The wind hadn't died away till along came the "Flying Dutchman" from Dugan's, twenty miles up, floatin' on the skirts of the blizzard. "Hello, fellers. Howdy, Annie. What's the matter here?" says he. "We had a woman at Dugan's too--purty as a picture; different from the Nome bunch--real sort of a lady." "Who is she?" says I, "an' what's she doin' out here on the trail?" "Dunno, but she's all right; come clean from Dawson with a dog team; says she's looking for her mother." I heard a pan clatter on the floor where Annie was washing dishes, and her face went a sickly grey. She leaned across, gripping the table and straining to ask something, but the words wouldn't come, while "Dutch" continues: "Somethin' strange about it, I think. She says her ma's over in the Golden Gate district, workin' a rich mine. Of course we all laughed at her, and said there wasn't a woman in the whole layout, 'ceptin' _some_ folks might misconstrue Annie here into a kind of a female. She stuck to it though, much as to say we was liars. She's comin' on--what's the matter, Annie--you ain't sore at me effeminatin' you by the gentle name of female, are you?" She had come to him, and gripped his shoulder, till her long, bony fingers buried themselves in his mackinaw. Her mouth was twitching, and she hadn't got shed of that "first-aid-to-the-injured" look. "What name? What name, Dutch? What name?" She shook him like a rat. "Bradshaw--but you needn't run your nails through and clinch 'em. Ow! Le'go my white meat. You act like she was your long lost baby. What d'ye think of that idea, fellers? Ain't that a pleasin' conceit? Annie Black, and a baby. Ha! Ha! that's a hit. Annie and a daughter. A cow-thief and a calla-lily." "Dutch," says I, "you ain't a-goin' to make it through to Lane's Landing if you don't pull your freight," and I drags the darn fool out and starts him off. When I came in she was huddled onto a goods box, shaking and sobbing like any woman, while the boys sat around and champed their bits and stomped. "Take me away, Billy," she says. "For God's sake take me away before she sees me." She slid down to the floor and cried something awful. Gents, that was sure the real distress, nothing soft and sloppy, but hard, wrenchy, deep ones, like you hear at a melodrayma. 'Twas only back in '99 that I seen an awful crying match, though both of the ladies had been drinking, so I felt like I was useder to emotion than the balance of the boys, and it was up to me to take a holt. "Madam," says I, and somehow the word didn't seem out of place any more--"Madam, why do you want to avoid this party?" "Take me away," she says. "It's my daughter. She's going to find me this way, all rough and immodest and made fun of. But that's the worst you can say, isn't it? I'm a square woman--you know I am, don't you, boys?" and she looked at us fierce and pleadin'. "Sure," says Joe. "We'll boost you with the girl all right."