up, and
was off again into the wilderness--and there were 400 miles of this! The
glare of the sun on the white snow blinded her, until she accepted the
snow goggles which she had at first indignantly refused. The stillness
frightened her. Never had she imagined such terrible soul-torturing
silence; at times she asked questions merely for the pleasure of hearing a
human voice. When they overtook some struggling party the desire to stop
and talk was all-consuming. But Jim wasn't for wasting time in useless
conversation.

She hated him for that. She hated him for all the agony and pain that he
had brought her. Fits of uncontrollable anger possessed her. She gave vent
to her feelings in bitter rebuke. It had some effect, too. She knew it
hurt him by the queer light in his eyes, but he said nothing--which made
her angrier still.

He had become even more silent than she. One thing, however, he did
regularly. When they partook of the evening meal--a sickly concoction of
beans and coffee, or canned meat, and nestled down inside the bearskin
sleeping-bags beside the eternal oilstove, his deep voice growled:

"Good-night, Angela!"

Sometimes she responded and sometimes she did not. But it made no
difference--the "Good-night" was always uttered.

The last stage of the journey was a fight with time. They struck the Yukon
River and went down over the sloppy ice. The break-up was coming, and
Dawson was eighty miles away. Despite her bitter feelings she found
excitement in the combat. At any moment the ice might split with
thundering noise and go smashing down to the sea, piling up in vast
pyramids as it went. Each morning they expected to wake and find the ice
in movement.

"She'll hold," cried Jim. "Another twenty miles and we're through!"

So they plowed their way to the Eldorado of the North. It was when they
were but three miles from Dawson that the break-up came. It was heralded
by ear-splitting explosions. Jim put all his weight on to the sled.

"She won't move much yet," he growled. "Mush on!"

For another mile they kept the river trail, and then with deafening
crashes from behind them the whole ice began to move. No time was to be
lost now. Jim dragged the sled inland and made the bank at a suitable
landing.

An hour later they made Dawson City. The streets were filled with
half-melted snow, through which a mixed humanity trudged, laden with all
kinds of gear and provisions. Tents were pitched on every available