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Updated: June 24, 2025
Although 'Poleon had spoken with confidence, he found, upon arriving at Police Headquarters, that the situation was by no means as simple as it had appeared, and that something more than a mere word regarding Phillips' character would be required to offset the very definite accusation against him.
It was little Johnny Gale who first saw Necia and Poleon on board, for he had recognized Father Barnum's craft at a distance, and stationed himself at the bank hand-in-hand with Molly to bid the good, kind old man welcome. The men inside the house did not hear the boy crying Necia's name, for his voice was small, and they had gone to the rear of the store. "Understand!
She could not see the curious look in his eyes, nor did she turn when, a moment later, he resumed, in an altered tone: "I reckon Poleon will bring you something pretty from Dawson, eh?" "He has never failed to bring me presents, no matter where he came from. Dear old Poleon!" She smiled tenderly. "Do you remember that first day when he drifted, singing, into sight around the bend up yonder?
Slowly, carefully, she wiped her hands as if they were unclean; her lips curled into a mirthless smile; then she passed into her chamber and turned the key behind her. Rock had spoken truly in assuring 'Poleon that Pierce Phillips' lot would be made as easy for him as possible. That is what happened.
Mebbe I sell him for beeg price." "Why doesn't it have any gold?" Rouletta was genuinely curious. "Why? Biccause I stake him," 'Poleon laughed heartily. "Dose claim I stake dey never has so much gold you can see wit' your eye. Not one, an' I stake t'ousan'. Me, I hear dose man talk 'bout million dollar; I'm drinkin' heavy so I t'ink I be millionaire, too.
Forty stripes had been voted as the penalty, but 'Poleon Doret vaulted to the platform, seized the upraised whip, and tore it from the executioner's hand. He turned upon the crowd a countenance white with fury and disgust. "Enough!" he shouted. "By Gar! You keel him next! If you mus' w'ip somebody, w'ip me; dis feller is mos' dead."
When the old man vouchsafed no more than a nod to his question, the prospector inquired: "Where's Poleon? I've got news for him from the creek." "I don't know; he's gone." "Back soon?" "I don't know. Why?" "His laymen have give up. They've cross-cut his ground and the pay ain't there, so they've quit work for good." "He drew a blank, eh?" "Worse'n that three of them.
He's goin' stay so long he can, den wal, mebbe 'noder doctor come along. I hope so." "If she does win out, then what?" Broad inquired. 'Poleon considered the question. "I s'pose I tak' her back to Dyea an' send her home. I got some dog." Lucky studied the speaker curiously; there was a peculiar hostile gleam in his small, colorless eyes. "Medicine every hour, and a steady fire, you say.
'Poleon found his recent employer plucking at his sleeve. "There's a woman out there Kirby's girl," she was crying. "Can't you do something?" "Wait!" He flung off her grasp and watched intently. Soon the helpless scow was abreast of the encampment, and in spite of the frantic efforts of her crew to propel her shoreward she drifted momentarily closer to the cataract below.
It was a frightful combat, hideous from its inequality, like the battle of a man against a maddened beast whose teeth tore and whose claws ripped, whose every move was irresistible. And so it was over shortly. Poleon rose and ran to the fallen girl, leaving behind him a huddled and twisted likeness of a man.
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