THE START OF THE TRAIL 13 



winter. The forest trees keep off the chilling winds, 

 and all sounds are hushed in the soft mantle of 

 snow, without which progress would be impossible. 

 In summer there is no passing, for the surface of 

 these narrow openings between the trees is broken 

 by rocks, holes, and stumps. 



At noon we reached the first camp, and received 

 a hearty welcome from the men who had come in 

 for lunch. We joined them at the long white board- 

 table, which was abundantly supplied with well- 

 cooked simple food. Hot tea or coffee warmed the 

 inner man. Doughnuts just out of the pot of boil- 

 ing lard on the stove, with gingerbread and apple- 

 sauce, ended the feast. 



We tarried yet a while in the gentle warmth of 

 the place. Outside the men were grinding their 

 axes in preparation for the afternoon's work. My 

 driver lent a hand and helped the cook and cookee 

 wash the dishes, while he gave them the latest news 

 of the village. The cook had heard about the bear 

 at Gordon's, and thought the woman stood a fine 

 chance to make a good deal of money when, later, 

 she sold it to some circus company. " But I '11 tell 

 you what," he volunteered, "I'd never let my 

 woman do a thing like that. She wouldn't want 

 to, anyhow. Say," he questioned, "ain't it a queer 

 thing, any way you figure it ?" 



"I don't know as it is," Fred replied. "She's an 



