And here, dazzling in evening gown, he met Joy Gastell, whom
hitherto he had encountered only on trail, befurred and moccasined.
At dinner he found himself beside her.
"I feel like a fish out of water," he confessed. "All you folks are
so real grand you know. Besides I never dreamed such oriental
luxury existed in the Klondike. Look at Von Schroeder there. He's
actually got a dinner jacket, and Consadine's got a starched shirt.
I noticed he wore moccasins just the same. How do you like MY
outfit?"
He moved his shoulders about as if preening himself for Joy's
approval.
"It looks as if you'd grown stout since you came over the Pass," she
laughed.
"Wrong. Guess again."
"It's somebody else's."
"You win. I bought it for a price from one of the clerks at the A.
C. Company."
"It's a shame clerks are so narrow-shouldered," she sympathized.
"And you haven't told me what you think of MY outfit."
"I can't," he said. "I'm out of breath. I've been living on trail
too long. This sort of thing comes to me with a shock, you know.
I'd quite forgotten that women have arms and shoulders. To-morrow
morning, like my friend Shorty, I'll wake up and know it's all a
dream.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187