that's all, just a rumor," Saltman mumbled with
ponderous secretiveness.

"You might let Shorty and me in on it," Smoke urged.

Somebody snickered sarcastically in the background.

"Where are YOU bound?" Saltman demanded.

"And who are you?" Smoke countered. "Committee of safety?"

"Just interested, just interested," Saltman said.

"You bet your sweet life we're interested," another voice spoke up out
of the darkness.

"Say," Shorty put in, "I wonder who's feelin' the foolishest?"

Everybody laughed nervously.

"Come on, Shorty; we'll be getting along," Smoke said, mushing the dogs.

The crowd formed in behind and followed.

"Say, ain't you-all made a mistake?" Shorty gibed. "When we met you you
was goin', an' now you're comin' without bein' anywheres. Have you lost
your tag?"

"You go to the devil," was Saltman's courtesy. "We go and come just as
we danged feel like. We don't travel with tags."

And the sled, with Smoke in the lead and Shorty at the pole, went on
down Main Street escorted by three score men, each of whom, on his
back, bore a stampeding-pack. It was three in the morning, and only the
all-night rounders saw the procession and were able to tell Dawson about
it next day.

Half an hour later, the hill was climbed and the dogs unharnessed at the
cabin door, the sixty stampeders grimly attendant.

"Good-night, fellows," Smoke called, as he closed the door.

In five minutes the candle was put out, but before half an hour had
passed Smoke and Shorty emerged softly, and without lights began
harnessing the dogs.

"Hello, Smoke!" Saltman said, stepping near enough for them to see the
loom of his form.

"Can't shake you, Bill, I see," Smoke replied cheerfully. "Where're your
friends?"

"Gone to have a drink. They left me to keep an eye on you, and keep it I
will. What's in the wind anyway, Smoke? You can't shake us, so you might
as well let us in. We're all your friends. You know that."

"There are times when you can let your friends in," Smoke evaded, "and
times when you can't. And, Bill, this is one of the times when we can't.
You'd better go to bed. Good-night."

"Ain't goin' to be no good-night, Smoke. You don't know us. We're
woodticks."

Smoke sighed. "Well, Bill, if you WILL have your will, I guess you'll
have to have it. Come on, Shorty, we can't fool around any longer."

Saltman emitted a shrill whistle as the sled started, and swung in
behind. From down the hill and across th