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Updated: June 23, 2025
Besides, it was early in the day, and he had never known white men of the calibre of Pentfield and Hutchinson to dice and play till the day's work was done. But his face was impassive as a Yukon Indian's should be, as he pulled on his mittens and went out the door. Though eight o'clock, it was still dark outside, and the cabin was lighted by a tallow candle thrust into an empty whisky bottle.
The small room, which composed the entire cabin, was as badly littered as the table; while at one end, against the wall, were two bunks, one above the other, with the blankets turned down just as the two men had crawled out in the morning. Lawrence Pentfield and Corry Hutchinson were millionaires, though they did not look it.
Corry had just come from Myrdon Avenue; Corry was just going to Myrdon Avenue; or Corry was at Myrdon Avenue. And he lingered on and on in San Francisco, nor even mentioned his trip to Detroit. Lawrence Pentfield began to think that his partner was a great deal in the company of Mabel Holmes for a fellow who was going east to see his people.
The long whip-lash hissed out, the dogs sprang against the breast bands, and the sled lurched and jerked ahead. "Oh, I say, Corry," Pentfield called back, "you'd better occupy the old cabin. It's not been used for some time. I've built a new one on the hill." This being a story and a truer one than it may appear of a mining country, it is quite to be expected that it will be a hard-luck story.
The bottom was dropping out of the trail, and here and there a new trail had been broken around open holes. At such a place, where there was not room for two sleds to pass, Pentfield heard the jingle of approaching bells and stopped his dogs. A team of tired-looking dogs appeared around the narrow bend, followed by a heavily-loaded sled.
"Whoever wins can be hitting the trail for God's country this time tomorrow morning!" He picked up the box, briskly rattling the dice. "What'll it be?" "Straight poker dice," Hutchinson answered. "Go on and roll them out." Pentfield swept the dishes from the table with a crash and rolled out the five dice. Both looked tragedy. The shake was without a pair and five-spot high. "A stiff!"
Besides, you can do for me the very thing I expected to do if I went out." "And that is ?" Pentfield read the full question in his partner's eyes, and answered: "Yes, that very thing. You can bring her in to me. The only difference will be a Dawson wedding instead of a San Franciscan one." "But, man alike!" Corry Hutchinson objected "how under the sun can I bring her in?
So long as a man's vagaries did no special hurt to the community, the community let the man alone, nor was Pentfield barred from the cabins of men who possessed white wives. The marriage ceremony removed him from the status of squaw-man and placed him beyond moral reproach, though there were men that challenged his taste where women were concerned. No more letters arrived from the outside.
But they rolled out deuce, tray, four, and five a stiff still and no better nor worse than Pentfield's throw. Hutchinson sighed. "Couldn't happen once in a million times," said. "Nor in a million lives," Pentfield added, catching up the dice and quickly throwing them out. Three fives appeared, and, after much delay, he was rewarded by a fourth five on the second shake.
"The flocks are folded, boughs are bare, The salmon takes the sea; And oh, my fair, would I somewhere Might house my heart with thee." Silence fell and was not again broken till Billebedam arrived and threw the dice box on the table. "Um much cold," he said. "Oleson um speak to me, um say um Yukon freeze last night." "Hear that, old man!" Pentfield cried, slapping Hutchinson on the shoulder.
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