“Yes.  That’s just the kind of man that gets taken in.”

“What?” said the Boy brusquely.

“Just the sort that goes and marries some flighty creature.”

“Well,” said his pardner haughtily, “he could afford to marry ’a flighty creature.’  The Colonel’s got both feet on the ground.”  And Keith felt properly snubbed.  But what Maudie was saying to the Colonel was: 

“You’re goin’ up in the first boat, I s’pose?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like I’ll be the only person left in Minook.”

“I don’t imagine you’ll be quite alone.”

“No?  Why, there’s only between five and six hundred expectin’ to board a boat that’ll be crowded before she gets here.”

“Does everybody want to go to Dawson?”

“Everybody except a few boomers who mean to stay long enough to play off their misery on someone else before they move on.”

The Colonel looked a trifle anxious.

“I hadn’t thought of that.  I suppose there will be a race for the boat.”

“There’ll be a race all the way up the river for all the early boats.  Ain’t half enough to carry the people.  But you look to me like you’ll stand as good a chance as most, and anyhow, you’re the one man I know, I’ll trust my dough to.”

The Colonel stared.

“You see, I want to get some money to my kiddie, an’ besides, I got m’self kind o’ scared about keepin’ dust in my cabin.  I want it in a bank, so’s if I should kick the bucket (there’ll be some pretty high rollin’ here when there’s been a few boats in, and my life’s no better than any other feller’s), I’d feel a lot easier if I knew the kiddie’d have six thousand clear, even if I did turn up my toes.  See?”

“A—­yes—­I see.  But——­”

The door of the cabin next the saloon opened suddenly.  A graybeard with a young face came out rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  He stared interrogatively at the river, and then to the world in general: 

“What time is it?”

“Half-past four.”

“Mornin’ or evenin’?” and no one thought the question strange.

Maudie lowered her voice.

“No need to mention it to pardners and people.  You don’t want every feller to know you’re goin’ about loaded; but will you take my dust up to Dawson and get it sent to ’Frisco on the first boat?”

“The ice! the ice!  It’s moving!”

“The ice is going out!”

“Look! the ice!”

From end to end of the settlement the cry was taken up.  People darted out of cabins like beavers out of their burrows.  Three little half-breed Indian boys, yelling with excitement, tore past the Gold Nugget, crying now in their mother’s Minook, now in their father’s English, “The ice is going out!” From the depths of the store-box whereon his master had sat, Nig darted, howling excitedly and waving a muddy tail like a draggled banner, saying in Mahlemeut:  “The ice is going out!  The fish are coming in.”  All the other dogs waked and gave tongue, running in and out among the huddled rows of people gathered on the Ramparts.