The bright and yellow full moon drifted slowly upward. The sun had just set at nine in the evening, casting a warm and beautiful glow over all the lonely landscape, for it was the most dreary spot in all the dreary wilderness through which the mighty Yukon passes.

The steamer had tied up for wood, and now the brawny stevedores with blackened hands and arms were pitching it to the deck.

To the passengers, of whom there were a goodly number, time hung heavily, and the younger ones had proposed a dance. Musical instruments were not numerous, but such as there were, were brought out, and two non-professionals with an accordion and a banjo, were doing their very best.

A small number of sober ones were to be seen on deck pacing restlessly back and forth, for the ruthless mosquito was distinctly on evidence, and threatened to outgeneral the quiet ones, if not the orchestra and the hilarious dancers.

On the upper deck, a lady, clad in warm cloak and thick veil, walked tirelessly to and fro. A big stump-tailed dog of the Malemute tribe at times followed at her heels, but when she had patted his head and spoken kindly to him he appeared satisfied, and lay down again with his head between his paws. Then sounds from the dancers below, the shrill laughter of the women mingled with the strum of the banjo and the wheezy accordion seemed to disturb the dog’s slumber, and he would again pace up and down at the lady’s heels.

At times there would come a lull in the tumult, and the click of the glasses or crash of a fallen pitcher would make a variety of entertainment for the lady and her dog on the upper deck; but the short and dusky midnight was well passed before the dancing ceased and partial quiet and order were restored.

Two figures remained near the stern of the boat. One, a young woman with a profusion of long auburn hair, the other a man with flushed face and thick breath.

“I cannot tell now which one it will be,” said the girl coquettishly, “but if you wait you will see.”

“No more waitin’ in it,” he growled. “I have waited long enough, and too long, and you must choose between us now. You know we will soon be at ‘Five Fingers,’ and you must be good or they may get you,” with a wicked leer and clutch at her arm calculated to startle her as she carelessly sat on the deck rail.

“I’m not afraid of ‘Five Fingers’ or any other fingers, and I’m not afraid of your two hands either,” making her muscles very tense, and sitting rigidly upright, “and you can’t scare me a bit; I’ll do as I like, so there!”

By this time the moon shone high above the tops of the tall slender pines, and spread its soft light over all the swift and swirling waters. To the west, the hills faded first from green to blue, then to purple, and lastly to black, silhouetted as they were against the quiet sky.

The swift flowing current pushed the waters up among the weeds and bushes along the river’s edge and the loose rocks were washed quite smooth. Now and then might be heard the bark of a wood-chopper’s dog stationed outside his master’s cabin, and the steady thud of the steamer never stopped. At two o’clock it was growing light again, and still the young man pleaded with the girl on the deck. She was stubborn and silent.

Swiftly now the boat neared the “Five Fingers.” Only a few miles remained before the huge boulders forming the narrow and tortuous channels called the “Five Fingers” would be reached, and the face of the pilot was stern. It was a most dangerous piece of water and many boats had already been wrecked at this point.

Suddenly above the noise of the waters and the steamer’s regular breathing there arose on the quiet air a shrill shriek at the stern of the boat.

The lady on the upper deck had retired. The captain was sleeping off his too frequent potations, and only the pilot on the lookout knew that the scream came from a woman; but it was not repeated.

The pilot’s assistant was off watch, and his own duty lay at the wheel; so it happened that a guilty man who had been standing by the deck rail crept silently, unnoticed, and now thoroughly sobered, to his stateroom.

His companion was nowhere to be seen.

A small steamer following next day in the wake of the first boat, came to Five Finger Rapids.

“See the pretty red seaweed on the rocks, mamma,” cried a little boy, pointing to the low ledge on the bank of the east channel.

Those who looked in the direction indicated by the boy saw, as the steamer crept carefully up to the whirlpool, a woman’s white face in the water, above which streamed a mass of long auburn hair, caught firmly on the rocks.

Standing by the side of his pilot, the captain’s keen eye caught sight of the head and hair.

“It’s only Dolly Duncan,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “No one else has such hair; but it’s no great loss anyway; there are many more of such as she, you know.”