ey had fallen out by the way, for the
trail has the satanic peculiarity of developing all that is surly,
selfish, or yellow in human nature. People who are tired, ill, and
hungry lift the curtain of their character and forget to let it fall,
so that the result is disillusionment to all concerned. Not a few men
who started in on pronouncedly amicable terms, eating from the same
plate both actually and figuratively, came out brimful with umbrage,
hatred and pique. Murder on the trail may be almost a natural impulse.

But all the derelicts who returned had one well-defined peculiarity
(albeit a negative one), they came in quietly by the back trails--they
who had gone forth full-fed and wanton as young gophers. The North had
rolled out their individuality like one might roll out dough. They
were "the bitten;" gaunt-eyed starvelings; tatterdemalions who might
have posed for Rip Van Winkle or The Ancient Mariner. The North is a
goodly country and attracts goodly men, yet, even here, one may lose
both his sense and his competence.

"Did no one succeed?" I ask.

"Oh yes!" replies a jocund old gentleman who has lived here these
thirty years. "One man got through by hook or crook--chiefly crook.
He was a real-estate agent and insurance broker."

Further questions elicit the fact that this broker was not so much a
stampeder as an absconder. He was short in his returns to the
insurance company and took this means of avoiding arrest. At least, so
it was rumoured. He left Edmonton in the late winter with no money, no
food--nothing but a small hand-satchel containing collars and blank
premium forms. All the way along he insured the trailers on the
straight life, endowment, or accident policies, or for sick benefits.
They were far enough on the trail to realize that there was a distinct
possibility of their requiring one, if not all these premiums, so our
broker found fat pickings. Resides, each trailer had begun to think
lovingly and longingly of his family at home, and of what a comforting
compensation a ten-thousand dollar policy might be to them in the event
of his death. Indeed, it seemed almost like swindling the company to
take out a policy on this journey. But what would you? Here was their
properly certified agent with the requisite papers to boot. One must
take what the gods send.

At Athabasca Landing, our broker man stole a boat and made his way down
the river. He fed at each camp he encountered; relat