Anyway, we left Skinny Dick's after a couple days rest. The dogs were well rested, well fed, and well satisfied: Marcia, twelve moose cows, seven wolves, a herd of musk oxen, and two brown bear all wore big, shit-eatin' grins as we mushed away.

Over the hills we went! Through the tiaga, daring the swarms of mosquitoes, through drifts higher than even your head, under the glare and heat of the sun, like mad dogs and Englishmen we dashed. Up the hard-frozen Tananananananana...sorry, got carried away...humph...up the hard-frozen Tanana River, its ice swept clean by the incessant wind, down the rushy glen, knowing that our vials of serum were all that stood between salvation and eternal damnation.

Finally, exhausted, we made camp. I scraped a place for the dogs and staked them out, curried them, and gave them a big helping of oats...I mean salmon. With the sounds of the dogs gobbling down the salmon I scraped a place for the tent, erected it, and soon had a kettle ready for a cup of tea. After a meal of moose and macaroni, I enjoyed a hot ruttered bum, sat back, and watched the stars dance with the Aurora Borealis.

An hour or two of this celestial lapdancing, and I crawled into the tent, pulled the furs up about me, and fell dreamlessly into the waiting arms of Morpheus.