glass, whin suddin, belike a cloud over the sun, the mushy-ice
comes bubblin' up an' up till from bank to bank an' bind to bind
it's drapin' the river like a first snowfall?' 'Unh, hunh! more'n
once when I took a doze at the steering-oar. But it allus come
out the nighest side-channel, an' not bubblin' up an' up.' 'But
with niver a wink at the helm?'

'No; nor you. It's agin reason. I'll leave it to any man!'
Bettles appealed to the circle about the stove, but the fight was
on between himself and Lon McFane.

'Reason or no reason, it's the truth I'm tellin' ye. Last fall, a
year gone, 'twas Sitka Charley and meself saw the sight, droppin'
down the riffle ye'll remember below Fort Reliance. An' regular
fall weather it was--the glint o' the sun on the golden larch an'
the quakin' aspens; an' the glister of light on ivery ripple; an'
beyand, the winter an' the blue haze of the North comin' down
hand in hand. It's well ye know the same, with a fringe to the
river an' the ice formin' thick in the eddies--an' a snap an'
sparkle to the air, an' ye a-feelin' it through all yer blood,
a-takin' new lease of life with ivery suck of it. 'Tis then, me
boy, the world grows small an' the wandtherlust lays ye by the
heels.

'But it's meself as wandthers. As I was sayin', we a-paddlin',
with niver a sign of ice, barrin' that by the eddies, when the
Injun lifts his paddle an' sings out, "Lon McFane! Look ye
below!" So have I heard, but niver thought to see! As ye know,
Sitka Charley, like meself, niver drew first breath in the land;
so the sight was new. Then we drifted, with a head over ayther