He collapsed suddenly from his kneeling posture and half lay on the rough floor within the stove's circle of warmth.
"What do you want to know?" he asked doggedly.
"Are you prepared to speak plainly and truthfully? No lies, remember!"
"Yes, that is–"
"No parleying," roared Britton. "I want some sleep for the trail to-morrow. You have to tell all I want to know in five minutes or not at all. Ready?" His words dropped bullet-like.
"Go on," Morris cried, with an assumption of recklessness; "d–d if I care. And hell take the other fellow. It's a case of life or death. Open up, Britton!"
"When'd you come?"
"By boat last summer to Dyea and thence to Dawson."
"Wife with you?" Britton's teeth ground over the sentence.
"Yes," was the sneering answer.