s not singing.

"I never see so many people since I lef Quebec," he was saying. "She's
jus' lak' beeg city--mus' be t'ree, four t'ousan' people. Every day
some more dey come, an' all night dey dance an' sing an' drink w'iskee.
Ba gosh, dat's fine place!"

"Are there lots of white women?" asked the girl.

"Yes, two, t'ree hondred. Mos' of dem is work in dance-halls. Dere's
one fine gal I see, name' Marie Bourgette. I tell you 'bout her
by-an'-by."

"Oh, Poleon, you're in love!" cried Necia.

"No, siree!" he denied. "Dere's none of dem gal look half so purty lak'
you." He would have said more, but spying the trader at the entrance of
the store, he went to him, straightway launching into the details of
their commercial enterprise, which, happily, had been most successful.
Before they could finish, the crowd from the boat began to drift in,
some of them buying drinks at the bar and others making purchases of
tobacco and so forth, but for the main part merely idling about
curiously.

Among the merchandise of the Post there were for sale a scanty
assortment of fire-arms, cheap shot-guns, and a Winchester or two,
displayed in a rack behind the counter in a manner to attract the eye
of such native hunters as might need them, and with the rest hung a
pair of Colt's revolvers. One of the new arrivals, who had separated
from the others at the front, now called to Gale:

"Are those Colts for sale? Mine was stolen the other day." Evidently he
was accustomed to Yukon prices, for he showed no surprise at the figure
the trader named, but took the guns and tested each of them, whereupon
the old man knew that here was no "Cheechako," as tenderfeet are known
in the North, although the man's garb had deceived him at first glance.
The stranger balanced the weapons, one in either hand, then he did the
"double roll" neatly, following which he executed a move that Gale had
not witnessed for many years. He extended one of the guns, butt
foremost, as if surrendering it, the action being free and open, save
for the fact that his forefinger was crooked and thrust through the
trigger-guard; then, with the slightest jerk of the wrist, the gun spun
about, the handle jumped into his palm, and instantly there was a click
as his thumb flipped the hammer. It was the old "road-agent spin,"
which Gale as a boy had practised hours at a time; but that this man
was in earnest he showed by glancing upward sharply when the trader
laughed.

"This one