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Updated: May 12, 2025
He shook as with a palsy, and he gave at the knees, slowly sinking down to fall suddenly across the sled and to know the smashing blow of darkness across his consciousness. "Exhaustion," said Daylight. "Take him off and put him to bed, some of you-all. He's sure a good Indian." "Daylight's right," was Doc Watson's verdict, a moment later. "The man's plumb tuckered out."
Bettles pointed to a robe of Arctic hare skins, the end of which showed in the mouth of a bag. "That's his bed," he said. "Six pounds of rabbit skins. Warmest thing he ever slept under, but I'm damned if it could keep me warm, and I can go some myself. Daylight's a hell-fire furnace, that's what he is." "I'd hate to be that Indian," Doc Watson remarked.
More than once Daylight found him in the way, as he himself had got in the way of the Guggenhammers when they first set their eyes on Ophir Creek. Work on Daylight's dock system went on apace, yet was one of those enterprises that consumed money dreadfully and that could not be accomplished as quickly as a ferry system.
The young man laughed and locked hands with him; and to Daylight's astonishment it was his own hand that was forced down on the bar. "Hold on," he muttered. "Just one more flutter. I reckon I wasn't just ready that time." Again the hands locked. It happened quickly. The offensive attack of Daylight's muscles slipped instantly into defense, and, resisting vainly, his hand was forced over and down.
He always shied at propositions based on gentlemen's agreements, and a man who ventured his honor as a gentleman, in dealing with Daylight, inevitably was treated to an unpleasant time. Daylight never gave his own word unless he held the whip-hand. It was a case with the other fellow taking it or nothing. Legitimate investment had no place in Daylight's play.
But Daylight's mood verged on the tender and melting, and he preferred to think of them as golden, and therefore they were golden. And then she was so natural. He had been prepared to find her a most difficult young woman to get acquainted with. Yet here it was proving so simple.
Daylight gave of his own strength to lift him to his feet, whereupon the older man would stagger automatically on until he stumbled and fell again. On the day they should have reached the boat, Elijah collapsed utterly. When Daylight raised him, he fell again. Daylight essayed to walk with him, supporting him, but such was Daylight's own weakness that they fell together.
"So shall it be at last, in that bright morning When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee; Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight's dawning, Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee!" Jim Airth's voice ceased. He waited a moment in silence. Then "Do you like it?" he asked softly. There was no answer. Myra slept as peacefully as a little child.
I bet five hundred that sixty days from now I pull up at the Tivoli door with the Dyea mail." A sceptical roar went up, and a dozen men pulled out their sacks. Jack Kearns crowded in close and caught Daylight's attention. "I take you, Daylight," he cried. "Two to one you don't not in seventy-five days." "No charity, Jack," was the reply. "The bettin's even, and the time is sixty days."
I call for three thousand. And I got another hunch: Daylight's going to call, too." "He sure is," Daylight agreed, after Campbell had thrown up his hand. "He knows when he's up against it, and he plays accordin'. I see that two thousand, and then I'll see the draw." In a dead silence, save for the low voices of the three players, the draw was made.
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