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Updated: April 30, 2025
We have seen very little of each other, you know, since your childhood, and when I think upon it soberly it is hard to realize that you are really mine, sprung from me, bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. As the tangle-haired wild young creature of Dyea, a healthy, little, natural animal and nothing more, it required no imagination to accept you as one of the breed of Welse.
Ay, that moment I had faced death easier. And it was foolish, absurd. How could I know whether it was for good or ill when you drifted a distant speck on the river? Still, I looked, and the miracle began, for I did know. You stood at the steering-sweep. You were a Welse. It seems so little; in truth it meant so much. It was not to be expected of a mere woman, but of a Welse, yes.
Two white men find him and bring him to this place. He don't care. He die anyway." La Flitche finished abruptly, but nobody spoke. Then he added, "I think Gow damn good man." Frona came up to Jacob Welse. "Take me away, father," she said. "I am so tired."
"Welse thinks he's pioneering in that direction, but Borg could give him cards and spades on it and then win out. He's been over the ground years ago. Yes, strange sort of a chap. Wouldn't hanker to be bunk-mates with him." But St. Vincent did not mind the eccentricities of the man, for he spent most of his time on Split-up Island with Frona and the Baron.
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