Burning Daylight

by Jack London

  CHAPTER II

  It was two in the morning when the dancers, bent on getting somethingto eat, adjourned the dancing for half an hour. And it was at thismoment that Jack Kearns suggested poker. Jack Kearns was a big,bluff-featured man, who, along with Bettles, had made the disastrousattempt to found a post on the head-reaches of the Koyokuk, far insidethe Arctic Circle. After that, Kearns had fallen back on his posts atForty Mile and Sixty Mile and changed the direction of his ventures bysending out to the States for a small sawmill and a river steamer. Theformer was even then being sledded across Chilcoot Pass by Indians anddogs, and would come down the Yukon in the early summer after theice-run. Later in the summer, when Bering Sea and the mouth of theYukon cleared of ice, the steamer, put together at St. Michaels, was tobe expected up the river loaded to the guards with supplies.

  Jack Kearns suggested poker. French Louis, Dan MacDonald, and HalCampbell (who had make a strike on Moosehide), all three of whom werenot dancing because there were not girls enough to go around, inclinedto the suggestion. They were looking for a fifth man when BurningDaylight emerged from the rear room, the Virgin on his arm, the trainof dancers in his wake. In response to the hail of the poker-players,he came over to their table in the corner.

  "Want you to sit in," said Campbell. "How's your luck?"

  "I sure got it to-night," Burning Daylight answered with enthusiasm,and at the same time felt the Virgin press his arm warningly. Shewanted him for the dancing. "I sure got my luck with me, but I'dsooner dance. I ain't hankerin' to take the money away from you-all."

  Nobody urged. They took his refusal as final, and the Virgin waspressing his arm to turn him away in pursuit of the supper-seekers,when he experienced a change of heart. It was not that he did not wantto dance, nor that he wanted to hurt her; but that insistent pressureon his arm put his free man-nature in revolt. The thought in his mindwas that he did not want any woman running him. Himself a favoritewith women, nevertheless they did not bulk big with him. They weretoys, playthings, part of the relaxation from the bigger game of life.He met women along with the whiskey and gambling, and from observationhe had found that it was far easier to break away from the drink andthe cards than from a woman once the man was properly entangled.

  He was a slave to himself, which was natural in one with a healthy ego,but he rebelled in ways either murderous or panicky at being a slave toanybody else. Love's sweet servitude was a thing of which he had nocomprehension. Men he had seen in love impressed him as lunatics, andlunacy was a thing he had never considered worth analyzing. Butcomradeship with men was different from love with women. There was noservitude in comradeship. It was a business proposition, a square dealbetween men who did not pursue each other, but who shared the risks oftrail and river and mountain in the pursuit of life and treasure. Menand women pursued each other, and one must needs bend the other to hiswill or hers. Comradeship was different. There was no slavery aboutit; and though he, a strong man beyond strength's seeming, gave farmore than he received, he gave not something due but in royal largess,his gifts of toil or heroic effort falling generously from his hands.To pack for days over the gale-swept passes or across themosquito-ridden marshes, and to pack double the weight his comradepacked, did not involve unfairness or compulsion. Each did his best.That was the business essence of it. Some men were stronger thanothers--true; but so long as each man did his best it was fairexchange, the business spirit was observed, and the square dealobtained.

  But with women--no. Women gave little and wanted all. Women hadapron-strings and were prone to tie them about any man who looked twicein their direction. There was the Virgin, yawning her head off when hecame in and mightily pleased that he asked her to dance. One dance wasall very well, but because he danced twice and thrice with her andseveral times more, she squeezed his arm when they asked him to sit inat poker. It was the obnoxious apron-string, the first of the manycompulsions she would exert upon him if he gave in. Not that she wasnot a nice bit of a woman, healthy and strapping and good to look upon,also a very excellent dancer, but that she was a woman with all awoman's desire to rope him with her apron-strings and tie him hand andfoot for the branding. Better poker. Besides, he liked poker as wellas he did dancing.

  He resisted the pull on his arm by the mere negative mass of him, andsaid:--

  "I sort of feel a hankering to give you-all a flutter."

  Again came the pull on his arm. She was trying to pass theapron-string around him. For the fraction of an instant he was asavage, dominated by the wave of fear and murder that rose up in him.For that infinitesimal space of time he was to all purposes afrightened tiger filled with rage and terror at the apprehension of thetrap. Had he been no more than a savage, he would have leapt wildlyfrom the place or else sprung upon her and destroyed her. But in thatsame instant there stirred in him the generations of discipline bywhich man had become an inadequate social animal. Tact and sympathystrove with him, and he smiled with his eyes into the Virgin's eyes ashe said:--

  "You-all go and get some grub. I ain't hungry. And we'll dance somemore by and by. The night's young yet. Go to it, old girl."

  He released his arm and thrust her playfully on the shoulder, at thesame time turning to the poker-players.

  "Take off the limit and I'll go you-all."

  "Limit's the roof," said Jack Kearns.

  "Take off the roof."

  The players glanced at one another, and Kearns announced, "The roof'soff."

  Elam Harnish dropped into the waiting chair, started to pull out hisgold-sack, and changed his mind. The Virgin pouted a moment, thenfollowed in the wake of the other dancers.

  "I'll bring you a sandwich, Daylight," she called back over hershoulder.

  He nodded. She was smiling her forgiveness. He had escaped theapron-string, and without hurting her feelings too severely.

  "Let's play markers," he suggested. "Chips do everlastingly clutter upthe table....If it's agreeable to you-all?"

  "I'm willing," answered Hal Campbell. "Let mine run at five hundred."

  "Mine, too," answered Harnish, while the others stated the values theyput on their own markers, French Louis, the most modest, issuing his ata hundred dollars each.

  In Alaska, at that time, there were no rascals and no tin-horngamblers. Games were conducted honestly, and men trusted one another.A man's word was as good as his gold in the blower. A marker was aflat, oblong composition chip worth, perhaps, a cent. But when a manbetted a marker in a game and said it was worth five hundred dollars,it was accepted as worth five hundred dollars. Whoever won it knewthat the man who issued it would redeem it with five hundred dollars'worth of dust weighed out on the scales. The markers being ofdifferent colors, there was no difficulty in identifying the owners.Also, in that early Yukon day, no one dreamed of playing table-stakes.A man was good in a game for all that he possessed, no matter where hispossessions were or what was their nature.

  Harnish cut and got the deal. At this good augury, and while shufflingthe deck, he called to the barkeepers to set up the drinks for thehouse. As he dealt the first card to Dan MacDonald, on his left, hecalled out:

  "Get down to the ground, you-all, Malemutes, huskies, and Siwash purps!Get down and dig in! Tighten up them traces! Put your weight into theharness and bust the breast-bands! Whoop-la! Yow! We're off and boundfor Helen Breakfast! And I tell you-all clear and plain there's goin'to be stiff grades and fast goin' to-night before we win to that samelady. And somebody's goin' to bump...hard."

  Once started, it was a quiet game, with little or no conversation,though all about the players the place was a-roar. Elam Harnish hadignited the spark. More and more miners dropped in to the Tivoli andremained. When Burning Daylight went on the tear, no man cared to missit. The dancing-floor was full. Owing to the shortage of women, manyof the men tied bandanna handkerchiefs around their arms in token offemininity and danced with other men. All the games were crowded, andthe voices of the men ta
lking at the long bar and grouped about thestove were accompanied by the steady click of chips and the sharp whir,rising and falling, of the roulette-ball. All the materials of aproper Yukon night were at hand and mixing.

  The luck at the table varied monotonously, no big hands being out. Asa result, high play went on with small hands though no play lastedlong. A filled straight belonging to French Louis gave him a pot offive thousand against two sets of threes held by Campbell and Kearns.One pot of eight hundred dollars was won by a pair of treys on ashowdown. And once Harnish called Kearns for two thousand dollars on acold steal. When Kearns laid down his hand it showed a bobtail flush,while Harnish's hand proved that he had had the nerve to call on a pairof tens.

  But at three in the morning the big combination of hands arrived.

  It was the moment of moments that men wait weeks for in a poker game.The news of it tingled over the Tivoli. The onlookers became quiet.The men farther away ceased talking and moved over to the table. Theplayers deserted the other games, and the dancing-floor was forsaken,so that all stood at last, fivescore and more, in a compact and silentgroup, around the poker-table. The high betting had begun before thedraw, and still the high betting went on, with the draw not in sight.Kearns had dealt, and French Louis had opened the pot with onemarker--in his case one hundred dollars. Campbell had merely "seen"it, but Elam Harnish, corning next, had tossed in five hundred dollars,with the remark to MacDonald that he was letting him in easy.

  MacDonald, glancing again at his hand, put in a thousand in markers.Kearns, debating a long time over his hand, finally "saw." It thencost French Louis nine hundred to remain in the game, which hecontributed after a similar debate. It cost Campbell likewise ninehundred to remain and draw cards, but to the surprise of all he saw thenine hundred and raised another thousand.

  "You-all are on the grade at last," Harnish remarked, as he saw thefifteen hundred and raised a thousand in turn. "Helen Breakfast's sureon top this divide, and you-all had best look out for bustin' harness."

  "Me for that same lady," accompanied MacDonald's markers for twothousand and for an additional thousand-dollar raise.

  It was at this stage that the players sat up and knew beyondperadventure that big hands were out. Though their features showednothing, each man was beginning unconsciously to tense. Each man stroveto appear his natural self, and each natural self was different. HalCampbell affected his customary cautiousness.

  French Louis betrayed interest. MacDonald retained his whole-souledbenevolence, though it seemed to take on a slightly exaggerated tone.Kearns was coolly dispassionate and noncommittal, while Elam Harnishappeared as quizzical and jocular as ever. Eleven thousand dollarswere already in the pot, and the markers were heaped in a confused pilein the centre of the table.

  "I ain't go no more markers," Kearns remarked plaintively. "We'd bestbegin I.O.U.'s."

  "Glad you're going to stay," was MacDonald's cordial response.

  "I ain't stayed yet. I've got a thousand in already. How's it standnow?"

  "It'll cost you three thousand for a look in, but nobody will stop youfrom raising."

  "Raise--hell. You must think I got a pat like yourself." Kearns lookedat his hand. "But I'll tell you what I'll do, Mac.

  "I've got a hunch, and I'll just see that three thousand."

  He wrote the sum on a slip of paper, signed his name, and consigned itto the centre of the table.

  French Louis became the focus of all eyes. He fingered his cardsnervously for a space. Then, with a "By Gar! Ah got not one leetlebeet hunch," he regretfully tossed his hand into the discards.

  The next moment the hundred and odd pairs of eyes shifted to Campbell.

  "I won't hump you, Jack," he said, contenting himself with calling therequisite two thousand.

  The eyes shifted to Harnish, who scribbled on a piece of paper andshoved it forward.

  "I'll just let you-all know this ain't no Sunday-school society ofphilanthropy," he said. "I see you, Jack, and I raise you a thousand.Here's where you-all get action on your pat, Mac."

  "Action's what I fatten on, and I lift another thousand," wasMacDonald's rejoinder. "Still got that hunch, Jack?"

  "I still got the hunch." Kearns fingered his cards a long time. "AndI'll play it, but you've got to know how I stand. There's my steamer,the Bella--worth twenty thousand if she's worth an ounce. There'sSixty Mile with five thousand in stock on the shelves. And you know Igot a sawmill coming in. It's at Linderman now, and the scow isbuilding. Am I good?"

  "Dig in; you're sure good," was Daylight's answer. "And while we'reabout it, I may mention casual that I got twenty thousand in Mac'ssafe, there, and there's twenty thousand more in the ground onMoosehide. You know the ground, Campbell. Is they that-all in thedirt?"

  "There sure is, Daylight."

  "How much does it cost now?" Kearns asked.

  "Two thousand to see."

  "We'll sure hump you if you-all come in," Daylight warned him.

  "It's an almighty good hunch," Kearns said, adding his slip for twothousand to the growing heap. "I can feel her crawlin' up and down myback."

  "I ain't got a hunch, but I got a tolerable likeable hand," Campbellannounced, as he slid in his slip; "but it's not a raising hand."

  "Mine is," Daylight paused and wrote. "I see that thousand and raiseher the same old thousand."

  The Virgin, standing behind him, then did what a man's best friend wasnot privileged to do. Reaching over Daylight's shoulder, she picked uphis hand and read it, at the same time shielding the faces of the fivecards close to his chest. What she saw were three queens and a pair ofeights, but nobody guessed what she saw. Every player's eyes were onher face as she scanned the cards, but no sign did she give. Herfeatures might have been carved from ice, for her expression wasprecisely the same before, during, and after. Not a muscle quivered;nor was there the slightest dilation of a nostril, nor the slightestincrease of light in the eyes. She laid the hand face down again onthe table, and slowly the lingering eyes withdrew from her, havinglearned nothing.

  MacDonald smiled benevolently. "I see you, Daylight, and I hump thistime for two thousand. How's that hunch, Jack?"

  "Still a-crawling, Mac. You got me now, but that hunch is arip-snorter persuadin' sort of a critter, and it's my plain duty toride it. I call for three thousand. And I got another hunch:Daylight's going to call, too."

  "He sure is," Daylight agreed, after Campbell had thrown up his hand."He knows when he's up against it, and he plays accordin'. I see thattwo thousand, and then I'll see the draw."

  In a dead silence, save for the low voices of the three players, thedraw was made. Thirty-four thousand dollars were already in the pot,and the play possibly not half over. To the Virgin's amazement,Daylight held up his three queens, discarding his eights and callingfor two cards. And this time not even she dared look at what he haddrawn. She knew her limit of control. Nor did he look. The two newcards lay face down on the table where they had been dealt to him.

  "Cards?" Kearns asked of MacDonald.

  "Got enough," was the reply.

  "You can draw if you want to, you know," Kearns warned him.

  "Nope; this'll do me."

  Kearns himself drew two cards, but did not look at them.

  Still Harnish let his cards lie.

  "I never bet in the teeth of a pat hand," he said slowly, looking atthe saloon-keeper. "You-all start her rolling, Mac."

  MacDonald counted his cards carefully, to make double sure it was not afoul hand, wrote a sum on a paper slip, and slid it into the pot, withthe simple utterance:--

  "Five thousand."

  Kearns, with every eye upon him, looked at his two-card draw, countedthe other three to dispel any doubt of holding more than five cards,and wrote on a betting slip.

  "I see you, Mac," he said, "and I raise her a little thousand just soas not to keep Daylight out."

  The concentrated gaze shifted to Daylight. He likewise ex
amined hisdraw and counted his five cards.

  "I see that six thousand, and I raise her five thousand...just to tryand keep you out, Jack."

  "And I raise you five thousand just to lend a hand at keeping Jackout," MacDonald said, in turn.

  His voice was slightly husky and strained, and a nervous twitch in thecorner of his mouth followed speech.

  Kearns was pale, and those who looked on noted that his hand trembledas he wrote his slip. But his voice was unchanged.

  "I lift her along for five thousand," he said.

  Daylight was now the centre. The kerosene lamps above flung highlights from the rash of sweat on his forehead. The bronze of hischeeks was darkened by the accession of blood. His black eyesglittered, and his nostrils were distended and eager. They were largenostrils, tokening his descent from savage ancestors who had survivedby virtue of deep lungs and generous air-passages. Yet, unlikeMacDonald, his voice was firm and customary, and, unlike Kearns, hishand did not tremble when he wrote.

  "I call, for ten thousand," he said. "Not that I'm afraid of you-all,Mac. It's that hunch of Jack's."

  "I hump his hunch for five thousand just the same," said MacDonald. "Ihad the best hand before the draw, and I still guess I got it."

  "Mebbe this is a case where a hunch after the draw is better'n thehunch before," Kearns remarked; "wherefore duty says, 'Lift her, Jack,lift her,' and so I lift her another five thousand."

  Daylight leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the kerosene lampswhile he computed aloud.

  "I was in nine thousand before the draw, and I saw and raised eleventhousand--that makes thirty. I'm only good for ten more."

  He leaned forward and looked at Kearns. "So I call that ten thousand."

  "You can raise if you want," Kearns answered. "Your dogs are good forfive thousand in this game."

  "Nary dawg. You-all can win my dust and dirt, but nary one of mydawgs. I just call."

  MacDonald considered for a long time. No one moved or whispered.

  Not a muscle was relaxed on the part of the onlookers. Not the weightof a body shifted from one leg to the other. It was a sacred silence.Only could be heard the roaring draft of the huge stove, and fromwithout, muffled by the log-walls, the howling of dogs. It was notevery night that high stakes were played on the Yukon, and for thatmatter, this was the highest in the history of the country. Thesaloon-keeper finally spoke.

  "If anybody else wins, they'll have to take a mortgage on the Tivoli."

  The two other players nodded.

  "So I call, too." MacDonald added his slip for five thousand.

  Not one of them claimed the pot, and not one of them called the size ofhis hand. Simultaneously and in silence they faced their cards on thetable, while a general tiptoeing and craning of necks took place amongthe onlookers. Daylight showed four queens and an ace; MacDonald fourjacks and an ace; and Kearns four kings and a trey. Kearns reachedforward with an encircling movement of his arm and drew the pot in tohim, his arm shaking as he did so.

  Daylight picked the ace from his hand and tossed it over alongsideMacDonald's ace, saying:--

  "That's what cheered me along, Mac. I knowed it was only kings thatcould beat me, and he had them.

  "What did you-all have?" he asked, all interest, turning to Campbell.

  "Straight flush of four, open at both ends--a good drawing hand."

  "You bet! You could a' made a straight, a straight flush, or a flushout of it."

  "That's what I thought," Campbell said sadly. "It cost me six thousandbefore I quit."

  "I wisht you-all'd drawn," Daylight laughed. "Then I wouldn't a'caught that fourth queen. Now I've got to take Billy Rawlins' mailcontract and mush for Dyea. What's the size of the killing, Jack?"

  Kearns attempted to count the pot, but was too excited. Daylight drewit across to him, with firm fingers separating and stacking the markersand I.O.U.'s and with clear brain adding the sum.

  "One hundred and twenty-seven thousand," he announced. "You-all cansell out now, Jack, and head for home."

  The winner smiled and nodded, but seemed incapable of speech.

  "I'd shout the drinks," MacDonald said, "only the house don't belong tome any more."

  "Yes, it does," Kearns replied, first wetting his lips with his tongue."Your note's good for any length of time. But the drinks are on me."

  "Name your snake-juice, you-all--the winner pays!" Daylight called outloudly to all about him, at the same time rising from his chair andcatching the Virgin by the arm. "Come on for a reel, you-all dancers.The night's young yet, and it's Helen Breakfast and the mail contractfor me in the morning. Here, you-all Rawlins, you--I hereby do takeover that same contract, and I start for salt water at nineA.M.--savvee? Come on, you-all! Where's that fiddler?"