on,
we'll run him to earth."

As we walked along we compared notes, and he talked of himself in a
frank, friendly way.

"You're not long out from the old country? Thought not. Left there
myself about four years ago--I joined the Force in Regina. It's
altogether different 'outside,' patrol work, a free life on the open
prairie. Here they keep one choring round barracks most of the time.
I've been for six months now on the town station. I'm not sorry, though.
It's all devilish interesting. Wouldn't have missed it for a farm. When
I write the people at home about it they think I'm yarning--stringing
them, as they say here. The governor's a clergyman. Sent me to Harrow,
and wanted to make a Bishop out of me. But I'm restless; never could
study; don't seem to fit in, don't you know."

I recognised his type, the clean, frank, breezy Englishman that has
helped to make an Empire. He went on:

"Yes, how the old dad would stare if I could only have him in Dawson for
a day. He'd never be able to get things just in focus any more. He would
be knocked clean off the pivot on which he's revolved these thirty
years. Seems to me every one's travelling on a pivot in the old country.
It's no use trying to hammer it into their heads there are more points
of view than one. If you don't just see things as they see them, you're
troubled with astigmatism. Come, let's go in here."

He pushed his way through a crowded doorway and I followed. It was the
ordinary type of combined saloon and gambling-joint. In one corner was a
very ornate bar, and all around the capacious room were gambling devices
of every kind. There were crap-tables, wheel of fortune, the Klondike
game, Keno, stud poker, roulette and faro outfits. The place was
chock-a-block with rough-looking men, either looking on or playing the
games. The men who were running the tables wore shades of green over
their eyes, and their strident cries of "Come on, boys," pierced the
smoky air.

In a corner, presiding over a stud-poker game, I was surprised to see
our old friend Mosher. He was dealing with one hand, holding the pack
delicately and sending the cards with a dexterous flip to each player.
Miners were buying chips from a man at the bar, who with a pair of gold
scales was weighing out dust in payment.

My companion pointed to an inner room with a closed door.

"The Klondike Kings are in there, hard at it. They've been playing now
for twenty-four hours, and goodness knows wh