Connie Morgan in Alaska

mble," Waseche Bill disappeared into the north on a solitary prospecting trip. Before he left he presented Connie with old Boris, a Huds

theh man." Thus Waseche Bill took leave of the boy and swung out into the trail with a younger dog in the lead. Old Boris stood with drooping tail beside his new master, and as the sled disappeared over the bank and swept out onto the

ly built dog, good-natured and clumsy, who knew only how to throw his

ous-a throwback to the wolf. His former owner, tired of fighting him over the trail

same he'd got off o' me, why, this here Alaska land 'ud be too small to hold me. No, son, I guess we'll jest put him out o' the way o

did not understand-this man-brute of small size who approached him bare-handed and without a club. So he glared red-eyed, alert for some new trick of torture. But nothing happened, and presently from the pocket of his parka this strange m

-brute reached down and flung the hated muzzle far out

e uttered a low throaty growl of defiance; then he turned and stalked toward the boy, planting his feet deliberately and stiffly after the manner of dogs whose temper quivers o

hot out and licked the fingers. At the sound, the dog placed himself before the boy and gl

no pay for him. You saved his life, an' he b'longs to you-only be careful. Don't neve

proach of spring. Snow melted on the more exposed mountain slopes,

s team up the neighbouring gulches, occasionally s

dough" now, and could talk quite wisely of cradles and ro

m with the story of his big strike on Ten Bow. Instantly pandemonium broke loose. Men in a frenzy of excitement th

would beat out Dutch Henry's crack Hudson Bays. Men came down from the hills

eche Bill sought out Conni

-cut. Keep up yo' nerve, an' follow that dog. He'll swing off up Little Rampa't, an' the othe's will keep to the big riveh-but it's the long way 'round. It's only 'bout eighty mile by the sho't-cut, an' a good two hund'ed by the riveh. I come down the long way so's to have a smooth trail fo' my new le

re: "An' yo' stake out One Below Discovery-below, mind. 'Cause she's a sh

ollar, Slasher pulling wide with the long jumps of the wolf-dog, and old Boris with lowered head, in the easy lope of the born leader. Mile after mile they covered on the smooth trail of the river, and i

narrow cleft between two towering walls of rock, which was the mouth of Little Rampart. On an

nto the hills. Connie had his hands full at the gee-pole, for it was dark now-not t

very minute of inaction, for well he knew the fame of McDougall's mail dogs, and Dutch Henry's Hudson Bays. It turned warme

rge, feathery flakes, that lay soft and deep on the crust and piled up in front of the

f long practice. Slasher settled down to a steady pull, and Big Mutt threw himself into the collar and fairly lifted the sled through the loose snow. Toward noon they slanted into a wide valley, and the tired eyes of the boy

he rope, his wide snowshoes breaking the trail. In spite of his efforts the pace was dishearteningly slow. Every few minutes he glanced back, and each time the

ew that McDougall was gaining fast-he had already broken into Connie's own fresh

s beforehand. He loosened them from the back of the sled and, ax in hand, ploughed ahead through the l

es, following Waseche's directions. With a final blow of his

e sourdough!" And as he staked out number Two Below

ing into the forties, both above and below Discovery. But the great prize

ed with a hundred camp fires, and the air ran

fire and Connie Morgan's

, an' beat us to it!" "Now, what d'ye know 'bout that?" "If Sam Morgan c'd lived to seen it h

ie Morgan was seated talking with a group of prospectors. He was a little, rat-like man, wit

I know. He's a minor, an' he can't hold no claim!" He spoke hurriedly, and eyed the

e of the law!" From the boy's side came a low growl. There was a flash of grey in the f

im off. Luckily for the man his throat was protected by the heavy parka

them knocked the revolver from the hand of the co

nd, grasping the man by the shou

ye listen to me! What he would done won't be a patchin' to what I will do to ye, if ever ye open yer head about that there claim ag'in. An' that ain't all. There's a hundred men in this gulc