six o’clock
But the temperature did not matter . He was bound for the old claim on the left fork of Henderson Creek , where the boys were already . They had come over across the divide from the Indian Creek country , while he had come the roundabout way to take a look at the possibilities of getting out logs in the spring from the islands in the Yukon . He would be in to camp by six o'clock ; a bit after dark , it was true , but the boys would be there , a fire would be going , and a hot supper would be ready . As for lunch , he pressed his hand against the protruding bundle under his jacket . It was also under his shirt , wrapped up in a handkerchief and lying against the naked skin . It was the only way to keep the biscuits from freezing .