There's where you-all track my moccasins in the near future if you-all want to find me--somewhere in the country around Stewart River, Indian River, and Klondike River.

When I get back with the mail, I'll head that way so fast you-all won't see my trail for smoke.

She's a-coming, fellows, gold from the grass roots down, a hundred dollars to the pan, and a stampede in from the Outside fifty thousand strong.

You-all'll think all hell's busted loose when that strike is made." He raised his glass to his lips.

"Here's kindness, and hoping you-all will be in on it." He drank and stepped down from the chair, falling into another one of Bettles' bear-hugs.
"If I was you, Daylight, I wouldn't mush to-day," Joe Hines counselled, coming in from consulting the spirit thermometer outside the door.
"We're in for a good cold snap.