THE ONE THOUSAND DOZEN 167

pede, ripe from Dawson in five hours, was sure he could get a dollar and a quarter for every egg he possessed.

He came up the steep bank by the Daw- son barracks with fluttering heart and shaking knees. The dogs were so weak that he was forced to rest them, and, waiting, he leaned limply against the gee-pole. A man, an eminently decorous-looking man, came saun- tering by in a great bearskin coat. He glanced at Rasmunsen curiously, then stopped and ran a speculative eye over the dogs and the three lashed sleds.

“ What you got? ” he asked.

“ Eggs,” Rasmunsen answered huskily, hardly able to pitch his voice above a whisper.

“Eggs! Whoopee! Whoopee!” He sprang up into the air, gyrated madly, and finished with half a dozen war steps. “You doift say —all of’em ? ”

“ All of’em P ”

“Say, you must be the Egg Man.” He

walked around and viewed Rasmunsen from