The travelers were armed heavily. Ill would it go with any shape of man or beast that should cross their path with threatening intent. From the belt of Polaris swung a brace of automatic pistols of the heaviest caliber. Strapped handily on the sledge were three high-powered rifles. Old Zenas Wright contented himself with one pistol, like those of his companion.
Not all of the trappings of the younger man were the product of civilization. He carried in his hand a stout spear of his own workmanship. On that, and on the long knife at his side, he depended, in a pinch, fully as much as he did on the guns.
Farewells were soon said at the camp, a ceremony which Scoland was not on hand to participate in. Polaris laid out his harness, inspanned his seven dogs, with big Boris in the lead, and cra
