The smear

THE SMEAR

By John Beames

In the Malamute Saloon in Dawson the lights blazed. There was noisy music, whisky and gambling--all the sourdoughs’ dearest joys.

Outside it was dark, with the first breath of the Yukon winter in the north wind.

“Finn Charley” lugged out a heavy poke and poured a couple of ounces of gold dust into the pan of the scales on the bar. He had becom...