"Furs for sale; snow-shoes, moccasins, furs, velly damn fine!" An Indian trader coming by recognized the girl, and accosted her. "Hello, Gelly! Shake!"
The girl complied good-naturedly. "Hello, Chilkat Jo!"
"Gelly, I love you!" stated Jo, in unimpassioned monotone. "Love you like hell-you-betyerlife! Say, Gelly, you mally me?"
"Say, Jo, that's a proposal, even if you ain't nothin' but a Siwash!"
"Me no Siwash!" Chilkat Jo drew himself up. "Me chew, swear, gamble, dlink like hell, plenty wives, all same as Clistian white man!"
"My, but you do give us a character," laughed the girl, "and I guess we've earned it all right, all right! But, no, Jo! I ain't sunk so low I'd marry you without I cared fer yer! Thar's only one man in the world fer me!" With a sigh she looked over at Dandy Raish, who, leaning against a Douglas spruce, was dressing his waxed mustache by the aid of a pocket looking-glass.
The Indian took his rejection with outward stoicism. "That's all light. Some day I kill him, cally you off, beat you, smash yer face, make you goddam' bad husband, all same as Clistian white man!" Then off he stalked, crying: "Furs for sale. Moccasins. Hair dye! Sacled images! Velly dam good sacled images!"
Gelly rose and timidly approached the object of her affections. "Raish! Dear Dandy, won't you speak to me?"
"Gelly!" The man turned on her with an oath. "Taggin' on as usual!"
"Raish, pop's turned me out, along of you, and I don't know whar ter go!"