Free Down the Yukon by Will Hobbs Page B

are no roads between here and Nome. I doubt there are even trails. And what could they mean, ‘by air’?”
    Jamie laughed. “By balloon? The fellow who wrote this was so full of hot air, he could have inflated a fleet of them. Here, I’ll finish it up:
    â€œ4) Teams need not finish with the same craft they started with, but at no time is any form ofassist from motor craft, such as a steamboat, permissible.
    â€œ5) An official of the A.C.C. from Dawson, bearing the list of entrants, will travel to Nome to serve as the judge at the finish line. The decision of the judge is final.
    â€œHear ye, hear ye, join the Great Race across Alaska and thence to Nome!”
    Jamie rolled up the parchment. “The trip down the river is a journey of epic proportions. Of course, there’s still the Norton Sound to deal with after that.”
    â€œWhat a race!”
    We looked into each other’s eyes, asking the same question.
    Jamie said it first. “What do you think, Jason? Did I hear you say you were headed to Nome anyway?”
    â€œI still have my Peterborough,” I replied. “I’ve paddled the first five hundred miles of this river, but that’s the sum total of my experience. I once knew a girl who was an artist with a canoe paddle….”
    Jamie was beaming. “We’d be lunatics!” With that, she stifled a sudden yawn. “I’m exhausted. Let’s see how we feel tomorrow, Jason. I should think about where I’m going to stay.”
    â€œBelinda Mulrooney’s Fairview?” I suggested, pointing. “Where you lived with your father?”
    She looked long at the hotel. I saw anxiety creasing her forehead.
    â€œI should have realized, Jamie. The Fairview would only make you sad.”
    â€œIt’s not that…. My first night back in Canada, I’d prefer to sleep outdoors, if that’s possible.”
    I was delighted, and I already had an idea. “Howabout our storage tent in the yard outside the cabin? It’s under a big spruce, which will help to darken it enough for you to sleep. We can move out a few things. We’ve got a cot and a sleeping bag for you.”
    â€œThat will do it. I’ll sleep like a stone, midnight sun or no.”
    Jamie looked all around, at the river and the town and the landslide scar like a moosehide on the mountain that towered above Dawson. “I’m home. Lead on, Jason.”

ELEVEN
    Jamie slept through the arrival of four sternwheelers the following morning. My brothers had gone to work, and Burnt Paw and I were watching the swarming activity all along the Yukon’s bank. The steamboats from the Pacific added color and size to the flotilla of hundreds of boats assembling for the assault on Nome.
    My eyes kept darting over to the tent where Jamie was sleeping, not twenty yards away. My mind was racing with unanswered questions, the first being, Would Jamie really join me in the race to Nome? The two of us, down the Yukon? The prospect was too exciting to be believed.
    If we did try it, what were our chances with the canoe?
    Suddenly Jamie appeared in the grass next to me.
    â€œYour dress…,” I said.
    â€œI slept in it. Would you look at what’s going on alongthe river! Boats from up at the mouth of the Klondike to clear past town.”
    â€œIt’s like the word ‘Nome’ is written large across the sky.”
    â€œWe have to decide about the race, don’t we? But first, I’m starving! There’s only one meal I’ve been craving all this time.”
    â€œWhat would that be?”
    â€œFlapjacks and bacon.”
    â€œIn that case, I can take care of you right here at Jason’s Café.”
    As soon as we’d eaten, Jamie wanted to inspect the canoe. We tipped it upright, and she pronounced it in perfect condition. Seating herself in the stern, Jamie closed her eyes and began to stroke with an imaginary paddle.
    When she