more than two thousand pounds of
supplies.

Twice each day this immense load had to be handled; sometimes in
order to rest and graze the ponies, every sack and box had to be
taken down and lifted up to their lashings again four times each day.
This meant toil. It meant also constant worry and care while the
train was in motion. Three times each day a campfire was built and
coffee and beans prepared.

However, the weather continued fair, my partner wrote me, and they
arrived at Teslin Lake in September, after being a month on the road,
and there set about building a boat to carry them down the river.

Here the horses were sold, and I know it must have been a sad moment
for Burton to say good-by to his faithful brutes. But there was no
help for it. There was no more thought of going to the head-waters
of the Pelly and no more use for the horses. Indeed, the gold-hunters
abandoned all thought of the Nisutlin and the Hotalinqua. They were
fairly in the grasp of the tremendous current which seemed to get
ever swifter as it approached the mouth of the Klondike River. They
were mad to reach the pool wherein all the rest of the world was
fishing. Nothing less would satisfy them.

At last they cast loose from the shore and started down the river,
straight into the north. Each hour, each mile, became a menace. Day
by day they drifted while the spitting snows fell hissing into the
cold water, and ice formed around the keel of the boat at night. They
passed men camped and panning dirt, but continued resolute, halting
only "to pass the good word."

It grew cold with appalling rapidity and the sun fell away to the
south with desolating speed. The skies darkened and lowered as the
days shortened. All signs of life except those of other argonauts
disappeared. The river filled with drifting ice, and each night
landing became more difficult.

At last the winter came. The river closed up like an iron trap, and
before they knew it they were caught in the jam of ice and fighting
for their lives. They landed on a wooded island after a desperate
struggle and went into camp with the thermometer thirty below zero.
But what of that? They were now in the gold belt. After six months of
incessant toil, of hope deferred, they were at last on the spot
toward which they had struggled.

All around them was the overflow from the Klondike. Their desire to
go farther was checked. They had reached the counter current--the
back-water--and were sa