The Aurora was the first steamboat of the year for the Outside, and her decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and broken gold seekers, all equally as mad to get to the Outside as they had been originally to get to the Inside.Near the gang-plank, Scott was shaking hands with Matt, who was preparing to go ashore.But Matt's hand went limp in the other's grasp as his gaze shot past and remained fixed on something behind him.
Scott turned to see.Sitting on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was White Fang.
The dog-musher swore softly, in awe-stricken accents.Scott could only look in wonder.
"Did you lock the front door?" Matt demanded.
The other nodded, and asked, "How about the back?""You just bet I did," was the fervent reply.
White Fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly, but remained where he was, making no attempt to approach.
"I'll have to take 'm ashore with me."
Matt made a couple of steps toward White Fang, but the latter slid away from him.The dog-musher made a rush of it, and White Fang dodged between the legs of a group of men.Ducking, turning, doubling, he slid about the deck, eluding the other's efforts to capture him.