In taking charge of a sick girl, a helpless, hopeless stranger, ’Poleon Doret had assumed a responsibility far greater than he had anticipated, and that responsibility had grown heavier every day.  Having, at last, successfully discharged it, he breathed freely, his first relaxation in a long time; he rejoiced in the consciousness of a difficult duty well performed.  So far as he could see there was nothing at all extraordinary, nothing in the least improper, about Rouletta’s engagement at the Rialto.  Any suggestion of impropriety, in fact, would have greatly surprised him, for saloons and gambling-halls filled a recognized place in the every-day social life of the Northland.  Customs were free, standards were liberal in the early days; no one, ’Poleon least of all, would have dreamed that they were destined to change in a night.  Had he been told that soon the country would be dry, and gambling-games and dance-halls be prohibited by law, he would have considered the idea too utterly fantastic for belief; the mere contemplation of such a dreary prospect would have proved extremely dispiriting.  He—­and the other pioneers of his kind—­ would have been tempted immediately to pack up and move on to some freer locality where a man could retain his personal liberty and pursue his happiness in a manner as noisy, as intemperate, and as undignified as suited his individual taste.

In justice to the saloons, be it said, they were more than mere drinking-places; they were the pivots about which revolved the business life of the North country.  They were meeting-places, social centers, marts of trade; looked upon as evidences of enterprise and general prosperity, they were considered desirable assets to any community.  Everybody patronized them; the men who ran them were, on the whole, as reputable as the men engaged in other pursuits.  No particular stigma attached either to the places themselves or to the people connected with them.

These gold-camps had a very simple code.  Work of any sort was praiseworthy and honorable, idleness or unproductivity was reprehensible.  Mining, storekeeping, liquor-selling, gambling, steamboating, all were occupations which men followed as necessity or convenience prompted.  A citizen gained repute by the manner in which he deported himself, not by reason of the nature of the commodity in which he dealt.  Such, at least, was the attitude of the “old-timers.”

Rouletta’s instant success, the fact that she had fallen among friends, delighted a woodsman like ’Poleon, and, now that he was his own master again, he straightway surrendered himself to the selfish enjoyment of his surroundings.  His nature and his training prescribed the limits of those pleasures; they were quite as simple as his everyday habits of life; he danced, he gambled, and he drank.

To-night he did all three, in the reverse order.  To him Dawson was a dream city; its lights were dazzling, its music heavenly, its games of chance enticing, and its liquor was the finest, the smoothest, the most inspiriting his tongue had ever tested.  Old friends were everywhere, and new ones, too, for that matter.  Among them were alluring women who smiled and sparkled.  Each place ’Poleon entered was the home of carnival.