After supper Claw returned and seated himself by the fire: "What you doin' over on this side," he asked, "You hain't honest to God prospectin' be you?"
"Sure I am. Everything is staked over there, and I've got to make another strike."
"They ain't no gold on this side," opined Claw.
"Who says so?"
"Me. An' I'd ort to know if anyone does. I've be'n around here goin' on twenty year, an' I spend as much time on this side as I do on t'other." Brent remembered he had heard of Claw's long journeys
to the eastward—men said he went clear to the coast of the Arctic where he carried on nefarious barter with the whalers, trading Indian and Eskimo women for hooch, which he in turn traded to the Indians.
"Maybe you haven't spent much time hunting for gold," hazarded Brent.
"I'd tell a party I hain't! What's the use of huntin' fer gold where they hain't none? Over on this side a man c'n do better at somethin' else." He paused and leered knowingly at Brent.
"For instance?"
Claw laughed: "I hain't afraid to tell you what I do over here. They hain't but damn few I would tell, but I know you won't squeal. You hain't a-goin' to run to the Mounted an' spill all you know—some would—but not you. I'm peddling hooch—that's what I'm doin'. Got two sled-loads along that I brung through from Dawson. I thin it out with water an' it'll last till I git to the coast—clean over on Coronation Gulf, an' then I lay in a fresh batch from the whalers an' hit back fer Dawson. It used to be I could hit straight north from here an' connect up with the whalers near the mouth of the Mackenzie—but the Mounted got onto me, an' I had to quit. Well, it's about time to roll in." The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of liquor, "Glad you quit hooch," he grinned, "But, I don't s'pose you'd mind takin' a little drink with a friend—way out here it can't hurt you none, where