The Gun-Brand

Seated upon a thick burlap-covered bale of freight-a piece in the parlance of the North-Chloe Elliston idly watched the loading of the scows. The operation was not new to her; a dozen times within the month since the outfit had swung out from Athabasca Landing she had watched from the muddy bank while the half-breeds and Indians unloaded the big scows ran them light through whirling rock-ribbed rapids carried the innumerable pieces of freight upon their shoulders across portages made all but impassable by scrub timber oozy muskeg and low sand-mountains loaded the scows again at the foot of the rapid and steered them through devious and dangerous miles of swift-moving white-water to the head of the next rapid.