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Show 62 "Just so he don't fall on me," the other man said. "One less for the gold." There was nothing I could do. I just shut my eyes and prayed. At the Summit, I did not have to look far. She was standing next to the machine gun blocking the narrow passageway to Canada, waving wildly like the Union Jack high above her. "You crazy fool," I yelled. "You crazy fool. I'll bet your grandmother's a crazy fool, too!" "I beat you," she said proudly. "And I have already passed customs. The Mounties said my mother's things were paid for and packed all the way down to Lake Bennett. Nice chaps, they are. And look-" She held out a brass button, I just stood there speechless. Several times on my relay trips I had looked down at the other side of the mountain. It was still there, almost as steep as the American side, with a dark line of men struggling down as precariously as they had struggled up. I had heard about another trail-one that the Chilkoots used. After my supplies had been checked, I asked one of the Mounties about it. "Next to impossible," he responded. "The Chilkoot Indians slide down with all their baggage at once at breakneck speed. It's impossible to stop once they start. Highly risky, even for a Chilkoot. And, mind you, they are rather savage." |