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A great cheer went up from the population of Klondike City assembled on the ice. Here the Klondike entered the Yukon, and half a mile away, across the Klondike, on the north bank, stood Dawson. An outburst of madder cheering arose, and Smoke caught a glimpse of a sled shooting out to him. He recognized the splendid animals that drew it. They were Joy Gastell's. And Joy Gastell drove them.
We can give it excitement if anybody can. I've broken with Wild Water, you know." Smoke caught two almost simultaneous visions. One was of Joy Gastell; the other was of himself, in the midst of a bleak snow-stretch, under a cold arctic moon, being pot-shotted with accurateness and dispatch by the aforesaid Wild Water.
He struggled to his feet and went on, but at a slower pace and with a perceptible limp. After a few minutes he abruptly halted. "It's no use," he said to his daughter. "I've sprained a tendon. You go ahead and stake for me as well as yourself." "Can't we do something?" Smoke asked. Louis Gastell shook his head. "She can stake two claims as well as one.
It was a woman's voice that answered, and he recognized it. "If you'll unbuckle the straps I can get up." The hundred pounds rolled into the mud with a soggy noise, and he slowly gained his feet. "A pretty predicament," Miss Gastell laughed, at sight of his mud- covered face. "Not at all," he replied airily. "My favourite physical exercise stunt. Try it some time.
No further talk passed between Joy and Smoke for an hour or so, though he noticed that for a time she and her father talked in low tones. "I know'm now," Shorty told Smoke. "He's old Louis Gastell, an' the real goods. That must be his kid. He come into this country so long ago they ain't nobody can recollect, an' he brought the girl with him, she only a baby.
I'll crawl over to the bank, start a fire, and bandage my ankle. I'll be all right. Go on, Joy. Stake ours above the Discovery claim; it's richer higher up." "Here's some birch bark," Smoke said, dividing his supply equally. "We'll take care of your daughter." Louis Gastell laughed harshly. "Thank you just the same," he said. "But she can take care of herself. Follow her and watch her."
More blows were struck, curses rose from the panting chests of those who still had wind to spare, and Smoke, curiously visioning the face of Joy Gastell, hoped that the mallets would not be brought into play. Overthrown, trod upon, groping in the snow for his lost stakes, he at last crawled out of the crush and attacked the bank farther along.
"What's the matter?" came her anxious query, after several minutes. "Oh, I know, you're hurt." "No, I'm not. I'm dressing." "Dressing?" "Yes. I've been in swimming. Now! Ready? Hoist away!" He sent up the two packs on the first trip, was consequently rebuked by Joy Gastell, and on the second trip came up himself.
"She's a sure goer," Shorty confided hoarsely. "I'll bet it's an Indian." "How do you do, Miss Gastell?" Smoke addressed her. "How do you do," she answered, with a turn of the head and a quick glance. "It's too dark to see. Who are you?" "Smoke." She laughed in the frost, and he was certain it was the prettiest laughter he had ever heard.
I'll crawl over to the bank, start a fire, and bandage my ankle. I'll be all right. Go on, Joy. Stake ours above the Discovery claim; it's richer higher up." "Here's some birch bark," Smoke said, dividing his supply equally. "We'll take care of your daughter." Louis Gastell laughed harshly. "Thank you just the same," he said. "But she can take care of herself. Follow her and watch her."
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