Further, it's gettin' cold on the stoop, an' ye'll be frostin' yer toes, the pink little toes I fished splinters out iv at Dyea.

So it's in with ye, Frona girl, an' good-night." He thrust her inside and departed.

When he reached the corner he stopped suddenly and regarded his shadow on the snow.

"Matt McCarthy, yer a damned fool! Who iver heard iv a Welse not knowin' their own mind?
As though ye'd niver had dalin's with the stiff-necked breed, ye calamitous son iv misfortune!" Then he went his way, still growling deeply, and at every growl the curious wolf-dog at his heels bristled and bared its fangs..