nd the dull,
brown tundra.

It was a mysterious land, potent with difficulties and possibly alive
with dangers. Uncle Dick loved these young companions of his beyond
all price, and he knew his own responsibility in undertaking to lead
them through. At times he regretted the whole journey as a mad
enterprise which never ought to have been taken on. But at length,
like any born leader, he pitted the difficulties against the
privileges, made his decision; and, having made it, adhered to it.

"We'll start, boys," said he, "and start to-morrow."

Since, therefore, these young travelers did make this dangerous
journey which had proved impossible for so many older _voyageurs_, it
may be well to allow Rob to tell in his own fashion the story of their
crossing of the Rockies on the old Rat Portage. Rob kept his notes
from day to day during the remainder of their stay at Fort McPherson.

"_Sunday, July 13th._--Cloudy and overcast. Lucky we got our
pictures of the Midnight Sun--this is about the last chance.
We have been living at the Mounted Police barracks. The old
trader keeps to his own house. Uncle Dick says he was to get
us our supplies. We have mended the canoe we brought down on
the steamboat. Not very big for four of us. Uncle Dick says
he has got two Loucheux Indian boys, Johnny and Willy, to
meet us at the mouth of the Rat River and help us to track
up that river to the top. Uncle Dick seems uneasy. We told
him not to bother about us. The independent trader with a
scow of furs is going to try to get across. We ought to beat
them over.

"_Wednesday, July 16th._--Such fuss and fooling around
nobody ever saw. But we're on our way with at least some
supplies. Glad we brought a shot-gun and a fishing-rod. Off
at 4.15. At 7.30 reached a creek coming into the Husky River
from a chain of lakes. Never saw so many fish in my life as
there were of the 'connies.' We caught plenty for a day or
so. Mosquitoes bad in camp. Rain.

"_Friday, July 18th._--Late start, 10.30. At 1.30 made the
mouth of the Rat and picked up the two Indians. This famous
stream is a deep, narrow creek. Mosquitoes the worst I ever
saw. Ate lunch in headnets. Have to write with gloves on.
Current sluggish. We still can paddle up-stream. It is at
least seventy-five miles, possibly a hundred, to the top.

"At 11.15 thought we