This happens every night. The Indian dog makes it a point to stand around like a bump on a log and look stupid; when he has fooled you to that extent he will surprise you some day by a daring theft, for he is clever as a man and quick as an express train.
CHAPTER V.
THE AMERICAN CREEK DIGGINGS.
From Forty Mile we floated down the Yukon again, and in a day's journey camped at the mouth of Mission Creek, not then down on the map. It had received its name from miners who had come there prospecting. Several of them were encamped in tents, and they came over and silently watched our cooking, evidently sizing us up.
"When did you leave the Outside?" asked a blue-eyed, blonde, shaggy man. (The Outside means anywhere but Alaska—a man who has been long in the country falls into the idea of considering himself in a kind of a prison, and refers to the rest of the world as lying beyond the door of this.)
"In June," we replied.
"How did the Harvard-Yale football game come out last fall?" he inquired eagerly—it was now August, and nearly time for the next!
"Harvard was whipped, of course," we answered.