A story about gold prospecting, bootlegging, and the Mounted Police in the Northwest Territories; quote: "Put 'em up!" The face of Amos Nixon, red with the exertion of lifting the four little kegs from the dark recess beneath the broken roof of the old igloo, gradually assumed a greyish pallor, as he stared into the muzzle of the service revolver held in the hand of Constable Crowley, of the Mounted. Slowly, shakily, he elevated his hands above his head and rose from his knees beside the aperture. He spoke no word as the officer advanced and lifted the six-gun from beneath the out-bulged front of his shirt. There was no need for words. The facts spoke for themselves.