NORTHERN FREIGHTWAYS LIMITED

MACKENZIE HIGHWAY —

Phone 23730 10531 - 117th St.
EDMONTON, ALTA.

Trucking Contractors

SERVING A LAND OF OPPORTUNITY —
EDMONTON, DAWSON CREEK, ALASKA HIGHWAY to the YUKON

Offering Complete Household Effects Service in North Eastern B.C.

PEACE RIVER, ALBERTA, TO YELLOWKNIFE, N.W.T.

Phone 76 Box 2182
DAWSON CREEK, B.C.

harbor, bringing no word of the
missing Kite. Beset with tortured
mind, and the haunting fear that his
backer in St. John’s, angered by those
debts he’d run up along Labrador,
had abandoned him, Janes watched
the Albert discharge the last of her
cargo. Then, as thick coils of smoke
ascended from the funnel, indicating
an early departure, a wave of bitter
longing moistened his eyes, followed
by an overwhelming desire to aban-
don this cruel, friendless land and sail
south to his trim little wife at far-off
St. John’s in that cottage by the sea.
Unable, longer, to face the prospect
of another dreary winter he threw
himself down the rocks, leapt into his
skiff and pulled frantically for the
Albert, fearful lest she up-anchor ere
he reached her.

Captain Black of the Albert re-
ceived the lonely exile with cold aloof-
ness, vividly recalling the plight of
his own trader, Joe Florence, two
years before. In a rush of words Janes
poured out his request for a passage
home. As Janes listened to the cap-
tain’s terms hope withered within his
breast. They were the same that he,
himself, had imposed on Florence
when positions were reversed: half his
furs for his transportation! In vain
Janes searched the granite visage for
a sign of mercy. His eyes blurred and
misty, he stumbled down the rope

Dave’s Garage Ltd.
MERCURY - LINCOLN - METEOR
SALES and SERVICE
J. I. CASE MACHINERY
*

Fort St. John

SPICER’S BAKERY

Makers of “SWEET KRUST” -and
ONE HUNDRED PERCENT.
WHOLE WHEAT BRE&D

*

FORT ST. JOHN B.C.

TWENTY-FIFTH EDITION

ladder and pulled an erratic course
towards the shore.

A starving exile of great wealth in
furs, useless to him as so much trash,
Janes staggered to his empty shack,
buried his gaunt face in his arms and
wept tears of bitter despair. His first
paroxysms over he faced the situation
with inflexible courage. So! his ene-
mies were exulting in his downfall.
Well, damn them all, he’d show them.
He'd beat them yet!

Outcast, frustrated, Left to Perish

Outcast, frustrated, left to perish,
there formed within the mind of the
distraut and lonely man the idea of
loading his furs on a dog-sled and
mushing around the peak of Baffin
Land, then south across Melville
Peninsula to the Mounted Police post
at Chesterfield Inlet on storm-tossed
Hudson Bay.

A more fantastic and _ perilous
journey could hardly be imagined. It
was a madman’s dream, and none but
a half-crazed man would ever have
thought of such a long and terrible
march. Fifteen hundred miles, on
foot, over mountainous — pressure
ridges, treacherous sea-ice split deep
with chasms, and across blizzard-
flailed crags where even Eskimos had,
at times, been driven to cannibalism.
Even under the most favorable condi-
tions it represented at least three or
four months of the hardest kind of
traveling, with extra time spent hunt-
ing food and dog-feed along the way.
Yet the prospect of doing something
served as an anchor to his sanity, and
a winter of dreary isolation and
hungry despair was tempered with a
new obsession. He’d beat his enemies
who were planning his destruction
and get the better of them yet!

SANDY’S MILK BAR
HOME COOKING

FULL COURSE MEALS

*

FORT ST. JOHN B.C.

March was upon the land when
Janes drove his over-loaded komatik,
drawn by a fan-shaped team of 11
borrowed huskies, towards a village
of 19 snow igloos situated on the icy
promontory of Cape Crawford. As the
captain and his Eskimo guide,
Utikuto, carried their fur shingabees
into a dome-shaped snowhouse it was
obvious that they were far from wel-
come. No ready hand unhitched the
breast-straps from the huskies; no
greasy matron extended a horn of hot
blood soup or a chunk of ookchuk.
Instead, the motley assemblage
squatted impassively on snowbed and
shingabee, stripped to the waist be-
cause of the heat of the flickering
blubber-lamps, their Tartar-like faces
cold and indifferent.

With his debt-book in his hand,
the captain proceeded to comb the
igloos next morning, determined to
collect fox skins for the debts they
owed him ere leaving, despite the
fact that his sled was already danger-
ously overloaded for such an arduous

journey with tired dogs. And—if the
dogs played out he’d perish! Granite
faces met him everywhere. “Last
winter,’ old Kunyan reminded him,
“I gave you my whole fur catch for
two years: 20 musk-ox, 12 white fox
and 10 polar bear skins, and you
promised me a boat and rifle when

The Coffee Shop

QUESNEL, B.C.

*
JOAN AND JUSTIN

EAT AT

ELLIOTT’S COFFEE BAR
WHEN IN
QUESNEL, B.C.

Page Seven