nst the long bar, in places two or three deep,
stamping the frost from their moccasined feet, for outside the
temperature was sixty below. Bettles, himself one of the gamest of the
old-timers in deeds and daring ceased from his drunken lay of the
"Sassafras Root," and titubated over to congratulate Daylight. But in
the midst of it he felt impelled to make a speech, and raised his voice
oratorically.

"I tell you fellers I'm plum proud to call Daylight my friend. We've
hit the trail together afore now, and he's eighteen carat from his
moccasins up, damn his mangy old hide, anyway. He was a shaver when he
first hit this country. When you fellers was his age, you wa'n't dry
behind the ears yet. He never was no kid. He was born a full-grown
man. An' I tell you a man had to be a man in them days. This wa'n't
no effete civilization like it's come to be now." Bettles paused long
enough to put his arm in a proper bear-hug around Daylight's neck.
"When you an' me mushed into the Yukon in the good ole days, it didn't
rain soup and they wa'n't no free-lunch joints. Our camp fires was lit
where we killed our game, and most of the time we lived on
salmon-tracks and rabbit-bellies--ain't I right?"

But at the roar of laughter that greeted his inversion, Bettles
released the bear-hug and turned fiercely on them. "Laugh, you mangy
short-horns, laugh! But I tell you plain and simple, the best of you
ain't knee-high fit to tie Daylight's moccasin strings.

"Ain't I right, Campbell? Ain't I right, Mac? Daylight's one of the
old guard, one of the real sour-doughs. And in them days they wa'n't
ary a steamboat or ary a trading-post, and we cusses had to live offen
salmon-bellies and rabbit-tracks."

He gazed triumphantly around, and in the applause that followed arose
cries for a speech from Daylight. He signified his consent. A chair
was brought, and he was helped to stand upon it. He was no more sober
than the crowd above which he now towered--a wild crowd, uncouthly
garmented, every foot moccasined or muc-lucked[3], with mittens
dangling from necks and with furry ear-flaps raised so that they took
on the seeming of the winged helmets of the Norsemen. Daylight's black
eyes were flashing, and the flush of strong drink flooded darkly under
the bronze of his cheeks. He was greeted with round on round of
affectionate cheers, which brought a suspicious moisture to his eyes,
albeit many of the voices were inarticulate and