Claw filled his glass and pushed the bottle toward the other and as Moosehide Charlie measured his liquor, out of the tail of his eye, Brent saw Claw pour something from a small vial into his own glass and return the vial swiftly to his pocket. The next moment he was talking earnestly to Moosehide who, as he listened, toyed with his glass, rubbing into patterns the few drops of liquor he had spilled upon the bar.
Cuter Malone had himself carried a tray of drinks to be served at one of the poker tables in the rear, and just at this moment, tray and glasses struck the floor with a loud crash. Moosehide Charlie turned quickly at the sound, and as he did so Brent saw Johnnie Claw deftly switch the glasses upon the bar. Malone returned, grumbling at his clumsiness, for another tray of drinks, and Claw raised his glass. "I guess we kin deal, all right. Le's drink, an' then we'll slip into the back room there an' figger it out."
As Moosehide picked up the glass before him, Brent reached out swiftly and took it from his fingers. He looked into it for a second and tossed its contents onto the floor. "Better fill her up again," he said, "There was a fly in it." A fly on the Yukon, with the rivers still frozen, and the sodden snow three feet deep on the ground!
Moosehide stared, and before Brent could move, Cuter Malone had floored him with a blow from a heavy bottle. The truth flashed upon Moosehide Charlie. One blow of his fist settled Claw, while with his other hand he reached across the bar and jerked a gun from the hand of Cuter Malone. The poker players rose from their chairs and started for the bar, but Moosehide motioned them back with the gun. "Jest go on with yer game, boys," he said meaningly. "Don't mind me." And as they settled into their places he stepped around the bar, keeping Malone covered. Kitty, who had been chatting with the girls on the opposite side of the room, darted across the floor and brushing past Moosehide, knelt beside Brent. "Jest raise up his head, girl, an' throw some water in his face," ordered Moosehide, "An' pour a little licker down his throat. If he can't swaller it, it'll make him gag an' bring him to." Then he turned to Malone: "An' you, you damn crook! You git busy an' weigh out what's comin' to him. An' weigh it damn quick—an' weigh it right. 'Cause if it ain't right, I'm a-comin' back here with about forty or ninety of my friends an' I'm tellin' it to you, we'll gut this damn joint—an' you along with it!"
Brent only partially revived under the water and choking whiskey, and between them they managed to get him out the door and onto Moosehide's sled. Then they hauled him to his cabin and put him to bed, where he lay for two weeks, delirious with
fever, while Kitty stayed day and night at his side and nursed him. Another week passed, during which the girl came daily and cooked his meals, and made him get up for a little while each day while she aired and rearranged his blankets. At length came a day when he rose and dressed himself and stayed up till evening.
"You won't be needing me any more," said the girl, simply, as she stood in the doorway late in the afternoon. She pointed to two small buckskin sacks which she had laid upon the table. "There's your pay that was coming to you from Cuter Malone, and a sack that Moosehide Charlie left for you."
"Moosehide Charlie? He don't owe me anything."
"Says he owes you a whole lot, and he wanted me to give you that. He's gone off on a trip up Indian River."
Brent picked up the sack, which was a dozen times the weight of the other, and extended it toward the girl: "Give this back to him," he said shortly. "I don't need it."