"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