ye've got here."

Presently he folded and returned the brief note. "An' now what can I
do for ye? Will ye be makin' your headquarters here, or will ye have a
camp of your own down on the river?"

"I think I'll stay here if there's room. When I'm exploring the river
I can take a light outfit along."

"There's plenty of room. There's an empty cabin beside the storehouse,
an' I'll have a stove set up, an' your things moved in. Ye'll take
your meals with me. There's only a couple of Company Injuns, an' my
clerk." Murchison paused. "Sven!" he called. "Sven Larson! Where
are ye? Come down out of that fur loft! I've a job for ye."

Slow, heavy footsteps sounded upon the floor above, and a moment later
two feet appeared upon the ladder, and very deliberately the clerk
negotiated the descent.

"Sven Larson, this is Mr. Wentworth. He's from the States, an' he's
goin' to live in the cabin. Take Wawake an' Joe Irish an' set up a
stove in there, an' move the stuff in that lays outside."

Hedin acknowledged the introduction with a solemn bob of the head, and
as he stared straight into Wentworth's face he blinked owlishly.

"This stove?" he asked, indicating the huge cannon stove in which the
fire roared noisily.

"No! No! Ye numbskull! One of them Yukon stoves. An' be quick about