SCORN OF WOMEN

ACT I Alaska Commercial Company's Store at Dawson

ACT II Anteroom of Pioneer Hall

ACT III Freda Moloof's Cabin

Time of play, 1897, Dawson, Northwest Territory. It occurs in thirteen hours.

Freda Moloof............A dancer.

Floyd Vanderlip.........An Eldorado king.

Loraine Lisznayi........A Hungarian.

Captain Eppingwell......United States government agent.

Mrs. Eppingwell.........His wife.

Flossie.................Engaged to marry Floyd Vanderlip

Sitka Charley...........An Indian dog-driver.

Dave Harney.............An Eldorado king.

Prince..................A mining engineer.

Mrs. McFee..............Whose business is morals.

Minnie..................Maid to Freda Moloof.

Dog-punchers, couriers, miners, Indians, mounted police, clerks, etc.

FREDA MOLOOF. A Greek girl and a dancer. Speaks perfect English, but withal has that slight, indefinable foreign touch of accent. Good figure, willowy, yet not too slender. Of indeterminate age, possibly no more than twenty-five. Her furs the most magnificent in all the Yukon country from Chilcoot to St. Michael's, her name common on the lips of men.

FLOYD VANDERLIP. An Eldorado king, worth a couple of millions. Simple, elemental, almost childish in his emotions. But a brave man, and masculine; a man who has done a man's work in the world. Has caressed more shovel-handles than women's hands. Big-muscled, big-bodied, ingenuous-faced; the sort of a man whom women of the right sort can tie into knots.

LORAINE LISZNAYI. A Hungarian, reputed to be wealthy, and to be travelling in the Klondike for pleasure and love of adventure. Past the flush of youth, and with fair success feigning youth. In the first stages of putting flesh upon her erstwhile plumpness. Dark-eyed, a flashing, dazzling brunette, with a cosmopolitan reputation earned in a day when she posed in the studios of artist-queens and received at her door the cards of cardinals and princes.

CAPTAIN EPPINGWELL. Special agent for the United States government.

MRS. EPPINGWELL. His wife. Twenty-five to twenty-eight years of age. Of the cold order of women, possessing sanity, and restraint, and control. Brown hair, demi-blond type, oval-faced, with cameo-like features. The kind of a woman who is not painfully good, but who acts upon principle and who knows always just what she is doing.

FLOSSIE. Eighteen or nineteen years of age. Of the soft and clinging kind, with pretty, pouting lips, blow-away hair, and eyes full of the merry shallows of life. Engaged to marry Floyd Vanderlip.

PRINCE. A young mining engineer. A good fellow, a man's man.

MRS. MCFEE. Near to forty, Scotch accent, sharp-featured, and unbeautiful, with an eager nose that leads her into the affairs of others. So painfully good that it hurts.

SITKA CHARLEY. An Indian dog-puncher, who has come into the warm and sat by the fires of the white man until he is somewhat as one of them. Should not be much shorter than Vanderlip and Captain Eppingwell.

DAVE HARNEY. An Eldorado king, also a Yankee, with a fondness for sugar and a faculty for sharp dealing. Is tall, lean, loose-jointed. Walks with a shambling gait. Speaks slowly, with a drawl.

MINNIE. (Maid to Freda.) A cool, impassive young woman.

POLICEMAN. A young fellow, with small blond mustache. An Englishman, brave, cool, but easily embarrassed. Though he says "Sorry" frequently, he is never for an instant afraid.

ACT I—ALASKA COMPANY'S STORE AT DAWSON

ACT II—ANTEROOM OF PIONEER HALL

ACT III—FREDA MOLOOF'S CABIN

Scene. Alaska Commercial Company's store at Dawson. It is eleven o'clock of a cold winter morning. In front, on the left, a very large wood-burning stove. Beside the stove is a woodbox filled with firewood. Farther back, on left, a door with sign on it, "Private." On right, door, a street entrance; alongside are wisp-brooms for brushing snow from moccasins. In the background a long counter running full length of room with just space at either end for ingress or egress. Large gold-scales rest upon counter. Behind counter equally long rows of shelves, broken in two places by ordinary small-paned house-windows. Windows are source of a dim, gray light. Doors, window-frames, and sashes are of rough, unstained pine boards. Shelves practically empty, with here and there upon them an article of hardware (such as pots, pans, and tea-kettles), or of dry-goods (such as pasteboard boxes and bolts of cloth). The walls of the store are of logs stuffed between with brown moss. On counter, furs, moccasins, mittens, and blankets, piled up or spread out for inspection. In front of counter many snow-shoes, picks, shovels, axes, gold-pans, axe-handles, and oblong sheet-iron Yukon stoves. The feature most notable is the absence of foodstuffs in any considerable quantity. On shelves a few tins of mushrooms, a few bottles of olives.

About the stove, backs to the stove and hands behind their backs, clad in mackinaw suits, mittens dangling from around their necks at ends of leather thongs, ear-flaps of fur caps raised, are several miners. Prince stands by stove An Indian is replenishing the fire with great chunks of wood. Mounted police pass in and out. Sitka Charley is examining snow-shoes, bending and testing them. Behind the counter are several clerks, one of whom is waiting upon a bearded miner near end of counter to right.

(Pathetically.) No flour?

(Shakes head.)

(Increased pathos.)

No beans?

(Shakes head as before.)

(Supreme pathos.)

No sugar?

(Coming from behind counter and approaching stove, visibly irritated, shaking his head violently; midway he encounters Miner, who retreats backward before him.)

No! No! No! I tell you no! No flour, no beans, no sugar, nothing!

(Warms his hands over stove and glares ferociously at Miner.)

(Dave Harney enters from right, brushes snow from moccasins, and walks across to stove. He is tall and lean, has a loose-jointed, shambling gait, and listens interestedly to Clerk and Miner. He evinces a desire to speak, but his mustached mouth is so iced-up that he cannot open it. He bends over stove to thaw the ice.)

(To Clerk, with growing anger.)

It's all very well for your playing the high an' lofty, you sneakin' little counter-jumper. But we all know what your damned Company is up to. You're holdin' grub for a rise, that's what you're doin'. Famine prices is your game.

Look at the shelves, man! Look at them!

How about the warehouses, eh? Stacked to the roof with grub!

They're not.

I suppose you'll say they're empty.

They're not. But what little grub's in them belongs to the sour-doughs who filed their orders last spring and summer before ever you thought of coming into the country. And even the sourdoughs are scaled down, cut clean in half. Now shut up. I don't want to hear any more from you. You newcomers needn't think you're going to run this country, because you ain't.

(Turning his hack on Miner.)

Damned cheechawker!

(Breaking down and showing fear, not of Clerk, but of famine.)

But good heavens, man, what am I to do? I haven't fifty pounds of flour for the whole winter.

I can pay for my grub if you'll sell it to me. You can't leave me starve!

(Tearing the last chunk oj ice from mustache and sending it rattling to the floor. He speaks with a drawl.)

Aw, you tenderfeet make me tired. I never seen the beat of you critters. Better men than you have starved in this country, an' they didn't make no bones about it neither—they was all bones I calkilate. What do you think this is? A Sunday picnic? Jes' come in, eh? An' you're clean scairt. Look at me—old-timer, sir, a sour-dough, an' proud of it! I come into this country before there was any blamed Company, fished for my breakfast, an' hunted my supper. An' when the fish didn't bite an' they wa'n't any game, jes' cinched my belt tighter an' hiked along, livin' on salmon-bellies and rabbit tracks an' eatin' my moccasins.

(Jubilantly.)

Oh, I tell you this is the country that'll take the saleratus out of you!

(Miner, awed by being face to face with an old-timer, withers up during harangue, and at finish shrinks behind other miners, and from there makes exit to right.)

(Drawing paper from pocket and presenting it.)

Now lookee here, Mister Clerk, what'd you call that?

(Glancing perfunctorily at paper.)

Grub contract.

What's it stand for?

(Wearily.)

One thousand pounds of grub.

An' how much sugar?

One thousand pounds of grub.

Say it again.

(Looking for item on paper and reading.) Seventy-five pounds.

(Triumphantly.)

That's the way I made it out. I thought my eyes was all right.

(After a pause.)

Well?

Well, that mangy little cuss around at the warehouse said I could only get five hundred on that piece of paper, an' nary sugar. What's that mean?

It means five hundred pounds and no sugar. Scale-down went into effect to-day. Orders.

(Wistfully.)

An' nary sugar?

Nary sugar.

That grub's mine, an' that sugar. I paid for it last spring. Weighed my dust in on them scales there.

Can't help it. Orders.

(Wistfully.)

An' nary sugar?

Nary sugar.

(Meditatively, in low voice.)

Curious, ain't it? Mighty curious—me ownin' two five-hundred-foot Eldorado claims, with five million if I'm wuth a cent, an' no sweetenin' for my coffee or mush.

('Whirling upon Clerk in sudden wrath, Clerk retreating wearily to behind counter.)

Why, gosh dang it! this country kin go to blazes! I'll sell out! I'll quit it cold! I'll—I'll—go back to the States! I'll—I'll—see the management!

(Strides rapidly toward door to left.)

Hold on!

(Dave Harney stops.)

The boss is busy. Vanderlip's with'm.

He's buckin' the sugar proposition, too, eh? Clerk

No, he ain't.

Then here goes. Dave Harney don't wait on Vanderlip or any other man.

(Jerks open door marked "Private.")

(Vanderlip appears in doorway, just entering.)

Hello, Dave. What's the rush?

Hello, Vanderlip. Got any sugar to sell?

No, but I want to buy—

(Interrupting.)

No sugar, you can't do business with me.

(Rushes through door, slamming it after him.)

(General laugh from miners about stove. Clerk throws up his arms despairingly.)

(Vanderlip looks backward through door, which he pulls open for a moment, and laughs at Dave Harney.)

(Loraine Lisznayi enters from right and pauses at door to brush snow from moccasins.)

(Sees Loraine Lisznayi, starts across to meet her, but stops midway to speak hurriedly to Sitka Charley.)

How about those dogs, Charley?

I get um all right by and by.

I want them right away, to-day.

Yesterday you tell me to-morrow.

To-day, I tell you to-day. Never mind the price. I must have them—good dogs. Tonight, twelve o'clock, have them down at the water-hole all ready, harnesses, grub, everything in shape. And you're to drive them down river for me. Sure?

Sure.

(Over his shoulder as he continues to cross to right.)

Never mind the price. I must have them.

(Crosses on over to right to Loraine Lisznayi, an expression of joy on his face. Sweeps off his Fur cap and shakes her hand.)

You must do better than that. Had there been a woman here, your face would have given everything away.

I can't help the gladness getting into my face, Loraine.

Don't call me Loraine. Somebody might hear. And we can't be too careful. And you mustn't talk but for a moment, Floyd.

(Grinning broadly.)

There you go, calling me Floyd. Somebody might hear. But who's afraid? I'm not. Let 'em hear. I'm glad of it! Proud of it that you're mine. The dearest little woman in the world, and mine, all mine!

(Glancing furtively about and finding that nobody is paying any attention.)

Hush, dear. Wait until we are safely away, and then I shall be proud before all the world to have you proud of me. You are such a man! Such a man!

Just wait until I get you into that Mediterranean palace. We'll make 'em sit up with this Klondike gold of ours. People don't know how rich I am, Loraine. Nor do you. I've got pay-claims over on Dominion Creek nobody dreams of, and—

I don't care how much you've got, or how little. It's you, you big, big man, you, my hero, that I care for. You'll grace a palace like a prince, and I've known a few princes, too.

And queens, too, didn't you say?

Yes, and queens, too. And they will be proud and glad to know you. They don't have men like you over there—real men. You'll create a sensation.

(Anxiously.)

But this living in palaces—sort of softening and fattening, ain't it? I don't like fat.

(Looks her over critically.)

You don't incline that way, do you?

(Laughing.)

You foolish, dear man, of course not. Do I look it?

(Slowly.)

Well, you look round—and plump.

I've always been plump like this. I'm like my mother. She was that way. She never got stout, and neither shall I.

(Anxiety going out of face, being replaced by satisfaction.)

Oh, you're all right, Loraine, you bet.

But you must leave me now, Floyd. Somebody may come in at any moment. Besides, I've a few little things to buy for our journey.

And they're fixing my money for me in there.

(Nodding toward door at lejt. Loraine betrays keen and involuntary interest). Letters of credit, you know, and all that. Can't carry much dust. Too heavy. And by the way, keep the weight down. Don't buy too many little things. Dogs are dogs, and they can only haul so much.

Only enough for me to be comfortable.

A woman needs so almighty much to be comfortable. But it'll be all right. Two sleds'll carry us, no matter how comfortable you make yourself. Bring plenty of foot-gear, moccasins, and stockings, and such things. And be at the water-hole at midnight with your whole outfit. Be sure that Indian of yours has enough dog food. I'll get my dogs to-day some time.

Which water-hole?

The one by the hospital. Don't make a mistake and go to the other one. It's way out of the way.

And now you simply must leave me. And you mustn't see me again to-day—not till midnight, at the water-hole, by the hospital. You know I can scarcely bear to have you out of my sight. But these women—oh, they are such suspicious creatures!

Good-by, then, until to-night.

(Turns to go toward left.)

(Softly.)

Floyd!

(Vanderlip turns back.)

You must go to the ball to-night. I've begged off, but you must go. It will avert any possible suspicion.

I was going anyway, just to drop in for a while. I—that is, you see—I promised Mrs. Eppingwell I'd go.

(Jealously.) Mrs. Eppingwell!

Of course, but it's all right, Loraine. She don't count.

Of course not. But then, Floyd, I care so much for you that I can't help a little jealousy—but there, there, you must go. Good-by, dear.

Good-by dear, dear Loraine. (Turns to go toward left.)

(Softly.) Floyd!

(Turns back, waits, and after a pause.) Well?

(With sweet reproof.)

I've been hearing things about you, sir.

What's up now?

Oh, you seem to have—how shall I say!—a penchant for foreigners.

(Mystified.)

Darned if I know what you're talking about. Penchant—is that something to eat?

(Laughing.)

Well, then, there is a certain woman, supposed to be Greek, at any rate a foreigner like myself; but with the most adorable accent—or so the men say—

(Interrupting.)

Freda, you mean.

(Fastidious expression on face.)

Yes, I believe that is the woman's name.

Vanderlip (Laughing jovially.)

There ain't anything in it. I don't care a rap for her—not a rap.

Then there's that Mrs. Eppingwell. I can't help thinking you are a little devoted to her.

(Showing slight embarrassment.)

Oh, well, I've only seen her in a social way—that's all, in a social way.

And you do love only me?

(He nods.)

Then tell me that you do.

(With impulsive eagerness, half lifting his arms as if to embrace her and controlling himself with an effort.)

Oh, I do, Loraine. I do, I do.

It is sweet to hear you say it. And now you really must go. Good-by, dear, good-by.

(He crosses stage to left and goes out.)

(She starts to cross stage to rear, but is approached and stopped by Sitka Charley.)

(Gruffly.) Good morning.

(Sweetly.)

Good morning, Charley.

(Bluntly.)

You got my money?

Oh, let me see. How much is it?

Two hundred dollar.

I'll tell you. You come to my cabin to-morrow morning, and I'll give it to you.

(Not letting on that he knows she is lying.) To-morrow morning you give me money?

At my cabin, don't forget.

All right, to-morrow morning.

(He turns abruptly and starts to go toward stove.)

(Calling.)

Oh, Charley!

(He turns back to her.)

Is Dominion Creek very rich?

Dam rich.

And do you know whether Mr. Vanderlip has any claims there?

Me no know.

(Starts to go.)

(Detaining him.)

But Mr. Vanderlip is very rich, isn't he? You know that?

Vanderlip dam rich.

(Sitka Charley turns abruptly and goes back to stove.)

(Loraine crosses stage to left rear to counter, where a clerk waits upon her.)

(Enter Mrs. Eppingwell and Mrs. McFee from right. Both engage in brushing snow from moccasins.)

(Finishing first, and looking about the store as if in quest of some one.) as I don't see anything of Captain Eppingwell, and he is the soul of promptness.

MRS. McFEE

(Still brushing snow.)

Mayhap we are a bit early, Mrs. Eppingwell. But as I was saying, it's verra dootful morals the giving of this masked ball. Masked, mind you, with every low dance-hall creature a-dying to come and put decent folk to the shame of their company. I speak my mind, and it's ay shameful that honest bodies must be so sore put. There'll be ruffians and gamblers with masks over their sinful faces, and who's to know? And there's that Freda woman. 'Tis said she plays with the souls of men as a child with a wee bit of a pipe plays with soap-bubbles. And there's all the rest—bold hussies!—who's to stop them from flaunting their fine feathers in our faces? Who's to stop them, I make free to ask?

(Smiling.)

The doorkeeper, of course. It is quite simple. Masks must be lifted at the door.

MRS. McFEE

Ou, ay, verra simple, I should say. Belike you'll undertake the doorkeeping, and belike you'll know the face of every rapscallion of them.

We'll get one of the men who do know—Mr. Prince, for example. There he is, by the stove. We'll ask him to be doorkeeper.

(Prince goes to rear and joins Loraine.)

MRS. McFEE

(With more than usual asperity.)

And how comes it Mr. Prince should know the children of sin and still be company for decent bodies?

Because he is a man, I imagine.

(Mrs. McFee snorts.)

There is Sitka Charley. I suppose you would bar him if he wanted to come?

(Judicially.)

Why, no, he's a verra good soul.

Yet I'm sure he knows all the children of sin, you call them.

MRS. McFEE

But he's an Indian, and he doesna dance.

(Laughing.)

Then I suppose I shall not shock you by speaking to him.

(Approaches Sitka Charley, while Mrs. McFee goes to counter and is waited on by a clerk.)

Good morning, Charley. Have you seen Captain Eppingwell?

(Nodding good morning.)

Yes.

Mrs. Eppingwell How long ago? Was he here?

I see um last night.

Oh!

(Laughing.)

I've seen him later than that. But he was to meet me here.

Um.

(Trying to make conversation.)

It is rather cold this morning.

Um.

How cold?

Sixty-five below. Any dogs to sell?

Still trying to buy dogs! For whom this time? Sitka Charley

Vanderlip. He want eight dogs.

(Startled and interested.) Mr. Vanderlip?

Um.

Mrs. Eppingwell What does he want with dogs?

Sitka Charley Um. Got dogs?

(A sudden thought striking her.)

Yes, I've dogs to sell. Or rather, Captain Eppingwell has.

Fresh dogs? Strong dogs?

(Considering.)

Well, no. You see, he just arrived yesterday. It was a long trip.

Yes, me know—sixteen hundred miles. Dogs all bones, all played out, no good.

How soon does he want the dogs?

Right away, now, to-day.

What does he want the dogs for?

(Stolidly.)

Um?

What does Mr. Vanderlip want the dogs for?

That no Sitka Charley's business. That Vanderlip's business.

But I want to know.

Then you ask Vanderlip.

Tell me.

Much better you ask Vanderlip, I think so.

(A pause, during which Sitka Charley merely waits, while Mrs. Eppingwell seems to be thinking. When she speaks, it is in a changed, serious tone.)

Charley, we have travelled the Long Trail together, you and I.

Um.

We journeyed through the Hills of Silence. We saw our last dogs drop in the traces. We staggered and fell, and crawled on our hands and knees through the snow because we had not enough to eat, and it was very cold. We had our last food stolen—

(Eyes flashing, face stiffening, grimly and with satisfaction.)

Captain Eppingwell kill one man who steal food. I kill other man. I know.

(Shuddering.)

Yes, it was terrible. But we kept the faith of food and blanket, you and I, Charley.

And Captain Eppingwell.

And Captain Eppingwell. And by that faith of food and blanket I want you to tell me the truth now.

Um.

(Eagerly.)

Will you?

(Nodding his head.)

Um.

(Hurriedly.)

Mr. Vanderlip wants dogs, fresh dogs—why? Sitka Charley

He make a long travel, many sleeps.

Mrs. Eppingwell Where? When? Tell me all.

Um travel down river. Um start to-night.

Mrs. Eppingwell He goes alone?

(Shaking his head.)

No.

Who goes with him?

Me go.

(Irritably.)

Yes, yes, of course. But you don't count. Anybody else?

(Nodding his head.)

Um.

(Triumphantly.)

Just as I thought. Tell me, Charley, it is—it is this—er—this horrid woman? You know.

Um, this bad woman—this damn bad woman. Um, she go with him, to-night, twelve o'clock, the water-hole. She meet um there.

Mrs. Eppingwell (Eagerly.)

Yes, yes. And then....

And then she go with um, many sleeps, down the river.

And you will get the dogs?

Sure, I get um.

(Enter Dave Harney from left, striding angrily.) I get um now—

Good-by.

(Starts in the direction of Dave Harney.)

Wait a minute, Charley.

(Over his shoulder.)

I come back. You wait.

(Approaches Dave Harney.)

Hello, Dave. Cold to-day.

(Whirling upon him savagely.)

You betcher life it's cold—regular freeze-out, with me frozen. But I'm goin' to quit it, quit it cold. I'll harness up my dogs and hit the high places for a land of justice where a man can get what he's ordered a year before and paid for.

Got any dogs to sell?

Got any sugar to sell?

I buy um dogs.

I'm buyin' sugar.

I got no sugar. You got dogs. I buy dogs eight dogs—how much?

Dave Harney Five hundred dollars a dog.

Um—eight dogs—four thousand dollar.

Dogs is wuth what you're willin' to pay for 'em.

Um.

Look here, Charley, I used to be a miner, but I'm a business man now. Got any sugar?

No sugar.

I'll throw a lot off them dogs for some sugar. No sugar, they cost you four thousand.

(Turns to go.)

(Making no movement to detain him.)

Um.

(Over his shoulder.)

Four thousand,

Um.

They're wuth it if you want 'em real bad.

All right, Dave. I buy.

Bring the dust around to my cabin at one o'clock.

I buy now.

No, you don't. I'm goin' back to tell 'em what I think of 'em, the skunks! They've got sweetenin' in plenty for their own mush and coffee. You betcher life they have, and I'm goin' to get some of it or know the reason why.

(Storms out through door to lejt.)

(Sitka Charley returns to Mrs. Eppingwell.)

That Dave Harney all the same one big robber. But I get um dogs all right.

Tell me about this—er—this woman, Charley, this Freda—Freda Moloof her name is, isn't it?

(Showing plainly that his attention has been called off from the consideration of Loraine Lisznayi.)

Oh, Freda!

(Smiling.)

You call her Freda.

Everybody call her Freda. Um good name. Me like it.

Well, what kind of a woman is she?

Um good woman.

(With an angry movement of arm and clenching of hand.)

Oh!

(Looking surprised and getting stubborn.) Me know Freda long time—two years. Um good woman. Um tongue speak true. Um just like you, no afraid. Um just like you, travel Long Trail with me. No afraid, very soft heart; sorry for dogs; no ride on sled when dogs tired. Um tired, but um walk. And um tongue straight; all the time speak true. I am Sitka Charley—I know.

Yes, yes. Go on.

(Considering.)

Freda no like men.

Now that is too much, Charley? How about Mr. Vanderlip?

(Shrugs his shoulders.)

I know Freda long time. Freda know Vanderlip short time. Maybe Freda like Vanderlip. I don't know. But before she never like men, that I know. Maybe you like Mr. Vanderlip I think. (Mrs. Eppingwell smiles, and Sitka Charley grows more positive.) Vanderlip come your cabin all the time. You ride on Vanderlip's sled. I know. I see. Maybe you like Vanderlip.

You don't understand, Charley. I have reasons for being nice to Mr. Vanderlip.

(Sceptically.)

Um.

And, Charley, you mustn't tell anybody what you have told me about Mr. Vanderlip going away to-night with that—that woman.

(Weighing her words.)

Maybe I tell Freda.

(Stamping foot angrily.)

Don't be foolish, Charley. She is the last person in the world who ought to know. Of course you'll not tell her. Tell no one.

(Sitka Charley hesitates.)

Promise me you'll not tell. Promise me by the faith of food and blanket.

(Reluctantly.)

All right, I no tell.

They say Freda is a dancer. Have you seen her dance?

(Nodding his heady a pleased expression on his face.)

I see um. Very good dance. Um dance at Juneau, two years ago, first time I see. Treadwell Mine no work that day. No men to work. All men come Juneau and look see Freda dance. Freda makum much money. Um speak to me. Um say, "Charley, I go Yukon Country. You drive my dogs, how much?" Then Freda travel Long Trail with me.

They say many men like her.

(Nodding head vigorously.)

Um, sure. Me like her too, very much.

(Smiling tolerantly.)

And they say she makes fools of men.

Sure. Dam fools. Men just like bubble. Freda just make play with um—smash!—just like that. Everybody say so.

What kind of a looking woman is she?

You no see um?

Mrs. Eppingwell No. What does she look like?

(Freda enters from right.)

(Looking at Freda.)

Um there now.

(Not understanding.)

What?

(Nodding head toward Freda.)

Um Freda there.

(Mrs. Eppingwell turns involuntarily to look. Freda pauses on entering, starts as though to retreat at sight of the crowd, then stiffens herself, face and body, to meet it, and proceeds to brush snow from moccasins. There is silence in store. Then a perturbation amongst miners about stove, men craning their heads over one another's shoulders to look at Freda. The clerks look at her. Everybody looks at her.)

(Mrs. McFee turns up her nose several degrees, and, plainly advertising a highly moral rage, walks over to Mrs. Eppingwell.)

MRS. McFEE

(To Mrs. Eppingwell, but glaring at Freda.)

It's my way of thinking that it is high time for decent bodies to be going.

(Sitka Charley glares angrily at Mrs. McFee.)

(In low voice.)

Hush. It is a public place, and she has as much right here as you or I. Don't insult the poor woman.

MRS. McFEE

(Snorting.)

In my way of thinking the insult's the other way around. Come you, Mrs. Eppingwell, we must go. The verra air is contameenated.

(Pleadingly.)

Do please restrain yourself, Mrs. McFee. Don't make a scene.

(Raising her voice.)

I'll no restrain myself, and I'll no wait for you if you see proper no to come now. The hussy!

(Mrs. McFee, nose high in the air, turns to make exit at right. Freda has just finished brushing snow, and has risen erect. Mrs. McFee, passing her to go out the door, sniffs audibly and draws aside her skirt. Freda makes no movement, though her lips tighten. Exit Mrs. McFee. Freda tries to hang up wisp-broom, but her hand trembles, misses peg, and wisp-broom falls to floor. She picks it up and this time hangs it properly. Turns and goes to right rear to counter, where clerk waits upon her.)

(Glaring after Mrs. McFee, angrily).

That womans no like Freda. What for?

(Speaking gently.)

No women like Freda.

(Stunned, slowly.)

You no like Freda?

(More gently even than before.)

No, Charley, I do not like Freda.

(Showing anger.)

What for you no like Freda?

I cannot explain. You would not understand.

(More anger.)

Me Sitka Charley. Me understand. What for you no like Freda?

(Captain Eppingwell enters from right.)

(Catching sight of Capt. Eppingwell.) There is Captain Eppingwell now.

(Capt. Eppingwell brushes moccasins quickly, and goes immediately to Mrs. Eppingwell. Sitka Charley, still angry, joins group about stove.)

Early, as usual, Maud.

No, merely on time. It is you who are late. Capt. Eppingwell

Impossible!

(Looks at his watch and smiles triumphantly.)

I knew it. On time to the tick of the second.

(Smiling.)

Not by Dawson time.

Oh! of course. I haven't changed my watch. I'm still going by sun-time. Sorry.

(Smiling.)

I forgive you. It is the first time, but I really can't count it against you.

(Looking closely into her face.)

What's wrong?

Archie, you're the dearest man I know. Of course there is something wrong, and of course you knew it as soon as you set eyes on me. Well, I am beaten.

The Ever-Victorious-One beaten! Impossible! I'll not believe it.

I am, just the same. Here I have been trying to save Floyd Vanderlip, counteracting that evil woman's influence, having him to tea and dinner and giving him no end of my time, and Flossie isn't here yet, and he runs away with Freda Mo-loof to-night. It's all arranged, and everything.

But—but—wait a minute. Enlighten me. I am only a poor traveller. Who is this Flossie? And why shouldn't this Vanderlip-man—whoever he is—run away if he wants to?

How ridiculous of me! I forget you've been away. You know who Freda Moloof is?

Surely, surely. She has the most magnificent furs and the most magnificent dogs in all Alaska. A fascinating creature, I—er—understand. She plays with men as a child plays with bubbles.

It seems to me I've heard that before.

It has become a saying in the country.

I have heard of men who whistle women up as they would whistle dogs. She must be the type of woman that whistles men.

(Warmly.)

All she has to do is look at a man.

(Smiling.)

You speak as though she had looked at you.

(Smiling.)

A very interesting woman.

Well, anyway, she has cast eyes and wiles upon Floyd Vanderlip.

But why shouldn't she? This is a free country.

Wait a minute. I'm trying to explain. Floyd Vanderlip is engaged to marry some one else.

O-o-h!

Floyd Vanderlip is a big, strong man. For five years he chased Eldorados over the ice-fields, living on moose and salmon and working like a beast. He never had an idle moment in which to be wicked. Then he struck it on Klondike and is worth millions and millions. Also, he sat down for the first time in five years and rested.

He remembered a girl who was waiting for him down in the States—a young thing—and sent for her to come in. They were to be married as soon as she arrived. He has a cabin all ready. Well, that's Flossie. She is coming in over the ice now—he's told me all about it—and ought to be here any day. I've been looking for her, and looking for her, till I am almost sick. Then this Freda Moloof cast her spell upon him. I heard the gossip—

And proceeded to take a hand. I begin to understand.

I did my best to break her influence. The time and thought I've wasted upon that man! It's almost scandalous the way I've devoted myself to him! Sitka Charley believes I am in love with him—told me so to my face. And it's all wasted, card parties and everything. What was I against the only woman in Klondike who possesses a piano and a maid? And to-night he runs away down the river with her.

With Freda Moloof?

With Freda Moloof. There she is now, buying things for the journey most probably.

(Turning to look at Freda, and turning back again.)

I must say she couldn't have done better if he is worth all you say he is. I remember him now, a strapping fellow, brave as a lion and all that.

Yes, but he's caressed more shovel-handles than women's hands, and that's the trouble with him. And I don't know what I shall do.

You could scarcely serve an injunction on him.

I don't know what I'll do. Floyd Vanderlip is not the sort of man to appeal to. To try to impress him to do the right thing would be like setting fire to a powder mill. I wish I knew how near Flossie is. There hasn't been a courier or a mail carrier in for weeks and weeks. The mail from Dyea is twenty days overdue.

(Enter Mail Carrier, carrying leather mail-pouch. He is clad in a long squirrel-skin parka reaching to his knees, the hood drawn over his head and ears and leaving only jace exposed. Face and mouth are iced-up, making speech impossible. He does not stop to brush snow jrom moccasins, but proceeds rapidly to cross to stove.)

There is the man who can tell you about Flossie. Shall I ask him?

Oh! the mail carrier? At last! And in the nick of time. Yes, do.

(Stepping into the path of the Mail Carrier.)

What's the news?

(Mail Carrier makes dumb show that he cannot speak, waving his arms and pointing to his iced mouth and then to the stove.)

(Capt. Eppingwell laughs and lets him pass.)

(To Mrs. Eppingwell.)

He's so iced up he cannot speak. Wait till he thaws out, and then I'll get hold of him. In the meantime—

(Interrupting.)

In the meantime you must meet the Lisznayi.

The Lisznayi!

Yes, she is a fascinating woman, our latest acquisition. An Old World Hungarian with all the do and dare of the New World blood. She was a friend of the Queen of Roumania. Posed as a model for the Queen. Had cardinals and princes at her beck and call. Plenty of money, of course, position, and all that. Came into the Klondike out of sheer love of adventure, and possibly because she was bored. You'll enjoy her, I know. There she is over there. Do you care to?

(Mrs. Eppingwell and Capt. Eppingwell walk over to left rear to Loraine Lisznayi and Prince.)

(Mail Carrier tries to get to stove, but is blocked by miners, who are demanding: "What's the news?" "How's the trail?" "Any letters for me?" "And me?" "And me?" "Where did you meet O'Brien? He left ten days ago." "How's the ice on Thirty Mile River?" etc.y etc. To all of which Mail Carrier replies by waving his arms and thrusting through the crowd till he gets to stove, over which he holds his Face.)

(Dave Harney enters from left, still in towering rage, but his jace lights up, as though struck by a sudden thought when he catches sight oj Mail Carrier. He strides over, clutches Mail Carrier by the arm and draws him to one side.)

(In a whisper.)

Got a noospaper?

(Nods head.)

How many?

(Holds up one finger.)

I'll give you twenty dollars for it.

(Shakes head.)

(Bidding rapidly, each bid being met by a shake of Mail Carrier's head.) Twenty-five. Thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty.

(Nods head and goes back to stove.)

(Freda walks forward toward stove and beckons to Sitka Charley, who leaves group about stove and comes to her.)

Tell the Mail Carrier I want to speak to him, Charley.

(Obediently.)

Urn.

(Sitka Charley crosses to stove, where Mail Carrier is pulling the ice from his mouth.)

Freda want talk some with you.

(Turning to look at Freda, nods head and mumbles incoherently, at same time starting to go to Freda and still pulling ice jrom mouth. He shakes hands with Freda and speaks thickly at first.)

How do do, Freda.

How do you do, Joe. What kind of a trip did you have?

Pretty rough, but I made good time just the same. Passed everything in sight.

That is what I wanted to ask you about. Did you pass the outfit of a girl, or, rather, of a young woman?

Coming in by herself, with a dog-puncher and an Indian?

Yes. Where did you pass her?

Yesterday afternoon, about three o'clock. They were making camp early. She was pretty tired from the looks of her.

When should she get in?

I talked with the dog-puncher. He said they'd camp to-night at Mooseback and come in tomorrow. That's twenty-five miles, and if they don't start too late, they'll make Dawson by the middle of the day.

What kind of a girl is she?

Good. How do you mean?

I mean what kind of a looking girl is she? How did she strike you?

Oh, one of the soft and clingy kind, I guess I'd call her. You know, the kind that needs lots of cuddling and petting. Pretty, yes, danged pretty. Blue eyes, wavy hair, and all the rest—trembly lips and teary eyes—smily and weepy, you know, all in the same moment. But, gee! Freda, I can't stand here gassin' all day. I got about a thousand dollars' worth of letters to deliver—a dollar apiece and cheap at the price. I'll see you later. So long.

All right, Joe. Tell Sitka Charley I want to see him, will you?

(Mail Carrier returns to stove, picks up mail pouch, and sends Sitka Charley to Freda.)

(Capt. Eppingwell comes to Mail Carrier, and is leading him off to Mrs. Eppingwell when Dave Harney interposes.)

Hold your hosses, Joe. How about that dicker for the noospaper? You said Yes to fifty.

(Pulling out his gold sack and drawing newspaper from pocket and giving both to Dave Harney.)

All right. Just weigh the fifty into that.

(Dave Harney takes gold sack over to scales, produces his own gold sack, and a clerk weighs from one sack into the other.)

(Mail Carrier accompanies Capt. Eppingwell to Mrs. Eppingwell.)

(Capt. Eppingwell, Loraine Lisznayi, and Prince move along counter toward right and inspect mittens and moccasins.)

What time to-morrow has he decided upon starting?

No to-morrow. To-day, to-night, twelve o'clock to-night.

(Startled.)

To-night! Are you sure?

Um.

You said to-morrow.

Vanderlip um change mind. Look like much hurry.

And the Lisznayi woman?

She wait water-hole. Um meet her there. One Indian drive her dogs. Me drive Vanderlip's dogs.

But Vanderlip mustn't go to-night.

Charley, he simply mustn't.

I tell you,

(Incredulously.)

Um.

Not only that, but you must help me to keep him from going.

(Angrily.)

What for, Freda? I am Sitka Charley. I buy dogs, I sell dogs, I drive dogs. I help you dogs, yes. What for I help you other things? Vanderlip all the same one big chief. Um womans like um.

(Holding up fingers.)

One, two, three womans like um. That um womans' trouble. No Sitka Charley's trouble. What for, Freda?

Why, what are you thinking about?

Sitka Charley I think you one big fool, Freda.

(Smiling sadly.)

And I think you are right, Charley, when I look back.

No look back. Right now. What for you make fool with Vanderlip? Him no good. Him big fool too.

Oh, I see. You think I am in love with him.

Sitka Charley (With satisfaction.)

Um.

You really think so?

Um. What for you say he must no go to-night? Um?

Listen, Charley. You must help me, and I'll tell you all about it. There is a little girl coming in over the ice to marry Vanderlip—

(Interrupting excitedly.)

One more woman! Um Vanderlip one dam big chief.

(Holding up fingers.)

One woman, two woman, three woman, four womans.

(Surprised.) Four women?

Um. Four womans.

Who are they?

(Holding up fingers.)

Little girl come in over ice—one. Lisznayi woman go 'way with um—two. Freda no want Lisznayi woman go 'way with um—three. Mrs. Eppingwell—four. One—two—three—four—womans.

(Surprised.)

Mrs. Eppingwell! Oh, you told me about her once. She was the woman who was with you on that trip through the Hills of Silence. She is a very brave woman. I have heard much of her, and I like her. If I were a man, I could love her. She must be very good, and sweet, and kind.

Sure. And um hard like iron sometimes. But um no like you. Um say so. What for um no like you?

(Gently.)

No woman likes me, Charley.

All men like you.

(With touch of anger.)

All men are fools.

What for womans no like you?

(Meditatively).

And she likes Vanderlip. How do you know? What do you know?

No can tell. I promise.

Promised whom?

Mrs. Eppingwell. Um Mrs. Eppingwell very good woman.

But she has a husband. It is not good for her to like another man. What do you think?

(Perplexedly.)

I think I don't know. I think all um womans crazy. What for all um womans like this Vanderlip man?

(Decisively.)

Well, I don't.

(Sceptically.)

Um.

Let me show you, Charley, and then you will know why I want you to help me. And, remember, you mustn't tell a word of any of this to any one.

(Debating the proposition.)

Um—maybe I tell Mrs. Eppingwell.

(Angrily.)

Don't be silly, Charley. You mustn't tell anybody. Promise me now.

(With despairing perplexity.) All right, I no tell.

Now this little girl is coming in over the ice—her name is Flossie. She has lived a soft life down in California, where the sun is warm and there is no snow. She does not know hardship, nor the trail, and she is having a hard time now on the trail. Think of it!—sixty-five degrees below zero this morning, and she is out in it, walking, walking, walking, her breath freezing, her mouth icing up, her eyebrows rimed with frost. And she is very stiff, and sore, and tired. Every step of the trail she takes in pain. It is like a bad dream to her, Charley. But she sees, always before her, at the end of the dream, an awakening at Dawson, in the arms of the man who is to marry her. But, Charley, what if when she gets to Dawson there is no Floyd Vanderlip? no man to marry her? It will break her heart. It will be no happy awakening from a bad dream, but the beginning of a worse dream. And she is a little girl, Charley—not a strong woman like me who does not care. She will care, and she will know nobody, and she will cry, and cry, and cry. Did you ever hear a woman cry, Charley? Think of it, she is only a little girl.

Um. More like baby.

Yes, put it that way, more like a baby. She cannot stand pain.

Oh, on trail, too much walk make um hurt.

No, no.

(Holds hand to heart.)

Pain here.

Um. I know. Um sick. What um call heart disease. I see one man sick that way. Um fall down dead, just like that.

(Irritably.)

Oh, you don't understand.

(Puzzled.)

I don't know. Womans all crazy.

(Smiling.)

I think I can explain. Last summer you were in a canoe race on the river. You paddled very hard, but you lost.

(Putting hand to heart.)

And it hurt you—

(Interrupting.)

Um. Um. Paddle like hell. No win race. (Stroking first one arm and then the other.) Much tired right here.

(Putting hand over heart.)

And um much hurt right here, no tired, just hurt like rheumatism, because I am sorry I lose race.

(Nods head repeatedly.)

Um. Um.

The very thing. She doesn't know it, but she is racing against this Lisznayi woman. Flossie must get here before the other woman steals her man. And you must help her win the race. Will you?

You know this Flossie girl?

No.

No?

Never saw her in my life. But she is coming into a strange country without a friend or a dollar when she gets here. She will have great trouble. And you know, Charley, it is not good for a woman to be without friends or money in this country.

(Puzzled as much as ever.)

Don't know Flossie girl. No like Vanderlip man. What for you care?... Much foolishness. All womans crazy.... All right, I help.

(Mail Carrier has-finished interview with Mrs. Eppingwell, received gold sack back from Dave Harney, and gone out with mail pouch to left. Capt. Eppingwell and Loraine Lisznayi have rejoined Mrs. Eppingwell.)

(Loraine Lisznayi says good-by to them, and starts to make exit to right, passing close to Freda and Sitka Charley. She pauses one or two paces away.)

(Favoring Freda with a quick but sweeping, scornful glance.)

Come here, Charley. I want to speak to you a moment.

(Her conduct angers Sitka Charley, who grows stolid and refuses to move or reply.)

Speak with her, Charley.

(Sullenly.)

No speak.

(Loraine Lisznayi, scornful expression on face, proceeds on her way, and makes exit to right.)

Why didn't you, Charley?

(Angrily.)

What for she look at you that way?

(Ignoring the question.)

They say she is a rich woman in her own country. But I don't believe it. I think she is after Vanderlip's money.

Lisznayi woman no got money. I know. I sell her dogs—eight hundred dollars. She pay me three hundred. Two weeks, three weeks, I no get other five hundred dollars. Um no got five hundred. I say, "My dogs, give me back." She give back. Me have fur robe. Good fur robe. She buy, two hundred dollar. Um no pay. Um have good fur robe. Me no have nothing. Um have cabin. Um no pay rent to Johnson. Um smile very nice, um Johnson wait. I know, I see. Um dogs she got now, Vanderlip give, make present. Um no pay firewood. Um no pay many things.

I thought so. And now to win the race. Dogs first of all. Flossie must be brought in to-night. I want you here in Dawson, Charley. So you must send some Indian up the trail with a fresh team of dogs. Flossie camps at Mooseback tonight. He is to let her think that Vanderlip has sent the dogs, and that Vanderlip wants her to come right on to-night. Understand?

Um. Sure.

(Preparing to start toward door at right.)

Start the dogs right away with a man you can trust. And he must be sure to let Flossie think that Vanderlip sent him. At the best, Flossie can't arrive until late to-night. And there may be delays. You keep on Vanderlip's trail so that you will know always where he is.

(Freda and Sitka Charley start to walk toward the door at right.)

When I send for him you must bring him to me, and I'll hold him till Flossie gets in.

(Touching Freda's arm.)

No very strong, Freda.

(Tapping her forehead.)

Vanderlip no very strong, Charley.

(Both cover ears, pull on mittens, and go out.)

(Dave Harney, unobserved, has been squatting on hams in front of counter to right, intently reading newspaper. He is making dumb show of excited interest. One of the miners discovers him, runs over to him, and starts to read newspaper over his shoulder. Dave Harney folds newspaper across, resting it on his knee, and looks up coolly into face of Miner.)

(In hurt voice.)

Can't you give a fellow a squint at your paper?

Got any sugar?

Sure.

Give me a whack at your sugar barrel?

(Surprised and shocked.)

No.

Then nary squint at my noospaper.

(In meantime other miners and clerks have surrounded him, all demanding to see his newspaper. Whereupon he puts paper in his pocket, rises to his feet, and starts toward door to right, miners and clerks following him and grumbling at his meanness.)

(Pausing with his hand on door.)

You think you're smart, don't you? Got a corner on sugar, eh? And poor Dave Harney left without no sweetenin' for his coffee an' mush. Well, poor Dave Harney's got a corner on noos. When you want noos, come an' see him, an' be sure an bring your sugar along.

(Goes out, followed by miners.)

(Mrs. Eppingwell and Capt. Eppingwell come forward to stove and warm their hands.)

(Continuing conversation.)

Perhaps Freda doesn't know about Flossie. I always thought her a good girl at heart.

Why this haste then? Why are they running away to-night instead of to-morrow as they had planned? They must have received information somehow, even before the mail carrier arrived. (Enter Mail Carrier from left.)

And look how she captured the mail carrier at once, and for one thing, I know, to learn Flossie's whereabouts.

Here he is now. Let's ask him.

(Beckons Mail Carrier over to him.)

You were talking with Freda a little while ago. What did she want to learn?

(Pausing only long enough to reply, and then going on to make exit to right.) Same thing as your wife—where I passed that girl's outfit.

(Quietly.)

I knew it.

But why couldn't I go around, or you, and talk with Freda, explain the situation fully to her, and make an appeal to whatever good is in her?

Mrs. Eppingwell (Smiling.)

You don't know women, Archie,

(Adding as an afterthought.)

Well as women know women. No, she must be beaten at her own game. Flossie must arrive before midnight to-night.

But she camps at Mooseback.

There are dogs in Dawson. Now, Archie, this is for you to do. Borrow a team of fresh dogs somewhere, put your Indian in charge of it, that one-eyed man, he's faithful, and start him up the trail to Flossie. Let her think Floyd Vanderlip has sent the dogs to bring her in right away.

(Smiling.)

Ah, I see. The impatience of the ardent and long-denied lover.

(Smiling in return.)

And once Flossie is here and gets her arms around Floyd Vanderlip's neck, Freda Moloof will wait in vain at the water-hole.

That will settle it. Freda's not the woman to stand knocking her feet around a water-hole very long for any man.

(Good-naturedly. )

You seem to know a great deal about what kind of a woman this dancer is.

I know enough about her, when it comes to Vanderlip and Flossie, to think her the best of the boiling... and to have a sneaking regret for her being beaten this way.

You may be kind-hearted, Archie, but you are unwise.

(Sighing.)

Oh, well, after the manner of civilized man I submit to my womenkind. All right, I'll send the dogs at once.

(Makes a movement to start toward door to right, and Mrs. Eppingwell starts with him.)

(Mrs. Eppingwell, struck suddenly by a new idea, pauses. Capt. Eppingwell pauses a step in advance and looks at her.)

What's wrong now?

Suppose there is some mischance, a delay, and Flossie doesn't get in by midnight?

Then Freda wins.

(Decisively.)

No, she doesn't.

(Thinks for a moment.)

Floyd Vanderlip is coming to the ball. I'll see that he comes. I'll be very nice to him and watch him closely so that he does not sneak away. If Flossie fails to arrive, say by half-past eleven, I'll be taken ill, and I'll ask Vanderlip to take me home; and I'll hold him, no matter how terribly ill or terribly nice I have to be, until midnight is well past or until Flossie arrives.

Then it's my duty to disappear about the time you are taken ill.

Archie, though I tell you for the thousandth time, you are a perfect dear. And I can be as terribly nice as I please to Floyd Vanderlip?

(Capt. Eppingwell laughs and nods, and they continue toward door.)

(While they are pulling on mittens, etc.)

And now the dogs. Don't delay a moment, Archie, please.

The one-eyed man and the six dogs start at once.

(They go out.)

(Only clerks behind counter are left on the stage.)

(Nothing happens for a full minute, when Mrs. McFee appears at right, peeping through door, which she holds ajar. She peers cautiously about, enters, and sniffs the air several times. Then she smiles a sour smile of satisfaction.)

MRS. McFEE

And now a decent body can make her purchases.

Scene. Anteroom of Pioneer Hall. It is ten-thirty P.M. The room is large and bare. Its walls are of logs, stuffed between with brown moss. Street door to rear, in centre. Doors, window-frames, and sashes of rough, unstained pine boards. At one side of door is wisp-broom for brushing snow from moccasins. On either side of door is an ordinary small-paned window, and beneath either window is a rough wooden bench. Under benches are large out-door moccasins, left there after the manner of overshoes, by their owners. In available space on rear wall, many wooden pegs, on which are hanging furs, parkas, hats, wraps, etc. Midway between front and rear, and at equal distances between centre and sides, running at full blast, are two large wood-burning stoves. Alongside each stove is a wood-box filled with firewood. On right, a window. On left, wide doorway, open, connecting with ballroom. Through doorway come occasional snatches of dance-music, bursts of laughter and of voices. Because it is very cold, street door is kept closed, and is opened by doorkeeper only when some one knocks, and then only long enough for that one to enter. All parleying is done on inside with door closed. Prince, as doorkeeper, is standing at rear by street door. Men and women, in costume, are disappearing through door to left, from where come strains of a waltz.

(Drawing up his shoulders, as if cold.) B-r-r!

(Crosses rapidly to lejt and peers through doorway into ballroom, looking jor somebody. Holds up his finger and beckons.) Here, you, Billy! More fire! Hi yu skookum fire!

(Enter Indian, who proceeds to fire up both stoves.)

(Prince stands looking into ballroom. A knock is heard at street door. He returns and opens door.)

(A Man enters, masked and in heavy fur overcoat.)

(Hastily closing door.)

Hello.

(The Man hesitates, looks around, and starts to cross to left.)

(Plucking him by the arm.)

Well?

(Pausing, and then, as if discovering reason for his detention.)

Oh!

(Sits down on bench and proceeds to remove moccasins.)

Masks must be lifted at the door, you know.

(In muffled voice.)

And give myself away? Oh, no.

The doorkeeper's lips are sealed. I give nobody's identity away. Come on, let's see who you are.

(Reaches out and lifts mask.)

Jack Denison!

(In clear voice.)

Yours truly, Prince, my boy.

But you can't come in here, old man.

And why not?

(Stuttering and stammering.)

Why—I—they're damned select—it's the women, you know—and I—they—well, they made me doorkeeper, and—

(Breaking down.)

—you know well enough yourself, Jack.

(Rising as though to go, and in angry tones.) By God, you can come down to Jack Denison's joint all right, and buck Jack Denison's faro layout all right, and have a social drink with him all right; but when Jack Denison comes up to your doings, you turn'm down like he had smallpox.

It's not my fault. It's the women, I tell you. They're running the show.

(Wheedlingly.)

You might let a fellow in just for a peep. Nobody'll know. I'll clear out before they unmask.

(Pleadingly.)

I can't really, old man, I—

(Catches sight oj Mrs. McFee, who appears in doorway to left.)

Look at her! Get out quick!

(Places hand on his shoulder in friendly way and starts to shove him out.)

(Catching sight of Mrs. McFee.)

Wow!

(With bodily expression of fear, shrinks behind Prince and allows himself to be shoved out.)

MRS. McFEE

(Crossing over to Prince, and suspiciously.) Who might that body be?

(Wiping his brow.)

One of the unelect, I am sorry to say, Mrs. McFee.

MRS. McFEE

A gambler man, I take it?

(Prince nods.)

But I can no see, Mr. Prince, why you should conduct negotiations inside the door, contameenating the air with the bodily presence of the children of sin.

(Slight note of anger in his voice.)

Do you know how cold it is, Mrs. McFee?

I have no given it a thought.

Well, it's seventy degrees below zero, and still going down. If that door is open one minute, a refrigerator would be comfortable alongside that ballroom. And if you don't like the way I'm doing things—

(A knock is heard, and he opens door. Sitka Charley squeezes in.)

(Very politely.)

Can Sitka Charley come in, Mrs. McFee?

MRS. McFEE

(Turning to go.)

He is a good body. There is no reason why he should not bide a wee.

(To Sitka Charley.)

But you must go right away again, Charley.

(Nods his head, and then to Prince.) Where um Vanderlip?

He's here somewhere. Go and find him.

(Laughter and voices, and many couples enter from lejt, some in costume, several in hooded dominos.)

(Recoiling, startled and excited.)

What that?

(Prince laughs.)

What for? Everybody crazy?

(Laughing.)

Button, button, who's got the button. Go and find him.

(Sitka Charley, walking stealthily, like a wild animal in dangerous territory, goes adventuring amongst the maskers.) (After some time, a domino takes Sitka Charley by the arm and leads him apart.)

(Dragging back and struggling to escape.) What for, crazymans?

Shut up! It's me, Vanderlip. Looking for me?

(With relief.)

Um.

Anything wrong?

(Shaking head.)

No wrong. All right. Um Freda want you come right away.

(Surprised.)

Freda! What's she want with me?

Um no tell. Um say: "Charley, you go Pioneer Hall quick. All the same one big dance. You catch um Vanderlip. You make um come right away."

(Puzzled.)

Where?

Um Freda's cabin. You come now?

(Thinks for a minute, with a bothered air.) I'll come in a little while. You tell her.

(Turns to rejoin dancers, and speaks over shoulder.)

Dogs all right?

Um.

Be at the water-hole at twelve o'clock?

Um. Sure.

(Sitka Charley gains street door and goes out.)

(A knock is heard at door. Enter Dave Harney, costumed as a Scotch minister. He passes Prince's inspection, removes street moccasins and parka, and walks to the front. His shambling, loose-jointed gait discovers him. There is hand-clapping and laughter, and there are cries of "Harney! Harney!" "Dave Harney!" Crowd singsy "For the sugar-man will catch you if you don't watch out." He accepts the discovery, goes over to stove at right, pulls newspaper out of pocket, and begins to read. The dancers crowd about him, demanding the news. He makes to be offended by them and walks away, reading paper. They follow behind him, still clamoring for the news. He promenades about stage and then makes exit to left, followed by the whole crew, with the exception of one domino and a Court Lady of the time of Louis XVI, who linger by stove to left.)

Mrs. Eppingwell I haven't seen your make-up, Archie.

Domino,

(In disguised voice, declaiming.)

Would that I might claim Archie for myself, there is such affectionate possession in the way you say it. Who is this Archie, sweet lady?

Come, come, Archie, a truce to fooling. Besides, you can't fool me anyway. Did you get the dogs off?

(In natural voice.)

Promptly, and with the one-eyed man. Also a spare man to come back post-haste and let us know their progress.

Then when should Flossie arrive?

We figured it out. Barring accidents, or the unusual, she'll be here by eleven-thirty—at any rate, not later than midnight.

(Considering.)

Not later than midnight.

Of course, after all, one can't tell within an hour.

Mrs. Eppingwell And she is to be brought here?

She'll ride the sled right up to the door. A knock, and then, enter Flossie.

(With gratified smile.)

And then all our troubles will be over. And now for your make-up. I insist.

(Capt. Eppingwell slips off domino and stands forth a faithful copy of Sitka Charley.)

Sitka Charley!

(Imitating Sitka Charley's voice.)

Um wantum dogs? I sell um dogs, much good dogs.

(Clapping her hands.)

Excellent!

(She catches sight of Sitka Charley, who is entering through street door at rear.)

Quick!

(Helps Capt. Eppingwell on with domino.)

Now let us return to the ballroom and find Floyd Vanderlip. I'm pretty sure of him. He's in a domino, too.

(They start for exit to left. Sitka Charley, mistaking Capt. Eppingwell for Vanderlip, signals to him a desire to speak with him, but is ignored. Exit Mrs. Eppingwell and Capt. Eppingwell. Sitka Charley stands a moment, puzzled, watching them go, then follows after them. Makes, exit, and a moment later enters with Vanderlip, who is still in domino.)

(Testily.)

What do you want now?

Me no want. Freda want.

What's she want?

Want you.

I haven't anything to do with her. She can keep on wanting. I'm busy.

Um want you now, right away, quick.

(Angrily.)

You go to the devil. And she can go, too, for all I care.

(Enter Dave Harney from left, still reading newspaper, and followed by the dancers.)

I tell Freda you say go to devil?

(Flinging away angrily.)

Tell her! Tell her! Just as long as you quit bothering me.

(And then, seriously.)

And when you've told her you'd better go and see everything's in shape.

(Starting for street door.)

Dogs, sleds, everything all right.

(Exit Sitka Charley.)

(In centre of stage, turning suddenly upon rout at his heels.)

Well? What d'ye want?

(The rout gathers about him, facing him. There are cries of: "The news! The news!" "What's happening down in God's country?" "Who won the championship?" "How'd the election turn out?" "Was Tammany downed?" "Is it true the United States is fighting Germany?" "Is war really declared?" etc.)

Got any sugar?

(Groans, cat-calls, and laughter.)

A Voice

The meanest man in the Klondike.

So you'd be, dodgast you, if you hadn't no sweetenin' for your coffee and mush.

Another Voice Speech! Speech!

Voices

Speech! Speech!

All right, consarn you, I'll speechify.

(Clears his throat.)

Ladies an' gentlemen—ahem—

(Stops to clear throat.)

Bring him some water. A glass of water, please, for the speaker.

Get a box for him.

(The firewood is dumped out of the wood-box, which is placed before Dave Harney upside down. He is helped upon it.)

Now he's going to read us all the news. (Cheers and hand-clapping.)

(Folding newspaper and putting it in his pocket.)

My friend, you've got another guess comin'. I'm goin' to read you the riot act. An' here it is, short an' simple. You've got all the sugar, an' I've got all the noos. Nothin' to it but a dicker. We'll swop. That's what we'll do, we'll swop. (Cheers.)

An' I say again, for them as is dull of hearin', we'll swop. After the unmaskin', you all will assemble here in this here room an' hear the noospaper read, advertisements an' all.

(Cheers.)

An' in the meantime, I'm open to subscriptions in the form of promissory notes. Said notes shall be for the sum of one heapin', large tin cup of sugar, white or brown, to be paid to party of the first part—you all is party to the second part—to be paid to party of the first part inside twenty-four hours after the delivery of the goods, to wit, the noos. Said party of the first part hereby agreein' to send a man with a sack around to the cabins of said party of the second part an' collect face value of promissory note, to wit, one heapin', large tin cup of sugar, white or brown. Them that signs notes hears the noospaper read, them that don't, don't. Thankin' you kindly, one an' all, I remain, yours truly, an' am ready to take promissory notes here an' now.

(Cheers, laughter, and consent.)

But we haven't any pen or ink, Dave.

You've got to sit up all night to get up earlier than Dave Harney in the mornin'. Here you are.

(Draws pen, inkstand, and paper pad from pockets.)

An' you might as well sign first, young feller.

(The signing of notes begins, Dave Harney, with ink and paper, passing from one to another as the rout breaks up and starts back to ballroom for next dance.)

(Pausing in doorway to left.)

Just as easy—like shooting fish in a bucket.

(Goes out.)

(Enter Mrs. Eppingwell on arm of Vanderlip, who is still in domino. They promenade, talking, about room. They are followed by Loraine Lisznayi, masked and magnificently costumed, who keeps her eyes on them and betrays keen interest in them.)

Wasn't it funny I guessed you, Mr. Vanderlip, in that first dance?

You have a good eye.

And possibly I really wanted to find you, you know.

(Awkwardly, but pleased.)

Hum, yes, I suppose so. And I was looking for you, too, hard as I could.

You'd never guess how I guessed you.

(He shakes his head.)

It is very simple. You are the same height as Captain Eppingwell.

(She laughs merrily.)

(Looking at dance-card.)

Hello, I haven't the next dance with you!

No, that's promised to—well, to somebody else.

But the next after is mine.

(Looking at dance-card.)

And the next after that. I'm almost afraid I'm dancing too much with you. What will people say?

(Pleased, and eagerly.)

Ah, but they don't know who we are.

They will after the unmasking. Then they will remember us together so much.

(As though struck by a thought of something else.)

What time will they unmask?

Two o'clock. And (Looks at card.) there is a waltz after that I should like. You do waltz so well, Mr. Vanderlip.

I won't be able to make that waltz, I—(Breaks off suddenly.)

Why, you, of all men, are not going home early?

No—I—that is—

(Looks at card, studies it profoundly, as though it would get him out of his difficulty.)

Why, yes, of course we can have that waltz together. I thought it was already engaged, that was all.

(Enter Capt. Eppingwell, who comes up to them, still in domino.)

(Disguising voice.)

The next is mine, I believe, fair lady.

(Vanderlip ranges up alongside of him and measures height of shoulders. Capt. Eppingwell curiously observes the action, and speaks with gruff voice.)

Well, stranger, what's up?

We're both up.

Up to what?

Up to each other. We're the same height, and I've guessed you, Captain Eppingwell.

(All laugh together, and Capt. Eppingwell bears Mrs. Eppingwell away. They make exit to left.)

(Loraine accosts Vanderlip.)

(In disguised voice.)

A word in your ear, sir.

(Vanderlip is politely agreeable, and listens.)

All is discovered.

(He starts.)

Your actions have betrayed you.

Who are you?

Never mind who I am. I know.

(Takes his hand and looks at palm.) You are about to make a long journey.

(He starts.)

I see a water-hole.

(He starts.)

I hear a clock strike twelve.

(He starts.)

She is a dark woman, a foreigner.

(He starts.)

And her name is—

(In natural voice, laughing.) Loraine.

(With relief in voice.)

You fooled me all right, Loraine. You said you weren't coming to the ball.

I didn't intend to, but everything was packed and ready for the start, and I had nothing to do. So I came.

(A pause.)

Floyd, don't you think you've been dancing with that Mrs. Eppingwell rather frequently?

No, I don't.

You've danced every dance with her.

Somebody else is dancing with her now.

And, in consequence, you are not dancing at all.

(Making movement to take her into ballroom.)

Come, then, let us dance it together.

(Pouting.)

No.

(Persuasively.)

Aw, come on.

No.

All right, then, don't.

(He stands stolid and silent.)

(After a pause, softly, hesitatingly, tears in voice, etc.)

Floyd—I—

(Breaks down and weeps in feminine way.) (Vanderlip is soft as mush at once. His arm is around her, and she is drawn close to him.)

There, there, dear. You know I love you.

(Still weeping.)

I—I am jealous, Floyd. I know it, but I can't help it. You are a man to touch women's hearts. They can't help loving you, and—and—

(Showing that he is secretly pleased.)

Oh, pshaw. Anyway, you are the one woman, or I wouldn't be taking you down river to-night.

(Prince has gone to left and is looking into ballroom, so they are unobserved.)

(Recovering.)

Yes, yes, I know. Forgive me. And now I must be going.

(They move to rear to street door. He helps her on with moccasins and street wraps.) Aren't you coming, too?

(Opening door jor her.)

No, not yet. But I'll be on time.

(She glances at Prince's back, lifts mask, and raises face for kiss. He bends and kisses her.)

At the water-hole.

At twelve sharp.

(She kisses him again, clings to him, and goes out.)

(At sound of door shutting, Prince turns around, then returns to street door.)

Hello!

Hello. How d'ye like the job?

I wouldn't undertake it again for all the gold in Klondike.

Losing all your friends, eh?

Half of them. They, will butt in, and I have to turn them away. Oh, it's hospitality, you bet. I've been with them on trail, I've eaten their food and slept in their blankets, and now I turn them away from the merrymaking of myself and my friends.

(A knock is heard at door.)

There's one, now.

(Opens door.)

No, it's only Sitka Charley.

(Enter Sitka Charley, who draws Vanderlip to one side.)

You come?

No, I tell you. No.

No come?

(Explosively.)

Then um Freda come. She say, you no come, she come. Sure.

Come here?

(He shakes his head and laughs incredulously.)

Not on your life.

(Starting toward street door.)

No come?

(Explosively.)

(Exit Sitka Charley.)

(Vanderlip goes to rear, takes off domino, disclosing himself as a cowboy. Hangs domino on wall. Takes down from wall a sombrero, which he puts on head. Makes exit to left.)

(Prince, who is now alone, walks over to stove at left, adjusts damper, and warms his hands.)

(The street door is cautiously opened, without knocking, and Sitka Charley puts head inside and peers around. Withdraws head.)

(Street door is again cautiously opened, this time the masked face of a woman appearing, and then Freda, in long cloak, enters. She removes street moccasins, revealing dancing slippers on her feet, and puts moccasins under bench close to door. She removes cloak, and reveals herself in a striking evening gown. As she turns her back to hang cloak on wall, Prince happens to see her. She starts toward ballroom, but he steps in her way and stops her.)

I beg your pardon.

(She waits silently.)

I am the doorkeeper, you know.

(A pause.)

The instructions are that all masks must be lifted at the door.

(Still silence On part of Freda. The situation is awkward for Prince, and he begins again.)

I don't know who you are, but the rules are imperative. I must see your face.

(Steps forward and lifts his hand to raise mask.)

(Quickly stepping back and speaking in a slightly muffled voice.)

You will be sorry if you see my face.

I have been made sorry by more than one face I've seen to-night and turned away from the door.

But in my case you will be sorry for quite a different reason.

(Curiously.)

For what reason, then, pray?

Because, after seeing my face, you will not turn me away.

(With certitude.)

Then there will be no reason for me to turn you away.

On the contrary, all the reason in the world. But you won't.

(Prince laughs incredulously. Mrs. Mc-Fee appears in doorway to left, looks suspiciously at them, and disappears.)

So it will be better, Stanley, if you let me in without seeing my face.

(Starting at her use of his given name.) You know me!—er—well!

And you know me well. Now let me pass. Some day I will tell you about it, my reason for coming here, and you will be glad.

(She starts as though to go to the ballroom.)

(Springing in her way and seizing her arm.)

No you don't, my lady! Enough fooling. Let me see your face.

There have been times when you treated me less roughly. For the sake of those times, let me pass.

(Still retaining hold on her arm, and after hesitating for a moment.)

No, it's a bluff you're running on me. I don't know who you are, but I'm going to find out.

(He lifts free hand toward her mask.)

You will be sorry.

(He hesitates.)

Be in ignorance of me, and let me pass. It will be better so.

If you have no right, I'll not let you pass anyway. Now let me see you.

(Still holding her by one arm, he tries to lift mask.)

(Mrs. McFee appears in doorway to left and watches suspiciously.)

(Sitka Charley knocks and then enters through street door, Prince giving a quick glance in his direction and ascertaining that it is all right for him to enter.)

(In natural voice.)

Stanley!

(Releasing her and speaking with awe.) No! Not you!

(Freda lifts her mask, her back to Mrs. McFee, and for several seconds, her face serious with resolve, her eyes flashing, she gazes upon him. She lowers mask, and makes as though to start toward door to left. He hesitates, stands aside, then hesitates again.)

It is all my social standing in Dawson is worth, to—to let you pass.

(Mockingly.)

I told you you would be sorry.

(Seriously.)

There is Sitka Charley. I want to speak to him. And there's that psalm-singer in the doorway. Don't let her suspect me.

I shall resign my post.

Resign? You will be of more help to me if you retain it.

I have been unfaithful to it. Pass, Freda, pass. Who am I to say you nay?

(He leaves her and returns to street door. Freda goes over to Sitka Charley. Mrs. McFee disappears jrom doorway, but reappears one or two times to stare suspiciously.)

How is Vanderlip dressed? What does he look like?

Um all the same long black dress, like um woman.

Dressed as a woman!

(Shaking his head.)

No dress woman. Um like—um—um—like um priest man.

(Makes motion of hand around head to describe hood of domino, and motion down to his feet to describe length of domino.)

Um long black, like priest man.

(A domino, with lady on arm, appears in doorway, as though about to enter, then changing mind, disappears.)

Look see! Just like that. That um Vanderlip.

All right, Charley. I understand. And now for you. Flossie can't get here too quickly. You must take dogs, fresh dogs, up the trail, and when you meet her, put her on your sled, and race in with her as fast as you can. Tell her Vanderlip sent you and is waiting for her.

(Dubiously.)

Um dogs, fresh dogs, have not got.

Take my dogs. You know them.

(Enthusiastically.)

Um best dogs in Klondike. Sure.

And bring Flossie straight to my cabin. Don't stop anywhere else for anything. Right up to the door and in with her. Understand?

Um Vanderlip there?

Yes, Vanderlip will be there waiting for her.

(Starts him toward street door.)

Now hurry.

(Exit Sitka Charley.)

(To Prince, who is standing forlornly at his post.)

I'm sorry, Stanley, but I had to do this thing. Now I want to find Floyd Vanderlip.

You'll find him in the ballroom. Black domino—you know his height.

(Resting one hand on his arm and laughing cheerily.)

There, there, don't look so glum. All is not lost. Nobody will know me, and I'll be gone in five minutes.

(Mrs. McFee appears in doorway to left. Looks at them standing together.)

(Freda crosses to left and goes out, Mrs. McFee standing aside and looking at her closely.)

(Mrs. McFee crosses to Prince.)

MRS. McFEE

Who might that woman be, Mr. Prince?

(Coldly.)

The doorkeeper's lips are sealed. Those were my instructions. The doorkeeper can disclose identities to nobody.

MRS. McFEE

But to me—

(Interrupting icily.)

To nobody. You are made no exception, Mrs. McFee. And furthermore, I'm going to resign.

MRS. McFEE

Resign!

And right now. And whoever takes my place—you'd better put a mask on him, or he'll lose all his friends as I have.

(Insinuatingly.)

Your friends, the kind of men and women you turned from this door?

(Angrily.)

Yes, my friends, men and women, children of sin, lost, hopeless wretches,—my friends.

MRS. McFEE

(Sniffing and tossing her head, and very frigidly.)

I believe it is just as well, Mr. Prince. I had my doots of you all along. There is no telling what base creatures you have admitted. I shall get an honorable man to guard the door. I shall inform the committee—

(Interrupting.)

Get him! Get him! Go get him! You can't be any too quick for me!

(Beginning angrily.)

You are a shame and a disgrace, and when I bring your conduct before the committee—

(Interrupting.)

If you don't go right away and get some one to take my place, I'll throw open the door and call in the scum of the town.

(Makes a motion to open door.)

MRS. McFEE

(Aghast, throwing up arms.)

No! No! Dinna be rash!

(She hastens away into ballroom.)

(Several couples have entered from ballroom and are promenading, among them Capt. Eppingwell, by himself, in domino.) (Enter Sitka Charley through street door, looking for some one. He mistakes Capt. Eppingwell for Vanderlip.)

Hello, Vanderlip. You no come Freda's cabin you catch um hell, sure.

(Starting, and in disguised voice.)

Hello. What's Freda want with me.

(Recognizing that it is not Vanderlip's voice, and surprised.)

You no Vanderlip?

(Imitating Sitka Charley's voice.)

No. Me Sitka Charley.

What for, crazymans? Me Sitka Charley.

Me Sitka Charley.

No, me.

No, me.

(He suddenly takes off domino, disclosing himself in make-up of Sitka Charley. Sitka Charley gazes at him dumbfounded. Rubs his eyes.)

You buy um dogs, good dogs, I sell.

You me. Who me?

(Rubs his eyes.)

What for? Everybody crazy. Me crazy too.

(Struck by an idea, he puts on domino again, and drags Sitka Charley by arm to back of room.)

Come on, we'll have some fun.

(Feels in pocket of overcoat hanging on wall and brings out a mask, which he puts on Sitka Charley.)

Now for fun!

(Capt. Eppingwell takes Sitka Charley to left, thrusts him into ballroom, and remains in doorway, watching.)

(Enter Freda. Capt. Eppingwell stands aside for her to pass. But she stops and measures his height and build with her eye.)

(Softly.)

At last I've found you, Floyd.

I like that, guessing me the first time. And who are you?

(Surprised.)

Oh! It was a mistake.

(Starts to leave him, but he follows her, detaining her.)

Not so fast, fair lady. I've an idea you'll dance—

(Looks at his dance-card.)

—the next quadrille, let us say.

I think it's engaged. I've lost my programme.

(Putting hand inside domino and bringing forth a programme.)

I have a spare one. Allow me.

(He writes on card.)

(Enter Sitka Charley from left, running away from Clown, who is striking him on back with bladder.)

Thank you. The next quadrille then. (Looking at Sitka Charley.)

There is somebody I wish to speak to. Good-by.

(Standing aside.)

Good-by.

(Mrs. McFee enters from left with man, whom she takes to street door and who relieves Prince, who makes exit to left.)

(Freda joins in pursuit of Sitka Charley and drives Clown away.)

(Mrs. McFee watches Freda and Sitka Charley.)

(Severely.)

I thought you had started up the trail with the dogs long ago. Anything the matter?

Me come back speak to you. Me think, um Lisznayi woman wait at water-hole, no Vanderlip come, maybe she make much trouble. Much better Lisznayi woman go long way off. Maybe I think very good tell Lisznayi woman lie. Maybe say Vanderlip meet her twenty mile down trail. One Indian man take her on sled twenty mile down trail, then she sure make no trouble.

(Laughing.)

A good idea. You hurry and fix it up, quick, and then start after Flossie.

(Sitka Charley starts to go.)

One moment, Charley. Ten miles down river is Salmon Stake. One missionary man lives at Salmon Stake. Tell Indian man to take Lisznayi woman to missionary house and knock on door. Missionary man gets out of bed and lets them in. Indian man tells missionary man that Lisznayi woman come to see him, come to be good woman.

(She laughs merrily.)

Understand?

(Laughing silently.)

Very good. Dam good. All right.

(Turning to leave him.)

And hurry as fast as you can.

(Freda, looking over one after another of couples and groups, and watched suspiciously by Mrs. McFee, continues search for Vanderlip and goes to left.)

(Sitka Charley starts toward street door, but is interrupted by Mrs. McFee.)

Who is that woman?

Um crazy womans maybe.

MRS. McFEE

But who is she?

(Stirring the air with his hand to describe general mix-up.)

Everybody somebody; somebody nobody; nobody anybody. What for? Sitka Charley no Sitka Charley. Sitka Charley somebody else. Somebody else Sitka Charley.

MRS. McFEE

(With a sour smile of appreciation.)

You do it very well. Allow me to congratulate you.

What for long words? Sitka Charley don't know long words.

MRS. McFEE

Oh, I know you, Captain Eppingwell.

Me no Captain Eppingwell. Me Sitka Charley.

You do it excellently. Even I would be almost deceived, I assure you, Captain Eppingwell.

Me Captain Eppingwell?

MRS. McFEE

Of course you are. I knew you at once.

Mrs. Eppingwell my squaw?

Yes, and Mrs. Eppingwell is your wife. Now tell me who that woman was.

(After holding head in both hands.)

Me no drink whiskey all day. Yet me all the same drunk. Me no me. Me Captain Eppingwell. Me have one fine squaw. Wow! (Soberly, holding one hand to head and shaking head.)

Sitka Charley much sick. Sitka Charley go home. (Starts for street door, but Mrs. McFee detains him.)

MRS. McFEE

No, no, Captain, you are coming with me to see how the supper is being laid, and you are going to tell me who that woman is.

(Sitka Charley does not want to go, but, vainly protesting, is lugged off by Mrs. McFee through door to left.)

(Capt. Eppingwell, who has lingered about, watches them got and when gone he takes off domino, hangs same on wall, and discloses himself in make-up of Sitka Charley. He proceeds to put wood in stove to right.)

(Freda enters from left and sees Capt. Eppingwell bending over woodbox. She crosses over to him in an angry, determined way.)

(Very severely.)

Still here! When I asked you to hurry!

(Capt. Eppingwell straightens up abruptly.)

Shame on you, Charley. Now go, as fast as you can.

(Imitating Sitka Charley.)

What for go? You buy dogs? I sell dogs, good dogs.

(With petulant dismay.)

Oh! You again!

Me Sitka Charley.

You are the man in the domino. I might have known you were not Sitka Charley. You are taller.

(Natural voice.)

And in the domino you mistook me because of my height.

(Freda starts.)

Oh, I know. The man you seek is about my height, eh?

Who are you?

Who are you?

You don't know me. I am a new arrival in Dawson. I came in over the ice.

(With sudden conviction.)

Now I have you! I met you to-day.

(Shaking head.)

No, you didn't.

Yes, I did. You are the Lisznayi—I beg pardon—Miss—er—Miss Lisznayi.

(Simulating surrender.)

It's a shame to be found out so quickly. Mister—? Mister—?

Mr. Sitka Charley.

Well, then, Mr. Sitka Charley, I am displeased with you. You are too cunning. I am really vexed, and for punishment I am going to leave you.

(She curtsies deeply, and walks away toward left.)

(To himself, as he watches her.)

That voice. That walk! That carriage!

(Scratches head, then suddenly.)

Fooled! Fooled! That's not the Lisznayi!

(He springs after her.)

(A voice, off stage, is heard calling, "Take partners for a quadrille!")

I beg pardon, but this dance is ours.

(Drawing watch and looking at it.)

Yes, it is, but really, I must beg off. I—I don't like quadrilles.

(Looks at dance-card.)

There's a waltz two dances down. I'll give you that.

(A man, in costume, appears in doorway to left, and shouts: "One more couple needed! Here, you! One more couple!")

(Offering his arm.)

There! We're needed.

(Man in doorway, who has turned around and surveyed ballroom, turns back and calls: "Too late! Sets are full!" Opening bars of dance are heard.)

(Seizing Freda in his arms and starting to waltz.)

We'll make a waltz of it here.

(They waltz a jew steps, Freda abandoning herself to it, when she suddenly stops and withdraws herselj from his arms.)

Please let me go. You may have that waltz later.

(She looks at watch and betrays her need for haste.)

(Very deliberately.)

There is something familiar about you. I have seen you before. I have danced with you before. And—well, I have never danced with the Lisznayi.

No, you don't know me.

Let me tell you the occasion.

(Very restless and desiring to go.)

There has been no occasion.

(Firmly.)

Nevertheless, let me tell you. It may interest you.

(Makes appropriate gestures.)

Here was the stove, here the piano. Three-fingered Jack played the fiddle. It was Old Dan Tucker that we danced. Remember?

(She shakes her head.)

There was the doorway to the front, always open. Through it came the clatter of chips, the rattle of roulette balls, the calls of the gamekeepers. And there was the rear door. It opened upon the street. When it opened the frost came through, in a cloud of vapor, rolling along the floor and hiding the feet and legs of the dancers to the knees. And we danced, you and I, we danced Old Dan Tucker.

(Innocently.)

How interesting! Tell me, that—that what you described, it is a—a dance-hall? Am I right?

(With firm conviction.)

I remember when you came in through the door. The frost rolled in with you, and you wore the most magnificent furs in all the Klondike. And you danced in moccasins, in little red moccasins. Remember?

(Still innocently.)

Ah, those furs! Is there a woman in the land who has not heard of them and envied their possessor, this woman you take me for—and I know who you mean—this—this dance-hall artist, this—this Freda Moloof. And how often have you danced with her?—with me, I mean.

(Shaken for the moment.)

Once. That one night. But I have seen her several times. Who has not?