The Klondike had not yet been discovered, nor had the miners of the Yukon learned the possibilities of deep digging and wood-firing.
No work was done in the winter, and they made a practice of hibernating in the large camps like Circle City during the long Arctic night.

Time was heavy on their hands, their pouches were well filled, and the only social diversion to be found was in the saloons.

Yet the Shovel was practically deserted, and the Virgin, standing by the stove, yawned with uncovered mouth and said to Charley Bates:-- "If something don't happen soon, I'm gin' to bed.

What's the matter with the camp, anyway?
Everybody dead ?" Bates did not even trouble to reply, but went on moodily rolling a cigarette.

Dan MacDonald, pioneer saloonman and gambler on the upper Yukon, owner and proprietor of the Tivoli and all its games, wandered forlornly across the great vacant space of floor and joined the two at the stove.
"Anybody dead ?" the Virgin asked him.
"Looks like it," was the answer.
"Then it must be the whole camp," she said with an air of finality and with another yawn.
MacDonald grinned and nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, when the front door swung wide and a man appeared in the light.