at mad craving for the sight of a
woman a man gets after he's been off out in the Wild, and these women
have got the captivation of men down to a fine art. Once one of them
gets to looking at you with eyes that eat right into you, and soft white
hands, and pretty coaxing ways, well, it's mighty hard to hold back. A
man's a fool to come near these places if he's got a poke--'cept, like
me, he knows the ropes and he's right onto himself."

The Youth said this with quite a complacent air. He went on:

"These girls work on a percentage basis. You'll notice every time you
buy them a drink the waiter gives them a check. That means that when the
night's over they cash in and get twenty-five per cent, of the money
you've spent on them. That's how they're so keen on ordering fresh
bottles. Sometimes they'll say a bottle's gone flat before it's empty,
and have you order another. Or else they'll pour half of it into the
cuspidor when you're not looking. Then, when you get too full to notice
the difference, they'll run in ginger ale on you. Or else they'll get
you ordering by the case, and have half a dozen dummy bottles in it. Oh,
there's all kinds of schemes these box rustlers are on to. When you pay
for a drink you toss over your poke, and they take the price out. Do you
think they're particular to a quarter ounce or so? No, sir! and you
always get the short end of it. It's a bad game to go up against."

The Youth looked at me as though proud of his superior sophistication.

The floor was cleared. Girls were now coming from behind the stage,
preening themselves and chaffing with the crowd. The orchestra struck up
some jubilant ragtime that set the heart dancing and the heels tapping
in tune. Brighter than ever seemed the lights; more dazzling the white
and gilt of the walls. Some of the girls were balancing lightly to a
waltz rhythm. There was a witching grace in their movements, and the
Youth watched them intently. He looked down at his feet clad in old
moccasins.

"Gee, I'd like just to have one spin," he said; "just one before I leave
the darned old country for good. I was always crazy about dancing. I'd
ride thirty miles to attend a dance back home."

His eyes grew very wistful. Suddenly the music stopped and the
floor-master came forward. He was a tall, dark man with a rich and
vibrant baritone voice.

"That's the best spieler in the Yukon," said the Youth.

"Come on, boys," boomed the spieler. "Look alive there. Do