He
shrank back, his arms lifted as though to ward off physical violence. So
utterly unnerved was he that the other paused in the mid-swing of a
gorgeous peroration and burst into thunderous laughter.
"The sun's knocked the bottom out o' the trail," said the Man with the
Gash, between departing paroxysms of mirth. "An' I only 'ope as you'll
appreciate the hoppertunity of consortin' with a man o' my mug. Get
steam up in that fire-box o' your'n. I'm goin' to unrig the dogs an'
grub 'em. An' don't be shy o' the wood, my lad; there's plenty more
where that come from, and it's you've got the time to sling an axe. An'
tote up a bucket o' water while you're about it. Lively! or I'll run you
down, so 'elp me!"
Such a thing was unheard of. Jacob Kent was making the fire, chopping
wood, packing water--doing menial tasks for a guest! When Jim Cardegee
left Dawson, it was with his head filled with the iniquities of this
roadside Shylock; and all along the trail his numerous victims had added
to the sum of his crimes. Now, Jim Cardegee, with the sailor's love for
a sailor's joke, had determined, when he pulled into the cabin, to bring
its inmate down a peg or so.
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