It was too cold to remain idle long.  Folsom’s damp body began to chill, so he spoke to his team and once more heaved upon the handle-bars.

Leaving the crest of the ridge behind, the dogs began to run; they soon brought up in a tangle at the road-house door.  When Harkness did not appear in answer to his name Folsom entered, to find his trail-mate at the bar, glass in hand.

“Put that down!” Folsom ordered, sharply.

Harkness did precisely that, then he turned, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.  He was a small, fox-faced man; with a grin he invited the new-comer to “have one.”

“Don’t you know better than to drink on a day like this?” the latter demanded.

“Don’t worry about me.  I was raised on ‘hootch,’” said Harkness.

“It’s bad medicine.”

“Bah!  I’ll travel further drunk than—­” Harkness measured his critic with an insolent eye—­“than some folks sober.”  He commenced to warm himself at the stove, whereupon the other cried, impatiently: 

“Come along.  We can’t stop at every cabin.”

But Harkness was in no hurry, he consumed considerable time.  When he finally followed Folsom out into the air the latter, being in a peculiarly irritable mood, warned him in a voice which shook with anger: 

“We’re going to start with an understanding.  If you take another drink during the daytime I’ll leave you flat.”

“Rats!  How you aim to get to the Kobuk without me?” asked Harkness.

“I’ll manage somehow.”

The smaller man shot a startled glance at the speaker, then his insolence vanished.  “All right, old top,” he said, easily.  “But don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.  Remember, I promised if you’d stick to me you’d wear gold-beaded moccasins.”  He set off at a trot, with the dogs following.

This fellow Harkness had come with the first snow into Nome, bearing news of a strike on the Kobuk, and despite his braggadocio he had made rather a good impression.  That luck which favors fools and fakers had guided him straight to Folsom.  He had appeared at a psychological moment in the latter’s affairs, two disastrous seasons having almost broken Folsom and rendered him eager to grasp at anything which promised quick returns; moreover, the latter had just had a serious quarrel with his wife.  Harkness had offered a half interest in his Kobuk claims for a grubstake and a working partner, and, smarting under the unaccustomed sting of domestic infelicity, the other had accepted, feeling sure in his own mind that Lois would not let him leave her when the time came to go.  But the time had come, and Lois had offered no objection.  She had acted strangely, to be sure, but she had made no effort to dissuade him.  It seemed as if the proposal to separate for the winter had offended rather than frightened her.  Well, that was the way with women; there was no pleasing them; when you tried to do the decent thing by them they pretended to misunderstand your motives.  If you paid them the compliment of utter confidence they abused it on the pretext that you didn’t love them; if you allowed your jealousy to show, they were offended at your lack of trust.