s, his coat was made from a blanket.
Long-gauntleted leather mittens, lined with wool, hung by his side.
They were connected in the Yukon fashion, by a leather thong passed
around the neck and across the shoulders. On his head was a fur cap,
the ear-flaps raised and the tying-cords dangling. His face, lean and
slightly long, with the suggestion of hollows under the cheek-bones,
seemed almost Indian. The burnt skin and keen dark eyes contributed to
this effect, though the bronze of the skin and the eyes themselves were
essentially those of a white man. He looked older than thirty, and
yet, smooth-shaven and without wrinkles, he was almost boyish. This
impression of age was based on no tangible evidence. It came from the
abstracter facts of the man, from what he had endured and survived,
which was far beyond that of ordinary men. He had lived life naked and
tensely, and something of all this smouldered in his eyes, vibrated in
his voice, and seemed forever a-whisper on his lips.

The lips themselves were thin, and prone to close tightly over the
even, white teeth. But their harshness was retrieved by the upward
curl at the corners of his mouth. This curl gave to him sweetness, as
the minute puckers at the corners of the eyes gave him laughter. These
necessary graces saved him from a nature that was essentially savage
and that otherwise would have been cruel and bitter. The nose was
lean, full-nostrilled, and delicate, and of a size to fit the face;
while the high forehead, as if to atone for its narrowness, was
splendidly domed and symmetrical. In line with the Indian effect was
his hair, very straight and very black, with a gloss to it that only
health could give.

"Burning Daylight's burning candlelight," laughed Dan MacDonald, as an
outburst of exclamations and merriment came from the dancers.

"An' he is der boy to do it, eh, Louis?" said Olaf Henderson.

"Yes, by Gar! you bet on dat," said French Louis. "Dat boy is all
gold--"

"And when God Almighty washes Daylight's soul out on the last big
slucin' day," MacDonald interrupted, "why, God Almighty'll have to
shovel gravel along with him into the sluice-boxes."

"Dot iss goot," Olaf Henderson muttered, regarding the gambler with
profound admiration.

"Ver' good," affirmed French Louis. "I t'ink we take a drink on dat
one time, eh?"

CHAPTER II

It was two in the morning when the dancers, bent on getting something
to eat, adjourned the danc