wn."

"And the gamble is, which jam will break first," Sutherland added.

"Exactly," the Kid affirmed. "If the upper jam breaks first, we haven't
a chance. Nothing will stand before it."

The Minook men turned away in silence, but soon "Rumsky Ho" floated upon
the quiet air, followed by "The Orange and the Black." Room was made in
the circle for Montana Kid and the policeman, and they quickly caught the
ringing rhythm of the choruses as they drifted on from song to song.

"Oh, Donald, will ye no lend a hand?" Davy sobbed at the foot of the tree
into which his comrade had climbed. "Oh, Donald, man, will ye no lend a
hand?" he sobbed again, his hands bleeding from vain attempts to scale
the slippery trunk.

But Donald had fixed his gaze up river, and now his voice rang out,
vibrant with fear:--

"God Almichty, here she comes!"

Standing knee-deep in the icy water, the Minook men, with Montana Kid and
the policeman, gripped hands and raised their voices in the terrible,
"Battle Hymn of the Republic." But the words were drowned in the
advancing roar.

And to Donald was vouchsafed a sight such as no man may see and live. A
great wall of white flung itself upon the island. Trees, dogs, men, were
blotted out, as though the hand of God had wiped the face of nature
clean. This much he saw, then swayed an instant longer in his lofty
perch and hurtled far out into the frozen hell.

THE SCORN OF WOMEN

I

Once Freda and Mrs. Eppingwell clashed.

Now Freda was a Greek girl and a dancer. At least she purported to be
Greek; but this was doubted by many, for her classic face had overmuch
strength in it, and the tides of hell which rose in her eyes made at rare
moments her ethnology the more dubious. To a few--men--this sight had
been vouchsafed, and though long years may have passed, they have not
forgotten, nor will they ever forget. She never talked of herself, so
that it were well to let it go down that when in repose, expurgated,
Greek she certainly was. Her furs were the most magnificent in all the
country from Chilcoot to St. Michael's, and her name was common on the
lips of men. But Mrs. Eppingwell was the wife of a captain; also a
social constellation of the first magnitude, the path of her orbit
marking the most select coterie in Dawson,--a coterie captioned by the
profane as the "official clique." Sitka Charley had travelled trail with
her once, when famine drew tight and a man's life