ey were satisfied, Smoke hefted the heavy basin with both hands and
grinned.

"It will keep the whole tribe in grub for the rest of the winter," he
said. "Now for the dogs. Five light teams that have some run in them."

A dozen teams were volunteered, and the camp, as a committee of the
whole, bickered and debated, accepted and rejected.

"Huh! Your dray-horses!" Long Bill Haskell was told.

"They can pull," he bristled with hurt pride.

"They sure can," he was assured. "But they can't make time for sour
apples. They've got theirs cut out for them bringing up the heavy
loads."

As fast as a team was selected, its owner, with half a dozen aids,
departed to harness up and get ready.

One team was rejected because it had come in tired that afternoon. One
owner contributed his team, but apologetically exposed a bandaged ankle
that prevented him from driving it. This team Smoke took, overriding the
objection of the crowd that he was played out.

Long Bill Haskell pointed out that while Fat Olsen's team was a
crackerjack, Fat Olsen himself was an elephant. Fat Olsen's two hundred
and forty pounds of heartiness was indignant. Tears of anger came into
his eyes, and his Scandinavian explosions could not be stopped until he
was given a place in the heavy division, the craps-player jumping at the
chance to take out Olsen's light team.

Five teams were accepted and were being harnessed and loaded, but only
four drivers had satisfied the committee of the whole.

"There's Cultus George," some one cried. "He's a trail-eater, and he's
fresh and rested."

All eyes turned upon the Indian, but his face was expressionless, and he
said nothing.

"You'll take a team," Smoke said to him.

Still the big Indian made no answer. As with an electric thrill, it ran
through all of them that something untoward was impending. A restless
shifting of the group took place, forming a circle in which Smoke
and Cultus George faced each other. And Smoke realized that by common
consent he had been made the representative of his fellows in what was
taking place, in what was to take place. Also, he was angered. It
was beyond him that any human creature, a witness to the scramble of
volunteers, should hang back. For another thing, in what followed,
Smoke did not have Cultus George's point of view--did not dream that the
Indian held back for any reason save the selfish, mercenary one.

"Of course you will take a team," Smoke said.

"How much?"