Phillips had cooled off by this time; in fact, the chill breath of the snow-fields had begun to penetrate his sodden clothing, therefore he prepared to take up his march.

“Going through to Linderman?” queried the other man.  “So am I. If you’ll wait a second I’ll join you.  Maybe we can give each other a hand.”

The speaker’s motive was patent; nevertheless, Phillips obligingly acceded to his request, and a short time later assisted him into his harness, whereupon they set out one behind the other.  Pierce’s pack was at least double the weight of his companion’s, and it gave him a pleasurable thrill to realize that he was one of the strong, one of the elect; he wondered pityingly how long this feeble, middle-aged man could last.

Before they had tramped far, however, he saw that the object of his pity possessed a quality which was lacking in many of the younger, stronger stampeders—­namely, a grim determination, a dogged perseverance—­no poor substitute, indeed, for youth and brawn.  Once the man was in motion he made no complaint, and he managed to maintain a very good pace.

Leaving the crest of Chilkoot behind them, the travelers bore to the right across the snowcap, then followed the ridge above Crater Lake.  Every mile or two they rested briefly to relieve their chafed and aching shoulders.  They exchanged few words while they were in motion, for one soon learns to conserve his forces on the trail, but when they lay propped against their packs they talked.

Phillips’ abundant vigor continued to evoke the elder man’s frank admiration; he eyed the boy approvingly and plied him with questions.  Before they had traveled many miles he had learned what there was to learn, for Pierce answered his questions frankly and told him about the sacrifice his family had made in order to send him North, about the trip itself, about his landing at Dyea, and all the rest.  When he came to the account of that shell-game the grizzled stranger smiled.

“I’ve lived in wide-open countries all my life,” said the latter, “but this beats anything I ever saw.  Why, the crooks outnumber the honest men and they’re running things to suit themselves.  One of ’em tried to lay me.  Me!” He chuckled as if the mere idea was fantastically humorous.  “Have you heard about this Soapy Smith?  He’s the boss, the bell-cow, and he’s made himself mayor of Skagway.  Can you beat it?  I’ll bet some of his men are on our Citizens’ Committee at Sheep Camp.  They need a lot of killing, they do, and they’ll get it.  What did you do after you lost your money?”

“I fell in with two brothers and went to packing.”

“Went partners with them?’