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"CARIBOU!" Rouletta's eyes were bright with curiosity and an emotion far more material. "Where in the world ?" "Some hinjun hunter mak' beeg kill. I got more s'prise as dat, too. By golly! Dis goin' be regular Chris'mas for you." Rouletta stirred. There was stubborn defiance in her tone when she said: "I'm going to get up and I'm going outdoors clothes or no clothes.
Miss Kirby shook her head in vague denial, but the speaker eyed her with open hostility and there was an unmistakable sneer behind her next words: "What's the matter? Have you trimmed all the leading citizens?" "I've finished my work, if that's what you mean." "Now you're going to try your hand at box-rustling, eh?" Rouletta's expression altered; she regarded her inquisitor more intently.
He resented this man's tone of easy familiarity and, about to interfere, he was restrained by Rouletta's apparent indifference. What ailed the girl? It was too dark to make out her face, but her voice, oddly changed and unnatural, gave him cause for wonderment. Could it be 'Poleon's half-formed question was answered by the stranger who cried, in mock reproach: "Naughty! Naughty!
"That's an easy promise, under the circumstances." "Bien! I never t'ink 'bout you gettin' married. By gosh! dat's fierce t'ing, for sure! Wat I'll do if " 'Poleon shook his massive shoulders as if to rid himself of such unwelcome speculations. "No danger!" Rouletta's crooked smile did not go unnoticed. 'Poleon studied her face intently; then he inquired: "Wat ail' you, li'l sister?"
That had been Rouletta's most difficult ordeal, the most trying time for both of them, in fact; not one man in ten thousand could have carried off such an awkward situation at a cost so low to a woman's feelings.
Having satisfied himself that some of the Rouletta's crew remained alive, he cast loose the painter of the nearest skiff and called to Phillips, who was standing close by: "Come on! We goin' get dose people!" Now Pierce had had enough rough water for one day; it seemed to him that there must be other men in this crowd better qualified by training than he to undertake this rescue.
I'spect you sleep all day only I mak' beeg noise." "Good morning!" Rouletta's voice was muffled. As if repeating a lesson, she ran on: "Yes, I feel fine. I had a dandy sleep; didn't cough and my lungs don't hurt. And no bad dreams. So I want to get up. There! I'm well." "You hongry, too, I bet, eh?" "Oh, I'm dying. And my nose it won't work." Doret shouted his laughter. "You wait.
The Mocha Kid, in particular, was addicted to reminiscence of an incriminating sort, and he totally ignored Rouletta's protests at sharing the secrets of his guilty past. As for the Snowbird, he was fond of telling her fairy-stories. They were queer fairy-stories, all beginning in the same way: "Once upon a time there was a beautiful Princess and her name was Rouletta."
Take me back where there's a stove back to the saloon anywhere. Only do it quickly." "Pshaw! It isn't cold," Kirby protested, mildly. The nature of this remark showed more plainly than anything he had said or done during the evening that the speaker was not himself. It signified such a dreadful change in him, it marked so surely the extent of his metamorphosis, that Rouletta's tears came.
Nor did he turn his head when she laid a hand upon his arm. Now women, especially pretty women, were common enough sights in Alaskan drinking-places. So it was not strange that Rouletta's presence had occasioned neither comment nor curiosity. More than once during the last hour or two men had spoken to her with easy familiarity, but they had taken no offense when she had turned her back.
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