Patch was excited—on the alert. When, a little farther on, he heard dogs barking, it was hard to control him. It was their noise, I suppose, that gave notice of our arrival, for we soon descried two or three persons looking towards us, whilst a couple of fine huskies came bounding through the snow, looking anything but friendly. However, they withdrew as we marched on, and were called off as we got close. When we at last halted near the first shanty, one man sung out to us, "Welcome, friends! ye'll be frae Quigly Creek, I'll warrant. How goes it there?"
"WELCOME, FRIENDS."
Oh, the blessed sound! a friendly human voice—a Scotsman's voice!
"Nay," I answered; "I don't know where we're from exactly—up river somewhere: we've had a pretty hard time of it. What place is this?"
"This place," the kindly voice made answer; "indeed, we canna give it a name—it's just the banks o' the Klondyke river. But ye'll be prospecting, eh? Have ye had luck? We've had a wee bittie. But come—come in bye; ye'll be gled o' something hot, nae doot, and the mistress 'll soon get the kettle on the boil."
"Mistress! is there a woman here, then? Oh, that is grand! This lady here will be so glad of that," is about what I said.
"Ay, indeed, is there a woman! But who'd have thocht that one o' ye was ane," he laughed; and then shouted, "Hi, Maggie, lass, see here—here's a lady till ye;" but addressing us he went on, "But she isna fit tae' come out into this cold. Come ben the hoose; we'll soon mak' a' richt." With that he led us to the shanty, saying as he did so to the other men, "Let loose the dog, and see the others keep frae it. We'll hae to take these freends in, and see to them a while, nae doot."
We were delighted with all this friendliness. We entered the shanty; it seemed a palace to us. The door was thickly curtained inside; there was a rough wooden floor, an immense fire roaring in the chimney, a table, chairs, and standing expectant amongst them was a youngish, nice-looking woman, beaming with good-nature.