olling maddeningly in a succession of low
hills and shallow hollows, now it seemed that Nature spurned the milk
and water fashioning of her handiwork, and had hurled the rest of the
world into a wreckage of broken, barren hills.

Into the midst of this chaos Steve plunged.

For awhile the confusion robbed him of all certainty. It not
infrequently left decision floundering. The mountains leapt at him with
a rush from every side, confusing direction and reducing even instinct
to something like impotence. With familiarity, however, his trained mind
adapted itself. Then the rush went on with the old irresistible
confidence.

But human endurance was sorely tested. The tasks often became well-nigh
insuperable. There were moments when dogs and Indians lay beaten in the
midst of their labours, without will, without energy to stir another
yard. It was at such times that despair knocked at the strong heart of
the man who had never learned to yield, and who had never quite known
defeat.

But even in the worst moments the steadily warming air never failed to
lure. It breathed its soft message of promise into Steve's ready ears,
supporting a heart powerless to resist the appeal.

The change to warmth, however, had another and less pleasing aspect. The
snow lost its icy case-hardening. A rot set in. On the hill-tops the ice
was not always reliable. In the valleys men sank up to their knees in
slushy depths. Even the broad tread of snow-shoes failed to save them.
Then, too, the dogs floundered belly-deep, and the broad bottoms of the
sleds alone saved the outfit from complete disaster. The increasing
hardships left Steve without respite. It was only on the hill-tops, when
the veer of the wind carried it to the northward, and, for a brief
spell, Arctic conditions returned, that any measure of ease was
ironically vouchsafed.

The effort was tremendous. It went on for days whose number it was
difficult to estimate in the grope of the unchanging twilight. A day's
work might be a single hill conquered. It might be a moist, clammy
valley crossed. Perhaps two miles, three, or even five. Distance
remained unconsidered. For always was the next effort no less than the
last, till mind, and heart, and body were worn well-nigh threadbare.
There was no pause, no hesitation. It must be on, on to the end,
or--disaster.

Steve knew. Only the barest necessity of rest could be permitted both
for himself, his men, his dogs. The faith of his men