Professor who opened our eyes to the danger of crossing the
lake. He and the Bank clerk quarrelled over the wisdom of delay. The
Professor was positive it was quite safe. The ice was four feet thick.
Go fast over the weak spots and you would be all right. He argued, fumed
and ranted. They were losing precious time, time which might mean all
the difference between failure and success. It was expedient to get
ahead of the rabble. He, for one, was no craven; he had staked his all
on this trip. He had studied the records of Arctic explorers. He thought
he was no man's fool. If others were cowardly enough to hold back, he
would go alone.

The upshot of it was that one grey morning he took his share of the
outfit and started off by himself.

Said the Bank clerk, half crying:

"Poor old Pondersby! In spite of the words we had, we parted the best of
friends. We shook hands and I wished him all good-speed. I saw him
twisting and wriggling among the patches of black and white ice. For a
long time I watched him with a heavy heart. Yet he seemed to be getting
along nicely, and I was beginning to think he was right and to call
myself a fool. He was getting quite small in the distance, when suddenly
he seemed to disappear. I got the glasses. There was a big hole in the
ice, no sleigh, no Pondersby. Poor old fellow!"

There were many such cases of separation on the shores of Lake Bennett.
Parties who had started out on that trail as devoted chums, finished it
as lifelong enemies. Tempers were ground to a razor-edge; words dropped
crudely; anger flamed to meet anger. You could scarcely blame them. They
did not realise that the trail demanded all that was in a man of
gentleness, patience and forbearance. Poor human nature was strained and
tested inexorably, and the most loving friends became the most deadly
foes forevermore.

One instance of this was the twins.

"Say," said the Prodigal, "you ought to see Romulus and Remus. They're
scrapping like cat and dog. Seems they've had a bunch of trouble right
along the line--you know how the trail brings out the yellow streak in a
man. Well, they're both fiery as Hades, so after a particularly warm
evening they swore that as soon as they got to Bennett, they'd divvy up
the stuff and each go off by his lonesome. Somehow, they patched it up
when they reached here and got busy on their boat. Now it seems they've
quarrelled worse than ever. Romulus is telling Remus his real name and
_vice-v