d been frozen one
night in a storm when he was trying to find his way back to his cabin. The
poor fellow thought it great good fortune to be cared for by a woman, and
a woman who spoke his own tongue. When he was told that his feet must be
amputated, he said he hoped he would not get well; what could a
working-man do in this hard world without feet? He did, in fact, die from
the operation, but not before he had deeded Tiny Soderball his claim on
Hunker Creek. Tiny sold her hotel, invested half her money in Dawson
building lots, and with the rest she developed her claim. She went off
into the wilds and lived on it. She bought other claims from discouraged
miners, traded or sold them on percentages.

After nearly ten years in the Klondike, Tiny returned, with a considerable
fortune, to live in San Francisco. I met her in Salt Lake City in 1908.
She was a thin, hard-faced woman, very well-dressed, very reserved in
manner. Curiously enough, she reminded me of Mrs. Gardener, for whom she
had worked in Black Hawk so long ago. She told me about some of the
desperate chances she had taken in the gold country, but the thrill of
them was quite gone. She said frankly that nothing interested her much now
but making money. The only two human beings of whom she spoke with any
feeling were the Swede, Johnson, who had given her his claim, and Lena
Lingard. She had persuaded Lena to come to San Francisco and go into
business there.

"Lincoln was never any place for her," Tiny remarked. "In a town of that
size Lena would always be gossiped about. Frisco's the right field for
her. She has a fine class of trade. Oh, she's just the same as she always
was! She's careless, but she's level-headed. She's the only person I know
who never gets any older. It's fine for me to have her there; somebody who
enjoys things like that. She keeps an eye on me and won't let me be
shabby. When she thinks I need a new dress, she makes it and sends it
home--with a bill that's long enough, I can tell you!"

Tiny limped slightly when she walked. The claim on Hunker Creek took toll
from its possessors. Tiny had been caught in a sudden turn of weather,
like poor Johnson. She lost three toes from one of those pretty little
feet that used to trip about Black Hawk in pointed slippers and striped
stockings. Tiny mentioned this mutilation quite casually--did n't seem
sensitive about it. She was satisfied with her success, but not elated.
She was like some one in whom