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'Well, then, what do you think of a promise made by me? 'As good as your bond, from Bettles. 'The thing to safely sling yer hopes of heaven by, promptly endorsed Lon McFane. 'Listen! I, Malemute Kid, give you my word and you know what that means that the man who is not shot stretches rope within ten minutes after the shooting. He stepped back as Pilate might have done after washing his hands.
Why it should be so corrupted I do not know. But what of that? The subject is too deep to be gone fully into at the moment. I should recommend you to read Mr. Maude's little brochure on the matter. Passing lightly on from that " "Did youse ever have a cat dat ate bettles?" enquired Mr. Jarvis. "There was a time when many of Comrade Maude's Felidae supported life almost entirely on beetles."
But Bettles and Dan MacDonald and other sourdoughs shook their heads and laughed as they mentioned women. And they were right. He had always been afraid of them from the time, himself a lad of seventeen, when Queen Anne, of Juneau, made open and ridiculous love to him. For that matter, he never had known women.
Bettles demanded from beneath, his arms clutched lovingly around Daylight's legs. "Yes, how much? What do you call a pile?" others cried. Daylight steadied himself for a moment and debated. "Four or five millions," he said slowly, and held up his hand for silence as his statement was received with derisive yells. "I'll be real conservative, and put the bottom notch at a million.
Bettles' bunk had suffered a similar invasion, and three or four lusty voyageurs worked their toes among its blankets as they listened to the tale of one who had served on the boat brigade with Wolseley when he fought his way to Khartoum. And when he tired, a cowboy told of courts and kings and lords and ladies he had seen when Buffalo Bill toured the capitals of Europe.
The supplies had been carefully calculated for the journey, the toboggans were already loaded, and we waited but a break in the cold weather to start. Our course from Bettles would lead us sixty-five miles farther down the Koyukuk to the mouth of the Alatna.
He is better dead. I shook my head and said no that a comrade once was a comrade always. Then she spoke of the men of Forty Mile; that they were many men and good; and that they looked to me for grub in the spring. But when I still said no, she snatched the pistol from my belt, quick, and as our brother Bettles has spoken, Long Jeff went to the bosom of Abraham before his time.
At irregular intervals Bettles sent word down from Stuart River regarding the welfare of Young Cal. The time of their return was approaching. More than once a casual caller, hearing dance-music and the rhythmic pulse of feet, entered, only to find Harrington scraping away and the other two beating time or arguing noisily over a mooted step.
Bettles, a glass of whiskey in hand, climbed back on his chair, and swaying back and forth, sang the one song he knew: "O, it's Henry Ward Beecher And Sunday-school teachers All sing of the sassafras-root; But you bet all the same, If it had its right name It's the juice of the forbidden fruit." The crowd roared out the chorus:
By gar! Then, as the first tin cups of punch went round, Bettles the Unquenchable sprang to his feet and struck up his favorite drinking song: 'There's Henry Ward Beecher And Sunday-school teachers, All drink of the sassafras root; But you bet all the same, If it had its right name, It's the juice of the forbidden fruit.
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