nstantine of the Mounted Police was getting
ready to drive every man out of the Klondyke, at the point of the
bayonet, who couldn't show a thousand pounds of provisions. Yet most of
the Klondykers still stood about dazed, silent, waiting for the final
stroke.

A few went up, over the way they had come, to die after all on the
Pass, and some went down, their white, despairing faces disappearing
round the Klondyke bend as they drifted with the grinding ice towards
the Arctic Circle, where the food was caught in the floes. And how one
came back, going by without ever turning his head, caring not a jot for
Golden Dawson, serene as a king in his capital, solitary, stark on a
little island of ice.

"Lord! it was better, after all, at the Big Chimney."

"Oh, it wasn't so bad," said Windy cheerfully. "About the time one o'
the big companies announced they was sold out o' everything but sugar
and axe-handles, a couple o' steamers pushed their way in through the
ice. After all, just as old J. J. Healy said, it was only a question of
rations and proper distribution. Why, flour's fell from one hundred and
twenty dollars a sack to fifty! And there's a big new strike on the
island opposite Ensley Creek. They call it Monte Cristo; pay runs eight
dollars to the pan. Lord! Dawson's the greatest gold camp on the
globe."

But no matter what befell at Dawson, business must be kept brisk at
Minook. The pianola started up, and Buckin' Billy, who called the
dances, began to bawl invitations to the company to come and waltz.

Windy interrupted his own music for further refreshment, pausing an
instant, with his mouth full of dried-apple pie to say:

"Congress has sent out a relief expedition to Dawson."

"No!"

"Fact! Reindeer."

"Ye mean peacocks."

"Mean reindeer! It's all in the last paper come over the Pass. A
Reindeer Relief Expedition to save them poor starvin' Klondykers."

"Haw, haw! Good old Congress!"

"Well, did you find any o' them reindeer doin' any relievin' round
Dawson?"

"Naw! What do _you_ think? Takes more'n Congress to git over the Dalton
Trail"; and Windy returned to his pie.

Talking earnestly with Mr. Butts, French Charlie pushed heavily past
the Boy on his way to the bar. From his gait it was clear that he had
made many similar visits that evening. In his thick Canadian accent
Charlie was saying:

"I blowed out a lot o' dust for dat girl. She's wearin' my di'mon' now,
and won't look at me. Say, Butts