“I'm not thinking what you are thinking at all, thank you,” she chided, with a laugh and a pout. “When I throw myself at your head you'll have to have more eyes and better ones than you have now to see me.”
“Men have died of heart disease at the sudden announcement of good fortune,” he murmured in the unveracious gladness of relief.
“Liar,” she retorted graciously. “You were more scared to death than anything else. Now take it from me, Mr. Smoke Bellew, I'm not going to make love to you, and if you dare to make love to me, Wild Water will take care of your case. You know HIM. Besides, I--I haven't really broken with him.”
“Go on with your puzzles,” he jeered. “Maybe I can start guessing what you're driving at after a while.”
“There's no guessing, Smoke. I'll give it to you straight. Wild Water thinks I've broken with him, don't you see.”
“I haven't--there! But it's between you and me in confidence. He thinks I have. I made a noise like breaking with him, and he deserved it, too.”
“Where do I come in, stalking-horse or fall-guy?”
“Neither. You make a pot of money, we put across the laugh on Wild Water and cheer Dawson up, and, best of all, and the reason for it all, he gets disciplined. He needs it. He's--well, the best way to put it is, he's too turbulent. Just because he's a big husky, because he owns more rich claims than he can keep count of--”
“And because he's engaged to the prettiest little woman in Alaska,” Smoke interpolated.
“Yes, and because of that, too, thank you, is no reason for him to get riotous. He broke out last night again. Sowed the floor of the M. & M. with gold-dust. All of a thousand dollars. Just opened his poke and scattered it under the feet of the dancers. You've heard of it, of course.”
“Yes; this morning. I'd like to be the sweeper in that establishment. But still I don't get you. Where do I come in?”
“Listen. He was too turbulent. I broke our engagement, and he's going around making a noise like a broken heart. Now we come to it. I like eggs.”
“They're off!” Smoke cried in despair. “Which way? Which way?”
“But what have eggs and appetite got to do with it?” he demanded.
“Then for Heaven's sake listen. I like eggs. There's only a limited supply of eggs in Dawson.”