"Well," Dad laughed, "since yuh put it thataway. And I'll sure settle for it in the fall." "Much obliged," said Lucky Jim. "I'll be over with that junk tomorrow night." He lifted the latch and departed. "Wonders will never cease!" declared Lucky Jim as he returned over town. "To think that his Easy Money should be my Gold Tender, the bar I staked last July!" He strode into the Arctic Trading Company's store. From beneath his parka he withdrew a gold watch to which was attached a heavy nugget chain. He detached the timekeeper and threw the chain in the gold scales. "See how much you make that," he asked Ned Griffin. The latter balanced the chain with weights. "Fourteen ounces two pennyweights," he made answer. Jim spent nearly all of it on provisions, all of which he took to his own shack first to allay any suspicions Dad might have had. Then he loaded up the things and took them to Dad's cabin, remarking he was glad to have somewhere to leave the grub, as he couldn't possibly pack it with him. Dad eyed the outfit, then tried to catch Lucky Jim's eye, but failed. "Yuh must have put in a hell of an outfit last fall," he at length remarked suspiciously. "It's the first thing I attend to when I hit a camp with a poke. Get me a cabin and fill it with grub." The provisions were stowed away in silence. "I'll be hittin' the trail between now and morning," whispered Lucky Jim, "that is, if she snows. What was it you named that bar again?" "Easy Money." Lucky Jim slapped his knees and laughed uproariously. Dad stared at him in amazement. "Anythin' the matter with it?" he inquired. [Illustration] "Nothing; nothing at all. But did you ever get any easy money out of the ground, Dad?" Dad smiled. "Every color I've ever panned or rocked I've always considered easy money." "Though you had to work your head off to get it." Dad nodded. "But it's the only life," he declared. "There's no doubt about it!" seconded Lucky Jim. "Well, look for me the third week of September. That will give you time to get down to Fort Gibbon and catch a boat for the Outside. So long." "And good luck," wished Dad. "I never travel without her," Lucky Jim called over his shoulder. II It did snow that night, and Lucky Jim steered his sled across the frozen river about two o'clock. On arriving at the farther bank he slipped on his snowshoes and took the lead. The dog-team followed. This dive into the wilderness seemed to differ little from starting across the ocean in a small boat, for the great flat resembled a sea that had been frozen when a heavy swell was on. But although Lucky Jim had never crossed the flat before--it was a route that invited hardship, even disaster--he knew perfectly well what he was doing. He was cutting off a great elbow in the river.