"It wis a gorgeous banquet," ruminated Mac, as he busied himself with the sleigh and made fast thereon various little sacks appropriated from the tent.
"There's nae man," responded Stewart with eloquence, "kin teach me onything aboot cooking—especially puddens."
I now thought it advisable to examine the markings on the snow where the trail had given us so much trouble on the night before. I could not yet understand why a tent and stores should have been left at Caribou Crossing, one of the most gloomy spots throughout the whole course of the Yukon. "Be lively with the breakfast, boys," I said, "for I am inclined to think the climate thirty miles further south will be healthier for us to-night." And I made my way out to the edge of the forest.
I reached the lakeside without difficulty; the keen frost of the preceding hours had given a thick crust to the deep snow-drifts intervening; I then made a careful scrutiny of the various sleigh-runner channels which were plainly evident, and which united at the point where we had to diverge into the wood. A double trail led southward towards Lake Bennet, but a single one only continued its course to Tagash station. At once the meaning was plain. Two sleighs had started from Bennet station, and the drifts on Caribou proving unduly deterrent, one sleigh load had been temporarily abandoned. I remembered the two teams of dogs in the sleigh we had met. Everything was clear in an instant. "Yes, we'll certainly be healthier in a more southerly latitude to-night," I said to myself as I turned to go back to my companions. The enticing odour of an unusually appetising breakfast greeted my nostrils, and brought back a feeling of serene contentment. But my happiness was shortlived. I had barely reached the camp fire when I became vaguely conscious of some disturbing element in the air. I listened intently, then faintly sounded the tinkle of sleigh bells in the distance, and now and again the sharp crack of a dog-whip smote the keen air. There was no need to explain matters; even Dave whined knowingly, and backed voluntarily into his harness.
"Jist oor luck," grumbled Stewart, grabbing the cooked bacon and thrusting it into one of the billies.
"It's a blessed thing," quoth Mac, philosophically, "that we had such a magnee——"
"Are you ready, boys?" I interrupted. The bells sounded sharply now, and I could hear the irascible captain cursing on the dogs.
"I'm staunin' by the ingines," grunted Mac.
"There's naething left," said Stewart, "unless we tak' the tent."
"Then full speed ahead," I cried; "we'll camp somewhere near the head of Lake Bennet, to-night."