THE LAST DAY'S RUN. 



101 



work, we heard a yelp far behind us. Cline whispered 

 to me, " Monkman's passing them ; " and during each 

 succeeding five minutes yelp after yelp announced that 

 the other trains were being passed, until in little more 

 than an hour from our start I heard Monkman's well- 

 known voice close behind me. Without speaking a word 

 he and the cariole he was driving passed mine. A thrill 

 of excitement ran through me when I felt the warm breath 

 of his powerful dogs beat upon my face, as the noble 

 creatures swiftly trotted past, Neither dogs nor men, nor 

 the muffled-up inmates of the carioles made any sign. One 

 after the other Mr. Seymour, Lord Cavendish, and Mr. 

 Ashley, flitted noiselessly by. Cline whispered again, 

 "They'll make a good road, my dogs will not be far behind. " 



It is impossible to describe the feelings which this 

 rapid, silent, gliding through those vast pine forests in- 

 spired. Morning dawned slowly, but the gloom of the 

 forest seemed to grow more intense as I occasionally 

 caught glimpses of the brightening sky above. The sun 

 rose without a cloud, gilding the tops of tall trees with an 

 indescribable lustre, beautifully reflected by the snow 

 wherever the golden light penetrated. After a run of 

 twenty-six miles Cline came up with Monkman a few 

 minutes after he had stopped for dinner. Mr. Dickinson 

 followed close behind me, and in another hour both 

 parties were together again. The next run was to bring 

 us to Crow Wing, between nineteen and twenty miles 

 distant. Starting in the order in which we arrived at 

 the camping ground, we hurried at a rapid gallop down 

 the Mississippi slope ; and here the race began in earnest. 

 The road was in excellent condition, the day bright and 

 cold, the dogs eager and hungry, and the men and tra- 

 velers in good condition and in excellent spirits. After 



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