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Show packet tied with a string. "Josephine from Seattle?" "Who's snooping again?" Caribou roared. "Put them back!" He was washing a sample of dirt over the trough, looking for color. "Who is she?" Tip insisted. "Maybe a pen pal, Tipsy," Caribou said. He whirled the pan so fast water splashed over the edge. "If I had a pen pal," Tip said, "I would be so happy I would talk about her. Who is she?" "If s his Louise." I said sharply. "His wife. Now that's enough." I envied the Klondike kings that winter as they dashed up and down the frozen creeks with their faithful dog teams. They came from Dawson City, swaggering into Belinda's hotel, laughing and tossing their pokes around. When a Klondike king threw down his poke in a bar, it meant free drinks and entertainment for everyone who could squeeze inside • In Dawson City the saloonkeeper rang a bell and all the men on the street rushed in. They grabbed a drink and a pretty dance-hall girl, and whirled around the sawdust floor. All compliments of the Klondike king. In Grand Forks the men danced by themselves or with Gibson |
