"'Everybody take pardners, and whoop her up. I want this picture for the _Weekly_. Get busy, you, there!" We all joined in to help things; the orchestra hit the rough spots, and we went highfalutin' down the centre, to show the English race how our joy pained us, and that life in the Klondyke had the Newport whirl, looking like society in a Siwash village. He got another good picture. "Inside of a week, Morrow and I had joined up. We leased a claim and had our cabin done, waiting for snow to fall so's to sled our grub out to the creek. He took to me like I did to him, and he was an educated lad, too. Somehow, though, it hadn't gone to his head, leaving his hands useless, like knowledge usually does. "One day, just before the last boat pulled down river, Mr. Struthers, the picture man, come to us--R. Alonzo Struthers, of London and 'Frisco, he was--and showin' us a picture, he says: "'Ain't that great? Sunday supplements! Full page! Big display! eh?' "It sure was. 'Bout 9x9, and showing every detail of the Reception saloon. There was 'Single Out' analyzing the cuspidore and 'Curly' dozin', as contorted and well-done as a pretzel. There was the crowd hiding in the corners, and behind the faro-table stood the kid, one hand among the scattered chips and cards, the other dominating the layout with 'Curley's' 'six.' It couldn't have looked more natural if we'd posed for it. It was a bully likeness, I thought, too, till I seen myself glaring over the bar. All that showed of William P. Joyce, bachelor of some arts and plenty of science, late of Dawson, was the white of his eyes. And talkin' of white--say, I looked like I had washing hung out. Seemed like the draught had riz my hair up, too. "'Nothing like it ever seen,' continues Struthers. 'I'll call it 'The Winning Card,' or 'At Bay,' or something like that. Feature it as a typical Klondyke card game. I'll give you a two-page write-up. Why, it's the greatest thing I ever did!' "'I'm sorry,' says Morrow, thoughtful, 'but you musn't run it.' "'What! says he, and I thinks, 'Oh, Lord! There goes my only show to get perpetufied in ink.' "'I can't let you use it. My wife might see it.' "'Your wife!' says I. 'Are you married, pardner?' "'Yes, I'm married,' and his voice sounded queer. 'I've got a boy--too, see.' "He took a locket from his flannel shirt and opened it. A curly-headed, dimpled little youngster laughed out at me. "'Well, I'm d----!' and then I took off my hat, for in the other side was a woman--and, gentlemen, she _was_ a woman! When I seen her it made me feel blushy and ashamed. Gee! She was a stunner. I just stared at her till Struthers looked over my shoulder, and says, excited: "'Why, it's Olive Troop, the singer!' "'Not any more,' says Morrow, smiling. "'Oh! So you're the fellow she gave up her art for? I knew her on the stage.'