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"Sorry I had to do it," the chairman said, half-apologetically, half-defiantly. Jacob Welse smiled. "You took your chance," he answered, "and I can't blame you. I only wish I'd got you, though." Excited voices arose from across the cabin. "Here, you! Leggo!" "Step on his fingers, Tim!" "Break that grip!" "Ouch! Ow!" "Pry his mouth open!" Frona saw a knot of struggling men about St.
"I'll see you in in heaven first," retorted the boatman, shoving off. "Let go!" he threatened. Mr. Thurston gripped tight hold of the gunwale, and as reward for his chivalry had his knuckles rapped sharply by the oar-blade. Then he forgot himself, and Miss Welse also, and swore, and swore fervently.
All three looked inquiringly to Jacob Welse. He shrugged his shoulders. "How should I know? A white man or an Indian; starvation most likely, or else he is injured." "But he may be dying," Frona pleaded, as though her father, who had done most things, could do all things. "We can do nothing." "Ah! Terrible! terrible!" The baron wrung his hands. "Before our very eyes, and we can do nothing!
A fifty-ton cake ended over, splashing them with muddy water, and settled down before the door. A smaller cake drove against the out-jutting corner-logs and the cabin reeled. Courbertin and Jacob Welse were inside. "After you," Frona heard the baron, and then her father's short amused laugh; and the gallant Frenchman came out last, squeezing his way between the cake and the logs.
Without crooking, his right arm swept out and down, the heavy caulking-mallet leaping from his hand. It spanned the short distance and smote Jacob Welse below the ear. His revolver went off as he fell, and John the Swede grunted and clapped a hand to his thigh. Simultaneous with this the baron was overcome.
Welse." The speaker, a strong-faced, grizzled man, heavy-set and of military bearing, pulled up his collar and rested his hand on the door-knob. "I see already, thanks to you, the newcomers are beginning to sell their outfits and buy dogs. Lord! won't there be a stampede out over the ice as soon as the river closes down!
She was stiff and sore of mind as well as of body, and will and action were for the time being distasteful. It was more pleasant, even, to dwell on Tommy, on Tommy of the bitter tongue and craven heart; and she made a note that the wife and children in Toronto should not be forgotten when the Northland paid its dividends to the Welse.
For some time Del Bishop had only punctuated the silence with splashes from his oars; but a thought struck him. "You haven't told me your name," he suggested, with complacent delicacy. "My name is Welse," she answered. "Frona Welse." A great awe manifested itself in his face, and grew to a greater and greater awe. "You are Frona Welse?" he enunciated slowly.
While she made up a bundle of food in the tent, the men provided and rigged themselves with sixty or seventy feet of light rope. Jacob Welse and St. Vincent made themselves fast to it at either end, and the baron in the middle. He claimed the food as his portion, and strapped it to his broad shoulders. Frona watched their progress from the bank.
Hitherto famine had driven them out, but Jacob Welse was there now, and his grub-stores; so they wintered in the frost and groped in the frozen muck for gold. He encouraged them, grub-staked them, carried them on the books of the company. His steamers dragged them up the Koyokuk in the old days of Arctic City. Wherever pay was struck he built a warehouse and a store. The town followed.
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