He examined it closely, and made out faintly the words, "Firepan Creek, Stikine River, August...." and the date was gone.

That was all.

There was no name, no word that might give him a clue as to the identity of the mysterious woman in the coach, or her relationship to the strange picture she had left in her seat when she disappeared at Graham.
Once more his puzzled eyes tried to find some solution to the mystery of this night in the picture of the girl herself, and as he looked, question after question pounded through his head.

What had startled her?
Who had frightened her?
What had brought that hunted look--that half-defiance--into her poise and eyes, just as he had seen the strange questing and suppressed fear in the eyes and face of the woman in the coach?
He made no effort to answer, but accepted the visual facts as they came to him.

She was young, the girl in the picture; almost a child as he regarded childhood.