Once Freda and Mrs.Eppingwell clashed.
Now Freda was a Greek girl and a dancer.At least she purported to be Greek; but this was doubted by many, for her classic face had over-much strength in it, and the tides of hell which rose in her eyes made at rare moments her ethnology the more dubious.To a few--men--this sight had been vouchsafed, and though long years may have passed, they have not forgotten, nor will they ever forget.She never talked of herself, so that it were well to let it go down that when in repose, expurgated, Greek she certainly was.Her furs were the most magnificent in all the country from Chilcoot to St.Michael's, and her name was common on the lips of men.But Mrs.Eppingwell was the wife of a captain; also a social constellation of the first magnitude, the path of her orbit marking the most select coterie in Dawson,--a coterie captioned by the profane as the "official clique." Sitka Charley had travelled trail with her once, when famine drew tight and a man's life was less than a cup of flour, and his judgment placed her above all women.Sitka Charley was an Indian; his criteria were primitive;but his word was flat, and his verdict a hall-mark in every camp under the circle.
These two women were man-conquering, man-subduing machines, each in her own way, and their ways were different.Mrs.Eppingwell ruled in her own house, and at the Barracks, where were younger sons galore, to say nothing of the chiefs of the police, the executive, and the judiciary.Freda ruled down in the town; but the men she ruled were the same who functioned socially at the Barracks or were fed tea and canned preserves at the hand of Mrs.
Eppingwell in her hillside cabin of rough-hewn logs.Each knew the other existed; but their lives were apart as the Poles, and while they must have heard stray bits of news and were curious, they were never known to ask a question.And there would have been no trouble had not a free lance in the shape of the model-woman come into the land on the first ice, with a spanking dog-team and a cosmopolitan reputation.Loraine Lisznayi--alliterative, dramatic, and Hungarian--precipitated the strife, and because of her Mrs.Eppingwell left her hillside and invaded Freda's domain, and Freda likewise went up from the town to spread confusion and embarrassment at the Governor's ball.
All of which may be ancient history so far as the Klondike is concerned, but very few, even in Dawson, know the inner truth of the matter; nor beyond those few are there any fit to measure the wife of the captain or the Greek dancer.And that all are now permitted to understand, let honor be accorded Sitka Charley.
From his lips fell the main facts in the screed herewith presented.It ill befits that Freda herself should have waxed confidential to a mere scribbler of words, or that Mrs.Eppingwell made mention of the things which happened.They may have spoken, but it is unlikely.
Floyd Vanderlip was a strong man, apparently.Hard work and hard grub had no terrors for him, as his early history in the country attested.In danger he was a lion, and when he held in check half a thousand starving men, as he once did, it was remarked that no cooler eye ever took the glint of sunshine on a rifle-sight.He had but one weakness, and even that, rising from out his strength, was of a negative sort.His parts were strong, but they lacked co-ordination.Now it happened that while his centre of amativeness was pronounced, it had lain mute and passive during the years he lived on moose and salmon and chased glowing Eldorados over chill divides.But when he finally blazed the corner-post and centre-stakes on one of the richest Klondike claims, it began to quicken; and when he took his place in society, a full-fledged Bonanza King, it awoke and took charge of him.He suddenly recollected a girl in the States, and it came to him quite forcibly, not only that she might be waiting for him, but that a wife was a very pleasant acquisition for a man who lived some several degrees north of 53.So he wrote an appropriate note, enclosed a letter of credit generous enough to cover all expenses, including trousseau and chaperon, and addressed it to one Flossie.Flossie? One could imagine the rest.However, after that he built a comfortable cabin on his claim, bought another in Dawson, and broke the news to his friends.
And just here is where the lack of co-ordination came into play.
The waiting was tedious, and having been long denied, the amative element could not brook further delay.Flossie was coming; but Loraine Lisznayi was here.And not only was Loraine Lisznayi here, but her cosmopolitan reputation was somewhat the worse for wear, and she was not exactly so young as when she posed in the studios of artist queens and received at her door the cards of cardinals and princes.Also, her finances were unhealthy.Having run the gamut in her time, she was now not averse to trying conclusions with a Bonanza King whose wealth was such that he could not guess it within six figures.Like a wise soldier casting about after years of service for a comfortable billet, she had come into the Northland to be married.So, one day, her eyes flashed up into Floyd Vanderlip's as he was buying table linen for Flossie in the P.C.Company's store, and the thing was settled out of hand.
When a man is free much may go unquestioned, which, should he be rash enough to cumber himself with domestic ties, society will instantly challenge.Thus it was with Floyd Vanderlip.Flossie was coming, and a low buzz went up when Loraine Lisznayi rode down the main street behind his wolf-dogs.She accompanied the lady reporter of the "Kansas City Star" when photographs were taken of his Bonanza properties, and watched the genesis of a six-column article.At that time they were dined royally in Flossie's cabin, on Flossie's table linen.Likewise there were comings and goings, and junketings, all perfectly proper, by the way, which caused the men to say sharp things and the women to be spiteful.Only Mrs.
