"Yes, but such twenty miles! Why, it's a jungle half the distance."
"Isn't there a road?"
"Not a sign of one. The gig will make it on the cut-around, and that means a good forty miles."
"I see. Very well, Van, I am at your orders," announced Ralph.
He thought it best to secure some more provisions. They went into the village this time, and at a little store secured what eatables they fancied they might need.
The first mile or two of their journey was very fine traveling, for they kept for that distance to the regularly-traversed road the gig had taken.
Then Van, who seemed to know his bearings, directed a course directly into the timber.
"I don't see any particular fault to be found with this," remarked Ralph, after they had gone a couple of miles.
"Oh, this is easy," rejoined Van. "You see, the Great Northern started in right here to make a survey years ago. That's why there's quite a road for a bit. Wait till you come to where they threw up the job. I say, Fairbanks, that's where they missed it."
"Who? what? where?"