"I am a soldier."

"Wat for you come 'ere? Dere's nobody fightin' roun' dis place."

"The Lieutenant has been stationed here, foolish," said Necia. "Come
up to the store quick and tell me what it's like at Dawson." With a
farewell nod to Burrell, she went off with Doret, whose speech was
immediately released again.

In spite of the man's unfriendliness, Burrell watched him with
admiration. There were no heels to his tufted fur boots, and yet he
stood a good six feet two, as straight as a pine sapling, and it
needed no second glance to tell of what metal he was made. His
spirit showed in his whole body, in the set of his head, and, above
all, in his dark, warm face, which glowed with eagerness when he
talked, and that was ever--when he was 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.