path that left the main river trail and climbed the bank of the
island.

"All right, you sore-footed brutes," he said. "I'll investigate.
You're not a bit more anxious to quit than I am."

He climbed the bank and disappeared. The dogs did not lie down,
but on their feet eagerly waited his return. He came back to them,
took a hauling-rope from the front of the sled, and put it around
his shoulders. Then he GEE'D the dogs to the right and put them at
the bank on the run. It was a stiff pull, but their weariness fell
from them as they crouched low to the snow, whining with eagerness
and gladness as they struggled upward to the last ounce of effort
in their bodies. When a dog slipped or faltered, the one behind
nipped his hind quarters. The man shouted encouragement and
threats, and threw all his weight on the hauling-rope.

They cleared the bank with a rush, swung to the left, and dashed up
to a small log cabin. It was a deserted cabin of a single room,
eight feet by ten on the inside. Messner unharnessed the animals,
unloaded his sled and took possession. The last chance wayfarer
had left a supply of firewood. Messner set up his light sheet-iron
stove and starred a fire. He put five sun-cured salmon into the
oven to thaw out for the dogs, and from the water-hole filled his
coffee-pot and cooking-pail.

While waiting for the water to boil, he held his face over the
stove. The moisture from his breath had collected on his beard and
frozen into a great mass of ice, and this he proceeded to thaw out.
As it melted and dropped upon the stove it sizzled and rose about