At nine o’clock in the forenoon, Swiftwater rose and stepped onto the roof of the cabin and scanned the far-off shore intently. Suddenly, he turned to the interested Scouts, and removing his broad brim made a mock bow and said impressively:
“Young fellows, let me welcome you to the Frigid Zone; we have just crossed Arctic Circle.”
“Wha—wha—where is it?” cried Pepper excitedly.
“Where’s what?” asked Swiftwater.
“Th-the Circle.”
“All in your imagination, if you’ll remember back to your geography,” replied the miner, with a smile, while the other boys who were slightly awed by the new situation, for a moment, gave a hearty laugh.
“Don’t appear to be very frigid, does it?” remarked the Colonel, and the boys, who, for the first time, felt that they had really invaded the “Terrible North” of the explorers, gazed with new interest on the lush green meadows of the shores and the foliage of the tree-covered island.
They ran on down the river, and an hour later landed at Fort Yukon, an abandoned military post, the most northerly point on the river, lying at the mouth of the Porcupine, the Yukon’s most important tributary.