men going to join their husbands at Dawson City,
and young girls on their way to Vancouver and Seattle, and whole
families emigrating to Washington.

By the middle of the forenoon we were pretty well acquainted, and
knowing that two long days were before us, we set ourselves to the
task of passing the time. The women cooked their meals on the range
in the forward part of the car, or attended to the toilets of the
children, quite as regularly as in their own homes; while the men,
having no duties to perform, played cards, or talked endlessly
concerning their prospects in the Northwest, and when weary of this,
joined in singing topical songs.

No one knew his neighbor's name, and, for the most part, no one
cared. All were in mountaineer dress, with rifles, revolvers, and
boxes of cartridges, and the sight of a flock of antelopes developed
in each man a frenzy of desire to have a shot at them. It was a wild
ride, and all day we climbed over low swells, passing little lakes
covered with geese and brant, practically the only living things.
Late in the afternoon we entered upon the Selkirks, where no life
was.

These mountains I had long wished to see, and they were in no sense a
disappointment. Desolate, death-haunted, they pushed their white
domes into the blue sky in savage grandeur. The little snow-covered
towns seemed to cower at their feet like timid animals lost in the
immensity of the forest. All day we rode among these heights, and at
night we went to sleep feeling the chill of their desolate presence.

We reached Ashcroft (which was the beginning of the long trail) at
sunrise. The town lay low on the sand, a spatter of little frame
buildings, mainly saloons and lodging houses, and resembled an
ordinary cow-town in the Western States.

Rivers of dust were flowing in the streets as we debarked from the
train. The land seemed dry as ashes, and the hills which rose near
resembled those of Montana or Colorado. The little hotel swarmed with
the rudest and crudest types of men; not dangerous men, only
thoughtless and profane teamsters and cow-boys, who drank thirstily
and ate like wolves. They spat on the floor while at the table,
leaning on their elbows gracelessly. In the bar-room they drank and
chewed tobacco, and talked in loud voices upon nothing at all.

Down on the flats along the railway a dozen camps of Klondikers were
set exposed to the dust and burning sun. The sidewalks swarmed with
outfitters. Everywhe