inquiry in practice.
DIF: Cognitive Level: Analysis REF: Page 6 | Box-1-4
Process Step: N/A

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dog. It held the mystery and sadness of the North. He paused, and, baring
his thick, matted head, stood for a long time gathering himself together.
Standing so, he made certain covenants with himself, and vowed solemnly
never to touch another card.
At the same moment Cherry Malotte came hurrying to her cottage door,
fleeing as though from pursuit or from some hateful, haunted spot. She
paused before entering and flung her arms outward into the dark in a wide
gesture of despair.
“Why did I do it? Oh! why did I do it? I can’t understand myself.”

“M
CHAPTER XIV
A MIDNIGHT MESSENGER
Y dear Helen, don’t you realize that my official position carries
with it a certain social obligation which it is our duty to discharge?”
“I suppose so, Uncle Arthur; but I would much rather stay at
home.”
“Tut, tut! Go and have a good time.”
“Dancing doesn’t appeal to me any more. I left that sort of thing back
home. Now, if you would only come along—”
“No—I’m too busy. I must work to-night, and I’m not in a mood for
such things, anyhow.”
“You’re not well,” his niece said. “I have noticed it for weeks. Is it hard
work or are you truly ill? You’re nervous; you don’t eat; you’re growing
positively gaunt. Why—you’re getting wrinkles like an old man.” She rose
from her seat at the breakfast-table and went to him, smoothing his silvered
head with affection.
He took her cool hand and pressed it to his cheek, while the worry that
haunted him habitually of late gave way to a smile.
“It’s work, little girl—hard and thankless work, that’s all. This country is
intended for young men, and I’m too far along.” His eyes grew grave again,
and he squeezed her fingers nervously as though at the thought. “It’s a
terrible country—this—— I—I—wish we had never seen it.”
“Don’t say that,” Helen cried, spiritedly. “Why, it’s glorious. Think of
the honor. You’re a United States judge and the first one to come here.
You’re making history—you’re building a State—people will read about
you.” She stooped and kissed him; but he seemed to flinch beneath her
caress.
“Of course I’ll go if you think I’d better,” she said, “though I’m not fond
of Alaskan society. Some of the women are nice, but the others—” She
shrugged her dainty shoulders. “They talk scandal all the time. One would

think that a great, clean, fresh, vigorous country like this would broaden the
women as it broadens the men—but it doesn’t.”
“I’ll tell McNamara to call for you at nine o’clock,” said the Judge as he
arose. So, later in the day she prepared her long unused finery to such good
purpose that when her escort called for her that evening he believed her the
loveliest of women.
Upon their arrival at the hotel he regarded her with a fresh access of
pride, for the function proved to bear little resemblance to a mining-camp
party. The women wore handsome gowns, and every man was in evening
dress. The wide hall ran the length of the hotel and was flanked with boxes,
while its floor was like polished glass and its walls effectively decorated.
“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Helen as she first caught sight of it. “It’s
just like home.”
“I’ve seen quick-rising cities before,” he said, “but nothing like this.
Still, if these Northerners can build a railroad in a month and a city in a
summer, why shouldn’t they have symphony orchestras and Louis Quinze
ballrooms?”
“I know you’re a splendid dancer,” she said.
“You shall be my judge and jury. I’ll sign this card as often as I dare
without the certainty of violence at the hands of these young men, and the
rest of the time I’ll smoke in the lobby. I don’t care to dance with any one
but you.”
After the first waltz he left her surrounded by partners and made his way
out of the ballroom. This was his first relaxation since landing in the North.
It was well not to become a dull boy, he mused, and as he chewed his cigar
he pictured with an odd thrill, quite unusual with him, that slender, gray-
eyed girl, with her coiled mass of hair, her ivory shoulders, and merry
smile. He saw her float past to the measure of a two-step, and caught
himself resenting the thought of another man’s enjoyment of the girl’s
charms even for an instant.
“Hold on, Alec,” he muttered. “You’re too old a bird to lose your head.”
However, he was waiting for her before the time for their next dance. She
seemed to have lost a part of her gayety.
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, yes!” she returned, brightly. “I’m having a delightful time.”

When he came for his third dance, she was more distraite than ever. As
he led her to a seat they passed a group of women, among whom were Mrs.
Champian and others whom he knew to be wives of men prominent in the
town. He had seen some of them at tea in Judge Stillman’s house, and
therefore was astonished when they returned his greeting but ignored Helen.
She shrank slightly, and he realized that there was something wrong; he
could not guess what. Affairs of men he could cope with, but the subtleties
of women were out of his realm.
“What ails those people? Have they offended you?”
“I don’t know what it is. I have spoken to them, but they cut me.”
“Cut you?” he exclaimed.
“Yes.” Her voice trembled, but she held her head high. “It seems as
though all the women in Nome were here and in league to ignore me. It
dazes me—I do not understand.”
“Has anybody said anything to you?” he inquired, fiercely. “Any man, I
mean?”
“No, no! The men are kind. It’s the women.”
“Come—we’ll go home.”
“Indeed, we will not,” she said, proudly. “I shall stay and face it out. I
have done nothing to run away from, and I intend to find out what is the
matter.”
When he had surrendered her, at the beginning of the next dance,
McNamara sought for some acquaintance whom he might question. Most of
the men in Nome either hated or feared him, but he espied one that he
thought suited his purpose, and led him into a corner.
“I want you to answer a question. No beating about the bush.
Understand? I’m blunt, and I want you to be.”
“All right.”
“Your wife has been entertained at Miss Chester’s house. I’ve seen her
there. To-night she refuses to speak to the girl. She cut her dead, and I want
to know what it’s about.”
“How should I know?”
“If you don’t know, I’ll ask you to find out.”
The other shook his head amusedly, at which McNamara flared up.

“I say you will, and you’ll make your wife apologize before she leaves
this hall, too, or you’ll answer to me, man to man. I won’t stand to have a
girl like Miss Chester cold-decked by a bunch of mining-camp swells, and
that goes as it lies.” In his excitement, McNamara reverted to his Western
idiom.
The other did not reply at once, for it is embarrassing to deal with a
person who disregards the conventions utterly, and at the same time has the
inclination and force to compel obedience. The boss’s reputation had gone
abroad.
“Well—er—I know about it in a general way, but of course I don’t go
much on such things. You’d better let it drop.”
“Go on.”
“There has been a lot of talk among the ladies about—well, er—the fact
is, it’s that young Glenister. Mrs. Champian had the next state-room to them
—er—him—I should say—on the way up from the States, and she saw
things. Now, as far as I’m concerned, a girl can do what she pleases, but
Mrs. Champian has her own ideas of propriety. From what my wife could
learn, there’s some truth in the story, too, so you can’t blame her.”
With a word McNamara could have explained the gossip and made this
man put his wife right, forcing through her an elucidation of the silly affair
in such a way as to spare Helen’s feelings and cover the busy-tongued
magpies with confusion. Yet he hesitated. It is a wise skipper who trims his
sails to every breeze. He thanked his informant and left him. Entering the
lobby, he saw the girl hurrying towards him.
“Take me away, quick! I want to go home.”
“You’ve changed your mind?”
“Yes, let us go,” she panted, and when they were outside she walked so
rapidly that he had difficulty in keeping pace with her. She was silent, and
he knew better than to question, but when they arrived at her house he
entered, took off his overcoat, and turned up the light in the tiny parlor. She
flung her wraps over a chair, storming back and forth like a little fury. Her
eyes were starry with tears of anger, her face was flushed, her hands worked
nervously. He leaned against the mantel, watching her through his cigar
smoke.
“You needn’t tell me,” he said, at length. “I know all about it.”

“I am glad you do. I never could repeat what they said. Oh, it was
brutal!” Her voice caught and she bit her lip. “What made me ask them?
Why didn’t I keep still? After you left, I went to those women and faced
them. Oh, but they were brutal! Yet, why should I care?” She stamped her
slippered foot.
“I shall have to kill that man some day,” he said, flecking his cigar ashes
into the grate.
“What man?” She stood still and looked at him.
“Glenister, of course. If I had thought the story would ever reach you, I’d
have shut him up long ago.”
“It didn’t come from him,” she cried, hot with indignation. “He’s a
gentleman. It’s that cat, Mrs. Champian.”
He shrugged his shoulders the slightest bit, but it was eloquent, and she
noted it. “Oh, I don’t mean that he did it intentionally—he’s too decent a
chap for that—but anybody’s tongue will wag to a beautiful girl! My lady
Malotte is a jealous trick.”
“Malotte! Who is she?” Helen questioned, curiously.
He seemed surprised. “I thought every one knew who she is. It’s just as
well that you don’t.”
“I am sure Mr. Glenister would not talk of me.” There was a pause.
“Who is Miss Malotte?”
He studied for a moment, while she watched him. What a splendid figure
he made in his evening clothes! The cosey room with its shaded lights
enhanced his size and strength and rugged outlines. In his eyes was that
admiration which women live for. He lifted his bold, handsome face and
met her gaze.
“I had rather leave that for you to find out, for I’m not much at scandal. I
have something more important to tell you. It’s the most important thing I
have ever said to you, Helen.” It was the first time he had used that name,
and she began to tremble, while her eyes sought the door in a panic. She
had expected this moment, and yet was not ready.
“Not to-night—don’t say it now,” she managed to articulate.
“Yes, this is a good time. If you can’t answer, I’ll come back to-morrow.
I want you to be my wife. I want to give you everything the world offers,
and I want to make you happy, girl. There’ll be no gossip hereafter—I’ll

shield you from everything unpleasant, and if there is anything you want in
life, I’ll lay it at your feet. I can do it.” He lifted his massive arms, and in
the set of his strong, square face was the promise that she should have
whatever she craved if mortal man could give it to her—love, protection,
position, adoration.
She stammered uncertainly till the humiliation and chagrin she had
suffered this night swept over her again. This town—this crude, half-born
mining-camp—had turned against her, misjudged her cruelly. The women
were envious, clacking scandal-mongers, all of them, who would ostracize
her and make her life in the Northland a misery, make her an outcast with
nothing to sustain her but her own solitary pride. She could picture her
future clearly, pitilessly, and see herself standing alone, vilified, harassed in
a thousand cutting ways, yet unable to run away, or to explain. She would
have to stay and face it, for her life was bound up here during the next few
years or so, or as long as her uncle remained a judge. This man would free
her. He loved her; he offered her everything. He was bigger than all the rest
combined. They were his playthings, and they knew it. She was not sure
that she loved him, but his magnetism was overpowering, and her
admiration intense. No other man she had ever known compared with him,
except Glenister—Bah! The beast! He had insulted her at first; he wronged
her now.
“Will you be my wife, Helen?” the man repeated, softly.
She dropped her head, and he strode forward to take her in his arms, then
stopped, listening. Some one ran up on the porch and hammered loudly at
the door. McNamara scowled, walked into the hall, and flung the portal
open, disclosing Struve.
“Hello, McNamara! Been looking all over for you. There’s the deuce to
pay!” Helen sighed with relief and gathered up her cloak, while the hum of
their voices reached her indistinctly. She was given plenty of time to regain
her composure before they appeared. When they did, the politician spoke,
sourly:
“I’ve been called to the mines, and I must go at once.”
“You bet! It may be too late now. The news came an hour ago, but I
couldn’t find you,” said Struve. “Your horse is saddled at the office. Better
not wait to change your clothes.”

“You say Voorhees has gone with twenty deputies, eh? That’s good. You
stay here and find out all you can.”
“I telephoned out to the Creek for the boys to arm themselves and throw
out pickets. If you hurry you can get there in time. It’s only midnight now.”
“What is the trouble?” Miss Chester inquired, anxiously.
“There’s a plot on to attack the mines to-night,” answered the lawyer.
“The other side are trying to seize them, and there’s apt to be a fight.”
“You mustn’t go out there,” she cried, aghast. “There will be bloodshed.”
“That’s just why I must go,” said McNamara. “I’ll come back in the
morning, though, and I’d like to see you alone. Good-night!” There was a
strange, new light in his eyes as he left her. For one unversed in woman’s
ways he played the game surprisingly well, and as he hurried towards his
office he smiled grimly into the darkness.
“She’ll answer me to-morrow. Thank you, Mr. Glenister,” he said to
himself.
Helen questioned Struve at length, but gained nothing more than that
secret-service men had been at work for weeks and had to-day unearthed
the fact that Vigilantes had been formed. They had heard enough to make
them think the mines would be jumped again to-night, and so had given the
alarm.
“Have you hired spies?” she asked, incredulously.
“Sure. We had to. The other people shadowed us, and it’s come to a point
where it’s life or death to one side or the other. I told McNamara we’d have
bloodshed before we were through, when he first outlined the scheme—I
mean when the trouble began.”
She wrung her hands. “That’s what uncle feared before we left Seattle.
That’s why I took the risks I did in bringing you those papers. I thought you
got them in time to avoid all this.”
Struve laughed a bit, eying her curiously.
“Does Uncle Arthur know about this?” she continued.
“No, we don’t let him know anything more than necessary; he’s not a
strong man.”
“Yes, yes. He’s not well.” Again the lawyer smiled. “Who is behind this
Vigilante movement?”

“We think it is Glenister and his New Mexican bandit partner. At least
they got the crowd together.” She was silent for a time.
“I suppose they really think they own those mines.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“But they don’t, do they?” Somehow this question had recurred to her
insistently of late, for things were constantly happening which showed there
was more back of this great, fierce struggle than she knew. It was
impossible that injustice had been done the mine-owners, and yet scattered
talk reached her which was puzzling. When she strove to follow it up, her
acquaintances adroitly changed the subject. She was baffled on every side.
The three local newspapers upheld the court. She read them carefully, and
was more at sea than ever. There was a disturbing undercurrent of alarm and
unrest that caused her to feel insecure, as though standing on hollow
ground.
“Yes, this whole disturbance is caused by those two. Only for them we’d
be all right.”
“Who is Miss Malotte?”
He answered, promptly: “The handsomest woman in the North, and the
most dangerous.”
“In what way? Who is she?”
“It’s hard to say who or what she is—she’s different from other women.
She came to Dawson in the early days—just came—we didn’t know how,
whence, or why, and we never found out. We woke up one morning and
there she was. By night we were all jealous, and in a week we were most of
us drivelling idiots. It might have been the mystery or, perhaps, the
competition. That was the day when a dance-hall girl could make a
homestake in a winter or marry a millionaire in a month, but she never
bothered. She toiled not, neither did she spin on the waxed floors, yet
Solomon in all his glory would have looked like a tramp beside her.”
“You say she is dangerous?”
“Well, there was the young nobleman, in the winter of ’98, Dane, I think
—fine family and all that—big, yellow-haired boy. He wanted to marry her,
but a faro-dealer shot him. Then there was Rock, of the mounted police, the
finest officer in the service. He was cashiered. She knew he was going to
pot for her, but she didn’t seem to care—and there were others. Yet, with it

all, she is the most generous person and the most tender-hearted. Why, she
has fed every ‘stew bum’ on the Yukon, and there isn’t a busted prospector
in the country who wouldn’t swear by her, for she has grubstaked dozens of
them. I was horribly in love with her myself. Yes, she’s dangerous, all right
—to everybody but Glenister.”
“What do you mean?”
“She had been across the Yukon to nurse a man with scurvy, and coming
back she was caught in the spring break-up. I wasn’t there, but it seems this
Glenister got her ashore somehow when nobody else would tackle the job.
They were carried five miles down-stream in the ice-pack before he
succeeded.”
“What happened then?”
“She fell in love with him, of course.”
“And he worshipped her as madly as all the rest of you, I suppose,” she
said, scornfully.
“That’s the peculiar part. She hypnotized him at first, but he ran away,
and I didn’t hear of him again till I came to Nome. She followed him,
finally, and last week evened up her score. She paid him back for saving
her.”
“I haven’t heard about it.”
He detailed the story of the gambling episode at the Northern saloon, and
concluded: “I’d like to have seen that ‘turn,’ for they say the excitement was
terrific. She was keeping cases, and at the finish slammed her case-keeper
shut and declared the bet off because she had made a mistake. Of course
they couldn’t dispute her, and she stuck to it. One of the by-standers told me
she lied, though.”
“So, in addition to his other vices, Mr. Glenister is a reckless gambler, is
he?” said Helen, with heat. “I am proud to be indebted to such a character.
Truly this country breeds wonderful species.”
“There’s where you’re wrong,” Struve chuckled. “He’s never been
known to bet before.”
“Oh, I’m tired of these contradictions!” she cried, angrily. “Saloons,
gambling-halls, scandals, adventuresses! Ugh! I hate it! I hate it! Why did I
ever come here?”

“Those things are a part of every new country. They were about all we
had till this year. But it is women like you that we fellows need, Miss
Helen. You can help us a lot.” She did not like the way he was looking at
her, and remembered that her uncle was up-stairs and asleep.
“I must ask you to excuse me now, for it’s late and I am very tired.”
The clock showed half-past twelve, so, after letting him out, she
extinguished the light and dragged herself wearily up to her room. She
removed her outer garments and threw over her bare shoulders a negligée of
many flounces and bewildering, clinging looseness. As she took down her
heavy braids, the story of Cherry Malotte returned to her tormentingly. So
Glenister had saved her life also at risk of his own. What a very gallant
cavalier he was, to be sure! He should bear a coat of arms—a dragon, an
armed knight, and a fainting maiden. “I succor ladies in distress—
handsome ones,” should be the motto on his shield. “The handsomest
woman in the North,” Struve had said. She raised her eyes to the glass and
made a mouth at the petulant, tired reflection there. She pictured Glenister
leaping from floe to floe with the hungry river surging and snapping at his
feet, while the cheers of the crowd on shore gave heart to the girl crouching
out there. She could see him snatch her up and fight his way back to safety
over the plunging ice-cakes with death dragging at his heels. What a strong
embrace he had! At this she blushed and realized with a shock that while
she was mooning that very man might be fighting hand to hand in the
darkness of a mountain-gorge with the man she was going to marry.
A moment later some one mounted the front steps below and knocked
sharply. Truly this was a night of alarms. Would people never cease
coming? She was worn out, but at the thought of the tragedy abroad and the
sick old man sleeping near by, she lit a candle and slipped down-stairs to
avoid disturbing him. Doubtless it was some message from McNamara, she
thought, as she unchained the door.
As she opened it, she fell back amazed while it swung wide and the
candle flame flickered and sputtered in the night air. Roy Glenister stood
there, grim and determined, his soft, white Stetson pulled low, his trousers
tucked into tan half-boots, in his hand a Winchester rifle. Beneath his
corduroy coat she saw a loose cartridge-belt, yellow with shells, and the
nickelled flash of a revolver. Without invitation he strode across the
threshold, closing the door behind him.

“Miss Chester, you and the Judge must dress quickly and come with
me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Vigilantes are on their way here to hang him. Come with me to my
house where I can protect you.”
She laid a trembling hand on her bosom and the color died out of her
face, then at a slight noise above they both looked up to see Judge Stillman
leaning far over the banister. He had wrapped himself in a dressing-gown
and now gripped the rail convulsively, while his features were blanched to
the color of putty and his eyes were wide with terror, though puffed and
swollen from sleep. His lips moved in a vain endeavor to speak.

O
CHAPTER XV
VIGILANTES
N the morning after the episode in the Northern, Glenister awoke under
a weight of discouragement and desolation. The past twenty-four hours
with their manifold experiences seemed distant and unreal. At breakfast
he was ashamed to tell Dextry of the gambling debauch, for he had dealt
treacherously with the old man in risking half of the mine, even though they
had agreed that either might do as he chose with his interest, regardless of
the other. It all seemed like a nightmare, those tense moments when he lay
above the receiver’s office and felt his belief in the one woman slipping
away, the frenzied thirst which Cherry Malotte had checked, the senseless,
unreasoning lust for play that possessed him later. This lapse was the last
stand of his old, untamed instincts. The embers of revolt in him were dead.
He felt that he would never again lose mastery of himself, that his passions
would never best him hereafter.
Dextry spoke. “We had a meeting of the ‘Strangles’ last night.” He
always spoke of the Vigilantes in that way, because of his early Western
training.
“What was done?”
“They decided to act quick and do any odd jobs of lynchin’, claim-
jumpin’, or such as needs doin’. There’s a lot of law sharps and
storekeepers in the bunch who figure McNamara’s gang will wipe them off
the map next.”
“It was bound to come to this.”
“They talked of ejectin’ the receiver’s men and puttin’ all us fellers back
on our mines.”
“Good. How many can we count on to help us?”
“About sixty. We’ve kept the number down, and only taken men with so
much property that they’ll have to keep their mouths shut.”
“I wish we might engineer some kind of an encounter with the court
crowd and create such an uproar that it would reach Washington.

Everything else has failed, and our last chance seems to be for the
government to step in; that is, unless Bill Wheaton can do something with
the California courts.”
“I don’t count on him. McNamara don’t care for California courts no
more’n he would for a boy with a pea-shooter—he’s got too much pull at
headquarters. If the ‘Stranglers’ don’t do no good, we’d better go in an’
clean out the bunch like we was killin’ snakes. If that fails, I’m goin’ out to
the States an’ be a doctor.”
“A doctor? What for?”
“I read somewhere that in the United States every year there is forty
million gallons of whiskey used for medical purposes.”
Glenister laughed. “Speaking of whiskey, Dex—I notice that you’ve
been drinking pretty hard of late—that is, hard for you.”
The old man shook his head. “You’re mistaken. It ain’t hard for me.”
“Well, hard or easy, you’d better cut it out.”
It was some time later that one of the detectives employed by the Swedes
met Glenister on Front Street, and by an almost imperceptible sign signified
his desire to speak with him. When they were alone he said:
“You’re being shadowed.”
“I’ve known that for a long time.”
“The district-attorney has put on some new men. I’ve fixed the woman
who rooms next to him, and through her I’ve got a line on some of them,
but I haven’t spotted them all. They’re bad ones—‘up-river’ men mostly—
remnants of Soapy Smith’s Skagway gang. They won’t stop at anything.”
“Thank you—I’ll keep my eyes open.”
A few nights after, Glenister had reason to recall the words of the sleuth
and to realize that the game was growing close and desperate. To reach his
cabin, which sat on the outskirts of the town, he ordinarily followed one of
the plank walks which wound through the confusion of tents, warehouses,
and cottages lying back of the two principal streets along the water front.
This part of the city was not laid out in rectangular blocks, for in the early
rush the first-comers had seized whatever pieces of ground they found
vacant and erected thereon some kind of buildings to make good their titles.
There resulted a formless jumble of huts, cabins, and sheds, penetrated by

no cross streets and quite unlighted. At night, one leaving the illuminated
portion of the town found this darkness intensified.
Glenister knew his course so well that he could have walked it
blindfolded. Nearing a corner of the warehouse this evening he remembered
that the planking at this point was torn up, so, to avoid the mud, he leaped
lightly across. Simultaneously with his jump he detected a movement in the
shadows that banked the wall at his elbow and saw the flaming spurt of a
revolver-shot. The man had crouched behind the building and was so close
that it seemed impossible to miss. Glenister fell heavily upon his side and
the thought flashed over him, “McNamara’s thugs have shot me.”
His assailant leaped out from his hiding-place and ran down the walk,
the sound of his quick, soft footfalls thudding faintly out into the silence.
The young man felt no pain, however, so scrambled to his feet, felt himself
over with care, and then swore roundly. He was untouched; the other had
missed him cleanly. The report, coming while he was in the act of leaping,
had startled him so that he had lost his balance, slipped upon the wet
boards, and fallen. His assailant was lost in the darkness before he could
rise. Pursuit was out of the question, so he continued homeward,
considerably shaken, and related the incident to Dextry.
“You think it was some of McNamara’s work, eh?” Dextry inquired
when he had finished.
“Of course. Didn’t the detective warn me to-day?”
Dextry shook his head. “It don’t seem like the game is that far along yet.
The time is coming when we’ll go to the mat with them people, but they’ve
got the aige on us now, so what could they gain by putting you away? I
don’t believe it’s them, but whoever it is, you’d better be careful or you’ll
be got.”
“Suppose we come home together after this,” Roy suggested, and they
arranged to do so, realizing that danger lurked in the dark corners and that it
was in some such lonely spot that the deed would be tried again. They
experienced no trouble for a time, though on nearing their cabin one night
the younger man fancied that he saw a shadow glide away from its vicinity
and out into the blackness of the tundra, as though some one had stood at
his very door waiting for him, then became frightened at the two figures
approaching. Dextry had not observed it, however, and Glenister was not
positive himself, but it served to give him the uncanny feeling that some

determined, unscrupulous force was bent on his destruction. He determined
to go nowhere unarmed.
A few evenings later he went home early and was busied in writing when
Dextry came in about ten o’clock. The old miner hung up his coat before
speaking, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, then, amid mouthfuls of smoke,
began:
“I had my own toes over the edge to-night. I was mistook for you, which
compliment I don’t aim to have repeated.”
Glenister questioned him eagerly.
“We’re about the same height an’ these hats of ours are alike. Just as I
come by that lumber-pile down yonder, a man hopped out an throwed a
‘gat’ under my nose. He was quicker than light, and near blowed my skelp
into the next block before he saw who I was; then he dropped his weepon
and said:
“ ‘My mistake. Go on.’ I accepted his apology.”
“Could you see who he was?”
“Sure. Guess.”
“I can’t.”
“It was the Bronco Kid.”
“Lord!” ejaculated Glenister. “Do you think he’s after me?”
“He ain’t after nobody else, an’, take my word for it, it’s got nothin’ to
do with McNamara nor that gamblin’ row. He’s too game for that. There’s
some other reason.”
This was the first mention Dextry had made of the night at the Northern.
“I don’t know why he should have it in for me—I never did him any
favors,” Glenister remarked, cynically.
“Well, you watch out, anyhow. I’d sooner face McNamara an’ all the
crooks he can hire than that gambler.”
During the next few days Roy undertook to meet the proprietor of the
Northern face to face, but the Kid had vanished completely from his haunts.
He was not in his gambling-hall at night nor on the street by day. The young
man was still looking for him on the evening of the dance at the hotel, when
he chanced to meet one of the Vigilantes, who inquired of him:
“Aren’t you late for the meeting?”

“What meeting?”
After seeing that they were alone, the other stated:
“There’s an assembly to-night at eleven o’clock. Something important, I
think. I supposed, of course, you knew about it.”
“It’s strange I wasn’t notified,” said Roy. “It’s probably an oversight. I’ll
go along with you.”
Together they crossed the river to the less frequented part of town and
knocked at the door of a large, unlighted warehouse, flanked by a high
board fence. The building faced the street, but was enclosed on the other
three sides by this ten-foot wall, inside of which were stored large quantities
of coal and lumber. After some delay they were admitted, and, passing
down through the dim-lit, high-banked lanes of merchandise, came to the
rear room, where they were admitted again. This compartment had been
fitted up for the warm storage of perishable goods during the cold weather,
and, being without windows, made an ideal place for clandestine
gatherings.
Glenister was astonished to find every man of the organization present,
including Dextry, whom he supposed to have gone home an hour since.
Evidently a discussion had been in progress, for a chairman was presiding,
and the boxes, kegs, and bales of goods had been shoved back against the
walls for seats. On these were ranged the threescore men of the
“Stranglers,” their serious faces lighted imperfectly by scattered lanterns. A
certain constraint seized them upon Glenister’s entrance; the chairman was
embarrassed. It was but momentary, however. Glenister himself felt that
tragedy was in the air, for it showed in the men’s attitudes and spoke
eloquently from their strained faces. He was about to question the man next
to him when the presiding officer continued:
“We will assemble here quietly with our arms at one o’clock. And let me
caution you again not to talk or do anything to scare the birds away.”
Glenister arose. “I came late, Mr. Chairman, so I missed hearing your
plan I gather that you’re out for business, however, and I want to be in it.
May I ask what is on foot?”
“Certainly. Things have reached such a pass that moderate means are
useless. We have decided to act, and act quickly. We have exhausted every
legal resource and now we’re going to stamp out this gang of robbers in our
own way. We will get together in an hour, divide into three groups of twenty

men, each with a leader, then go to the houses of McNamara, Stillman, and
Voorhees, take them prisoners, and—” He waved his hand in a large
gesture.
Glenister made no answer for a moment, while the crowd watched him
intently.
“You have discussed this fully?” he asked.
“We have. It has been voted on, and we’re unanimous.”
“My friends, when I stepped into this room just now I felt that I wasn’t
wanted. Why, I don’t know, because I have had more to do with organizing
this movement than any of you, and because I have suffered just as much as
the rest. I want to know if I was omitted from this meeting intentionally.”
“This is an embarrassing position to put me in,” said the chairman,
gravely. “But I shall answer as spokesman for these men if they wish.”
“Yes. Go ahead,” said those around the room.
“We don’t question your loyalty, Mr. Glenister, but we didn’t ask you to
this meeting because we know your attitude—perhaps I’d better say
sentiment—regarding Judge Stillman’s niece—er—family. It has come to
us from various sources that you have been affected to the prejudice of your
own and your partner’s interest. Now, there isn’t going to be any sentiment
in the affairs of the Vigilantes. We are going to do justice, and we thought
the simplest way was to ignore you in this matter and spare all discussion
and hard feeling in every quarter.”
“It’s a lie!” shouted the young man, hoarsely. “A damned lie! You
wouldn’t let me in for fear I’d kick, eh? Well, you were right. I will kick.
You’ve hinted about my feelings for Miss Chester. Let me tell you that she
is engaged to marry McNamara, and that she’s nothing to me. Now, then, let
me tell you, further, that you won’t break into her house and hang her uncle,
even if he is a reprobate. No, sir! This isn’t the time for violence of that sort
—we’ll win without it. If we can’t, let’s fight like men, and not hunt in a
pack like wolves. If you want to do something, put us back on our mines
and help us hold them, but, for God’s sake, don’t descend to assassination
and the tactics of the Mafia!”
“We knew you would make that kind of a talk,” said the speaker, while
the rest murmured grudgingly. One of them spoke up.

“We’ve talked this over in cold blood, Glenister, and it’s a question of
their lives or our liberty. The law don’t enter into it.”
“That’s right,” echoed another at his elbow. “We can’t seize the claims,
because McNamara’s got soldiers to back him up. They’d shoot us down.
You ought to be the last one to object.”
He saw that dispute was futile. Determination was stamped on their
faces too plainly for mistake, and his argument had no more effect on them
than had the pale rays of the lantern beside him, yet he continued:
“I don’t deny that McNamara deserves lynching, but Stillman doesn’t.
He’s a weak old man”—some one laughed derisively—“and there’s a
woman in the house. He’s all she has in the world to depend upon, and you
would have to kill her to get at him. If you must follow this course, take the
others, but leave him alone.”
They only shook their heads, while several pushed by him even as he
spoke. “We’re going to distribute our favors equal,” said a man as he left.
They were actuated by what they called justice, and he could not sway
them. The life and welfare of the North were in their hands, as they thought,
and there was not one to hesitate. Glenister implored the chairman, but the
man answered him:
“It’s too late for further discussion, and let me remind you of your
promise. You’re bound by every obligation that exists for an honorable man
—”
“Oh, don’t think that I’ll give the snap away!” said the other; “but I warn
you again not to enter Stillman’s house.”
He followed out into the night to find that Dextry had disappeared,
evidently wishing to avoid argument. Roy had seen signs of unrest beneath
the prospector’s restraint during the past few days, and indications of a
fierce hunger to vent his spleen on the men who had robbed him of his most
sacred rights. He was of an intolerant, vindictive nature that would go to
any length for vengeance. Retribution was part of his creed.
On his way home, the young man looked at his watch, to find that he had
but an hour to determine his course. Instinct prompted him to join his
friends and to even the score with the men who had injured him so bitterly,
for, measured by standards of the frontier, they were pirates with their lives
forfeit. Yet, he could not countenance this step. If only the Vigilantes would
be content with making an example—but he knew they would not. The

blood hunger of a mob is easy to whet and hard to hold. McNamara would
resist, as would Voorhees and the district-attorney, then there would be
bloodshed, riot, chaos. The soldiers would be called out and martial law
declared, the streets would become skirmish-grounds. The Vigilantes would
rout them without question, for every citizen of the North would rally to
their aid, and such men could not be stopped. The Judge would go down
with the rest of the ring, and what would happen to—her?
He took down his Winchester, oiled and cleaned it, then buckled on a
belt of cartridges. Still he wrestled with himself. He felt that he was being
ground between his loyalty to the Vigilantes and his own conscience. The
girl was one of the gang, he reasoned—she had schemed with them to
betray him through his love, and she was pledged to the one man in the
world whom he hated with fanatical fury. Why should he think of her in this
hour? Six months back he would have looked with jealous eyes upon the
right to lead the Vigilantes, but this change that had mastered him—what
was it? Not cowardice, nor caution. No. Yet, being intangible, it was none
the less marked, as his friends had shown him an hour since.
He slipped out into the night. The mob might do as it pleased elsewhere,
but no man should enter her house. He found a light shining from her parlor
window, and, noting the shade up a few inches, stole close. Peering through,
he discovered Struve and Helen talking. He slunk back into the shadows
and remained hidden for a considerable time after the lawyer left, for the
dancers were returning from the hotel and passed close by. When the last
group had chattered away down the street, he returned to the front of the
house and, mounting the steps, knocked sharply. As Helen appeared at the
door, he stepped inside and closed it after him.
The girl’s hair lay upon her neck and shoulders in tumbled brown
masses, while her breast heaved tumultuously at the sudden, grim sight of
him. She stepped back against the wall, her wondrous, deep, gray eyes wide
and troubled, the blush of modesty struggling with the pallor of dismay.
The picture pained him like a knife-thrust. This girl was for his bitterest
enemy—no hope of her was for him. He forgot for a moment that she was
false and plotting, then, recalling it, spoke as roughly as he might and stated
his errand. Then the old man had appeared on the stairs above, speechless
with fright at what he overheard. It was evident that his nerves, so sorely
strained by the events of the past week, were now snapped utterly. A human

soul naked and panic-stricken is no pleasant sight, so Glenister dropped his
eyes and addressed the girl again:
“Don’t take anything with you. Just dress and come with me.”
The creature on the stairs above stammered and stuttered, inquiringly:
“What outrage is this, Mr. Glenister?”
“The people of Nome are up in arms, and I’ve come to save you. Don’t
stop to argue.” He spoke impatiently.
“Is this some r-ruse to get me into your power?”
“Uncle Arthur!” exclaimed the girl, sharply. Her eyes met Glenister’s
and begged him to take no offence.
“I don’t understand this atrocity. They must be mad!” wailed the Judge.
“You run over to the jail, Mr. Glenister, and tell Voorhees to hurry guards
here to protect me. Helen, ’phone to the military post and give the alarm.
Tell them the soldiers must come at once.”
“Hold on!” said Glenister. “There’s no use of doing that—the wires are
cut; and I won’t notify Voorhees—he can take care of himself. I came to
help you, and if you want to escape you’ll stop talking and hurry up.”
“I don’t know what to do,” said Stillman, torn by terror and indecision.
“You wouldn’t hurt an old man, would you? Wait! I’ll be down in a
minute.”
He scrambled up the stairs, tripping on his robe, seemingly forgetting his
niece till she called up to him, sharply:
“Stop, Uncle Arthur! You mustn’t run away.” She stood erect and
determined. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? This is our house. You
represent the law and the dignity of the government. You mustn’t fear a
mob of ruffians. We will stay here and meet them, of course.”
“Good Lord!” said Glenister. “That’s madness. These men aren’t
ruffians; they are the best citizens of Nome. You don’t realize that this is
Alaska and that they have sworn to wipe out McNamara’s gang. Come
along.”
“Thank you for your good intentions,” she said, “but we have done
nothing to run away from. We will get ready to meet these cowards. You
had better go or they will find you here.”
She moved up the stairs, and, taking the Judge by the arm, led him with
her. Of a sudden she had assumed control of the situation unfalteringly, and

both men felt the impossibility of thwarting her. Pausing at the top, she
turned and looked down.
“We are grateful for your efforts just the same. Good-night.”
“Oh, I’m not going,” said the young man. “If you stick I’ll do the same.”
He made the rounds of the first-floor rooms, locking doors and windows.
As a place of defence it was hopeless, and he saw that he would have to
make his stand up-stairs. When sufficient time had elapsed he called up to
Helen:
“May I come?”
“Yes,” she replied. So he ascended, to find Stillman in the hall, half
clothed and cowering, while by the light from the front chamber he saw her
finishing her toilet.
“Won’t you come with me—it’s our last chance?” She only shook her
head. “Well, then, put out the light. I’ll stand at that front window, and
when my eyes get used to the darkness I’ll be able to see them before they
reach the gate.”
She did as directed, taking her place beside him at the opening, while the
Judge crept in and sat upon the bed, his heavy breathing the only sound in
the room. The two young people stood so close beside each other that the
sweet scent of her person awoke in him an almost irresistible longing. He
forgot her treachery again, forgot that she was another’s, forgot all save that
he loved her truly and purely, with a love which was like an agony to him.
Her shoulder brushed his arm; he heard the soft rustling of her garment at
her breast as she breathed. Some one passed in the street, and she laid a
hand upon him fearfully. It was very cold, very tiny, and very soft, but he
made no move to take it. The moments dragged along, still, tense,
interminable. Occasionally she leaned towards him, and he stooped to catch
her whispered words. At such times her breath beat warm against his cheek,
and he closed his teeth stubbornly. Out in the night a wolf-dog saddened the
air, then came the sound of others wrangling and snarling in a near-by
corral. This is a chickless land and no cock-crow breaks the midnight peace.
The suspense enhanced the Judge’s perturbation till his chattering teeth
sounded like castanets. Now and then he groaned.
The watchers had lost track of time when their strained eyes detected
dark blots materializing out of the shadows.

“There they come,” whispered Glenister, forcing her back from the
aperture; but she would not be denied, and returned to his side.
As the foremost figures reached the gate, Roy leaned forth and spoke,
not loudly, but in tones that sliced through the silence, sharp, clean, and
without warning.
“Halt! Don’t come inside the fence.” There was an instant’s confusion;
then, before the men beneath had time to answer or take action, he
continued: “This is Roy Glenister talking. I told you not to molest these
people and I warn you again. We’re ready for you.”
The leader spoke. “You’re a traitor, Glenister.”
He winced. “Perhaps I am. You betrayed me first, though; and, traitor or
not, you can’t come into this house.”
There was a murmur at this, and some one said:
“Miss Chester is safe. All we want is the Judge. We won’t hang him, not
if he’ll wear this suit we brought along. He needn’t be afraid. Tar is good
for the skin.”
“Oh, my God!” groaned the limb of the law.
Suddenly a man came running down the planked pavement and into the
group.
“McNamara’s gone, and so’s the marshal and the rest,” he panted. There
was a moment’s silence, and then the leader growled to his men, “Scatter
out and rush the house, boys.” He raised his voice to the man in the
window. “This is your work—you damned turncoat.” His followers melted
away to right and left, vaulted the fence, and dodged into the shelter of the
walls. The click, click of Glenister’s Winchester sounded through the room
while the sweat stood out on him. He wondered if he could do this deed, if
he could really fire on these people. He wondered if his muscles would not
wither and paralyze before they obeyed his command.
Helen crowded past him and, leaning half out of the opening, called
loudly, her voice ringing clear and true:
“Wait! Wait a moment. I have something to say. Mr. Glenister didn’t
warn them. They thought you were going to attack the mines and so they
rode out there before midnight. I am telling you the truth, really. They left
hours ago.” It was the first sign she had made, and they recognized her to a
man.

There were uncertain mutterings below till a new man raised his voice.
Both Roy and Helen recognized Dextry.
“Boys, we’ve overplayed. We don’t want these people—McNamara’s
our meat. Old bald-face up yonder has to do what he’s told, and I’m ag’in’
this twenty-to-one midnight work. I’m goin’ home.” There were some
whisperings, then the original spokesman called for Judge Stillman. The old
man tottered to the window, a palsied, terror-stricken object. The girl was
glad he could not be seen from below.
“We won’t hurt you this time, Judge, but you’ve gone far enough. We’ll
give you another chance, then, if you don’t make good, we’ll stretch you to
a lamppost. Take this as a warning.”
“I—s-shall do my d-d-duty,” said the Judge.
The men disappeared into the darkness, and when they had gone
Glenister closed the window, pulled down the shades, and lighted a lamp.
He knew by how narrow a margin a tragedy had been averted. If he had
fired on these men his shot would have kindled a feud which would have
consumed every vestige of the court crowd and himself among them. He
would have fallen under a false banner, and his life would not have reached
to the next sunset. Perhaps it was forfeit now—he could not tell. The
Vigilantes would probably look upon his part as traitorous; and, at the very
least, he had cut himself off from their support, the only support the
Northland offered him. Henceforth he was a renegade, a pariah, hated alike
by both factions. He purposely avoided sight of Stillman and turned his
back when the Judge extended his hand with expressions of gratitude. His
work was done and he wished to leave this house. Helen followed him
down to the door and, as he opened it, laid her hand upon his sleeve.
“Words are feeble things, and I can never make amends for all you’ve
done for us.”
“For us!” cried Roy, with a break in his voice. “Do you think I sacrificed
my honor, betrayed my friends, killed my last hope, ostracized myself, for
‘us’? This is the last time I’ll trouble you. Perhaps the last time I’ll see you.
No matter what else you’ve done, however, you’ve taught me a lesson, and
I thank you for it. I have found myself at last. I’m not an Eskimo any longer
—I’m a man!”
“You’ve always been that,” she said. “I don’t understand as much about
this affair as I want to, and it seems to me that no one will explain it. I’m

very stupid, I guess; but won’t you come back to-morrow and tell it to me?”
“No,” he said, roughly. “You’re not of my people. McNamara and his are
no friends of mine, and I’m no friend of theirs.” He was half down the steps
before she said, softly:
“Good-night, and God bless you—friend.”
She returned to the Judge, who was in a pitiable state, and for a long
time she labored to soothe him as though he were a child. She undertook to
question him about the things which lay uppermost in her mind and which
this night had half revealed, but he became fretful and irritated at the
mention of mines and mining. She sat beside his bed till he dozed off,
puzzling to discover what lay behind the hints she had heard, till her brain
and body matched in absolute weariness. The reflex of the day’s excitement
sapped her strength till she could barely creep to her own couch, where she
rolled and sighed—too tired to sleep at once. She awoke finally, with one
last nervous flicker, before complete oblivion took her. A sentence was on
her mind—it almost seemed as though she had spoken it aloud: “The
handsomest woman in the North ... but Glenister ran away.”

I
CHAPTER XVI
IN WHICH THE TRUTH BEGINS TO BARE ITSELF
T was nearly noon of the next day when Helen awoke to find that
McNamara had ridden in from the Creek and stopped for breakfast with
the Judge. He had asked for her, but on hearing the tale of the night’s
adventure would not allow her to be disturbed. Later, he and the Judge had
gone away together.
Although her judgment approved the step she had contemplated the
night before, still the girl now felt a strange reluctance to meet McNamara.
It is true that she knew no ill of him, except that implied in the accusations
of certain embittered men; and she was aware that every strong and
aggressive character makes enemies in direct proportion to the qualities
which lend him greatness. Nevertheless, she was aware of an inner conflict
that she had not foreseen. This man who so confidently believed that she
would marry him did not dominate her consciousness.
She had ridden much of late, taking long, solitary gallops beside the
shimmering sea that she loved so well, or up the winding valleys into the
foot-hills where echoed the roar of swift waters or glinted the flash of
shovel blades. This morning her horse was lame, so she determined to walk.
In her early rambles she had looked timidly askance at the rough men she
met till she discovered their genuine respect and courtesy. The most
unkempt among them were often college-bred, although, for that matter, the
roughest of the miners showed abundant consideration for a woman. So she
was glad to allow the men to talk to her with the fine freedom inspired by
the new country and its wide spaces. The wilderness breeds a chivalry all its
own.
Thus there seemed to be no danger abroad, though they had told the girl
of mad dogs which roamed the city, explaining that the hot weather affects
powerfully the thick-coated, shaggy “malamoots.” This is the land of the
dog, and whereas in winter his lot is to labor and shiver and starve, in
summer he loafs, fights, grows fat, and runs mad with the heat.

Helen walked far and, returning, chose an unfamiliar course through the
outskirts of the town to avoid meeting any of the women she knew, because
of that vivid memory of the night before. As she walked swiftly along she
thought that she heard faint cries far behind her. Looking up, she noted that
it was a lonely, barren quarter and that the only figure in sight was a woman
some distance away. A few paces farther on the shouts recurred—more
plainly this time, and a gunshot sounded. Glancing back, she saw several
men running, one bearing a smoking revolver, and heard, nearer still, the
snarling hubbub of fighting dogs. In a flash the girl’s curiosity became
horror, for, as she watched, one of the dogs made a sudden dash through the
now subdued group of animals and ran swiftly along the planking on which
she stood. It was a handsome specimen of the Eskimo malamoot—tall,
gray, and coated like a wolf, with the speed, strength, and cunning of its
cousin. Its head hung low and swung from side to side as it trotted, the
motion flecking foam and slaver. The creature had scattered the pack, and
now, swift, menacing, relentless, was coming towards Helen. There was no
shelter near, no fence, no house, save the distant one towards which the
other woman was making her way. The men, too far away to protect her,
shouted hoarse warnings.
Helen did not scream nor hesitate—she turned and ran, terror-stricken,
towards the distant cottage. She was blind with fright and felt an utter
certainty that the dog would attack her before she could reach safety. Yes—
there was the quick patter of his pads close up behind her; her knees
weakened; the sheltering door was yet some yards away. But a horse,
tethered near the walk, reared and snorted as the flying pair drew near. The
mad creature swerved, leaped at the horse’s legs, and snapped in fury. Badly
frightened at this attack, the horse lunged at his halter, broke it, and
galloped away; but the delay had served for Helen, weak and faint, to reach
the door. She wrenched at the knob. It was locked. As she turned hopelessly
away, she saw that the other woman was directly behind her, and was, in her
turn, awaiting the mad animal’s onslaught, but calmly, a tiny revolver in her
hand.
“Shoot!” screamed Helen. “Why don’t you shoot?” The little gun spoke,
and the dog spun around, snarling and yelping. The woman fired several
times more before it lay still, and then remarked, calmly, as she “broke” the
weapon and ejected the shells:
“The calibre is too small to be good for much.”

Helen sank down upon the steps.
“How well you shoot!” she gasped. Her eyes were on the gray bundle
whose death agonies had thrust it almost to her feet. The men had run up
and were talking excitedly, but after a word with them the woman turned to
Helen.
“You must come in for a moment and recover yourself,” she said, and
led her inside.
It was a cosey room in which the girl found herself—more than that—
luxurious. There was a piano with scattered music, and many of the pretty,
feminine things that Helen had not seen since leaving home. The hostess
had stepped behind some curtains for an instant and was talking to her from
the next room.
“That is the third mad dog I have seen this month. Hydrophobia is
becoming a habit in this neighborhood.” She returned, bearing a tiny silver
tray with decanter and glasses.
“You’re all unstrung, but this brandy will help you—if you don’t object
to a swallow of it. Then come right in here and lie down for a moment and
you’ll be all right.” She spoke with such genuine kindness and sympathy
that Helen flashed a grateful glance at her. She was tall, slender, and with a
peculiar undulating suggestion in her movements, as though she had been
bred to the clinging folds of silken garments. Helen watched the charm of
her smile, the friendly solicitude of her expression, and felt her heart warm
towards this one kind woman in Nome.
“You’re very good,” she answered; “but I’m all right now. I was badly
frightened. It was wonderful, your saving me.” She followed the other’s
graceful motion as she placed her burden on the table, and in doing so
gazed squarely at a photograph of Roy Glenister.
“Oh—!” Helen exclaimed, then paused as it flashed over her who this
girl was. She looked at her quickly. Yes, probably men would consider the
woman beautiful, with that smile. The revelation came with a shock, and
she arose, trying to mask her confusion.
“Thank you so much for your kindness. I’m quite myself now and I must
go.”
Her change of face could not escape the quick perceptions of one
schooled by experience in the slights of her sex. Times without number
Cherry Malotte had marked that subtle, scornful change in other women,

and reviled herself for heeding it. But in some way this girl’s manner hurt
her worst of all. She betrayed no sign, however, save a widening of the eyes
and a certain fixity of smile as she answered:
“I wish you would stay until you are rested, Miss—” She paused with
out-stretched hand.
“Chester. My name is Helen Chester. I’m Judge Stillman’s niece,”
hurried the other, in embarrassment.
Cherry Malotte withdrew her proffered hand and her face grew hard and
hateful.
“Oh! So you are Miss Chester—and I—saved you!” She laughed
harshly.
Helen strove for calmness. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said,
coolly. “I appreciate your service to me.” She moved towards the door.
“Wait a moment. I want to talk to you.” Then, as Helen paid no heed, the
woman burst out, bitterly: “Oh, don’t be afraid! I know you are committing
an unpardonable sin by talking to me, but no one will see you, and in your
code the crime lies in being discovered. Therefore, you’re quite safe. That’s
what makes me an outcast—I was found out. I want you to know, however,
that, bad as I am, I’m better than you, for I’m loyal to those that like me,
and I don’t betray my friends.”
“I don’t pretend to understand you,” said Helen, coldly.
“Oh yes, you do! Don’t assume such innocence. Of course it’s your rôle,
but you can’t play it with me.” She stepped in front of her visitor, placing
her back against the door, while her face was bitter and mocking. “The little
service I did you just now entitles me to a privilege, I suppose, and I’m
going to take advantage of it to tell you how badly your mask fits.
Dreadfully rude of me, isn’t it? You’re in with a fine lot of crooks, and I
admire the way you’ve done your share of the dirty work, but when you
assume these scandalized, supervirtuous airs it offends me.”
“Let me out!”
“I’ve done bad things,” Cherry continued, unheedingly, “but I was
forced into them, usually, and I never, deliberately, tried to wreck a man’s
life just for his money.”
“What do you mean by saying that I have betrayed my friends and
wrecked anybody’s life?” Helen demanded, hotly.

“Bah! I had you sized up at the start, but Roy couldn’t see it. Then
Struve told me what I hadn’t guessed. A bottle of wine, a woman, and that
fool will tell all he knows. It’s a great game McNamara’s playing and he did
well to get you in on it, for you’re clever, your nerve is good, and your
make-up is great for the part. I ought to know, for I’ve turned a few tricks
myself. You’ll pardon this little burst of feeling—professional pique. I’m
jealous of your ability, that’s all. However, now that you realize we’re in the
same class, don’t look down on me hereafter.” She opened the door and
bowed her guest out with elaborate mockery.
Helen was too bewildered and humiliated to make much out of this
vicious and incoherent attack except the fact that Cherry Malotte accused
her of a part in this conspiracy which every one seemed to believe existed.
Here again was that hint of corruption which she encountered on all sides.
This might be merely a woman’s jealousy—and yet she said Struve had told
her all about it—that a bottle of wine and a pretty face would make the
lawyer disclose everything. She could believe it from what she knew and
had heard of him. The feeling that she was groping in the dark, that she was
wrapped in a mysterious woof of secrecy, came over her again as it had so
often of late. If Struve talked to that other woman, why wouldn’t he talk to
her? She paused, changing her direction towards Front Street, revolving
rapidly in her mind as she went her course of action. Cherry Malotte
believed her to be an actress. Very well—she would prove her judgment
right.
She found Struve busy in his private office, but he leaped to his feet on
her entrance and came forward, offering her a chair.
“Good-morning, Miss Helen. You have a fine color, considering the
night you passed. The Judge told me all about the affair; and let me state
that you’re the pluckiest girl I know.”
She smiled grimly at the thought of what made her cheeks glow, and
languidly loosened the buttons of her jacket.
“I suppose you’re very busy, you lawyer man?” she inquired.
“Yes—but not too busy to attend to anything you want.”
“Oh, I didn’t come on business,” she said, lightly. “I was out walking
and merely sauntered in.”
“Well, I appreciate that all the more,” he said, in an altered tone, twisting
his chair about. “I’m more than delighted.” She judged she was getting on

well from the way his professionalism had dropped off.
“Yes, I get tired of talking to uncle and Mr. McNamara. They treat me as
though I were a little girl.”
“When do you take the fatal step?”
“What step do you mean?”
“Your marriage. When does it occur? You needn’t hesitate,” he added.
“McNamara told me about it a month ago.”
He felt his throat gingerly at the thought, but his eyes brightened when
she answered, lightly:
“I think you are mistaken. He must have been joking.”
For some time she led him on adroitly, talking of many things, in a way
to make him wonder at her new and flippant humor. He had never dreamed
she could be like this, so tantalizingly close to familiarity, and yet so
maddeningly aloof and distant. He grew bolder in his speech.
“How are things going with us?” she questioned, as his warmth grew
pronounced. “Uncle won’t talk and Mr. McNamara is as close-mouthed as
can be, lately.”
He looked at her quickly. “In what respect?”
She summoned up her courage and walked past the ragged edge of
uncertainty.
“Now, don’t you try to keep me in short dresses, too. It’s getting
wearisome. I’ve done my part and I want to know what the rest of you are
doing.” She was prepared for any answer.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, cautiously.
“Everything. Don’t you think I can hear what people are saying?”
“Oh, that’s it! Well, don’t you pay any attention to what people say.”
She recognized her mistake and continued, hurriedly:
“Why shouldn’t I? Aren’t we all in this together? I object to being used
and then discarded. I think I’m entitled to know how the scheme is working.
Don’t you think I can keep my mouth shut?”
“Of course,” he laughed, trying to change the subject of their talk; but
she arose and leaned against the desk near him, vowing that she would not
leave the office without piercing some part of this mystery. His manner
strengthened her suspicion that there was something behind it all. This

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