ave read so much. It is fine!"

IX

UNDER THE ARCTIC CIRCLE

Of the motley assemblages which thronged the capacity of the steamer
_Mackenzie River_ our three young companions were usually the first to
arise in the morning. Morning, however, had come by this time to be a
relative term, for the steady progress into the northern latitudes had
now brought them almost under the Midnight Sun, so that there was but
a brief period of darkness at any hour of the night. On the morning of
July 6th they stood conversing on the fore deck, looking down the vast
river as it passed between its bold and broken shores.

"Well," said Rob to the others, "here we are, not quite forty days out
from our start, and we have come more than sixteen hundred miles
already! We're beginning to add now to our daily mileage, traveling
this way day and night."

"Well, even at this rate," rejoined John, "I am not sure that I see
how we will get out of this northern country inside of our three
months' schedule. If we don't, we'll have to pass the winter, won't
we?"

Jesse looked a little bit gloomy at this idea. To tell the truth, he,
the youngest of the party, was at times just a little homesick. The
country through which they passed seemed so stupendous, so awesome, as
almost to oppress the spirits of those not used to it.

"Cheer up! Jess," said Rob, clapping him on the shoulder. "There will
be something happening now before long. We're almost up to the Arctic
Circle, and to-day, if I'm not mistaken, we run into the best scenery
on the Mackenzie River, what they call the Ramparts. The captain was
telling me about it yesterday."

They did not, however, reach this portion of their voyage until very
late in the evening, when they arrived at the head of that long and
gentle bit of water called the Sans Sault Rapids. The river here was
about a mile wide, but offered no bad chutes. The captain told them
that it only took eight minutes to run through, but that the time
coming up with the steamboat usually had averaged one and
three-quarter hours.

The strange, luminous twilight of the sub-Artic day continued until
midnight. It was, indeed, after eleven o'clock when the steamer struck
that narrow shut-in of the Mackenzie River where the great flood,
compressed between high and rocky shores, runs steadily and deep for a
very considerable distance. Above the actual beginning of the narrower
channel lay a great, deep pool, many hundreds of yar