"None of that kind of talk, d'ye hear? You're welcome to whatever we've got, and don't yer forget it! Only there's been a good many bums along here lately, and we was getting tired of them."
After this they were pleasanter, although I could not help reflecting that I was actually a bum, as they put it, and mentally pitied the professional tramp, if his evil destiny should ever lead him into the Yukon country.
As it grew near nightfall I climbed out of the gulch, and, crossing the ridge, dropped down into Greenhorn Gulch, which, with its neighbor Tinhorn Gulch, form depressions parallel to Hog'em. There was only one claim working here, and on this the supply of water was so scarce that not much washing could be done. The people seemed like those of Hog'em Gulch, and took little notice of strangers. Having learned a new code of manners on Birch Creek, however, I walked into the cabin where one of the claim owners was getting supper. He was a short, powerful, fierce-eyed man, who never smiled, and spoke with an almost frenzied earnestness. He did not speak for some time, however, but glared suspiciously when I walked in. I looked at him without nodding, took off my pack and put it in the corner, sat down on a stool and fished my pipe out of my pocket. He glared until he was tired, and then said: "Hallo!"
"Hallo," I returned, and drawing up to the table, began working with my specimens and notebook. Looking up and finding him still regarding me, I continued: "How's the claim turning out?"
"Pretty fair!" he growled. "What in h—l are you reportin' for?" "Uncle Sam," I replied. He was from the moonshine district of Tennessee, and this was no recommendation to him, so he kept his eye on me. Presently his "pardner" came in and looked at me inquiringly. I spoke to him quite warmly, as if I was welcoming him to the cabin. Soon supper was ready, and the fierce-eyed moonshiner looked at me four or five times, then said, beckoning me to the table: "Set up."
After supper the two men crawled into their bunks; I spread my blankets on the floor. The Tennessee man poked his head out.
"Goin' to sleep on the floor?" he asked.
"Yes," answered I. He crawled out and pulled a caribou hide from the rafters above.
"Lay on that," he said.
When I thanked him, he looked at me suspiciously.