"They told me I couldn't make it; they said something was sure to
happen. Well, it has. I'm up against it--hard. Most fellows would
quit and go home, but I sha'n't. I'm going to win out, somehow,
for this is the real thing. This is Life, Adventure. It will be
wonderful to look back and say: 'I did it. Nothing stopped me. I
landed at Dyea with one hundred and thirty-five dollars, but look
at me now!'"

Thoughts such as these were in his mind, and their resolute nature
must have been reflected in his face, for a voice aroused him from
his meditations.

"It don't seem to faze you much, partner. I s'pose you came
heeled?" Phillips looked up and into a sullen, angry face.

"It nearly kills me," he smiled. "I'm the worst-heeled man in the
crowd."

"Well, it's a darned outrage. A ton of grub? Why, have you seen
the trail? Take a look; it's a man-killer, and the rate is forty
cents a pound to Linderman. It'll go to fifty now--maybe a dollar-
-and there aren't enough packers to handle half the stuff."

"Things are worse at Skagway," another man volunteered. "I came up
yesterday, and they're losing a hundred head of horses a day--
bogging 'em down and breaking their legs. You can walk on dead
carcasses from the Porcupine to the Summit."

A third stranger, evidently one of the well-provided few, laughed