repare
ye for the wust, that's all. That pass--the Chilkoot--is the wust part
o' the whole trip, being about three-quarters of a mile high and betwixt
mountains twice that size."

"Well, we can climb three-quarters of a mile, I guess, if the grade
isn't too steep," said Randy.

The captain turned away and smiled to himself. He was more than doubtful
if the boys would ever get safely over to Lake Linderman, the first of
the lakes on the other side of the mountain range.

It was well that they had dressed themselves warmly; for, on account of
the sun shining on the glaciers the air was filled with a mist which
chilled them to the bone. The channel was filled with loose pieces of
ice, and ever and anon the steamer would strike a miniature iceberg
with a crash which was clearly heard by all on board.

After a few hours of gazing at the monotonous presentation of glaciers
and snow-covered hills and mountains, the boys turned their attention to
those on board. It was a motley collection of people. Most of the men
were Americans, but there was also a fair sprinkling of Canadians,
Germans, and half a dozen Indians. The latter were of the Chilkoot
tribe, and interested Randy more than anything else. They were a
round-faced, stalwart set of fellows, and several of them had bands of
black painted across the upper parts of their faces.

"They paint the black around their eyes as a preventive of
snow-blindness," explained Foster Portney. "As soon as either of you
find your eyes hurting from the glare you had better put on a pair of
the smoked goggles."

Dinner on the steamer was served under the rather scanty shelter on the
upper deck. But fifteen could be accommodated at once, and as there were
over sixty people on board, it took some time to satisfy them all. The
fare was principally beef stew, bread, coffee, and rice pudding, but the
cold air gave every one a good appetite, and the boys did full justice
to all that was offered them.

At turning-in time there was more than one little row, for sleeping
accommodations were limited. Berths were at a premium, and had been
secured by the more fortunate ones when the steamer had landed at
Juneau. Foster Portney gathered his party around him in the shelter of
the wheelhouse, on deck, and here they slept huddled together like sheep
in a cattle car.

"Not like stopping at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, is it?" said
his uncle to Randy. "But never mind; as soon as we leave Dyea