“You damn chechako,” was what he said, but in the saying of it was admiration. “I don't know how you done it, but you did.”
Outside, the great crowd was noisily massed, while the office was packing and jamming. Smoke and Big Olaf essayed to rise, and each helped the other to his feet. Smoke found his legs weak under him, and staggered drunkenly. Big Olaf tottered toward him.
“I'm sorry my dogs jumped yours.”
“It couldn't be helped,” Smoke panted back. “I heard you yell.”
“Say,” Big Olaf went on with shining eyes. “That girl—one damn fine girl, eh?”
“One damn fine girl,” Smoke agreed.
VII. THE LITTLE MAN
“I wisht you wasn't so set in your ways,” Shorty demurred. “I'm sure scairt of that glacier. No man ought to tackle it by his lonely.”
Smoke laughed cheerfully, and ran his eye up the glistening face of the tiny glacier that filled the head of the valley. “Here it is August already, and the days have been getting shorter for two months,” he epitomized the situation. “You know quartz, and I don't. But I can bring up the grub, while you keep after that mother lode. So-long. I'll be back by to-morrow evening.”