the entrance to
Chilkoot Pass, and there, almost lost among the clouds, was the dreaded
summit, with mountains still higher on either side of it. Randy drew
closer to Earl as he surveyed the awe-inspiring scene.

"Earl, we've got an everlasting hard climb before us," he whispered. "Do
you think we'll make it?"

"We must make it, Randy," was the low and earnest reply. "It won't do to
show the white feather now. Uncle would never forgive us."

"Some parts of it look like crawling up the side of a house," and Randy
shuddered. "If a fellow should fall, he'd break his neck sure."

"I guess you're right, Randy; although it may not be so bad when one is
right on top of it. There is a sort of a trail, you know, although it's
not much. I heard Salmon Head tell Uncle he hoped it would be cold
to-morrow night, and that we should start for the Pass about four or
five o'clock in the afternoon. I wonder what he meant by that."

"I heard Captain Zoss speaking of it. They start toward evening so as to
pass the deepest snows on the summit about midnight when a crust forms
to walk on, for at this season of the year the deep snows are too soft
to be trusted when the sun is shining."

"And what happens to a fellow, I wonder, if he breaks through the
snow?"

"I don't know, I'm sure--I guess he goes to kingdom come," and Randy
shuddered again. "We'll know all about it by this time to-morrow night."
And then both boys retired, to dream of perilous climbs over the
snow-clad mountains and fearful falls into gigantic crevasses, until
both awoke in a fright and covered with cold perspiration.

It was not until late that anybody was stirring the next day. It was
Earl's turn to get breakfast, and he told them if they would wait he
would treat them to freshly baked beans and hot bread; and all waited.
While Earl was at work, with Randy helping him, two of the Indian boys
came up, and their efforts at making themselves understood were
laughable. Finally Randy made out that they wanted an old silk
neckerchief he possessed, and he gave it to Tomablink, the older youth,
who was as proud of the article as if it had been worth a small fortune.

Under the advice of Foster Portney, all took it easy in camp that day,
in order to reserve their strength for the struggle to come. Even the
Indians seemed to grow a bit uneasy concerning what was before them;
for, although they had climbed over the Pass a number of times, they
well knew what a rough and