The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1910-10-12

went out to thesledge after their
breakfast he gave Jackpine a
hearty grip of the hand and the
Cree's dark face lighted up with
something like pleasure when he
saw the enthusiasm in the young
engineers eyes. When the mo-
nent for parting came Gregson
pulled his companion a little to
one side. His eyes shifted ner-
'Vously and Rowland saw that he
/ was making a strong effort to as
sumo an indifference which was
not at all Gregson's natural self.
Just a word, Rowland" he
said. You know this is a pref
ty rough country up here-some
tough people in it, who wouldn't
mind cutting a mans throat or
sending a bullet through him for
good team of dogs and rifle.
I'm Just telling you this so you'll
be on your guard. Have Jackpine
watch YOU camp nights"
He spoke i'll low voice and cut
himself short when the Indian
approached. Rowland seated him
self in the middle of the six foot
toboggan, waved his hand to Greg
son, then with wild ha1loo and a
swapping OF his long caribou-gut
whip JackpinG started his dogs on
C. trot down the street, running
close beside the sledge. How
land had lighted cigar, and leah
ing back in a soft mass of furs
began to enjoy his new expert.
ence hugely. Day was just fairly
breaking over the forests when
they turned into the white trail.
already beaten hard by the pass
ing of many dogs and sledges. that
led from lie Pas for a hundred
miles to the camp on the Wekusko.
AS they struck the trail the dogs
strained harder at their traces,
with Jackpine's whip curling and
swapping over their backs until
they were leaping swiftly and with
unbroken rhythm of motion over
THE snow. Then the Cree gath
cred in his whip and ran close to
the leaders flank, his moceasined
feet taking the short, quick, light
steps of the, trained forest runner,
his chest thrown little out, his
eyes on the twisting trail ahead.
1t was glorious ride, and in the
exhilaration of it Rowland forgot
to smoke the cigar that he held
between his fingers. His blood
thrilled to the tireless effort of
the grayish-yellow pack of mag
nifieent brutes ahead of him; he
watched the muscular play of
their backs and legs, the eager
out-reaching of their wolfish
heads. their half-gaping jaws, and
from them he looked at Jackpine.
There was no effort in his run
ming. His black hair swept back
from the gray of his cap; like the
dogs there was music in his
movement, the beauty of strength,
of endurance, of manhood born to
the forests, and when the dogs
finally stopped at the foot of a
huge ridge, painting and half ex-
hausted, Rowland quickly leaped
from the sledge and for the first
time spoke to the Indian.
"That was glorious, Jackpine!"
he cried. But, god Lord, man,
you'll kill the dogs!"
Jackpine grinned.
"They go sixt' mile in day lax
dat" he grinned.
Sixty miles!"
In his admiration for the wolf
ish looking beasts that were car
rying him through the wilderness
Rowland put out a hand to stroke
one of them on the head. With a
warning cry the Indian jerked him
back just as the dog snapped
fiercely at the extended hand.
'No touch huskie!" he ex-
claimed. "Heem half. wolf-half
dog-work hard but no lax to be
touch!"
"Wowi" exclaimed Rowland.
"And they're the sweetest looking
pups | ever laid eyes on. I'm
certainly running up against some
strange things in this country"
He was dead tired when night
came. And yet never In all his
had he enjoyed a day SO much
as this one. Twenty times he had
Joined Jackpine in running beside
the sledge. In their intervals of
rest he had even learned to snap
the thirty-foot caribou-gut lash of