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Updated: May 3, 2025
All the smart young women with their gold-nugget buttons as big as your thumb, lucky miners from the creeks with heavy consignments of dust to take home, had been too wary to run any risk of the Never-Know-What closing inopportunely.
"What river did you come by?" "Same as you go by the Yukon. Indians up yonder call it the Never-Know-What, and the more you find out about it, the better you think the name." "Did you do any good at Forty Mile?" "Not enough to turn my head, so I tried the Koyukuk and other diggins too." "Hear that, Schiff?" he roared at his bandaged friend. "Never say die!
Millionaires or not, they'll never, either of them, create a greater sensation than they did that Christmas Day, in the Big Chimney Cabin, on the bleak hillside, up above the Never-Know-What. Here was Certainty at last! Here was Justification!
But the high flat rim of the dish was plentifully garnished by fingers of corn-bread, and the gravy was "galoppshus," so Potts said. Salmon P., having appeased the pangs of hunger, returned to his perplexed study of Benham. "Did I understand you to say you came into this country to prospect?" "Came down the Never-Know-What and prospected a whole summer at Forty Mile."
Those who, in spite of warning, ventured in hip-boots down on the Never-Know-What, found that, in places, the under side of the ice was worn nearly through. If you bent your head and listened, you could plainly hear that greater music of the river running underneath, low as yet, but deep, and strangely stirring dominating in the hearer's ears all the clear, high clamour from gulch and hill.
The leading spirits were running him down the bank to where a crooked cotton-wood leaned cautiously over the Never-Know-What, as if to spy out the river's secret. But after arriving there, they were a little delayed for lack of what they called tackle. They sent a man off for it, and then sent another to hurry up the man.
The little settlement by the mouth of the Minoók sat insecurely on the boggy hillside, and its inhabitants waded knee-deep in soaking tundra moss and mire. And now, down on the Never-Know-What, water was beginning to run on the marginal ice. Up on the mountains the drifted snow was honey-combed. Whole fields of it gave way and sunk a foot under any adventurous shoe.
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