go on forever."

Daylight was tired, profoundly tired. Even his iron body acknowledged
weariness. Every muscle was clamoring for bed and rest, was appalled
at continuance of exertion and at thought of the trail again. All this
physical protest welled up into his brain in a wave of revolt. But
deeper down, scornful and defiant, was Life itself, the essential fire
of it, whispering that all Daylight's fellows were looking on, that now
was the time to pile deed upon deed, to flaunt his strength in the face
of strength. It was merely Life, whispering its ancient lies. And in
league with it was whiskey, with all its consummate effrontery and
vain-glory.

"Mebbe you-all think I ain't weaned yet?" Daylight demanded. "Why, I
ain't had a drink, or a dance, or seen a soul in two months. You-all
get to bed. I'll call you-all at five."

And for the rest of the night he danced on in his stocking feet, and at
five in the morning, rapping thunderously on the door of his new
partners' cabin, he could be heard singing the song that had given him
his name:--

"Burning daylight, you-all Stewart River hunchers! Burning daylight!
Burning daylight! Burning daylight!"

CHAPTER VII

This time the trail was easier. It was better packed, and they were
not carrying mail against time. The day's run was shorter, and
likewise the hours on trail. On his mail run Daylight had played out
three Indians; but his present partners knew that they must not be
played out when they arrived at the Stewart bars, so they set the
slower pace. And under this milder toil, where his companions
nevertheless grew weary, Daylight recuperated and rested up. At Forty
Mile they laid over two days for the sake of the dogs, and at Sixty
Mile Daylight's team was left with the trader. Unlike Daylight, after
the terrible run from Selkirk to Circle City, they had been unable to
recuperate on the back trail. So the four men pulled on from Sixty
Mile with a fresh team of dogs on Daylight's sled.

The following night they camped in the cluster of islands at the mouth
of the Stewart. Daylight talked town sites, and, though the others
laughed at him, he staked the whole maze of high, wooded islands.

"Just supposing the big strike does come on the Stewart," he argued.
"Mebbe you-all'll be in on it, and then again mebbe you-all won't. But
I sure will. You-all'd better reconsider and go in with me on it."

But they were stubborn.

"You're as bad as