It was evening. Brent and Snowdrift had climbed from the little trail camp at the edge of the timber line, to the very summit of the great Bonnet Plume Pass to watch the sun sink to rest behind the high-flung peaks of the mighty Alaskan ranges.
"Oh, isn't it grand! And wonderful!" cried the girl as her eyes swept the vast panorama of glistening white mountains. "How small and insignificant I feel! And how stern, and rugged, and hard it all looks."
"Yes, darling," whispered Brent, as his arm stole about her waist, "It is stern, and rugged, and hard. But it is clean, and honest, and grand. It is the world as God made it."
"I have never been in the mountains before," said
the girl, "I have seen them from the Mackenzie, but they were so far away they never seemed real. We have always hunted upon the barrens. Tell me, is it all like this? And where is the Yukon?"
Brent smiled at her awe of the vastness: "Pretty much all like this," he answered. "Alaska is a land of mountains. Of course there are wide valleys, and mighty rivers, and along the rivers are the towns and the mining camps."
"I have never seen a town," breathed the girl, "What will we do when we get there?"
"We will go straight to the Reeves," he answered, with a glad smile. "Reeves is the man who staked me for the trip into the barrens, and his wife is an old, old friend of mine. We were born and grew up in the same town, and we will go straight to them."
"I wonder whether she will like me? I have known no white women except Sister Mercedes."
"Darling, she will love you!" cried Brent, "Everyone will love you! And we will be married in their house."