min' an'
you'll git him, an' we'll all be ghosts together--all of us--an' we'll
stand like stumps by the trail! I'm a stump! I'm a stump! Ha, ha, ha.
He, he, he! I'm a stump! I'm a stump!"

"Shut up!" cried Connie in desperation, as he strove to master an
almost overwhelming impulse to turn and fly from the spot. "Crazy as a
loon," thought the boy, with a shudder, "and I've got to take him clear
to Fort Norman, alone!" "I'm a stump, I'm a stump," chanted the man,
shrilly, and the boy saw that he had come to a rigid stand close beside
the trail.

With a final effort Connie pulled himself together. "I've got it to do,
and I'll do it," he muttered between clenched teeth. "But, gee whiz! It
will take a week to get to Fort Norman!"

"I'm a stump, I'm a stump," came the monotonous chant, from the rigid
figure beside the trail.

"Sure, you're a stump," the boy encouraged, "and if you'll only stick to
it till I get the tent up and a fire going, you'll help like the
dickens."

Hurrying to his dogs the boy swung them in, and in the fast gathering
darkness and whirling snow he worked swiftly and skillfully in pitching
the little tent and building a fire. When the task was finished and the
little flames licked about his blackened teapot, he sliced some fat
pork, threw a piece of caribou steak in the frying pan, and set it on
the fire. Then he walked over to where Squigg stood repeating his
monotonous formula.

"Grub's ready," announced the boy.

"I'm a stump. I'm a stump."

"Sure you are. But it's time to eat."

"I'm a stump, I'm a stump," reiterated the man.

Connie took hold of him and essayed to lead him to the fire, but the man
refused to budge.

"As long as you stay as stiff as that I could pick you up and carry you
to the tent, but suppose you change your mind and think you're a buzz
saw? Guess I'll just slip a _babiche_ line on you to make sure." The man
took not the slightest notice as the boy wound turn after turn of line
about his arms and legs and secured the ends. Then he picked him up and
carried him to the tent where he laid him upon the blankets. But try as
he would, not a mouthful of food would the man take, so Connie ate his
supper, and turned in.

In the morning he lashed Squigg to the sled and with both outfits of
dogs struck out for Fort Norman. And never till his dying day will the
boy forget the nightmare of that long snow-trail.

Two men to the sled, alternating between breaking trail and ha