inside." The speaker's voice was high-pitched and it carried like
a "thirtythirty." "You see him walk in, you open the door, and--
you double your money. Awfully simple! Simpully awful! What? As I
live! The gentleman wins ten more--ten silver-tongued song-birds,
ten messengers of mirth--the price of a hard day's toil. Take it,
sir, and may it make a better and a stronger man of you. Times are
good and I spend my money free. I made it packin' grub to
Linderman, four bits a pound, but--easy come, easy go. Now then,
who's next? You've seen me work. I couldn't baffle a sore-eyed
Siwash with snow-glasses."

Lucky Broad's three-legged table stood among some stumps beside
the muddy roadway which did service as the main street of Dyea and
along which flowed an irregular stream of pedestrians; incidental
to his practised manipulation of the polished walnut-shells he
maintained an unceasing chatter of the sort above set down. Now
his voice was loud and challenging, now it was apologetic, always
it stimulated curiosity. One moment he was jubilant and gay, again
he was contrite and querulous. Occasionally he burst forth into
plaintive self-denunciations.

Fixing a hypnotic gaze upon a bland, blue-eyed bystander who had
just joined the charmed circle, he murmured, invitingly: "Better
try your luck, Olaf. It's Danish dice--three chances to win and
one to lose."

The object of his address shook his head. "Aye ant Danish, Aye ban
Norvegen," said he.

"Danish dice or Norwegian poker, they're both the same. I'll deal