Page:Hendryx--Connie Morgan with the Mounted.djvu/37

Rh jest the difference between life an’ death to me—an’ Dan McKeever ain’t the one to ferget it! An’ a kid that can set tight an’ jam down through twenty miles of floatin’ ice, with his eyes open an’ his mouth shut—he’s good enough for us. You’re alone, now—till Waseche gets back—an’, in the Service you’ll get a whole lot of experience that’s worth havin’, an’ you’ll see a lot of country that’s worth seein’, an’ you’ll be in with a good bunch of boys—if I do say it myself. We ain’t no Holy Moseses, us men of the Mounted—but we run straight! You ain’t got no folks on the outside. Your dad loved the North, an’ you love it. Here’s a chanct to know the North. You ain’t no chechako—no tin horn. This is your country—an’ whether it’s in the Yukon, or over acrost the boundary, sometime the North’ll need you.” The officer stopped abruptly. It was a long speech for Dan McKeever, who was a man not much given to words. Beyond the fire Rip Wade slowly nodded.

“He spoke a mouthful, kid,” he said, “Me—I know,” And the boy believed that Rip Wade did know. A small, strong hand extended toward Sergeant McKeever.

“Shake,” the boy said, “I’m with you.” And