The Gold Rush Page #2

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"Take that you... Ouch!"

"Huh! Very good."

"Didn't know me own strength,"|said the Little Fellow.

Hank Curtis' cabin was|a stone's throw from the dancehall.

Hank was a mining engineer|who lived alone

and occasionally went|on long expeditions

into the Far North.

Hank was kind and human,

and our hero cold and hungry,

and the beans smelled good|and the coffee was steaming hot.

So the Little Fellow|devised a way of getting breakfast.

Big Jim recovered from the blow|he received from Black Larson

but lost his memory.

Hank's partner arrives.

Both are ready to leave|on a long expedition.

Hank informs his partner|that the Little Fellow

is to look after the cabin|while he's away.

"Goodbye," said Hank.|"And don't forget to feed the mule."

Since that night in the dancehall|the Little Fellow hadn't seen Georgia,

but an incident|was to bring them together again.

There she stood,|her loveliness lighting the room,

filling his soul|with the music of romance

for which he was so ill-fitted.

As she introduced her friends,|his heart began to sing.

As they warmed up by the stove,|he excused himself to get firewood.

And in that cabin|his secret was revealed,

his love for Georgia.

And the girls giggled and laughed,

perhaps in order to hide their pity.

For in the world of the dancehall|it wasn't wise for the girls

to reveal their hearts.

And so they thought|they'd have a little fun with him.

There in the gloaming they sat,

their faces alight with mischief,

but all the while|his heart was singing.

And so she fooled and flirted|and stroked his hair.

He knew she was fooling,|but he was happy.

For she was near him,|holding his hand,

smiling at him.

"Nice place you have here,"|said Georgia.

"I hope you will invite us again."

What if she were fooling?

He was enjoying|the warmth of her attention.

And the lady was enjoying|the warmth of his chair.

And now she was leaving.

The light of her loveliness|would be gone.

And he would be left|with an emptiness,

to return to his bleak,|lonely existence.

"Pardon me,"|said the Little Fellow,

"But, uh..."|He was lost for words.

"Would you really like|to come again?"

"Of course," said Georgia.|"What do you say, girls?"

"We'll come for dinner|New Year's Eve," said the ladies.

"Very well," said Georgia.

"We'll come to dinner|New Year's Eve."

Of course at that moment|Georgia would forget her gloves!

For the next few days the Little|Fellow hustled and shoveled

in order to buy|that New Year's dinner.

The eve of a new year.|New hopes and new dreams.

And there was Georgia, caressing him|with her smiles and tender glances.

And the girls called for a speech.

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