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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Makes me feel like I'd killed somebody, or had smallpox, the way they watch me an' seem afraid to speak," Shorty confessed, when he chanced to meet Smoke in front of the Elkhorn. "Look at Bill Saltman there acrost the way just dyin' to look, an' keepin' his eyes down the street all the time. Wouldn't think he'd knowed you an' me existed, to look at him.
But I bet you the drinks, Smoke, if you an' me flop around the corner quick, like we was goin' somewheres, an' then turn back from around the next corner, that we run into him a-hikin' hell-bent." They tried the trick, and, doubling back around the second corner, encountered Saltman swinging a long trail-stride in pursuit. "Hello, Bill," Smoke greeted. "Which way?" "Hello.
We'll take our chances on it." "Fellows, you're forcing me," Smoke said. "I wish you'd stayed on your side of the river." But wavering indecision was so manifest that with a mighty roar the crowd swept him on to agreement. Saltman and others in the front rank demurred. "Bill Saltman, here, and Wild Water don't want you all in," Smoke informed the crowd. "Who's hogging it now?"
As Smoke talked he shook their hands warmly in farewell. Still talking and shaking their hands, he stepped inside and closed the door. They looked at each other and nodded significantly. "See the knees of his pants?" Saltman whispered hoarsely. "Sure. An' his shoulders. He's been bumpin' an' crawlin' around in a shaft."
"Well, we're not selling lots over in that section where you're heading," Smoke answered. "Over to the right there, and back on top of the bluffs are the lots. This section, running from the river and over the tops, is reserved. So come on back." "That's the spot we've gone and selected," Saltman argued. "But there's nothing doing, I tell you," Smoke said sharply.
Saltman emitted a shrill whistle as the sled started, and swung in behind. From down the hill and across the flat came the answering whistles of the relays. Shorty was at the gee-pole, and Smoke and Saltman walked side by side. "Look here, Bill," Smoke said. "I'll make you a proposition. Do you want to come in alone on this?" Saltman did not hesitate. "An' throw the gang down? No, sir.
Smoke gripped his ankle and threw him in a headlong tumble. From down the hill came anxious questioning whistles. Saltman sat up and whistled a shrill answer, and was grappled by Smoke, who rolled him face upward and sat astride his chest, his knees resting on Saltman's biceps, his hands on Saltman's shoulders and holding him down. And in this position the stampeders found them.
Just a-strollin'," Saltman answered, "just a-strollin'. Weather's fine, ain't it?" "Huh!" Shorty jeered. "If you call that strollin', what might you walk real fast at?" When Shorty fed the dogs that evening, he was keenly conscious that from the encircling darkness a dozen pairs of eyes were boring in upon him.
"We don't know what we've got under the ground," Smoke answered. "But we do know we've got a fine town-site on top of it." "Sure," Shorty added. "Grand for scenery an' solitude. Folks lovin' solitude come a-flockin' here by thousands. Most popular solitude on the Yukon." Again the impatient cries arose, and Saltman, who had been talking with the later comers, came to the front.
These were followed by several more, while the crunch of feet on the snow heralded the imminent arrival of many others. "Who are your friends?" Smoke asked. "Where's the stampede?" Saltman, lighting his pipe, which was impossible for him to enjoy with lungs panting from the run, did not reply.
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