They evidently knew one another
with the intimacy that comes only to the segment of a small community
shut off largely from the world and forced into close social relations.
No doubt they had loaned each other money occasionally, stood by in
trouble, and gossiped back and forth about their shortcomings and family
skeletons even as society on the outside does.
"That's the way of the world, isn't it? Our civilization is built on the
group system," suggested Elliot.
"Maybeso," grumbled the miner. "But I hate to see Alaska come to it.
Me, I saw this country first in '97--packed an outfit in over the Pass.
Every man stood on his own hind legs then. He got there if he was
strong--mebbe; he bogged down on the trail good and plenty if he was
weak. We didn't have any of the artificial stuff then. A man had to have
the guts to stand the gaff."
"I suppose it was a wild country, Mr. Strong."
The little miner's eyes gleamed. "Best country in the world. We
didn't stand for anything that wasn't on the level. It was a poor
man's country--wages fifteen dollars a day and plenty of work. Everybody
had a chance. Anybody could stake a claim and gamble on his luck. Now
the big corporations have slipped in and grabbed the best.
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