For
my pairt I conseeder it ay rash. Bide a wee till the river's clear,
say I."
"It's no go, Tommy," Jacob Welse admonished. "You can't cash excuses
here."
"But, mon! It doesna need discreemeenation--"
"That'll do!" from Corliss. "You're coming."
"I'll naething o' the sort. I'll--"
"Shut up!" Del had come into the world with lungs of leather and
larynx of brass, and when he thus jerked out the stops the Scotsman
quailed and shrank down.
"Oyez! Oyez!" In contrast to Del's siren tones, Frona's were purest
silver as they rippled down-island through the trees. "Oyez! Oyez!
Open water! Open water! And wait a minute. I'll be with you."
Three miles up-stream, where the Yukon curved grandly in from the west,
a bit of water appeared. It seemed too marvellous for belief, after
the granite winter; but McPherson, untouched of imagination, began a
crafty retreat.
"Bide a wee, bide a wee," he protested, when collared by the
pocket-miner. "A've forgot my pipe."
"Then you'll bide with us, Tommy," Del sneered. "And I'd let you have
a draw of mine if your own wasn't sticking out of your pocket."
"'Twas the baccy I'd in mind."
"Then dig into this." He shoved his pouch into McPherson's shaking
hands. "You'd better shed your coat. Here! I'll help you. And
private, Tommy, if you don't act the man, I won't do a thing to you.
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