"That's what makes it so funny. You see, I haven't any more. That
was my last dollar. Well, it serves me right. Now I can start from
scratch and win on my own speed."

The dark-browed man studied Phillips curiously. "You're certain'y
game," he announced. "I s'pose now you'll be wanting to sell some
of your outfit. That's why I've been hanging around that game.
I've picked up quite a bit of stuff that way, but I'm still short
a few things and I'll buy--"

"I haven't a pound of grub. I came up second-class."

"Huh! Then you'll go back steerage."

"Oh no, I won't! I'm going on to Dawson." There was a momentary
silence. "You say you've been here a week? Put me up for the
night--until I get a job. Will you?"

The black-eyed man hesitated, then he grinned. "You've got your
nerve, but--I'm blamed if I don't like it," said he. "My brother
Jim is cooking supper now. Suppose we go over to the tent and ask
him."




CHAPTER II