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Updated: June 23, 2025
Pentfield wrote back heartily, laughing at her fears, which he took to be the mere physical ones of danger and hardship rather than those bred of maidenly reserve. But the long winter and tedious wait, following upon the two previous long winters, were telling upon him.
"Here," he said, thrusting the scrawled letter into his partner's hand. "You just deliver that and everything'll be all right." Hutchinson ran his eye over it and laid it down. "How do you know the brother will be willing to make that beastly trip in here?" he demanded. "Oh, he'll do it for me and for his sister," Pentfield replied.
"Why should I go? I've no one waiting for me " "Your people," Pentfield broke in roughly. "Like you have," Hutchinson went on. "A girl, I mean, and you know it." Pentfield shrugged his shoulders gloomily. "She can wait, I guess." "But she's been waiting two years now." "And another won't age her beyond recognition." "That'd be three years.
Each day thousands of dollars' worth of gold were scraped from bedrock and windlassed to the surface, and it all belonged to Pentfield and Hutchinson, who took their rank among the richest kings of Bonanza. Pentfield broke the silence that followed on Billebedam's departure by heaping the dirty plates higher on the table and drumming a tattoo on the cleared space with his knuckles.
A nasty job you've given me to explain all this away. I only hope it can be explained away. Who is she? Whose squaw is she?" Then Lawrence Pentfield delivered his stroke, and he delivered it with a certain calm elation of spirit that seemed somewhat to compensate for the wrong that had been done him. "She is my squaw," he said; "Mrs. Pentfield, if you please."
"I haven't a remarkable memory for names, but it seems to me it's something like Mabel Mabel oh yes, here it 'Mabel Holmes, daughter of Judge Holmes, whoever he is." Lawrence Pentfield never turned a hair, though he wondered how any man in the North could know her name.
Pentfield demanded brutally. "You implied that I lied." "Nothing of the sort," came the reply. "I merely implied that you were trying to be clumsily witty." "Make your bets, gentlemen," the dealer protested. "But I tell you it's true," Nick Inwood insisted.
Hutchinson will, after a brief trip east to Detroit, make their real honeymoon journey into the fascinating Klondike country." "I'll be back again; keep my place for me," Pentfield said, rising to his feet and taking his sack, which meantime had hit the blower and came back lighter by five hundred dollars. He went down the street and bought a Seattle paper.
This Lawrence Pentfield did at the end of two hours' plunging, when the dealer bit the end off a fresh cigar and struck a match as he announced that the bank was broken. Pentfield cashed in for forty thousand, shook hands with Nick Inwood, and stated that it was the last time he would ever play at his game or at anybody's else's. No one knew nor guessed that he had been hit, much less hit hard.
Before he could answer, Corry plucked him by the sleeve and drew him aside. "See here, old man, what's this mean?" Corry demanded in a low tone, indicating Lashka with his eyes. "I can hardly see, Corry, where you can have any concern in the matter," Pentfield answered mockingly. But Corry drove straight to the point. "What is that squaw doing on your sled?
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