a child, back in his old home.

"Mother, are ye thar? Bring the light, mother, an' hold me hand while
I say me prayers."

He fumbled over the blanket, as if expecting the loving pressure as of
old. At once Constance bent over him and took his cold, rough hand in
her own. He grasped it firmly, while a look of contentment stole into
his face.

"Now, kiss me, mother. I'm very tired, an' want to go to sleep."

Gently as a mother Constance stooped low, and as her lips touched his
bronzed forehead he started suddenly up.

"The trail! The shinin' trail!" he cried. "How bright it is! an' ...
oh, I see..."

The little clock in the room struck midnight, and the watchers looked
at each other in silence.

"It's all over," said Constance, gently withdrawing her hand. "The
long trail is ended."

"And thank God," Keith replied, "that it's of no earthly mine the gold
he's struck to-night."

CHAPTER XXX

THE CONSECRATION

"The ice is going! The ice is going!"

The cry rang through Klassan late one afternoon, and produced a magical
effect. Men dropped their frying-pans, axes, or whatever they had in
their hands, and hurried to the river. The Indians swarmed from their
lodges and raced along the bank, eager to see the stirring of the
great, icy monster.

It was truly a marvellous spectacle which met their view. Far up the
Yukon the vast field was moving irresistibly onward. From shore to
shore the wildest confusion reigned as the huge blocks of ice tore and
jammed one another in their rapid rush. Now a massive, sparkling
fragment would be lifted into the air, held for a time as if in a vise,
and then, released, would plunge with a roar beneath the surface, to
emerge hundreds of feet below like some monster of the sea. Logs,
swept down from tributary streams, snapped like pipe-stems in the
merciless grip, while trees, torn roots and all from the banks, were
whirled along like wisps of hay.

Where the banks were steep and high the crush was terrible, and the ice
wedged and jammed as if struck by the sledge of Thor. The water rose
accordingly, and every creek was inundated for miles back.

After the river became clear of ice anxious days of waiting followed.
When would the steamer come? That was the question on the lips of all.
At length their patience was rewarded, for early one morning a shout
was raised that at last she was coming. Far away down stream a film of
white smoke was to be seen curli