eight o'clock
`` Oh , no , not at all , '' Smoke snarled with an even better imitation , as he passed among them on the back-trail to Dawson . Twice he attempted to cross the trailless icejams of the river , still resolutely followed , and both times he gave up and returned to the Dawson shore . Straight down Main Street he trudged , crossing the ice of Klondike River to Klondike City and again retracing to Dawson . At eight o'clock , as gray dawn began to show , he led his weary gang to Slavovitch 's restaurant , where tables were at a premium for breakfast . `` Good-night fellows , '' he said , as he paid his reckoning . And again he said good-night , as he took the climb of the hill . In the clear light of day they did not follow him , contenting themselves with watching him up the hill to his cabin .