“The raft got caught on a timber jam and hung up twodays. It was scorching hot weather， and Mr. Indian nearlylost his moose meat. So when he got to Teelee Portage hefigured a steamboat would get to Forty Mile quicker thanhis raft. He transferred his cargo， and there you are， forelowerdeck of the Golden Rocket， Flush of Gold beingmarried， and Dave Walsh in his big box casting the shadefor her. And there’s one thing I clean forgot. No wonderI thought the husky dog that came aboard at TeeleePortage was familiar. It was Pee-lat， Dave Walsh’s lead-dogand favourite—a terrible fighter， too. He was lying downbeside the box.
“Flush of Gold caught sight of me， called me over，shook hands with me， and introduced me to the Count.
She was beautiful. I was as mad for her then as ever. Shesmiled into my eyes and said I must sign as one of thewitnesses. And there was no refusing her. She was evera child， cruel as children are cruel. Also， she told me shewas in possession of the only two bottles of champagne inDawson—or that had been in Dawson the night before；and before I knew it I was scheduled to drink her and theCount’s health. Everybody crowded round， the captainof the steamboat， very prominent， trying to ring in onthe wine， I guess. It was a funny wedding. On the upperdeck the hospital wrecks， with various feet in the grave，gathered and looked down to see. There were Indians alljammed in the circle， too， big bucks， and their squaws andkids， to say nothing of about twenty-five snarling wolfdogs.
The missionary lined the two of them up and startedin with the service. And just then a dog-fight started， highup on the pile of freight—Pee-lat lying beside the big box，and a white-haired brute belonging to one of the Indians.
The fight wasn’t explosive at all. The brutes just snarled ateach other from a distance—tapping at each other longdistance，you know， saying dast and dassent， dast anddassent. The noise was rather disturbing， but you couldhear the missionary’s voice above it.
“There was no particularly easy way of getting at the twodogs， except from the other side of the pile. But nobodywas on that side—everybody watching the ceremony， yousee. Even then everything might have been all right if thecaptain hadn’t thrown a club at the dogs. That was whatprecipitated everything. As I say， if the captain hadn’tthrown that club， nothing might have happened.
“The missionary had just reached the point where hewas saying ‘In sickness and in health，’ and ‘Till death us dopart.’ And just then the captain threw the club. I saw thewhole thing. It landed on Pee-lat， and at that instant thewhite brute jumped him. The club caused it. Their twobodies struck the box， and it began to slide， its lower endtilting down. It was a long oblong box， and it slid downslowly until it reached the perpendicular， when it camedown on the run. The onlookers on that side the circlehad time to get out from under. Flush of Gold and theCount， on the opposite side of the circle， were facing thebox； the missionary had his back to it. The box must havefallen ten feet straight up and down， and it hit end on.
“Now mind you， not one of us knew that Dave Walshwas dead. We thought he was on the Glendale， bound forDawson. The missionary had edged off to one side， and soFlush of Gold faced the box when it struck. It was like ina play. It couldn’t have been better planned. It struck onend， and on the right end； the whole front of the box cameoff； and out swept Dave Walsh on his feet， partly wrappedin a blanket， his yellow hair flying and showing bright inthe sun. Right out of the box， on his feet， he swept uponFlush of Gold. She didn’t know he was dead， but it wasunmistakable， after hanging up two days on a timber jam，that he was rising all right from the dead to claim her.
Possibly that is what she thought. At any rate， the sightfroze her. She couldn’t move. She just sort of wilted andwatched Dave Walsh coming for her！ And he got her. Itlooked almost as though he threw his arms around her，but whether or not this happened， down to the deck theywent together. We had to drag Dave Walsh’s body clearbefore we could get hold of her. She was in a faint， but itwould have been just as well if she had never come out ofthat faint； for when she did， she fell to screaming the wayinsane people do. She kept it up for hours， till she wasexhausted. Oh， yes， she recovered. You saw her last night，and know how much recovered she is. She is not violent，it is true， but she lives in darkness. She believes that she iswaiting for Dave Walsh， and so she waits in the cabin hebuilt for her. She is no longer fickle. It is nine years nowthat she has been faithful to Dave Walsh， and the outlookis that she’ll be faithful to him to the end.”
Lon McFane pulled down the top of the blankets andprepared to crawl in.
“We have her grub hauled to her each year，” he added，“and in general keep an eye on her. Last night was the firsttime she ever recognized me， though.”
“Who are the we？” I asked.
“Oh，” was the answer， “the Count and old VictorChauvet and me. Do you know， I think the Count is theone to be really sorry for. Dave Walsh never did knowthat she was false to him. And she does not suffer. Herdarkness is merciful to her.”
I lay silently under the blankets for the space of aminute.
“Is the Count still in the country？” I asked.
But there was a gentle sound of heavy breathing， and Iknew Lon McFane was asleep.