"He sure has the goods," agreed another.
"This will make a hole in his poke," said a third.
"If what he says is anything near right, this ain't a pinch of snuff," was the comment of a fourth.
The man dancing on the bar stood waving his bottle, looking at the crowd with a stupid stare, evidently awaiting inspiration, when a voice cried,
"Say! old cock, won't you let us have the news? We'll protect you in discovery."
"Oh, you North American Chinamen, called Canadians, do you know what I think of you? You English, you ain't no better than the others; do you all know what I think of you?"
"You've told us straight enough—there's lot's of colour in your bouquets; now tell us which way the new diggings is."
"There ain't no yellow-legs there."
Some one shouted, "There won't be any yellow-legs here after to-morrow," but the remark was lost in the general noise.
"It's in Alaskie—God's country," came a voice from the tumult.