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get to Dawson if we pay that,” Goodman said, anxiously cleaning his glasses with a kerchief he kept in his front pocket.
    The three of them stood with Jack’s two horses, now carrying the additional weight of Sloper’s and Goodman’s equipment, and watched the buzz of activity on the lake-shore. There were planks and boat frames everywhere, and a couple of acres’ worth of sawdust that covered the ground like snow, the sweet smell of pine in the air.
    Thunderous hammering and the ragged sound of saws on wood resounded, along with shouts and laughter and the crash and crack of more trees being felled. They watched a new boat set off across the lake, and it immediately began to leak.
    â€œWe’re not paying that,” Jack said.
    Sloper scratched his red beard and glanced nervously at Goodman. “You don’t mean to walk around the lake, Jack? We’d be better off turning back.”
    Jack shot him a harsh look, raising his chin. “I set myself a goal, Merritt. I mean to keep it. My whole life, I never turned back from anything, and I won’t start now.”
    He opened a long satchel that hung from the saddle of the gray mare he’d bought in Dyea. From within he drew out a leather case, and from the leather case an ax.
    â€œBesides, I don’t think you boys were listening to the stories I told you. I’ve been on boats my whole life. Why, I spent so much time at the docks and out on the bay that they used to call me the Sailor Kid.”
    Jack slung the ax over his shoulder and took up the horses’ tethers again. “Now you go and talk to the men who already have boats, the ones who are putting them in the water. See if you can’t buy us another ax or two, and a saw. That’ll cost a lot less than a boat. Then come and find me. I’ll get started felling some pines.”
    Goodman slipped his glasses back on, fixing them as though not quite sure if he could see Jack clearly.
    â€œAre you suggesting that we build our own boat?”
    Jack tipped him a wink. “You catch on quick, Jimmy.”
    Sloper had taken his jacket off and hung it over his arm. The sun felt warm today, at least by comparison to what they’d grown used to. It would be a long while before they were truly warm again.
    â€œIf you say you know boats, then I believe you, Jack,”the burly stonemason said. “And I’m not afraid of a little work. But you were worried about the winter coming. Won’t this delay be costly?”
    â€œI won’t lie to you, Merritt,” Jack said. “This is an unfortunate complication. But the boatbuilders down there on the shore have a long line of customers ahead of us. If we work hard and don’t make mistakes, building our own boat might actually be faster than waiting for them to make one for us.”
    With that he left them to their own tasks, walking toward the line of trees with the horses behind him, whistling happily with the ax slung over his shoulder. He could see in his mind the boat he would build, every plank and joint. And he knew what he would name her.
    The Yukon Belle.
    First the lake, then Thirty Mile River, and if they wanted to make it to Dawson before the big freeze, they’d have to shoot White Horse Rapids as well. He’d chosen not to mention that to his companions, however. The word was that most men who’d attempted to ride the rapids had died or at least half drowned and given up. No need to frighten them before they got there.
    After all, as Jack had told them, he’d been around boats all his life. A little rough water didn’t scare him.
    How bad could it be?

CHAPTER THREE
THE BELLE
    F OUR DAYS TO BUILD , and the Yukon Belle was a good boat. Jack saw that, and it made him proud, but he also knew that there was a greater test than Lake Lindeman yet to come. And sometime soon, he would have to tell Merritt and Jim just how treacherous the next stages of their journey would