solitary, soured on life in general. We
have to get two at least, for museums._

"_Never mind an outfit. Don't need your snowshoes, of course. Jack will
bring some knee-high moosehide moccasins--no machine-made junk, either.
I'm getting the guns. Bring six of those Canadian lynx or fox steel
traps. Can't seem to find 'em here, and they'll be useful._

"_Have wired and written Sawtooth. He's a quarter-breed--hold on, old
scout! Wait till he looks you up; Sunday, I expect. Jack is seventeen,
looks like a white--and is white clear through. Next to you he's the
hardiest and gamest ever. Got me skinned a mile on the trail. Educated
at the Mission School. You'll like him. He's not sensitive on his blood,
but rather proud of it._"

Charlie paused and grinned to himself. He did not share the prejudice of
a "tenderfoot" against the half-breeds. He knew well enough that as in
any race a good, manly Cree or Salteaux was rather above the average
white man in point of character.

"_Jack has to get down from Mirror Landing, so give him a couple of
days' leeway. You have plenty of time, I judge. Better fetch H. B. C.
blankets; nights are cold in Africa, and we might strike into the
mountains. The trip doesn't promise any more than expenses, but there is
always a chance that we can trade or clean up on a bit of ivory. Once we
get together we can go over the route and all that. However, the
experience is worth while, and it's the best kind of an education. If we
pull out ahead of the game you may have a stake to start in some kind of
business for yourself._

"_Check enclosed to cover expenses to New York. Don't buy any gold
bricks when you strike Broadway! And don't let Jack scalp anyone on
board the Overland._

"_Yours in haste,_
"_Louis Schoverling._"

Charlie slowly folded up the letter and stared out of the window for a
moment.

"Jumping sandhills!" he murmured softly, and turned to where "the
General" hung framed on his wall. "What a prince of a friend you are to
a fellow! I guess I'll give you a bit of a surprise myself, just the
same!"

Eight months before, when Schoverling had gone "out," as the saying is
up there, he had left Charlie in Calgary. The boy had little knowledge
of the ways of the city, but after parting with his new-found friend he
had thrown himself into his new life, grimly determined that he would
make good. And he