He raised his fist and struck the table so violently that chips
and coppers leaped and rolled, and Cherry closed her eyes to lose
sight of his awful grimace. Glenister looked down on him and said:

"I think I understand; but the money was yours, anyhow, so I don't
mind." His meaning was plain. The Kid suddenly jerked open the
drawer before him, but Glenister clenched his right hand and
leaned forward. The miner could have killed him with a blow, for
the gambler was seated and at his mercy. The Kid checked himself,
while his face began to twitch as though the nerves underlying it
had broken bondage and were dancing in a wild, ungovernable orgy.

"You have taught me a lesson," was all that Glenister said, and
with that he pushed through the crowd and out into the cool night
air. Overhead the arctic stars winked at him, and the sea smells
struck him, clean and fresh. As he went homeward he heard the
distant, full-throated plaint of a wolf-dog. It held the mystery
and sadness of the North. He paused, arid, 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."