p, where a fire was already burning. What was the good of building
another? He threw Mr. Indian over his shoulder--and ran with him--half a
mile--with the thermometer at seventy-five below. You know what that
means. Suicide. There's no other name for it. Why, that buck Indian
weighed over two hundred himself, and Dave ran half a mile with him. Of
course he froze his lungs. Must have frozen them near solid. It was a
tomfool trick for any man to do. And anyway, after lingering horribly
for several weeks, Dave Walsh died.

"The Indian didn't know what to do with the corpse. Ordinarily he'd have
buried him and let it go at that. But he knew that Dave Walsh was a big
man, worth lots of money, a _hi-yu skookum_ chief. Likewise he'd seen
the bodies of other _hi-yu skookums_ carted around the country like they
were worth something. So he decided to take Dave's body to Forty Mile,
which was Dave's headquarters. You know how the ice is on the grass
roots in this country--well, the Indian planted Dave under a foot of
soil--in short, he put Dave on ice. Dave could have stayed there a
thousand years and still been the same old Dave. You understand--just
the same as a refrigerator. Then the Indian brings over a whipsaw from
the cabin at Surprise Lake and makes lumber enough for the box. Also,
waiting for the thaw, he goes out and shoots about ten thousand pounds of
moose. This he keeps on ice, too. Came the thaw. The Teelee broke. He
built a raft and loaded it with the meat, the big box with Dave inside,
and Dave's team of dogs, and away they went down the Teelee.

"The raft got caught on a timber jam and hung up two days. It was
scorching hot weather, and Mr. Indian nearly lost his moose meat. So
when he got to Teelee Portage he figured a steamboat would get to Forty
Mile quicker than his raft. He transferred his cargo, and there you are,
fore-lower deck of the _Golden Rocket_, Flush of Gold being married, and
Dave Walsh in his big box casting the shade for her. And there's one
thing I clean forgot. No wonder I thought the husky dog that came aboard
at Teelee Portage was familiar. It was Pee-lat, Dave Walsh's lead-dog
and favourite--a terrible fighter, too. He was lying down beside the
box.

"Flush of Gold caught sight of me, called me over, shook hands with me,
and introduced me to the Count. She was beautiful. I was as mad for her
then as ever. She smiled into my eyes and said I must sign as one o