north-bound Hudson's Bay traffic.

The boats, now assembled safely and once more reloaded, followed their
leader through a number of blind channels which caused the boys to
marvel, across the Slave River to the left, rowed up in slack water
for a time, and at last dropped down below the Pelican Rapids. Now,
under the excited cries of the pilot, the men rowed hard. The boats
crossed the full flood of the Slave River for a mile and a half, then
slipped down on fast water, using the eddies beautifully, and at last
dropped into the notch in a high barrier which seemed to rise up
directly ahead of them. Off to the right, curving about the great
promontory, foamed the impassable waters known as the Mountain Rapids.

All the north-bound freight which was not traversed by wagon across
Smith's Landing must be carried on manback over the Mountain Portage.
The hill which rose up from the riverside was crossed by a sandy road
or track, the eminence being about a hundred and fifty feet on the
upper side and perhaps two hundred feet on the lower.

Of course here every boat had to be unloaded once more. A little
settlement of tents and tarpaulins and mosquito bars rapidly arose. It
was a rainy camp that night, and most of the men slept drenched in
their blankets, but in the morning they arose without complaint to
begin their arduous labor of packing tons of supplies across this high
and sandy hill.

The party here was joined by a group of four prospectors who had
brought their scows in some way down this far by the aid of a pilot
not accredited by the traders. All these boats, therefore, had to take
turns at the Landing in the discharge of their cargoes. As to the
mission scows and Father Le Fevre, they were left far behind, nor were
they heard from for some time.

"The wonder is to me that there isn't more trouble and quarreling on
this far-off trail," said Rob to Uncle Dick as they stood watching the
men toiling up the sandy slope under their heavy burdens, each man
carrying at least a hundred pounds, some of them twice that. "I
should think every one would lose his temper once in a while."

Uncle Dick smiled at this remark. "They do sometimes," said he,
"although I think there is no country in the world so good for a man's
temper as this northern wilderness. A fellow just naturally learns
that he has got to keep cool. But the parties like the Klondike
tenderfeet were always quarreling among themselves. I heard of one
party