Three days passed, by which time Buck and his mates discovered how really tired and weak they were. On the morning of the fourth day, two men from the United States came along and bought them, harness and all, for a song. The men addressed each other as “Hal” and “Charles.” Charles was a middle-aged man, with weak and watery eyes and a mustache that twisted up. Hal was a youngster of nineteen or twenty, with a big Colt revolver and a hunting knife strapped about him on a belt full of cartridges. This belt was the most noticeable thing about him, and it advertised his inexperience. Both men were definitely out of place, and no one could understand why they had decided to travel to the North. Buck heard the discussion, saw the money pass between the man and the Government agent, and knew that the Scotch half-breed and the mail-train drivers were passing out of his life just like Perrault and François and the others who had gone before. When driven with his mates to the new owners’ camp, Buck saw a slovenly sight, tent half stretched, dishes unwashed, everything in disorder. He also saw a woman. “Mercedes” the men called her. She was Charles’s wife and Hal’s sister.

Buck watched them apprehensively as they proceeded to take down the tent and load the sled. There was a great deal of effort in what they were doing, but very little organization. The tent was rolled into an awkward bundle three times as large as it should have been. The dishes were packed away unwashed. Mercedes continually got in the way and wouldn’t stop trying to talk to the men and give them advice on the packing. When they put a sack of clothes on the front of the sled, she suggested it should go on the back. When they moved it to the back and covered it over with a couple of other bags, she discovered more items that needed to go in that very sack, and they unloaded again. Three men from a neighboring tent came out and looked on, grinning and winking at one another.

“You’ve got a right smart load as it is,” said one of them; “and it’s not me should tell you your business, but I wouldn’t tote that tent along if I was you.”

“Undreamed of!” cried Mercedes, throwing up her hands in dismay. “However in the world could I manage without a tent?”

“It’s springtime; you won’t get any more cold weather,” the man replied. She shook her head, and Charles and Hal put the last odds and ends on top the mountainous load.

“Think it’ll ride?” one of the men asked.

“Why shouldn’t it?” Charles demanded rather shortly.

“Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right,” the man quickly added. “I was just a-wonderin’, that is all. It seemed a bit top-heavy.” Charles turned his back and pulled the straps down on the load as well as he could, which was not well at all.

“An’ of course the dogs can hike along all day with that contraption behind them,” added another of the men.

“Certainly,” said Hal, with freezing politeness, taking hold of the gee-pole with one hand and swinging his whip with the other. “Mush!” he shouted. “Mush on there!” The dogs sprang against the harnesses, strained hard for a few moments, then relaxed. They were unable to move the sled.