Connie Morgan in Alaska

d find him at the dog's side. Sound carries far in the keen northern air, and the man urged his team to its utmost. As the sled runners slipped smoothly over the ice a

t on the kid, that-a-way-an', what's mo', if he

the trail? The man's brow puckered. Wha

he fol

wgs. An' he'd of neveh got past Eagle-Fiddle Face, an' Joe, an' Jim Sontag, they would

an abrupt halt on the brink of a yawning

chopped two parallel trenches in the ice close to the end of the bridge. Into these eight-inch depressions he worked the runners of the heavily loaded sled, taking care that the blunt rear end of the runners rested firmly against the vertical ends of the trenches. Uncoiling a long babiche line, he tied one

readth escapes, and of times when a clear brain and iron nerve alone stood between him and the Great Beyond. But of these things they rarely speak-for they know of the others, like Sam Morgan, whose work is done, and whose names are burned into the l

the weight of the outfit, Waseche Bill untie

found himself upon the edge of the glacier, at a point some distance above the cave where Connie Morgan had sought shelter from the storm. He looked out over the undulating ridges of snow waste that stretched away toward a nearby spur of the mountains. Intently he scanned each nook

r call quavering through the still, keen air, but the only answer was the hollow echoing of his own voice as it died away in the mountains. A mile to the eas

narrow pass. The snow was smooth and untrampled

wondeh if this heah Lillimuit is a kind of spirit land like folks says. Did I really heah the ol' dawg howl, or has the big Nawth got me, too, like it done got Carlson, an' the rest? 'Cause if they was a dawg wheah's his t

yo' li'l pa'dner-How'd yo' get heah? Yo' done come, jes' as Joe 'lowed yo' would-yo' doggone li'l tillicum! Come all alone, too! Jes' wait 'til I catch holt of yo'-an' McDougall's da

d the dogs bounded forward

cing his steps that he had discovered the sheep trail, by means of which he gained the surface of the glacier a mile back from the termi

didn't yo', pa'dner? But I got yo' back ag'in, an' from now on, me an' yo' sticks togetheh.

utes the man was busy with whip and mukluks straightening out the tangle of fighting animals. Dashing in the darkness between a huge gra

In the darkness he could form no conception of the extent of the barrier. Was it a detached fragment? Or had the whole side of the glacier split away and crashed into the canyon? Before his eyes rose the picture of a small body crushed and mangled beneath thousa

resenting an unscalable face to the imprisoned boy, was by no mea

ice fragments. By the feeble light of the stars he could see that the walls of the canyon towered high above the top of the ma

ot to find out if the kid is safe. Reckon I c'n

and a half hour later Waseche Bill stood at the top and, with

nstantly, the man heard a low growl, and his eye caught the flash of an indistinct grey shape against the snow floor below him. Straight as an arrow the shape shot towar

, as he proceeded to make the end of his

er the edge and slid slowly downward. Suddenly, he gripped hard and checked his descent. He was ten feet from the bottom, and something struck the rope just beneath

the dog sprang again, and the man hastily drew himself higher-for this time the long white fangs clashed t

s grip on the swaying line. And then, beneath him, the canyon seemed filled with dogs-g

reak! Theh's ol' Boris!" he exclaimed, as the lead dog appeared at the edge of the snarling pack. "Hello, Boris, ol' dawg! Yo' know me-don't yo', Boris?" With a short, sharp yelp of deli

that! I'd sho' hate fo'

p the kid." And the next moment the walls

e listened drowsily to the pandemonium of growls and yelps and snarls, from the midst of which came indistinctly the sound

y slunk away before the stinging sweep of the lash, and Waseche Bill, his hands numb from h

e rattled off the words with which he sought to disguise the real emotion of his heart at finding the boy he had learned to love, safe and sound in the great white wil

ot of the moraine, and the heart of the man swelled with

'm going to take you back. Pardners are pardner

sily engaged in arranging the robes into a

yo'-somehow-I cain't jes' say it-but-anyways-Why! Dog

his robes a voice sounded drowsily

sec

uestione

he said? Oh, yes-he said when I found you to tell you that

chuckled happ

k Jack's right about that-trouble i