ters on very last water.

"The woman rent a cabin on the hill, and for one week I see her no more.
Then, one day, she come to me. 'Charley,' she says, 'how do you like to
work for me? You drive dogs, make camp, travel with me.' I say that I
make too much money carrying letters. She says, 'Charley, I will pay you
more money.' I tell her that pick-and-shovel man get fifteen dollars a
day in the mines. She says, 'That is four hundred and fifty dollars a
month.' And I say, 'Sitka Charley is no pick-and-shovel man.' Then she
says, 'I understand, Charley. I will give you seven hundred and fifty
dollars each month.' It is a good price, and I go to work for her. I
buy for her dogs and sled. We travel up Klondike, up Bonanza and
Eldorado, over to Indian River, to Sulphur Creek, to Dominion, back
across divide to Gold Bottom and to Too Much Gold, and back to Dawson.
All the time she look for something, I do not know what. I am puzzled.
'What thing you look for?' I ask. She laugh. 'You look for gold?' I
ask. She laugh. Then she says, 'That is none of your business,
Charley.' And after that I never ask any more.

"She has a small revolver which she carries in her belt. Sometimes, on
trail, she makes practice with revolver. I laugh. 'What for you laugh,
Charley?' she ask. 'What for you play with that?' I say. 'It is no
good. It is too small. It is for a child, a little plaything.' When we
get back to Dawson she ask me to buy good revolver for her. I buy a
Colt's 44. It is very heavy, but she carry it in her belt all the time.

"At Dawson comes the man. Which way he come I do not know. Only do I
know he is _checha-quo_--what you call tenderfoot. His hands are soft,
just like hers. He never do hard work. He is soft all over. At first I
think maybe he is her husband. But he is too young. Also, they make two
beds at night. He is maybe twenty years old. His eyes blue, his hair
yellow, he has a little mustache which is yellow. His name is John
Jones. Maybe he is her brother. I do not know. I ask questions no
more. Only I think his name not John Jones. Other people call him Mr.
Girvan. I do not think that is his name. I do not think her name is
Miss Girvan, which other people call her. I think nobody know their
names.

"One night I am asleep at Dawson. He wake me up. He says, 'Get the dogs
ready; we start.' No more do I ask questions, so I get the dogs ready
and we start. We go down the