"D'ye onderstan' that Waseche's claim's no gude? It sloped off shallow rock onto yourn, an' it's worked out a'ready. Waseche, he's gone, an' ye're full owner o' the best claim on the Ten Bow. You ain't got no pardner to divide up wi'—it's all yourn."
The boy regarded him with blazing eyes:
"What do you mean, I have no pardner? Waseche is my pardner, and you bet he'll find that out when I catch him! I'll stick by him no matter what he says, and if he won't come back, I won't either! Of course I've got the best claim on Ten Bow, but Waseche put me onto it, and gave me old Boris, and—" his voice broke and the words came choking between dry sobs—"and that day in Anvik he said he owed my father a hundred dollars, and the others all chipped in—I thought it was true then—but I know now—and I shut up about it because they thought I never knew!
"I don't want the claim, I want Waseche! And I'll stick by him if I have to abandon the claim. Pardners are pardners! and when I catch that old tillicum I'll—I'll bring him back if I have to beat him up! My dad licked British Kronk at Candle—and British was bigger! He's got to come back!" The small fists were doubled and the small voice rang shrill and high with righteous indignation. Suddenly Big McDougall's hand shot out and gripped the little fist, which he wrung in a mighty grip.
"Ah, laddie, fer all yer wee size, ye're a mon! Run ye the noo, an' pack the sled whilst I harness the dogs. Wi' that ten-team ye'll come up wi' Waseche anent Ragged Falls Post." Twenty minutes later the boy appeared with his own dogs unleashed.
"McDougall's prize malamutes shot out on the trail."
"Mush! Boris, find Waseche! Mush!" And the old dog, in perfect understanding, uttered a low whine of eagerness, and headed northward at a run. The next instant the boy threw himself belly-wise onto the sled and McDougall's prize malamutes shot out on the trail of the old lead dog, with big Mutt and the red-eyed Slasher running free in their wake.
Standing in his doorway, the Scotchman watched them dwindle in the distance, while distinctly to his ears, through the still, keen air, was borne the sharp creak of runners and the thin shouts of the boy as he urged the dogs over the hard-packed trail:
"Hi! Hi! Mush-u! Mush-u! Chook-e-e-e!"