Stories from Northland. THE GOD OF HIS FATHERS (passage) On each hand extended the timberland primitive, - the home of boisterous parody and quiet misfortune. Here the battle for endurance kept on pursuing with all its old ruthlessness. Briton and Russian were still to cover in the Land of the Rainbow's End - and this was its actual heart - nor had Yankee gold at this point bought its huge area. The wolf-pack actually gripped to the flank of the cariboo-crowd, singling out the powerless and the huge with calf, and pulling them down as callously as were it a thousand, thousand ages into the past. The scanty natives actually recognized the standard of their bosses and medication men, drove out awful spirits, consumed their witches, battled their neighbors, and ate their foes with a relish which commended their tummies. In any case, it was exactly when the stone age was attracting to a nearby. As of now, over obscure paths and chartless unsettled areas, were the harbingers of the steel arriving,...