“She ain’t no chicken—she’s peaches. Gee—some stake that!”
Angela suddenly felt sick as the truth came to her. She saw now the meaning of those matches. They were not playing for money, but for her! She sprang to the window, but escape that way was impossible, for it was not more than a foot square. Her heart beat in terrible suspense. She realized her dreadful position—out here, a mile or more from the town, she was utterly at the mercy of these brutes. They considered her fair prey, as most women were considered in the Klondyke at that time. Pleading a husband would make no difference. A woman ought to know better than to leave her husband. Unwittingly she had placed herself in that position.
There was only one way out, and that way lay through the inner room. She resolved to take it. She took the small sack and approached the door. A look through the keyhole revealed them engrossed in the decisive “hand.” With heaving 141 bosom she turned the handle and walked swiftly through the door.
She was almost past the table before they recovered from their surprise. Then the chimpanzee man put out a huge arm and caught her by the wrist.
“’Ere, what’s this?”
“Let me go.”
He grinned maliciously.
“I should say. Why, I’ve jest won you!”
She struggled in vain in his iron grip.
“Git back to thet room!” he ordered, and flung her towards the door.