tately towards the yawning cliff. Silversheene himself was in midair over the abyss before François even dreamed of what was up. The other three dogs sprang joyously after him. For a moment the long sled toppled on the edge of the cliff. François had a fleeting vision of his danger, of the horror of the plunge to doom, of his wicked life and his immediate punishment by the team that he had driven to death. Then the sled followed the dog team in its plunge to doom.
A cloud of snow caught by the scudding wind floated out over the Yukon and then silence again settled upon the white ghastly scene. The winds kept on moaning in the scrub pines and the snows sifting and drifting and the forest freezing just as it had before the catastrophe.
If there had been any one to look over the edge of the cliff he would have discovered the gee pole still sticking up above the snow and the back end of the runners still protruding, but the rest of the sled
