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Updated: May 26, 2025
On his way to the cabin, Rasmunsen recollected he was hungry and bought a small supply of provisions at the N. A. T. & T. store also a beefsteak at the butcher shop and dried salmon for the dogs. He found the cabin without difficulty, and left the dogs in the harness while he started the fire and got the coffee under way.
Rasmunsen didn't know, but supposed he was, and the man sobered down a bit. "What d'ye expect to get for 'em?" he asked cautiously. Rasmunsen became audacious. "Dollar 'n a half," he said. "Done!" the man came back promptly. "Gimme a dozen." "I I mean a dollar 'n a half apiece," Rasmunsen hesitatingly explained. "Sure. I heard you. Make it two dozen. Here's the dust."
He bent over, laid hold of an egg-box, and began to worry it out from under the lashing. "Drop it! Drop it, I say!" Rasmunsen had managed to draw his revolver, and with the crook of his arm over the sweep head, was taking aim. The correspondent stood up on the thwart, balancing back and forth, his face twisted with menace and speechless anger. "My God!"
He was without scales, but the man with the bearskin coat fetched a pair and obligingly weighed in the dust while Rasmunsen passed out the goods. Soon there was a pushing and shoving and shouldering, and a great clamour. Everybody wanted to buy and to be served first. And as the excitement grew, Rasmunsen cooled down. This would never do.
Men were being frozen in the blizzard which swept Chilkoot, and Rasmunsen frosted his toes ere he was aware. He found a chance to go passenger with his freight in a boat just shoving off through the rubble, but two hundred hard cash, was required, and he had no money.
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