face of Thad Ferguson, and forgot the dream he had for an instant
dreamed.


Splash! A handful of water from his strenuous oar struck her full in
the face. "Hope you don't mind it, miss," he apologized. "I'm doin'
the best I know how, which ain't much."

"So it seems," she answered, good-naturedly.

"Not that I love the sea," bitterly; "but I've got to turn a few honest
dollars somehow, and this seemed the likeliest way. I oughter 'a ben
in Klondike by now, if I'd had any luck at all. Tell you how it was.
I lost my outfit on Windy Arm, half-way in, after packin' it clean
across the Pass--"

Zip! Splash! She shook the water from her eyes, squirming the while
as some of it ran down her warm back.

"You'll do," he encouraged her. "You're the right stuff for this
country. Goin' all the way in?"

She nodded cheerfully.

"Then you'll do. But as I was sayin', after I lost my outfit I hit
back for the coast, bein' broke, to hustle up another one. That's why
I'm chargin' high-pressure rates. And I hope you don't feel sore at
what I made you pay. I'm no worse than the rest, miss, sure. I had to
dig up a hundred for this old tub, which ain't worth ten down in the
States. Same kind of prices everywhere. Over on the Skaguay Trail