that his efforts gleaned. The
result was scarce a thimbleful. He searched in his pockets, and brought
forward, between thumb and forefinger, tiny pinches of rubbish. Here and
there in this rubbish were crumbs of tobacco. These he segregated with
microscopic care, though he occasionally permitted small particles of
foreign substance to accompany the crumbs to the hoard in his palm. He
even deliberately added small, semi-hard woolly fluffs, that had come
originally from the coat lining, and that had lain for long months in
the bottoms of the pockets.

At the end of fifteen minutes he had the pipe part filled. He lighted it
from the camp fire, and sat forward on the blankets, toasting his
moccasined feet and smoking parsimoniously. When the pipe was finished
he sat on, brooding into the dying flame of the fire. Slowly the worry
went out of his eyes and resolve came in. Out of the chaos of his
fortunes he had finally achieved a way. But it was not a pretty way.
His face had become stern and wolfish, and the thin lips were drawn very
tightly.

With resolve came action. He pulled himself stiffly to his feet and
proceeded to break camp. He packed the rolled blankets, the frying-pan,
rifle, and axe on the sled, and passed a lashing around the load. Then
he warmed his hands at the fire and pulled on his mittens. He was
foot-sore, and limped noticeably as he took his place at the head of the
sled. When he put the looped haul-rope over his shoulder, and leant his
weight against it to start the sled, he winced. His flesh was galled by
many days of contact with the haul-rope.

The trail led along the frozen breast of the Yukon. At the end of four
hours he came around a bend and entered the town of Minto. It was
perched on top of a high earth bank in the midst of a clearing, and
consisted of a road house, a saloon, and several cabins. He left his
sled at the door and entered the saloon.

"Enough for a drink?" he asked, laying an apparently empty gold sack
upon the bar.

The barkeeper looked sharply at it and him, then set out a bottle and a
glass.

"Never mind the dust," he said.

"Go on and take it," Morganson insisted.

The barkeeper held the sack mouth downward over the scales and shook it,
and a few flakes of gold dust fell out. Morganson took the sack from
him, turned it inside out, and dusted it carefully.

"I thought there was half-a-dollar in it," he said.

"Not quite," answered the other, "but near enough. I'll