stick
into the air so as to see the sun and tell the time of day. Ain't I
right, Bill?"

"Right you are," said Bill. "But speakin' of this Dawson-place how like
did it happen to be, Jim?"

"Ounce to the pan on a creek called Bonanza, an' they ain't got to
bedrock yet."

"Who struck it?"

"Carmack."

At mention of the discoverer's name the partners stared at each other
disgustedly. Then they winked with great solemnity.

"Siwash George," sniffed Hootchinoo Bill.

"That squaw-man," sneered Kink Mitchell.

"I wouldn't put on my moccasins to stampede after anything he'd ever
find," said Bill.

"Same here," announced his partner. "A cuss that's too plumb lazy to
fish his own salmon. That's why he took up with the Indians. S'pose
that black brother-in-law of his,--lemme see, Skookum Jim, eh?--s'pose
he's in on it?"

The old bar-keeper nodded. "Sure, an' what's more, all Forty Mile,
exceptin' me an' a few cripples."

"And drunks," added Kink Mitchell.

"No-sir-ee!" the old man shouted emphatically.

"I bet you the drinks Honkins ain't in on it!" Hootchinoo Bill cried with
certitude.

Ol' Jim's face lighted up. "I takes you, Bill, an' you loses."

"However did that ol' soak budge out of Forty Mile?" Mitchell demanded.

"The ties him down an' throws him in the bottom of a polin'-boat," ol'
Jim explained. "Come right in here, they did, an' takes him out of that
there chair there in the corner, an' three more drunks they finds under
the pianny. I tell you-alls the whole camp hits up the Yukon for Dawson
jes' like Sam Scratch was after them,--wimmen, children, babes in arms,
the whole shebang. Bidwell comes to me an' sez, sez he, 'Jim, I wants
you to keep tab on the Monte Carlo. I'm goin'.'

"'Where's Barlow?' sez I. 'Gone,' sez he, 'an' I'm a-followin' with a
load of whisky.' An' with that, never waitin' for me to decline, he
makes a run for his boat an' away he goes, polin' up river like mad. So
here I be, an' these is the first drinks I've passed out in three days."

The partners looked at each other.

"Gosh darn my buttoms!" said Hootchinoo Bill. "Seems likes you and me,
Kink, is the kind of folks always caught out with forks when it rains
soup."

"Wouldn't it take the saleratus out your dough, now?" said Kink Mitchell.
"A stampede of tin-horns, drunks, an' loafers."

"An' squaw-men," added Bill. "Not a genooine miner in the whole
caboodle."

"Genooine miners like you an' me, Kin