are only two
steamboats between us and the Arctic Circle now, barring one or two
little ones which are not of much account. The scows have to carry all
the supplies for the entire fur trade--trade goods, bacon, flour, and
everything."

"Who's that old gentleman coming along there, Uncle Dick?" demanded
Jesse, turning toward the end of the street.

"That's old Father Le Fevre," replied his uncle. "He's the purchasing
agent for all the many missions of the Catholic Church in the Far
North. Each year he comes in with ten or more scows, each carrying ten
tons of goods. He may go as far as Chippewyan, and then come back, or
he may go on to Great Slave. I understand there are two good Sisters
going even farther north this year. No one knows when they will come
back, of course; they'll be teachers up among the native schools.

"Well, now you see the transport system beyond the head of the rails
in the Athabasca and Mackenzie country," he continued, as, hands in
pocket, he passed along among the finished and unfinished craft which
still lay in the shipyard.

Outside, moored to stumps along the shore, floated a number of the
rude scows, some of which even now were partially laden. The leader of
the expedition pointed out to one of these.

"That's our boat yonder, young men," said he. "You'll see that she has
the distinction of a name. Most scows have only numbers on them, and
each post gets certain scows with certain numbers. But ours has a
name--the _Midnight Sun_. How do you like that?"

"That's fine, sir!" said Rob. "And we'll see to it that she doesn't
come to grief as long as we use her."

"Well, it will only be for a couple of hundred miles or so," said
Uncle Dick, "but I fancy there'll be nothing slow in that two hundred
miles."

"Where will we eat?" demanded John, with his usual regard for creature
comforts.

"That's easy," said Rob. "I know all about that. I saw two men loading
a cook-stove on one of the scows. They took it out of a canoe, and how
they did it without upsetting the canoe I can't tell, but they did it.
I suppose we'll cook as we go along."

"Precisely," nodded Uncle Dick. "The cook-boat is the only thing that
goes under steam. The cook builds his fire in the stove just as though
he were on shore. When he calls time for meals, the men from the other
boats take turns in putting out in canoes and going to the cook-boat
for meals. Sometimes a landing is made while they eat, and of course
they a