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Show 79 We laughed u n t i l our sides ached. And the passing red-faced boatmen would h o l l e r , "What's up?" We would answer. "Can't say. We're going downstream." I did not know any Tin Pan Alley songs, nor did I have much gift for making up. The only story I knew was true-about Pa and the traveling dentist-when Pa said, "Next time apply the anesthetic f i r s t . " But i t served the purpose. After a while I simply had to say, "Once my pa had a toothache," and we laughed just as hard as when I told the whole story. Boats passed us every day, s t i l l coming from Lake Bennett and the higher Lake Lindeman. We slowed some of them down by waving them over to us. "Which way t o Dawson City?" I would c a l l. Or Tip would shout, "Can you t e l l us the reason for this stampede?" "Fool kids!" the men would y e l l , l i v i d at wasting a few minutes. The stampeders quarreled in t h e i r boats, just as they had on land. One man was l e f t on a sand bar, his partners ignoring him as he ran up and down, waving and cursing. Finally, some raggedy Stick Indians noticed him and rowed out in t h e i r fast cottonwood canoes. We laughed at t h e i r antics from the safety of our small world. |