In hilarious Happy Camp, on the north side of Chilkoot Pass, inbound stampeders traveling laden and outbound packers traveling light, rested by night from the toil of the trail. Foregathered in the Saxon Saloon they relaxed their muscles, their throats and their poke-strings. Motley crowds haunted the bar on one side of the huge canvas room, surrounded the gaming-tables on the other side, clogged the central space where, within a circle of chairs, a red-hot stove throbbed like a giant engine and overflowed upon the dancing-floor at the rear.…
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