ng if they needed it in their business. Did you sign a
contract?"

Kit shook his head.

"Then I'm sorry for you, pardner. They ain't no grub in the country,
and they'll drop you cold as soon as they hit Dawson. Men are going to
starve there this winter."

"They agreed--" Kit began.

"Verbal," Shorty snapped him short. "It's your say-so against theirs,
that's all. Well, anyway, what's your name, pardner?"

"Call me Smoke," said Kit.

"Well, Smoke, you'll have a run for your verbal contract just the same.
This is a plain sample of what to expect. They can sure shed mazuma, but
they can't work, or turn out of bed in the morning. We should have been
loaded and started an hour ago. It's you an' me for the big work. Pretty
soon you'll hear 'em shoutin' for their coffee--in bed, mind you, and
them grown men. What d'ye know about boatin' on the water? I'm a cowman
and a prospector, but I'm sure tenderfooted on water, an' they don't
know punkins. What d'ye know?"

"Search me," Kit answered, snuggling in closer under the tarpaulin as
the snow whirled before a fiercer gust. "I haven't been on a small boat
since a boy. But I guess we can learn."

A corner of the tarpaulin tore loose, and Shorty received a jet of
driven snow down the back of his neck.

"Oh, we can learn all right," he muttered wrathfully. "Sure we can. A
child can learn. But it's dollars to doughnuts we don't even get started
to-day."

It was eight o'clock when the call for coffee came from the tent, and
nearly nine before the two employers emerged.

"Hello," said Sprague, a rosy-cheeked, well-fed young man of
twenty-five. "Time we made a start, Shorty. You and--" Here he glanced
interrogatively at Kit. "I didn't quite catch your name last evening."

"Smoke."

"Well, Shorty, you and Mr. Smoke had better begin loading the boat."

"Plain Smoke--cut out the Mister," Kit suggested.

Sprague nodded curtly and strolled away among the tents, to be followed
by Doctor Stine, a slender, pallid young man.

Shorty looked significantly at his companion. "Over a ton and a half of
outfit, and they won't lend a hand. You'll see."

"I guess it's because we're paid to do the work," Kit answered
cheerfully, "and we might as well buck in."

To move three thousand pounds on the shoulders a hundred yards was no
slight task, and to do it in half a gale, slushing through the snow in
heavy rubber boots, was exhausting. In addition, there was the taking
down of the te