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'What danged right'd he to fetch my wife in? thundered Bettles to the soothing overtures of a friend. ''Twa'n't called for, he concluded decisively. ''Twa'n't called for, he reiterated again and again, pacing up and down and waiting for Lon McFane. And Lon McFane his face was hot and tongue rapid as he flaunted insurrection in the face of the Church.
Knapp, who had planned to spend the rest of the winter at Point Hope, would get a guide and a team here and turn north after some days' rest, while I would turn south. Roxy was impatient to return to Bettles. "Me no likee this country," was all that could be got out of him.
It ain't in the nature of things for the water furtherest away from the air to freeze first. 'But me own eyes-' 'Don't git het up over it, admonished Bettles, as the quick Celtic anger began to mount. 'Then yer not after belavin' me? 'Sence you're so blamed forehanded about it, no; I'd b'lieve nature first, and facts. 'Is it the lie ye'd be givin' me? threatened Lon.
The aneroid showed the altitude about seven hundred feet above Bettles, and I regretted very much I had not brought the thermometer as well, for its reading would have been most interesting. The view from the top was brilliantly clear and far-reaching.
Give him a moose steak and he'd show them how dead he was. Why, Governor Walsh was in camp on the Little Salmon, and O'Brien coming in on the first water. Dead? Give him a moose steak and he'd show them. And forthwith Dawson hummed. The Barracks' flag rose to the masthead, and Bettles' wife washed herself and put on clean raiment.
The mad dog whirled a half airspring, came down on his back, then, with a single leap, covered half the distance between himself and Bettles. But the fatal spring was intercepted. Lon McFane leaped from the woodpile, countering him in midair. Over they rolled, Lon holding him by the throat at arm's length, blinking under the fetid slaver which sprayed his face.
Linda held up a beautiful box of glass, inside of which could be seen swarming specimens of every bug, beetle, insect, and worm that Henry Anderson had been able to collect in Heaven only knew what hours of search. Linda opened the box. The winged creatures flew, the bettles tumbled, the worms went over the top. She set it on the ground and laughed to exhaustion.
"He'll kill'm, he'll kill'm sure," Bettles chanted exultantly. "I know. I've ben with Daylight on trail. That man ain't never ben tired in his life. Don't know what it means. I seen him travel all day with wet socks at forty-five below. There ain't another man living can do that." While this talk went on, Daylight was saying good-by to those that clustered around him.
Every man of note who had gone south in the spring had been wiped out. The cabins vomited forth their occupants. Wild-eyed men hurried down from the creeks and gulches to seek out this man who had told a tale of such disaster. The Russian half-breed wife of Bettles sought the fireplace, inconsolable, and rocked back and forth, and ever and anon flung white wood-ashes upon her raven hair.
I know how to catch 'em quite well; and my dear little bettles, too, must be fed on bits of sugar. Where did you put the box? The woom I s'ept in is kite tidy. Where is the box? Speak, can't you?" "Well, then, Miss Diana, I must just tell you the simple truth. We can't have no messing with horrid vermin in this house.
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