e of buttin' in where ye ain't wanted? As fer me, them
frogeaters can all die like salmon; I won't go nigh 'em an' I've told
'em so. I give 'em good advice, an' what'd I get? What'd that daffy
doctor do? Pooh-poohed at me an' physiced them. Lord! Physic a man
with scurvy--might as well bleed a patient fer amputation." George
spoke with considerable heat.

Captain pulled his parka hood well down so that the fox-tails around
the edge protected his features, and stepped out into the evening.
He had made several such trips in the past few months to call on men
smitten with the sickness, but all to no effect. Being "chechakos"
they were supreme in their conceit, and refused to heed his advice.

Returning at bed time he found his partner webbing a pair of
snow-shoes by the light of a stinking "go-devil," consisting of a
string suspended in a can of molten grease. The camp had sold them
grub, but refused the luxury of candles. Noting his gravity, George
questioned:

"Well, how's Menard?"

"Dead!" Captain shook himself as though at the memory. "It was
awful. He died while I was talking to him."

"Don't say! How's that?"

"I found him propped up in a chair. He looked bad, but said he was
feeling fine--"

"That's the way they go. I've seen it many a time--feelin' fine
plumb to the last."

"He'd been telling me about a bet he had with Promont. Promont was
taken last week, too, you know, same time. Menard bet him twenty
dollars that he'd outlast him."

"'I'm getting all right,' says he, 'but poor Promont's going to die.
I'll get his twenty, sure!' I turned to josh with the boy a bit, an'
when I spoke to Menard he didn't answer. His jaw had sagged and he'd
settled in his chair. Promont saw it, too, and cackled. 'H'I 'ave
win de bet! H'I 'ave win de bet!' That's all. He just slid off.
Gee! It was horrible."

George put by his work and swore, pacing the rough pole floor.

"Oh, the cussed fools! That makes six dead from the one cabin--six
from eighteen, an' Promont'll make seven to-morrow. Do ye mind how
we begged 'em to quit that dug-out an' build a white man's house, an'
drink spruce tea, an' _work_! They're too ---- lazy. They lie
around in that hole, breath bad air, an' rot."

"And just to think, if we only had a crate of potatoes in camp we
could save every man jack of 'em. Lord! They never even brought no
citric acid nor lime juice--nothin'! If we hadn't lost our grub when
the wha