“Ah—I see.”
“Will you—will you take me? I’ll work.”
He looked at her soft, exquisite face and figure, and grinned as he reflected that the work she could do was negligible; but the suggestion had its fascination. She was beautiful—and beautiful women were rare in the Klondyke. He opened the door of the shack and called “Tom!” Tom appeared in his shirt-sleeves—a big awry figure with a face like a chimpanzee.
“Got a grub-staker. What do you say?”
Tom’s face relaxed into a smirking smile as he also took a long survey of Angela.
“Canoe’s purty full up, but I dare say we can find room. Where’d ye want to go?”
“Anywhere out of this. Some place from where I can cable to England—for money.”
He looked at “Connie,” the sallow man, and nodded. The latter turned to Angela. 138
“We’re off in the morning. Is that your grip?”
“Yes.”