was to come to Alaska! If only I had taken your advice and gone back to Basco!" And it was only by an effort that Fred Dobson kept himself from crying anew. He felt miserable, weak, and hungry, had had scarcely a kind word for weeks, and was on the point of giving up in despair.
"Do your parents know where you are?" asked Randy, after another pause.
"Yes, I wrote to them just before leaving Juneau—I couldn't think of going so far away without doing that."
"Well, that was at least one sensible move, Fred." Randy thought for a moment. "Our camp is about half a mile from here, over that hill. Can you walk that far?"
"Oh, yes. Randy; I can walk a good way now I've found a friend." Fred, arose as quickly as he could. "Are you and your friends all together yet?"
"No; there are only my uncle, Earl, and myself now."
The two were soon on the journey over the hill. Fred was still rather shaky, and Randy gave him his arm to help him at the difficult places. When they reached camp. Earl had all the washing out and everything tidied up.
"So it is you, Fred?" he said, as he held out his hand. "I thought you back in Basco by this time."
"I only wish I was! I made the biggest mistake
