Now that she was a woman, and had seen him tried, and knew he was a man, he would bring his burden of prosperity and lay it at her feet, saying: "Here is another offering, my Necia, and with it go the laughter and the music and the heart of Poleon Doret." Sacre! It would not take her long to wake up after that! The world was very bright indeed this afternoon, and he burst again into song in company with the voices of the forest people: "Chante, rossignol, chante! Toi qui a le coeur gai; Tu as le coeur a rire Mai j' l' ai-ta pleurer, Il y a longtemps que j' t'aime Jamais je ne t'oublierai." [Footnote: "Sing, little bird, oh, sing away! You with the voice so light and gay! Yours is a heart that laughter cheers, Mine is a hearts that's full of tears.
Long have I loved, I love her yet; Leave her I can, but not forget."] "Whew!" said Gale, slipping out of his pack-straps, "the skeeters is bad." "You bet your gum boots," said Poleon.

"Dey're mos' so t'ick as de summer dey kill Johnnie Platt on de Porcupine." Both men wore gauntleted gloves of caribou-skin and head harnesses of mosquito-netting stretched over globelike frames of thin steel bands, which they slipped on over their hats after the manner of divers' helmets, for without protection of some kind the insects would have made travel impossible once the Yukon breezes were left behind or once the trail dipped from the high divides where there was no moss.
"Let's see.

It was you that found him, wasn't it ?" said Gale.
"Sure t'ing! I'm comin' down for grub in my canoe, w'en I see dis feller on de bank, walkin' lak' he's in beeg horry.

'Ba Gar!' I say, 'dere's man goin' so fast he'll meet hese'f comin' home!' Den he turn roun' an' go tearin' back, wavin' hees arms lak' he's callin' me, till he fall down.

Wen I paddle close up, I don' know 'im no more dan stranger, an' me an' Johnnie Platt is trap togeder wan winter.