So， instead of taking the zigzag which led downward，he made a new one leading upward and crossing the slideat an angle of thirty degrees. The grasses gave him muchtrouble， and made him long for soft-tanned moosehidemoccasins which could make his feet cling like a secondpair of hands.
He soon found that thrusting his mittened handsthrough the snow and clutching the grass-roots wasuncertain and unsafe. His mittens were too thick forhim to be sure of his grip， so he took them off. But thisbrought with it new trouble. When he held on to a bunchof roots the snow， coming in contact with his bare warmhand， was melted， so that his hands and the wristbands ofhis woolen shirt were dripping with water. This the frostwas quick to attack， and his fingers were numbed andmade worthless.
Then he was forced to seek good footing where he couldstand erect unsupported， to put on his mittens， and tothrash his hands against his sides until the heat came backinto them.
This constant numbing of his fingers made his progressvery slow； but the zigzag came to an end， finally， where theside of the slide was buttressed by perpendicular rock， andhe turned back and upward again. As he climbed higherand higher， he found that the slide was wedge-shaped， itsrocky buttresses pinching it away as it neared its upperend. Each step increased the depth which seemed to yawnfor him.
While beating his hands against his sides he turned andlooked down the long slippery slope， and figured， in casehe slipped， that he would be flying with the speed of anexpress-train ere he took the final plunge into the icy bedof the Yukon.
He passed the first outcropping rock， and the second，and at the end of an hour found himself above the thirdand fully five hundred feet above the river. And here， withthe end nearly two hundred feet above him， the pitch ofthe slide was increasing.
Each step became more difficult and perilous， and hewas faint from exertion and from lack of Swanson’s dinner.
Three or four times he slipped slightly and recoveredhimself； but， growing careless from exhaustion and thelong tension on his nerves， he tried to continue with toogreat haste， and was rewarded by a double slip of eachfoot， which tore loose and started him down the slope.
On account of the steepness there was little snow； butwhat little there was， was displaced by his body， so thathe became the nucleus of a young avalanche. He claweddesparately with his hands， but there was little to cling to，and he sped downward faster and faster.
The first and second outcroppings were below him， buthe knew that the first was almost out of line， and pinnedhis hope on the second. Yet the first was just enough inline to catch one of his feet and to whirl him over andhead downward on his back.
The shock of this was severe in itself， and the fine snowenveloped him in a blinding， maddening cloud； but he wasthinking quickly and clearly of what would happen if hebrought up head first against the second outcropping. Hetwisted himself over on his stomach， thrust both handsout to one side， and pressed them heavily against theflying surface.
This had the effect of a brake， drawing his head andshoulders to the side. In this position he rolled over andover a couple of times， and then， with a quick jerk at theright moment， he got his body the rest of the way round.
And none too soon， for the next moment his feet droveinto the outcropping， his legs doubled up， and the windwas driven from his stomach with the abruptness of thestop.
There was much snow down his neck and up his sleeves.
At once and with unconcern he shook this out， only todiscoverm when he looked up to where he must climbagain， that he had lost his nerve. He was shaking as if witha palsy， and sick and faint from a frightful nausea.
Fully ten minutes passed by ere he could master thesesensations and summon sufficient strength for the wearyclimb. His legs hurt him and he was limping， and he wasconscious of a sore place in his back， where he had fallenon the ax.
In an hour he had regained the point of his tumble， andwas contemplating the slide， which so suddenly steepened.
It was plain to him that he could not go up with hands andfeet alone， and he was beginning to lose his nerve againwhen he remembered the ax.
Reaching upward the distance of a step， he brushedaway the snow， and in the frozen gravel and crumbled rockof the slide chopped a shallow resting-place for his foot.
Then he came up a step， reached forward， and repeatedthe manoever， And so， step by step， foot-hole by foot-hole，a tiny speck of toiling life poised like a fly on the mightyface of Moosehide Mountain， he fought his upward way.
Twilight was beginning to fall when he gained the ehadof the slide and drew himself into the rocky bottom of thegully. At this point the shoulder of the mountain began tobend back toward the crest， and in addition to its beingless steep， the rocks afforded better hand-hold and foothold.
The worst was over， and the best yet to come！
The gully opened out into a miniature basin， in whicha floor of soil had been deposited， out of which， in turn，a tiny grove of pines had sprung. The trees were all dead，dry and seasoned， having long since exhausted the thinskin of earth.
Clay ran his experienced eye over the timber， andestimated that it would chop up into fifty cords at least.
Beyond， the gully closed in and became barren rock again.
On every hand was barren rock， so the wonder was smallthat the trees had escaped the eyes of men. They wereonly to be discovered as he had discovered them—byclimbimg after them.
He continued the ascent， and the white moon greetedhim when he came out upon the crest of MoosehideMountain. At his feet， a thousand feet below， sparkled thelights of Dawson.
But the descent on that side was precipitate anddangerous in the uncertain moonshine， and he electedto go down the mountain by its gentler northern flank.
In a couple of hours he reached the Yukon at the Siwashvillage， and took the river-trail back to where he had leftthe dogs. There he found Swanson， with a fire going，waiting for him to come down.
And though Swanson had a hearty laugh at his expense，nevertheless， a week or so later， in Dawson， there werefifty cords of wood sold at forty dollars a cord， and it washe and Swanson who sold them.