John Thornton had been ill in December, and his two friends had had to leave him at White River and go on to Dawson. They left him in the camp with plenty of food, and with his two dogs, Skeet and Blackie. Now the spring had come, and he was almost well. He lay in the sun by the river with Buck, watching the water and listening to the birds, slowly getting stronger and stronger.

A rest is very welcome after running five thousand kilome tres, and Buck slowly got fatter and stronger. It was a peace ful, lazy time for both man and dogs while they waited for Thornton's friends to return from Dawson.

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