bottles and canned goods. There were tobacco and kegs of fiery rye
whisky. There were packets and bundles, and deep partitioned trays of
highly colored beads. A counter, which stood before this piled up
litter, was no less laden. But that which was under the counter was
hidden from view.

A corner of the room was crowded to the ceiling with valuable furs in
their rough-dried state. Another was occupied by a fuel box stacked
with split cord-wood, for the box stove which stood in the centre of
all. The earthen floor was foul with dust and litter, and suggested
that no broom had passed over it for weeks.

But the quality of the place was of less interest than its human
occupants. There were two. Both were clad in the thick, warmth-giving
garments characteristic of the north. One stood behind the counter
leaning over an account book of considerable proportions and was
absorbed in its perusal. The other was seated with his feet resting on
the steel rail of the stove, basking in its warmth. His back was to
the lamp and the cotton-covered window, and he was gazing in the
direction of the man at the counter through a haze of smoke from his
pipe. He was lounging in the only piece of furniture the room boasted,
except for the table on which a large glass of spirits stood adjacent
to the oil lamp. Not once, but several times he plied himself with the
ardent spirits, while the man absorbed in his ledger turned the pages
before him. The man in the chair continued to drink without stint. He
drank with the abandon of one who has long since done with the
restraint imposed by civilization.

The man at the counter worked on silently. He, too, had a charged
glass beside him. But, for the moment, it was neglected. His figures
absorbed his whole attention.

At last he looked up. His yellow skin was shining. His wicked black
eyes were twinkling, which, with the scars distorting his features,
gave him a look of curiously malevolent triumph.

"Guess they're kind of rough figgers," he apologized. "But they're
near enough to make good readin'."

"What's the total?" The demand was sharp and masterful.

"Just under ten thousand ounces since last reckoning. That's the last
half of last summer's wash-up. There's nigh a thousand tons of dirt to
clean still. It's the biggest wash we've had, an' it's growing. When
we've cleaned out this gang we won't need to do a thing but shout.
There ain't no limit to the old gorge,"