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One of us has got to make a run of it to Mucluc an' raise a relief.

"An' you'll sure need it if you make Mucluc to-morrow night."

Just now he was a dog-musher and freighter, charging twenty-eight cents a pound for the winter haul from Sixty Mile to Mucluc—and for bacon thirty-three cents, as was the custom.

This was their sixth day out from the lively camp of Mucluc on the Yukon.

That's four hundred pounds a day, and, with the old people and the children, five days is the quickest time we can bring them into Mucluc.