How Did I Get Myself Into This?

Finally he boarded the plane for Seattle, and as it took off he shed his suit jacket and his necktie and pulled on a battered old cashmere sweater. Written in indelible ink on the neck label was the name of its former owner, John F. Kennedy.

Meanwhile, the Mounties of Whitehorse were looking back on Bob Kennedy's visit with the fondest regard. During late March and early April in the north country, cabin fever reaches a high pitch. With relief from the long, dark winter just a matter of days away, emotional frenzy grips the thinly scattered populace, and the homicide rate rises sharply. This year the good people of Yukon Territory have let off so much steam over the Kennedy climb that the Mounties predict they will make it through the ice breakup without so much as an assault case.