cil.

For some time Amos sat in deep thought, still holding the necklace in
his hand. At length he arose, and addressing a few words to the
hunters who were present, passed with them out of the lodge. Going to
the catechist's temporary shack, the men conversed long and earnestly
together, and finally decided upon a definite line of action.

Early next morning, long before the sun had reddened the eastern
horizon, four stalwart natives, including Amos, left the camp and set
out upon different trails. Days passed by, and then bands of Indians
began to straggle in. The nearest came first, erected their brush
houses, and awaited the rest. At last the most remote arrived, and
with them came Amos. Well had the couriers performed their task of
gathering the hundreds of natives together for their march to Klassan.

It was a quaint, motley crowd, which one day broke up camp and filed
out upon the narrow, winding trail. Sturdy hunters were there; buxom
women, with bright-eyed pappooses strapped upon their broad backs;
little children, youths and maidens, all with their burdens, according
to their strength. Even the dogs, and they were almost numberless,
carried their packs--from ten to thirty pounds. Little wonder that
Amos looked upon the procession with a feeling of pride as it wound its
way along sweeping valleys, through deep gorges and thick forests.
Were they not his own people, and he their chosen leader? Since the
day of the wild storm, when Jennie had set forth from Klassan on her
important errand, the weather had undergone a marked change. A soft
wind blew in from the south, laden with messages of Spring. The sun no
longer skimmed the horizon for an hour or two and then disappeared. It
now rode high, and poured its hot beams upon the great snowy waste.
The trees, touched by wind and sun, dropped their white mantle and
aroused from their long slumber. The brooks and rivulets, locked for
months in an icy embrace, babbled once again, as they poured their icy
waters down to the lordly Yukon. The River Kaslo began to struggle in
the throes of a mighty upheaval. As a rule, the ice wore gradually
away, and passed off too much decayed to cause any serious damage. But
now it was different. The torrents of water hurled down from countless
tributaries, large and small, lifted the solid mass and broke it into a
million fragments. These, carried forward by the sheer force of the
current, crashed and roared, tear