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There had been no snow for many days, and the sleds slipped along the hardpacked Yukon trail as easily as if it had been glare ice. Ulysses led the first sled; with the second came Prince and Axel Gunderson’s wife; while Malemute Kid and the yellow-haired giant brought up the third.

‘It’s only a hunch, Kid,’ he said, ‘but I think it’s straight. He’s never been there, but he tells a good story, and shows a map I heard of when I was in the Kootenay country years ago. I’d like to have you go along; but he’s a strange one, and swore point-blank to throw it up if anyone was brought in. But when I come back you’ll get first tip, and I’ll stake you next to me, and give you a half share in the town site besides.’ ‘No! no!’ he cried, as the other strove to interrupt. ‘I’m running this, and before I’m done it’ll need two heads.

‘If it’s all right, why, it’ll be a second Cripple Creek, man; do you hear?–a second Cripple Creek! It’s quartz, you know, not placer; and if we work it right we’ll corral the whole thing–millions upon millions. I’ve heard of the place before, and so have you. We’ll build a town–thousands of workmen–good waterways–steamship lines–big carrying trade–light-draught steamers for head reaches–survey a railroad, perhaps–sawmills–electric-light plant–do our own banking–commercial company–syndicate–Say! Just you hold your hush till I get back!’ The sleds came to a halt where the trail crossed the mouth of Stuart River. An unbroken sea of frost, its wide expanse stretched away into the unknown east.

The snowshoes were withdrawn from the lashings of the sleds. Axel Gunderson shook hands and stepped to the fore, his great webbed shoes sinking a fair half yard into the feathery surface and packing the snow so the dogs should not wallow. His wife fell in behind the last sled, betraying long practice in the art of handling the awkward footgear, The stillness was broken with cheery farewells; the dogs whined; and He of the Otter Skins talked with his whip to a recalcitrant wheeler.

An hour later the train had taken on the likeness of a black pencil crawling in a long, straight line across a mighty sheet of foolscap.

II

One night, many weeks later, Malemute Kid and Prince fell to solving chess problems from the torn page of an ancient magazine. The Kid had just returned from his Bonanza properties and was resting up preparatory to a long moose hunt.

Prince, too, had been on creek and trail nearly all winter, and had grown hungry for a blissful week of cabin life.

‘Interpose the black knight, and force the king. No, that won’t do. See, the next move-‘

‘Why advance the pawn two squares? Bound to take it in transit, and with the bishop out of the way-‘ ‘But hold on! That leaves a hole, and-‘ ‘No; it’s protected. Go ahead! You’ll see it works.’ It was very interesting. Somebody knocked at the door a second time before Malemute Kid said, ‘Come in.’ The door swung open. Something staggered in.

Prince caught one square look and sprang to his feet. The horror in his eyes caused Malemute Kid to whirl about; and he, too, was startled, though he had seen bad things before. The thing tottered blindly toward them. Prince edged away till he reached the nail from which hung his Smith & Wesson.

‘My God! what is it?’ he whispered to Malemute Kid.

‘Don’t know. Looks like a case of freezing and no grub,’ replied the Kid, sliding away in the opposite direction. ‘Watch out! It may be mad,’ he warned, coming back from closing the door.

The thing advanced to the table. The bright flame of the slush lamp caught its eye. It was amused, and gave voice to eldritch cackles which betokened mirth.

Then, suddenly, he–for it was a man–swayed back, with a hitch to his skin trousers, and began to sing a chantey, such as men lift when they swing around the capstan circle and the sea snorts in their ears: Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er, Pull! my bully boys! Pull! D’yeh want–to know de captain ru-uns her? Pull! my bully boys! Pull! Jon-a-than Jones ob South Caho-li-in-a, Pull! my bully. He broke off abruptly, tottered with a wolfish snarl to the meat shelf, and before they could intercept was tearing with his teeth at a chunk of raw bacon. The struggle was fierce between him and Malemute Kid; but his mad strength left him as suddenly as it had come, and he weakly surrendered the spoil. Between them they got him upon a stool, where he sprawled with half his body across the table.