It is 1896 in the Yukon Territory, Canada. The largest gold strike in the annals of human history has just been made; however, word of the discovery will not reach the outside world for another year.
By happenstance, a fifty-nine-year-old Huck Finn and his lady friend, Molly Lee, are on hand, but they are not interested in gold. They have come to that neck of the woods seeking adventure.
Someone should have told them, “Be careful what you wish for.”
When disaster strikes, they volunteer to save the day by making an arduous six hundred mile journey by dog sled in the depths of a Yukon winter. They race against time, nature, and man. With the temperature hovering around seventy degrees below zero, they must fight every day if they are to live to see the next.
On the frozen trail, they are put upon by murderers, hungry wolves, and hostile Indians, but those adversaries have nothing over the weather. At seventy below, your spit freezes a foot from your face. Your cheeks burn, your skin turns purple and black as it dies from the cold. You are in constant danger of losing fingers and toes to frostbite.
It is into this world that Huck and Molly race.
They cannot stop. They cannot turn back. They can only go on. Lives hang in the balance—including theirs.
They are as hungry as the wolves, but they take no time to mix their flour and sugar. The only thought is to put miles between themselves and their adversaries—if that is possible. It is hard going with no visibility. But Huck has discerned in the last few days that the snow on the trail lies about three inches lower than on the rest of the terrain. To his eyes, the trail is clearly marked; he keeps to it without difficulty.
It is a gray world that they travel in.
• • • •
The fog does not deter the wolves. They easily follow the scent of the two-legs.
• • • •
They were out in the open. Huck had on his “snowshoes” and was in the process of taking another step when Bright’s hair along his back stood up and his upper lip curled, exposing his teeth. Huck noticed and stopped what he was doing and rapidly removed his snowshoes. He could not see more than a few feet out, but he knew that they in were trouble.
“They’re here,” was all he said to his companions.
• • • •
The two-legs are just ahead. The three females fan out to attack on the left—to drive the two-legs to the rear, where the males await. The pup, in happy anticipation, watches and learns the way of the hunter.