He was
greeted sourly by the two residents, but he unharnessed and proceeded to
cook up.
Donald and Davy were fair specimens of frontier inefficients. Canadian-
born, city-bred Scots, in a foolish moment they had resigned their
counting-house desks, drawn upon their savings, and gone Klondiking. And
now they were feeling the rough edge of the country. Grubless,
spiritless, with a lust for home in their hearts, they had been staked by
the P. C. Company to cut wood for its steamers, with the promise at the
end of a passage home. Disregarding the possibilities of the ice-run,
they had fittingly demonstrated their inefficiency by their choice of the
island on which they located. Montana Kid, though possessing little
knowledge of the break-up of a great river, looked about him dubiously,
and cast yearning glances at the distant bank where the towering bluffs
promised immunity from all the ice of the Northland.
After feeding himself and dogs, he lighted his pipe and strolled out to
get a better idea of the situation. The island, like all its river
brethren, stood higher at the upper end, and it was here that Donald and
Davy had built their cabin and piled many cords of wood.
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