I've been wondering myself what he is. Let's find
out.' 'Fire a couple of sticks into the stove!'
Malemute Kid commanded, raising his voice and looking squarely at
the man in question.
He obeyed at once.
'Had discipline knocked into him somewhere.' Prince commented in
a low tone.
Malemute Kid nodded, took off his socks, and picked his way among
recumbent men to the stove. There he hung his damp footgear among
a score or so of mates.
'When do you expect to get to Dawson?' he asked tentatively.
The man studied him a moment before replying. 'They say
seventy-five mile. So? Maybe two days.' The very slightest accent
was perceptible, while there was no awkward hesitancy or groping
for words.
'Been in the country before?' 'No.' 'Northwest Territory?' 'Yes.'
'Born there?' 'No.'
'Well, where the devil were you born? You're none of these.'
Malemute Kid swept his hand over the dog drivers, even including
the two policemen who had turned into Prince's bunk. 'Where did
you come from? I've seen faces like yours before, though I can't
remember just where.' 'I know you,' he irrelevantly replied, at
once turning the drift of Malemute Kid's questions.
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