g in
particular was the matter, but he just thought he wouldn't go any
further.

"We can camp here."

"No, we can't," says the Boy; "there isn't a tree in sight."

But the Colonel seemed dazed. He thought he'd stop anyhow--"right where
he was."

"Oh, no," says the Boy, a little frightened; "we'll camp the minute we
come to wood." But the Colonel stood as if rooted. The Boy took his arm
and led him on a few paces to the sled. "You needn't push hard, you
know. Just keep your hand there so, without looking, you'll know where
I'm going." This was very subtle of the Boy. For he knew the Colonel
was blind as a bat and as sensitive as a woman. "We'll get through all
right yet," he called back, as he stooped to take up the sledrope. "I
bet on Kentucky."

Like a man walking in his sleep, the Colonel followed, now holding on
to the sled and unconsciously pulling a little, and when the Boy, very
nearly on his last legs, remonstrated, leaning against it, and so
urging it a little forward.

Oh, but the wood was far to seek that night!

Concentrated on the two main things--to carry forward his almost
intolerable load, and to go the shortest way to the nearest wood--the
Boy, by-and-by, forgot to tell his tired nerves to take account of the
unequal pressure from behind. If he felt it--well, the Colonel was a
corker; if he didn't feel it--well, the Colonel was just about tuckered
out. It was very late when at last the Boy raised a shout. Behind the
cliff overhanging the river-bed that they were just rounding, there,
spread out in the sparkling starlight, as far as he could see, a vast
primeval forest. The Boy bettered his lagging pace.

"Ha! you haven't seen a wood like this since we left 'Frisco. It's all
right now, Kentucky;" and he bent to his work with a will.

When he got to the edge of the wood, he flung down the rope and
turned--to find himself alone.

"Colonel! Colonel! Where are you? _Colonel!_"

He stood in the silence, shivering with a sudden sense of desolation.
He took his bearings, propped a fallen fir sapling aslant by the sled,
and, forgetting he was ready to drop, he ran swiftly hack along the way
he came. They had travelled all that afternoon and evening on the river
ice, hard as iron, retaining no trace of footprint or of runner
possible to verify even in daylight. The Yukon here was fully three
miles wide. They had meant to hug the right bank, but snow and ice
refashion the world and laugh at the trust