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The old man unlimbered lamely； blinking his eyes and murmuring
automatically： 〃What'll ye have； gents？ What'll ye have？〃
They followed him inside and ranged up against the long bar where
of yore a half…dozen nimble bar…keepers found little time to loaf。
The great room； ordinarily aroar with life； was still and gloomy as
a tomb。 There was no rattling of chips； no whirring of ivory
balls。 Roulette and faro tables were like gravestones under their
canvas covers。 No women's voices drifted merrily from the dance…
room behind。 Ol' Jim Cummings wiped a glass with palsied hands；
and Kink Mitchell scrawled his initials on the dust…covered bar。
〃Where's the girls？〃 Hootchinoo Bill shouted； with affected
geniality。
〃Gone；〃 was the ancient bar…keeper's reply； in a voice thin and
aged as himself； and as unsteady as his hand。
〃Where's Bidwell and Barlow？〃
〃Gone。〃
〃And Sweetwater Charley？〃
〃Gone。〃
〃And his sister？〃
〃Gone too。〃
〃Your daughter Sally； then； and her little kid？〃
〃Gone； all gone。〃 The old man shook his head sadly； rummaging in
an absent way among the dusty bottles。
〃Great Sardanapolis！ Where？〃 Kink Mitchell exploded； unable longer
to restrain himself。 〃You don't say you've had the plague？〃
〃Why； ain't you heerd？〃 The old man chuckled quietly。 〃They…all's
gone to Dawson。〃
〃What…like is that？〃 Bill demanded。 〃A creek？ or a bar？ or a
place？〃
〃Ain't never heered of Dawson； eh？〃 The old man chuckled
exasperatingly。 〃Why； Dawson's a town； a city； bigger'n Forty
Mile。 Yes； sir； bigger'n Forty Mile。〃
〃I've ben in this land seven year；〃 Bill announced emphatically；
〃an' I make free to say I never heard tell of the burg before。
Hold on！ Let's have some more of that whisky。 Your information's
flabbergasted me； that it has。 Now just whereabouts is this
Dawson…place you was a…mentionin'？〃
〃On the big flat jest below the mouth of Klondike；〃 ol' Jim
answered。 〃But where has you…all ben this summer？〃
〃Never you mind where we…all's ben；〃 was Kink Mitchell's testy
reply。 〃We…all's ben where the skeeters is that thick you've got
to throw a stick into the air so as to see the sun and tell the
time of day。 Ain't I right； Bill？〃
〃Right you are；〃 said Bill。 〃But speakin' of this Dawson…place how
like did it happen to be； Jim？〃
〃Ounce to the pan on a creek called Bonanza； an' they ain't got to
bed…rock yet。〃
〃Who struck it？〃
〃Carmack。〃
At mention of the discoverer's name the partners stared at each
other disgustedly。 Then they winked with great solemnity。
〃Siwash George；〃 sniffed Hootchinoo Bill。
〃That squaw…man；〃 sneered Kink Mitchell。
〃I wouldn't put on my moccasins to stampede after anything he'd
ever find；〃 said Bill。
〃Same here；〃 announced his partner。 〃A cuss that's too plumb lazy
to fish his own salmon。 That's why he took up with the Indians。
S'pose that black brother…in…law of his；lemme see； Skookum Jim；
eh？s'pose he's in on it？〃
The old bar…keeper nodded。 〃Sure； an' what's more； all Forty Mile；
exceptin' me an' a few cripples。〃
〃And drunks；〃 added Kink Mitchell。
〃No…sir…ee！〃 the old man shouted emphatically。
〃I bet you the drinks Honkins ain't in on it！〃 Hootchinoo Bill
cried with certitude。
Ol' Jim's face lighted up。 〃I takes you； Bill； an' you loses。〃
〃However did that ol' soak budge out of Forty Mile？〃 Mitchell
demanded。
〃The ties him down an' throws him in the bottom of a polin'…boat；〃
ol' Jim explained。 〃Come right in here； they did； an' takes him
out of that there chair there in the corner； an' three more drunks
they finds under the pianny。 I tell you…alls the whole camp hits
up the Yukon for Dawson jes' like Sam Scratch was after them；
wimmen； children； babes in arms； the whole shebang。 Bidwell comes
to me an' sez； sez he； 'Jim； I wants you to keep tab on the Monte
Carlo。 I'm goin'。'
〃'Where's Barlow？' sez I。 'Gone；' sez he； 'an' I'm a…followin'
with a load of whisky。' An' with that； never waitin' for me to
decline； he makes a run for his boat an' away he goes； polin' up
river like mad。 So here I be； an' these is the first drinks I've
passed out in three days。〃
The partners looked at each other。
〃Gosh darn my buttoms！〃 said Hootchinoo Bill。 〃Seems likes you and
me； Kink； is the kind of folks always caught out with forks when it
rains soup。〃
〃Wouldn't it take the saleratus out your dough； now？〃 said Kink
Mitchell。 〃A stampede of tin…horns； drunks； an' loafers。〃
〃An' squaw…men；〃 added Bill。 〃Not a genooine miner in the whole
caboodle。〃
〃Genooine miners like you an' me； Kink；〃 he went on academically；
〃is all out an' sweatin' hard over Birch Creek way。 Not a genooine
miner in this whole crazy Dawson outfit； and I say right here； not
a step do I budge for any Carmack strike。 I've got to see the
colour of the dust first。〃
〃Same here；〃 Mitchell agreed。 〃Let's have another drink。〃
Having wet this resolution； they beached the canoe； transferred its
contents to their cabin； and cooked dinner。 But as the afternoon
wore along they grew restive。 They were men used to the silence of
the great wilderness； but this gravelike silence of a town worried
them。 They caught themselves listening for familiar sounds
〃waitin' for something to make a noise which ain't goin' to make a
noise；〃 as Bill put it。 They strolled through the deserted streets
to the Monte Carlo for more drinks； and wandered along the river
bank to the steamer landing； where only water gurgled as the eddy
filled and emptied； and an occasional salmon leapt flashing into
the sun。
They sat down in the shade in front of the store and talked with
the consumptive storekeeper； whose liability to hemorrhage
accounted for his presence。 Bill and Kink told him how they
intended loafing in their cabin and resting up after the hard
summer's work。 They told him； with a certain insistence； that was
half appeal for belief； half challenge for contradiction； how much
they were going to enjoy their idleness。 But the storekeeper was
uninterested。 He switched the conversation back to the strike on
Klondike； and they could not keep him away from it。 He could think
of nothing else； talk of nothing else； till Hootchinoo Bill rose up
in anger and disgust。
〃Gosh darn Dawson； say I！〃 he cried。
〃Same here；〃 said Kink Mitchell； with a brightening face。 〃One'd
think something was doin' up there； 'stead of bein' a mere stampede
of greenhorns an' tinhorns。〃
But a boat came into view from downstream。 It was long and slim。
It hugged the bank closely； and its three occupants； standing
upright； propelled it against the stiff current by means of long
poles。
〃Circle City outfit；〃 said the storekeeper。 〃I was lookin' for 'em
along by afternoon。 Forty Mile had the start of them by a hundred
and seventy miles。 But gee！ they ain't losin' any time！〃
'We'll just sit here quiet…like and watch 'em string by；〃 Bill said
complacently。
As he spoke； another boat appeared in sight； followed after a brief
interval by two others。 By this time the first boat was abreast of
the men on the bank。 Its occupants did not cease poling while
greetings were exchanged； and； though its progress was slow； a
half…hour saw it out of sight up river。
Still they came from below； boat after boat； in endless procession。
The uneasiness of Bill and Kink increased。 They stole speculative；
tentative glances at each other； and when their eyes met looked
away in embarrassment。 Finally； however； their eyes met and
neither looked away。
Kink opened his mouth to speak； but words failed him and his mouth
remained open while he continued to gaze at his partner。
〃Just what I was thinken'； Kink；〃 said Bill。
They grinned sheepishly at each other； and by tacit consent started
to walk away。