"Well, I do'no," answered the man. "I ain't had no luck on the McQuesten, an' I never had none acrost the divide. I was figurin' maybe I'd winter on some of these here creeks if I could strike a colour, and maybe I'd go on over into Alaska. This here country has been worked out though."
"Sure has," assented Connie, "and if you are going over to Alaska you had better make up your mind pretty quick. That is, unless you want to mush down the river. 'Cause the last boat leaves on the fifteenth of September, and it's about the first now."
"Third," corrected the man.
"Well, the third then. It will take a good week, and maybe more, to reach Dawson. There's plenty of room in our canoe, if you want to go along."
The man considered the proposition. "Well, I'll study about it an' let you know in the mornin'," he said at length. "Anyhow I'm obliged to you, whether I go long, or whether I don't."
"Suit yourself," replied Connie indifferently. "Guess we'd better roll in now. I want to get an early start."
