' 'But facts is facts, an' they ain't no
gettin' round 'em. It ain't in the nature of things for the water
furtherest away from the air to freeze first.' 'But me own eyes-'
'Don't git het up over it,' admonished Bettles, as the quick
Celtic anger began to mount.
'Then yer not after belavin' me?' 'Sence you're so blamed
forehanded about it, no; I'd b'lieve nature first, and facts.'
'Is it the lie ye'd be givin' me?' threatened Lon. 'Ye'd better
be askin' that Siwash wife of yours. I'll lave it to her, for the
truth I spake.' Bettles flared up in sudden wrath. The Irishman
had unwittingly wounded him; for his wife was the half-breed
daughter of a Russian fur-trader, married to him in the Greek
Mission of Nulato, a thousand miles or so down the Yukon, thus
being of much higher caste than the common Siwash, or native,
wife. It was a mere Northland nuance, which none but the
Northland adventurer may understand.
'I reckon you kin take it that way,' was his deliberate
affirmation.
The next instant Lon McFane had stretched him on the floor, the
circle was broken up, and half a dozen men had stepped between.
Bettles came to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth.
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