"You mean we'll be there tomorrow night?" Bob asked.
"Heem 'bout forty mile," Lucky said.
"Then we'll make it sure," Jack declared.
Besides the Canuck they had encountered their first day out they had seen but two men and these they had met the day after the storm. They had seemed well disposed Canucks and, learning that they had come from up the river, they had inquired if they had seen anything of their uncle. But neither of them had.
It was just as dusk was beginning to settle the next day that they came in sight of the river. For a couple of miles they had been climbing a gentle slope, and, as they reached the top, they could see two rivers about a mile away.
"Big one heem Yukon an' leetle one Kayakuk," Lucky told them pointing with his hand.
"But how do we get down to it?" Bob asked. "It looks as though it went off almost perpendicularly here and it must be a drop of nearly a hundred feet."
"Path down off jest leetle way. Injun show you."
Bob was about to turn back when a startled cry from Jack, who had been standing a few feet nearer the edge of the hill, made him look around just in time to see his brother disappear over the edge together with a vast smother of snow. For an instant he was petrified with fear.
"He—he's gone," he gasped. Then, as reason returned, he shouted: