CHAPTER XVIII
ALASKA!
They camped for the remainder of the day.
"'Tain't no use grumblin' on ouh luck," remarked the philosophical Waseche. "We got to camp right heah till the stawm weahs out. Chances is, we'll have the Injuns onto us in a day oah so; but we cain't go bluste'catin' no mo' wheah we cain't see. Anyhow, they ain't no use borrowin' trouble—theh's a right smaht of it a-comin' to a man without him huntin' none. So fah, we're all to the good. The big Nawth's fightin' to hold her secrets, but she ain't handed us no knockout—yet."
During the night the storm ceased, and with the first hint of dawn the outfit was made ready for the trail. Robes were spread upon Connie's light sled, and Waseche Bill placed in his sleeping bag and bound securely upon the robes with many turns of babiche. The bundles of firewood, and O'Brien's cans of gold were transferred to the other sleds, and in the dull grey of the long morning twilight the outfit pulled southward over the bench, paralleling the edge of the ravine into which Waseche had fallen. Progress was slow. The fresh snow rolled up and clogged the free running of the sleds, so that both Connie and O'Brien mushed ahead of the dogs, breaking out the trail with their rackets. Hour after hour they mushed, seeking to cross the great fissure that gaped wide and deep between them and the distant mountains that loomed white and grand against the western skyline—the mountains that separated them from Alaska, and through whose fastnesses they must find a trail.
The belated sun peeped over the rim of the flat snow tundra behind them, and all three turned to view the welcome sight. Suddenly, O'Brien, with a sharp cry, pointed toward some tiny moving objects far to the eastward:
"The Injuns," he cried. "That haythen, Lemlak—th' wan that seen us layve th' Ignatook—he's put um on our thr-rail—an' ut's back we go, av they don't har-rpoon us—as sur-re's me name's Pathrick O'Brien!"
"It's back we don't go! And you can bet your bottom dollar on that!" cried Connie, as he glanced with flashing eyes toward the two high-power rifles lashed side by side against the rail of McDougall's sled. "Look! There's the end of the ravine! We can head west now, and hit for the mountains!"