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'Better that we don't travel to-day, I say, 'else will the frost be unwarmed in the breathing and bite all the edges of our lungs. After that we will have bad cough, and maybe next spring will come pneumonia. But they are checha-quo. They do not understand the trail. They are like dead people they are so tired, but they say, 'Let us go on. We go on.
It is for a child, a little plaything. When we get back to Dawson she ask me to buy good revolver for her. I buy a Colt's 44. It is very heavy, but she carry it in her belt all the time. "At Dawson comes the man. Which way he come I do not know. Only do I know he is checha-quo what you call tenderfoot. His hands are soft, just like hers. He never do hard work. He is soft all over.
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