fear growing in his eyes. Katrine waited
what she considered a reasonable time for him to reply or to accept her
offer, and then she rose and turned to Talbot, who had been standing
looking down upon them both with amusement.

"I'm very thirsty, let's go and have a drink," she said, and they both
strolled across the room, and then down into the farther end where the
bar was. They elbowed their way to the counter and stood there waiting
to be served. Most of the men seemed to know Katrine and made way for
her, and she had a word of chaff, or a nod, or a smile or laugh or
friendly greeting, for nearly all of them. Talbot noted this, and noted
also that though the men seemed familiar, none of them were rude, and
though rough enough, there was apparently no disrespect for her. Talbot
wondered whether this was due to her morals or her pistols.

"Who's your friend?" asked two or three voices at her side while they
stood waiting.

"Mr. Talbot--one of the lucky ones!" replied Katrine promptly. "He has a
claim up the gulch that's bringing him in millions--or going to," she
added mischievously. The men looked Talbot up and down curiously. Even
in his rough miner's clothes, he looked a totally different figure from
themselves. Slim and tall and trim, with his well-cut head and figure,
with his long neck and refined quiet face, he was a type common enough
in Bond Street, London, or on Broadway, New York, but not so common in
the Klondike.

"Well, if that's so, pardner," slowly observed a thick-set, crop-haired
man, edging close up to him, "you won't mind standing a drink for us?"

"Delighted," returned Talbot, with a pleasant smile. "Give it a name."

The result of taking votes on this motion was the ordering of ten hot
whiskies and two hot rums, the latter for himself and Katrine. Talbot
never drank spirits at all, and the terrible concoctions of the cheap
saloons were an abomination to him. He took his glass, however, to show
his friendliness, had it filled nearly to the brim with water, and then
could hardly drink it. The fluid seared his throat like red-hot
knife-blades. Katrine took hers straight as it was handed across the
counter and tossed it down her throat at one gulp, seeming to enjoy it.

"Well, Jim," she said to the young miner next her, "what luck have you
had lately?"

"None," he replied gloomily. "Since I left the old place, I've lost all
along in the 'Sally White.'"

Talbot thought they were speaking of