There came a long, painful silence. "See here; look!" began Yorke
suddenly. He stopped and surveyed George, a trifle anxiously.
"Mind! . . . I'm not trying to justify myself but--get me right about
this now. Don't you ever start in making a mistake about Slavin--blarney
and all. No, Sir! I tell you when old Burke runs _amôk_ in those
tantrums he's a holy fright. He'd kill a man. Might as well run up
against a gorilla."

A vision of the huge, sinister, crouching figure seemed to rise up in
Redmond's mind--the great, clutching, _simian_ hands.

"In India," continued Yorke, "we'd say he'd got a touch of the 'Dulalli
Tap.' The man doesn't know his own strength. I was taking an awful
chance--getting his goat like that last night. It's a wonder he didn't
kill me. He's man-handled me pretty badly at times. Oh, well! I guess
it's been coming to me all right. Neither of us has ever dreamt of going
squalling to the Orderly-room over our . . . differences. I don't think
Burke's ever taken the trouble to 'peg' a man in his life. Not his way.
'I must take shteps!' says he, and 'I will take shteps!' and when he
starts in softly rubbing those awful great grub-hooks he calls
hands--together! . . . well! you want to look out."

Lighting a cigarette he resumed reminiscently: "They were a tough crowd
to handle up in the Yukon. The devil himself 'd have been scared to butt
in to that 'Soapy Smith' gang; but, by gum! they were afraid of Slavin.
He doesn't drink much now, but he did then--mighty few that didn't--up
there--and I tell you, even our own fellows got a bit leery of him when
he used to start in 'trailing his coat.' They were glad when he 'came
outside.' That's one of the reasons why he's shoved out on a prairie
detachment. He wouldn't do at all for the Post. He never reports in