and roller towels
awaited the pleasure of the women passengers, the water for their
ablutions being kept in a barrel, upon which hung an old dipper. To
clean one's teeth over the deck rail might seem to some an unusual
undertaking, but I soon learned to do this with complacency, it being
something of gain not to lose sight of passing scenery while performing
the operation.

[Illustration: MILES CANYON.]

At Lake La Barge we enjoyed a magnificent panorama. Bathed in the rosy
glow of a departing sunset, this beautiful body of water sparkled like
diamonds on all sides of us. Around us on every hand lay the green and
quiet hills. Near the waters' edge they appeared a deep green, but grew
lighter in the distance. Long bars of crimson, grey and gold streaked
the western horizon, while higher up tints of purple and pink blended
harmoniously with the soft blue sky. As the sun slowly settled the
colors deepened. Darker and darker they grew. The warm soft glow had
departed, and all was purple and black, including the waters beneath us;
and as we passed through the northern end or outlet of the lake into
Thirty Mile River we seemed to be entering a gate, so narrow did the
entrance to the river appear between the hills.

At night our steamer was frequently tied up to a wood pile along the
banks of the river. No signs of civilization met our eyes, except,
perhaps, a rude log hut or cabin among the trees, where at night, his
solitary candle twinkling in his window and his dogs baying at the moon,
some lonely settler had established himself.

The Semenow Hills country is a lonely one. Range upon range of rolling,
partly wooded, hills meet the eye of the traveler until it grows weary
and seeks relief in sleep.

Five Finger Rapids was the next point of interest on our route, and I am
here reminded of a short story which is not altogether one of fiction,
and which is entitled: Midnight on a Yukon Steamer.

CHAPTER II.

MIDNIGHT ON A YUKON STEAMER.

The bright and yellow full moon drifted slowly upward. The sun had just
set at nine in the evening, casting a warm and beautiful glow over all
the lonely landscape, for it was the most dreary spot in all the dreary
wilderness through which the mighty Yukon passes.

The steamer had tied up for wood, and now the brawny stevedores with
blackened hands and arms were pitching it to the deck.

To the passengers, of whom there were a goodly number, time hung
heavily, and the youn