and villainous face. A heavy frown of displeasure
habitually rested upon his brow, and his glance was shifting and
evasive. He was a professional gambler, kept his game running
continually, and was going to Nome.

At the end of the table sat a tall and pleasant mannered young
Englishman, with blue eyes and ruddy cheeks. He represented mining
interests in the Klondyke amounting to millions, and was on his way to
London. He was fond of wine, and consorted chiefly with those who were
fast bringing him down to their level.

There was the girl with pretty black eyes, lady-like movements, low
voice, and exquisite toilettes. A blue-eyed, pretty little blonde, with
infantile complexion, small hands and feet, and wearing a tailor-made
suit attracted considerable attention. She was fond of cigarettes and
smoked many times a day, though she only looked "sweet sixteen." They
were both dance-house girls.

There was a young and handsome Englishman in the triggest of dude
toggery, but having a squaw wife and three children, as well as older
men at the head of similar broods.

The long tables were spread two or three times at each meal, as several
hundred people were to be fed.

A different class, and a worst one if possible, was met with at these
late meals. Do you see that short, fat woman over there with the bleared
eyes, and the neck of a prize fighter? She is a Dawson saloon keeper,
and is now on her way to Nome.

But there were a number of people on the steamer not properly
belonging to this set, and after supper a few usually gathered in one
corner to listen to each other's experiences in the far Northwest. Some
were tales of hardship, sickness and death; some of hair-breadth escapes
from the jaws of an Arctic winter, or from shipwreck. One told of
having, two years before, paid $175 for five sacks of flour in the
Klondyke; selling the same, a few days later, for $500. Stories of rich
strikes were related; how one man, while drunk, was persuaded by his
associates to trade a valuable claim for one apparently worthless; his
indescribable feelings the next day and until he had prospected the
so-called worthless claim, when it proved ten times richer than the
first one.

[Illustration: FELLOW TRAVELERS.]

A little middle-aged Norwegian woman told her story with great gusto.
She had sailed from Seattle two years before with Mayor Woods'
expedition, getting as far as a point on the Yukon River two hundred
miles below Rampar