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diff --git a/old/10038.txt b/old/10038.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..80932d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10038.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21255 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Magnetic North, by Elizabeth Robins (C. E. Raimond) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Magnetic North + +Author: Elizabeth Robins (C. E. Raimond) + +Release Date: November 10, 2003 [EBook #10038] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGNETIC NORTH *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Anita Paque, Shawn Wheeler, +David Schaal, Anuradha Valsa Raj and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE MAGNETIC NORTH + +By ELIZABETH ROBINS + +(C. E. Raimond) Author of "The Open Question," "Below the Salt," etc. +_With a Map_ + +1904 + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. WINTER CAMP IN THE YUKON + +II. HOUSE-WARMING + +III. TWO NEW SPISSIMENS + +IV. THE BLOW-OUT + +V. THE SHAMAN + +VI. A PENITENTIAL JOURNEY + +VII. KAVIAK'S CRIME + +VIII. CHRISTMAS + +IX. A CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC + +X. PRINCESS MUCKLUCK + +XI. HOLY CROSS + +XII. THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE + +XIII. THE PIT + +XIV. KURILLA + +XV. THE ESQUIMAUX HORSE + +XVI. MINOOK + +XVII. THE GREAT STAMPEDE + +XVIII. A MINERS' MEETING + +XIX. THE ICE GOES OUT + +XX. THE KLONDYKE + +XXI. PARDNERS + +XXII. THE GOING HOME + + + + + +THE MAGNETIC NORTH + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WINTER CAMP ON THE YUKON + +"To labour and to be content with that a man hath is a sweet life; but +he that findeth a treasure is above them both."--_Ecclesiasticus_. + + +Of course they were bound for the Klondyke. Every creature in the +North-west was bound for the Klondyke. Men from the South too, and men +from the East, had left their ploughs and their pens, their factories, +pulpits, and easy-chairs, each man like a magnetic needle suddenly set +free and turning sharply to the North; all set pointing the self-same +way since that July day in '97, when the _Excelsior_ sailed into San +Francisco harbour, bringing from the uttermost regions at the top of +the map close upon a million dollars in nuggets and in gold-dust. + +Some distance this side of the Arctic Circle, on the right bank of the +Yukon, a little detachment of that great army pressing northward, had +been wrecked early in the month of September. + +They had realised, on leaving the ocean-going ship that landed them at +St. Michael's Island (near the mouth of the great river), that they +could not hope to reach Dawson that year. But instead of "getting cold +feet," as the phrase for discouragement ran, and turning back as +thousands did, or putting in the winter on the coast, they determined, +with an eye to the spring rush, to cover as many as possible of the +seventeen hundred miles of waterway before navigation closed. + +They knew, in a vague way, that winter would come early, but they had +not counted on the big September storm that dashed their heavy-laden +boats against the floe-ice, ultimately drove them ashore, and nearly +cost the little party their lives. On that last day of the long +struggle up the stream, a stiff north-easter was cutting the middle +reach of the mighty river, two miles wide here, into a choppy and +dangerous sea. + +Day by day, five men in the two little boats, had kept serious eyes on +the shore. Then came the morning when, out of the monotonous cold and +snow-flurries, something new appeared, a narrow white rim forming on +the river margin--the first ice! + +"Winter beginning to show his teeth," said one man, with an effort at +jocosity. + +Day by day, nearer came the menace; narrower and swifter still ran the +deep black water strip between the encroaching ice-lines. But the +thought that each day's sailing or rowing meant many days nearer the +Klondyke, seemed to inspire a superhuman energy. Day by day each man +had felt, and no man yet had said, "We must camp to-night for eight +months." They had looked landward, shivered, and held on their way. + +But on this particular morning, when they took in sail, they realised +it was to be that abomination of desolation on the shore or death. And +one or other speedily. + +Nearer the white teeth gleamed, fiercer the gale, swifter the current, +sweeping back the boats. The _Mary C._ was left behind, fighting for +life, while it seemed as if no human power could keep the _Tulare_ from +being hurled against the western shore. Twice, in spite of all they +could do, she was driven within a few feet of what looked like certain +death. With a huge effort, that last time, her little crew had just got +her well in mid-stream, when a heavy roller breaking on the starboard +side drenched the men and half filled the cockpit. Each rower, still +pulling for dear life with one hand, bailed the boat with the other; +but for all their promptness a certain amount of the water froze solid +before they could get it out. + +"Great luck, if we're going to take in water like this," said the +cheerful Kentuckian, shipping his oar and knocking off the ice--"great +luck that all the stores are so well protected." + +"Protected!" snapped out an anxious, cast-iron-looking man at the +rudder. + +"Yes, protected. How's water to get through the ice-coat that's over +everything?" + +The cast-iron steersman set his jaw grimly. They seemed to be +comparatively safe now, with half a mile of open water between them and +the western shore. + +But they sat as before, stiff, alert, each man in his ice jacket that +cracked and crunched as he bent to his oar. Now right, now left, again +they eyed the shore. + +Would it be--could it be there they would have to land? And if they +did...? + +Lord, how it blew! + +"Hard a-port!" called out the steersman. There, just ahead, was a great +white-capped "roller" coming--coming, the biggest wave they had +encountered since leaving open sea. + +But MacCann, the steersman, swung the boat straight into the crested +roller, and the _Tulare_ took it gamely, "bow on." All was going well +when, just in the boiling middle of what they had thought was foaming +"white-cap," the boat struck something solid, shivered, and went +shooting down, half under water; recovered, up again, and seemed to +pause in a second's doubt on the very top of the great wave. In that +second that seemed an eternity one man's courage snapped. + +Potts threw down his oar and swore by----and by----he wouldn't pull +another----stroke on the----Yukon. + +While he was pouring out the words, the steersman sprang from the +tiller, and seized Potts' oar just in time to save the boat from +capsizing. Then he and the big Kentuckian both turned on the distracted +Potts. + +"You infernal quitter!" shouted the steersman, and choked with fury. +But even under the insult of that "meanest word in the language," Potts +sat glaring defiantly, with his half-frozen hands in his pockets. + +"It ain't a river, anyhow, this ain't," he said. "It's plain, simple +Hell and water." + +The others had no time to realise that Potts was clean out of his +senses for the moment, and the Kentuckian, still pulling like mad, +faced the "quitter" with a determination born of terror. + +"If you can't row, take the rudder! Damnation! Take that rudder! Quick, +_or we'll kill you_!" And he half rose up, never dropping his oar. + +Blindly, Potts obeyed. + +The _Tulare_ was free now from the clinging mass at the bow, but they +knew they had struck their first floe. + +Farther on they could see other white-caps bringing other ice masses +down. But there was no time for terrors ahead. The gale was steadily +driving them in shore again. Boat and oars alike were growing unwieldy +with their coating of ever-increasing ice, and human strength was no +match for the storm that was sweeping down from the Pole. + +Lord, how it blew! + +"There's a cove!" called out the Kentuckian. "Throw her in!" he shouted +to Potts. Sullenly the new steersman obeyed. + +Rolling in on a great surge, the boat suddenly turned in a boiling +eddy, and the first thing anybody knew was that the _Tulare_ was on her +side and her crew in the water. Potts was hanging on to the gunwale and +damning the others for not helping him to save the boat. + +She wasn't much of a boat when finally they got her into quiet water; +but the main thing was they had escaped with their lives and rescued a +good proportion of their winter provisions. All the while they were +doing this last, the Kentuckian kept turning to look anxiously for any +sign of the others, in his heart bitterly blaming himself for having +agreed to Potts' coming into the _Tulare_ that day in place of the +Kentuckian's own "pardner." When they had piled the rescued provisions +up on the bank, and just as they were covering the heap of bacon, +flour, and bean-bags, boxes, tools, and utensils with a tarpaulin, up +went a shout, and the two missing men appeared tramping along the +ice-encrusted shore. + +Where was the _Mary C._? Well, she was at the bottom of the Yukon, and +her crew would like some supper. + +They set up a tent, and went to bed that first night extremely well +pleased at being alive on any terms. + +But people get over being glad about almost anything, unless misfortune +again puts an edge on the circumstance. The next day, not being in any +immediate danger, the boon of mere life seemed less satisfying. + +In detachments they went up the river several miles, and down about as +far. They looked in vain for any sign of the _Mary C._. They prospected +the hills. From the heights behind the camp they got a pretty fair idea +of the surrounding country. It was not reassuring. + +"As to products, there seems to be plenty of undersized timber, plenty +of snow and plenty of river, and, as far as I can see, just nothing +else." + +"Well, there's oodles o' blueberries," said the Boy, his inky-looking +mouth bearing witness to veracity; "and there are black and red +currants in the snow, and rose-apples--" + +"Oh, yes," returned the other, "it's a sort of garden of Eden!" + +A little below here it was four miles from bank to bank of the main +channel, but at this point the river was only about two miles wide, and +white already with floating masses of floe-ice going on a swift current +down towards the sea, four hundred miles away. + +The right bank presented to the mighty river a low chain of hills, +fringed at the base with a scattered growth of scrubby spruce, birch, +willow, and cotton-wood. Timber line was only two hundred feet above +the river brink; beyond that height, rocks and moss covered with +new-fallen snow. + +But if their side seemed cheerless, what of the land on the left bank? +A swamp stretching endlessly on either hand, and back from the icy +flood as far as eye could see, broken only by sloughs and an occasional +ice-rimmed tarn. + +"We've been travelling just eight weeks to arrive at this," said the +Kentuckian, looking at the desolate scene with a homesick eye. + +"We're not only pretty far from home," grumbled another, "we're still +thirteen hundred miles away from the Klondyke." + +These unenlivening calculations were catching. + +"We're just about twenty-five hundred miles from the nearest railroad +or telegraph, and, now that winter's down on us, exactly eight months +from anywhere in the civilised world." + +They had seen no sign of even savage life, no white trader, nothing to +show that any human foot had ever passed that way before. + +In that stillness that was like the stillness of death, they went up +the hillside, with footsteps muffled in the clinging snow; and sixty +feet above the great river, in a part of the wood where the timber was +least unpromising, they marked out a site for their winter quarters. + +Then this queer little company--a Denver bank-clerk, an ex-schoolmaster +from Nova Scotia, an Irish-American lawyer from San Francisco, a +Kentucky "Colonel" who had never smelt powder, and "the Boy" (who was +no boy at all, but a man of twenty-two)--these five set to work felling +trees, clearing away the snow, and digging foundations for a couple of +log-cabins--one for the Trio, as they called themselves, the other for +the Colonel and the Boy. + +These two had chummed from the hour they met on the steamer that +carried them through the Golden Gate of the Pacific till--well, till +the end of my story. + +The Colonel was a big tanned fellow, nearly forty--eldest of the +party--whom the others used to guy discreetly, because you couldn't +mention a place anywhere on the known globe, except the far north, +which he had not personally inspected. But for this foible, as the +untravelled considered it, he was well liked and a little +feared--except by the Boy, who liked him "first-rate," and feared him +not at all. They had promptly adopted each other before they discovered +that it was necessary to have one or more "pardners." It seemed, from +all accounts, to be true, that up there at the top of the world a man +alone is a man lost, and ultimately the party was added to as +aforesaid. + +Only two of them knew anything about roughing it. Jimmie O'Flynn of +'Frisco, the Irish-American lawyer, had seen something of frontier +life, and fled it, and MacCann, the Nova Scotian schoolmaster, had +spent a month in one of the Caribou camps, and on the strength of that, +proudly accepted the nickname of "the Miner." + +Colonel George Warren and Morris Burnet, the Boy, had the best outfits; +but this fact was held to be more than counter-balanced by the value of +the schoolmaster's experience at Caribou, and by the extraordinary +handiness of Potts, the Denver clerk, who had helped to build the +shelter on deck for the disabled sick on the voyage up. This young man +with the big mouth and lazy air had been in the office of a bank ever +since he left school, and yet, under pressure, he discovered a natural +neat-handedness and a manual dexterity justly envied by some of his +fellow-pioneers. His outfit was not more conspicuously meagre than +O'Flynn's, yet the Irishman was held to be the moneyed man of his +party. Just why was never fully developed, but it was always said, +"O'Flynn represents capital"; and O'Flynn, whether on that account, or +for a subtler and more efficient reason, always got the best of +everything that was going without money and without price. + +On board ship O'Flynn, with his ready tongue and his golden +background--"representing capital"--was a leading spirit. Potts the +handy-man was a talker, too, and a good second. But, once in camp, Mac +the Miner was cock of the walk, in those first days, quoted "Caribou," +and ordered everybody about to everybody's satisfaction. + +In a situation like this, the strongest lean on the man who has ever +seen "anything like it" before. It was a comfort that anybody even +_thought_ he knew what to do under such new conditions. So the others +looked on with admiration and a pleasant confidence, while Mac boldly +cut a hole in the brand-new tent, and instructed Potts how to make a +flange out of a tin plate, with which to protect the canvas from the +heat of the stove-pipe. No more cooking now in the bitter open. +Everyone admired Mac's foresight when he said: + +"We must build rock fireplaces in our cabins, or we'll find our one +little Yukon stove burnt out before the winter is over--before we have +a chance to use it out prospecting." And when Mac said they must pool +their stores, the Colonel and the Boy agreed as readily as O'Flynn, +whose stores consisted of a little bacon, some navy beans, and a +demijohn of whisky. O'Flynn, however, urged that probably every man had +a little "mite o' somethin'" that he had brought specially for +himself--somethin' his friends had given him, for instance. There was +Potts, now. They all knew how the future Mrs. Potts had brought a +plum-cake down to the steamer, when she came to say good-bye, and made +Potts promise he wouldn't unseal the packet till Christmas. It wouldn't +do to pool Potts' cake--never! There was the Colonel, the only man that +had a sack of coffee. He wouldn't listen when they had told him tea was +the stuff up here, and--well, perhaps other fellows didn't miss coffee +as much as a Kentuckian, though he _had_ heard--Never mind; they +wouldn't pool the coffee. The Boy had some preserved fruit that he +seemed inclined to be a hog about-- + +"Oh, look here. I haven't touched it!" "Just what I'm sayin'. You're +hoardin' that fruit." + +It was known that Mac had a very dacint little medicine-chest. Of +course, if any fellow was ill, Mac wasn't the man to refuse him a +little cold pizen; but he must be allowed to keep his own medicine +chest--and that little pot o' Dundee marmalade. As for O'Flynn, he +would look after the "dimmi-john." + +But Mac was dead against the whisky clause. Alcohol had been the curse +of Caribou, and in _this_ camp spirits were to be for medicinal +purposes only. Whereon a cloud descended on Mr. O'Flynn, and his health +began to suffer; but the precious demi-john was put away "in stock" +along with the single bottles belonging to the others. Mac had taken an +inventory, and no one in those early days dared touch anything without +his permission. + +They had cut into the mountain-side for a level foundation, and were +hard at it now hauling logs. + +"I wonder," said the Boy, stopping a moment in his work, and looking at +the bleak prospect round him--"I wonder if we're going to see anybody +all winter." + +"Oh, sure to," Mac thought; "Indians, anyhow." + +"Well, I begin to wish they'd mosy along," said Potts; and the sociable +O'Flynn backed him up. + +It was towards noon on the sixth day after landing (they had come to +speak of this now as a voluntary affair), when they were electrified by +hearing strange voices; looked up from their work, and saw two white +men seated on a big cake of ice going down the river with the current. +When they recovered sufficiently from their astonishment at the +spectacle, they ran down the hillside, and proposed to help the +"castaways" to land. Not a bit of it. + +"_Land_ in that place! What you take us for? Not much! We're going to +St. Michael's." + +They had a small boat drawn up by them on the ice, and one man was +dressed in magnificent furs, a long sable overcoat and cap, and wearing +quite the air of a North Pole Nabob. + +"Got any grub?" Mac called out. + +"Yes; want some?" + +"Oh no; I thought you--" + +"You're not going to try to live through the winter _there?_" + +"Yes." + +"Lord! you _are_ in a fix!" + +"That's we thought about you." + +But the travellers on the ice-raft went by laughing and joking at the +men safe on shore with their tents and provisions. It made some of them +visibly uneasy. _Would_ they win through? Were they crazy to try it? +They had looked forward eagerly to the first encounter with their kind, +but this vision floating by on the treacherous ice, of men who rather +dared the current and the crash of contending floes than land where +_they_ were, seemed of evil augury. The little incident left a +curiously sinister impression on the camp. + +Even Mac was found agreeing with the others of his Trio that, since +they had a grand, tough time in front of them, it was advisable to get +through the black months ahead with as little wear and tear as +possible. In spite of the Trio's superior talents, they built a small +ramshackle cabin with a tumble-down fireplace, which served them so ill +that they ultimately spent all their waking hours in the more +comfortable quarters of the Colonel and the Boy. It had been agreed +that these two, with the help, or, at all events, the advice, of the +others, should build the bigger, better cabin, where the stores should +be kept and the whole party should mess--a cabin with a solid outside +chimney of stone and an open fireplace, generous of proportion and +ancient of design, "just like down South." + +The weather was growing steadily colder; the ice was solid now many +feet out from each bank of the river. In the middle of the flood the +clotted current still ran with floe-ice, but it was plain the river was +settling down for its long sleep. + +Not silently, not without stress and thunder. The handful of dwellers +on the shore would be waked in the night by the shock and crash of +colliding floes, the sound of the great winds rushing by, and--"Hush! +What's that?" Tired men would start up out of sleep and sit straight to +listen. Down below, among the ice-packs, the noise as of an old-time +battle going on--tumult and crashing and a boom! boom! like +cannonading. + +Then one morning they woke to find all still, the conflict over, the +Yukon frozen from bank to bank. No sound from that day on; no more +running water for a good seven months. + +Winter had come. + +While the work went forward they often spoke of the only two people +they had thus far seen. Both Potts and O'Flynn had been heard to envy +them. + +Mac had happened to say that he believed the fellow in furs was an +Englishman--a Canadian, at the very least. The Americans chaffed him, +and said, "That accounts for it," in a tone not intended to flatter. +Mac hadn't thought of it before, but he was prepared to swear now that +if an Englishman--they were the hardiest pioneers on earth--or a +Canadian was in favour of lighting out, "it must be for some good +reason." + +"Oh yes; we all know that reason." + +The Americans laughed, and Mac, growing hot, was goaded into vaunting +the Britisher and running down the Yankee. + +"Yankee!" echoed the Kentuckian. "And up in Nova Scotia they let this +man teach school! Doesn't know the difference yet between the little +corner they call New England and all the rest of America." + +"All the rest of America!" shouted Mac. "The cheeky way you people of +the States have of gobbling the Continent (in _talk_), just as though +the British part of it wasn't the bigger half!" + +"Yes; but when you think _which_ half, you ought to be obliged to any +fellow for forgetting it." And then they referred to effete monarchical +institutions, and by the time they reached the question of the kind of +king the Prince of Wales would make, Mac was hardly a safe man to argue +with. + +There was one bond between him and the Kentucky Colonel: they were both +religious men; and although Mac was blue Presbyterian and an inveterate +theologian, somehow, out here in the wilderness, it was more possible +to forgive a man for illusions about the Apostolic Succession and +mistaken views upon Church government. The Colonel, at all events, was +not so lax but what he was ready to back up the Calvinist in an +endeavour to keep the Sabbath (with a careful compromise between church +and chapel) and help him to conduct a Saturday-night Bible-class. + +But if the Boy attended the Bible-class with fervour and aired his +heresies with uncommon gusto, if he took with equal geniality Colonel +Warren's staid remonstrance and Mac's fiery objurgation, Sunday morning +invariably found him more "agnostic" than ever, stoutly declining to +recognise the necessity for "service." For this was an occasion when +you couldn't argue or floor anybody, or hope to make Mac "hoppin' mad," +or have the smallest kind of a shindy. The Colonel read the lessons, +Mac prayed, and they all sang, particularly O'Flynn. Now, the Boy +couldn't sing a note, so there was no fair division of entertainment, +wherefore he would go off into the woods with his gun for company, and +the Catholic O'Flynn, and even Potts, were in better odour than he +"down in camp" on Sundays. So far you may travel, and yet not escape +the tyranny of the "outworn creeds." + +The Boy came back a full hour before service on the second Sunday with +a couple of grouse and a beaming countenance. Mac, who was cook that +week, was the only man left in the tent. He looked agreeably surprised +at the apparition. + +"Hello!" says he more pleasantly than his Sunday gloom usually +permitted. "Back in time for service?" + +"I've found a native," says the Boy, speaking as proudly as any +Columbus. "He's hurt his foot, and he's only got one eye, but he's +splendid. Told me no end of things. He's coming here as fast as his +foot will let him--he and three other Indians--Esquimaux, I mean. They +haven't had anything to eat but berries and roots for seven days." + +The Boy was feverishly overhauling the provisions behind the stove. + +"Look here," says Mac, "hold on there. I don't know that we've come all +this way to feed a lot o' dirty savages." + +"But they're starving." Then, seeing that that fact did not produce the +desired impression: "My savage is an awfully good fellow. He--he's a +converted savage, seems to be quite a Christian." Then, hastily +following up his advantage: "He's been taught English by the Jesuits at +the mission forty miles above us, on the river. He can give us a whole +heap o' tips." + +Mac was slowly bringing out a small panful of cold boiled beans. + +"There are four of them," said the Boy--"big fellows, almost as big as +our Colonel, and _awful_ hungry." + +Mac looked at the handful of beans and then at the small sheet-iron +stove. + +"There are more cooking," says he not over-cordially. + +"The one that talks good English is the son of the chief. You can see +he's different from the others. Knows a frightful lot. He's taught me +some of his language already. The men with him said 'Kaiomi' to +everything I asked, and that means 'No savvy.' Says he'll teach +me--he'll teach all of us--how to snow-shoe." + +"We know how to snow-shoe." + +"Oh, I mean on those long narrow snow-shoes that make you go so fast +you always trip up! He'll show us how to steer with a pole, and how to +make fish-traps and--and everything." + +Mac began measuring out some tea. + +"He's got a team of Esquimaux dogs--calls 'em Mahlemeuts, and he's got +a birch-bark canoe, and a skin kyak from the coast." Then with an +inspiration: "His people are the sort of Royal Family down there," +added the Boy, thinking to appeal to the Britisher's monarchical +instincts. + +Mac had meditatively laid his hand on a side of bacon, the Boy's eyes +following. + +"He's asked us--_all_ of us, and we're five--up to visit him at Pymeut, +the first village above us here." Mac took up a knife to cut the bacon. +"And--good gracious! why, I forgot the grouse; they can have the +grouse!" + +"No, they can't," said Mac firmly; "they're lucky to get bacon." + +The Boy's face darkened ominously. When he looked like that the elder +men found it was "healthiest to give him his head." But the young face +cleared as quickly as it had clouded. After all, the point wasn't worth +fighting for, since grouse would take time to cook, and--here were the +natives coming painfully along the shore. + +The Boy ran out and shouted and waved his cap. The other men of the +camp, who had gone in the opposite direction, across the river ice to +look at an air-hole, came hurrying back and reached camp about the same +time as the visitors. + +"Thought you said they were big fellows!" commented Mac, who had come +to the door for a glimpse of the Indians as they toiled up the slope. + +"Well, so they are!" + +"Why, the Colonel would make two of any one of them." + +"The Colonel! Oh well, you can't expect anybody else to be quite as big +as that. I was in a hurry, but I suppose what I meant was, they could +eat as much as the Colonel." + +"How do you know?" + +"Well, just look how broad they are. It doesn't matter to your stomach +whether you're big up and down, or big to and fro." + +"It's their furs make 'em look like that. They're the most awful little +runts I ever saw!" + +"Well, I reckon _you'd_ think they were big, too--big as Nova +Scotia--if _you'd_ found 'em--come on 'em suddenly like that in the +woods--" + +"Which is the...?" + +"Oh, the son of the chief is in the middle, the one who is taking off +his civilised fur-coat. He says his father's got a heap of pelts (you +could get things for your collection, Mac), and he's got two +reindeer-skin shirts with hoods--'parkis,' you know, like the others +are wearing--" + +They were quite near now. + +"How do," said the foremost native affably. + +"How do." The Boy came forward and shook hands as though he hadn't seen +him for a month. "This," says he, turning first to Mac and then to the +other white men, "this is Prince Nicholas of Pymeut. Walk right in, all +of you, and have something to eat." + +The visitors sat on the ground round the stove, as close as they could +get without scorching, and the atmosphere was quickly heavy with their +presence. When they slipped back their hoods it was seen that two of +the men wore the "tartar tonsure," after the fashion of the coast. + +"Where do you come from?" inquired the Colonel of the man nearest him, +who simply blinked and was dumb. + +"This is the one that talks English," said the Boy, indicating Nicholas, +"and he lives at Pymeut, and he's been converted." + +"How far is Pymeut?" + +"We sleep Pymeut to-night," says Nicholas. + +"Which way?" + +The native jerked his head up the river. + +"Many people there?" + +He nodded. + +"White men, too?" + +He shook his head. + +"How far to the nearest white men?" + +Nicholas's mind wandered from the white man's catechism and fixed +itself on his race's immemorial problem: how far it was to the nearest +thing to eat. + +"I thought you said he could speak English." + +"So he can, first rate. He and I had a great pow-wow, didn't we, +Nicholas?" + +Nicholas smiled absently, and fixed his one eye on the bacon that Mac +was cutting on the deal box into such delicate slices. + +"He'll talk all right," said the Boy, "when he's had some breakfast." + +Mac had finished the cutting, and now put the frying-pan on an open +hole in the little stove. + +"Cook him?" inquired Nicholas. + +"Yes. Don't you cook him?" + +"Take heap time, cook him." + +"You couldn't eat it raw!" + +Nicholas nodded emphatically. + +Mac said "No," but the Boy was curious to see if they would really eat +it uncooked. + +"Let them have _some_ of it raw while the rest is frying"; and he +beckoned the visitors to the deal box. They made a dart forward, +gathered up the fat bacon several slices at a time, and pushed it into +their mouths. + +"Ugh!" said the Colonel under his breath. + +Mac quickly swept what was left into the frying-pan, and began to cut a +fresh lot. + +The Boy divided the cold beans, got out biscuits, and poured the tea, +while silence and a strong smell of ancient fish and rancid seal +pervaded the little tent. + +O'Flynn put a question or two, but Nicholas had gone stone-deaf. There +was no doubt about it, they had been starving. + +After a good feed they sat stolidly by the fire, with no sign of +consciousness, save the blinking of beady eyes, till the Colonel +suggested a smoke. Then they all grinned broadly, and nodded with great +vigour. Even those who had no other English understood "tobacco." + +When he had puffed awhile, Nicholas took his pipe out of his mouth, +and, looking at the Boy, said: + +"You no savvy catch fish in winter?" + +"Through the ice? No. How you do it?" + +"Make hole--put down trap--heap fish all winter." + +"You get enough to live on?" asked the Colonel. + +"They must have dried fish, too, left over from the summer," said Mac. + +Nicholas agreed. "And berries and flour. When snow begin get soft, +Pymeuts all go off--" He motioned with his big head towards the hills. + +"What do you get there?" Mac was becoming interested. + +"Caribou, moose--" + +"Any furs?" + +"Yes; trap ermun, marten--" + +"Lynx, too, I suppose, and fox?" + +Nicholas nodded. "All kinds. Wolf--muskrat, otter--wolverine--all +kinds." + +"You got some skins now?" asked the Nova Scotian. + +"Y--yes. More when snow get soft. You come Pymeut--me show." + +"Where have ye been just now?" asked O'Flynn. + +"St. Michael." + +"How long since ye left there?" + +"Twelve sleeps." + +"He means thirteen days." + +Nicholas nodded. + +"They couldn't possibly walk that far in--" + +"Oh yes," says the Boy; "they don't follow the windings of the river, +they cut across the portage, you know." + +"Snow come--no trail--big mountains--all get lost." + +"What did you go to St. Michael's for?" + +"Oh, me pilot. Me go all over. Me leave N. A. T. and T. boat St. +Michael's last trip." + +"Then you're in the employ of the great North American Trading and +Transportation Company?" + +Nicholas gave that funny little duck of the head that meant yes. + +"That's how you learnt English," says the Colonel. + +"No; me learn English at Holy Cross. Me been baptize." + +"At that Jesuit mission up yonder?" + +"Forty mile." + +"Well," says Potts, "I guess you've had enough walking for one winter." + +Nicholas seemed not to follow this observation. The Boy interpreted: + +"You heap tired, eh? You no go any more long walk till ice go out, eh?" + +Nicholas grinned. + +"Me go Ikogimeut--all Pymeut go." + +"What for?" + +"Big feast." + +"Oh, the Russian mission there gives a feast?" + +"No. Big Innuit feast." + +"When?" + +"Pretty quick. Every year big feast down to Ikogimeut when Yukon ice +get hard, so man go safe with dog-team." + +"Do many people go?" + +"All Innuit go, plenty Ingalik go." + +"How far do they come?" + +"All over; come from Koserefsky, come from Anvik--sometime Nulato." + +"Why, Nulato's an awful distance from Ikogimeut." + +"Three hundred and twenty miles," said the pilot, proud of his general +information, and quite ready, since he had got a pipe between his +teeth, to be friendly and communicative. + +"What do you do at Ikogimeut when you have these--" "Big fire--big +feed--tell heap stories--big dance. Oh, heap big time!" + +"Once every year, eh, down at Ikogimeut?" + +"Three times ev' year. Ev' village, and"--he lowered his voice, not +with any hit of reverence or awe, but with an air of making a sly and +cheerful confidence--"and when man die." + +"You make a feast and have a dance when a friend dies?" + +"If no priests. Priests no like. Priests say, 'Man no dead; man gone +up.'" Nicholas pondered the strange saying, and slowly shook his head. + +"In that the priests are right," said Mac grudgingly. + +It was anything but politic, but for the life of him the Boy couldn't +help chipping in: + +"You think when man dead he stay dead, eh, and you might as well make a +feast?" + +Nicholas gave his quick nod. "We got heap muskeetah, we cold, we +hungry. We here heap long time. Dead man, he done. Why no big feast? Oh +yes, heap big feast." + +The Boy was enraptured. He would gladly have encouraged these pagan +deliverances on the part of the converted Prince, but the Colonel was +scandalised, and Mac, although in his heart of hearts not ill-satisfied +at the evidence of the skin-deep Christianity of a man delivered over +to the corrupt teaching of the Jesuits, found in this last fact all the +stronger reason for the instant organisation of a good Protestant +prayer-meeting. Nicholas of Pymeut must not be allowed to think it was +only Jesuits who remembered the Sabbath day to keep it holy. + +And the three "pore benighted heathen" along with him, if they didn't +understand English words, they should have an object-lesson, and Mac +would himself pray the prayers they couldn't utter for themselves. He +jumped up, motioned the Boy to put on more wood, cleared away the +granite-ware dishes, filled the bean-pot and set it back to simmer, +while the Colonel got out Mac's Bible and his own Prayer-Book. + +The Boy did his stoking gloomily, reading aright these portents. Almost +eclipsed was joy in this "find" of his (for he regarded the precious +Nicholas as his own special property). It was all going to end in +his--the Boy's--being hooked in for service. As long as the Esquimaux +were there _he_ couldn't, of course, tear himself away. And here was +the chance they'd all been waiting for. Here was a native chock-full of +knowledge of the natural law and the immemorial gospel of the North, +who would be gone soon--oh, very soon, if Mac and the Colonel went on +like this--and they were going to choke off Nicholas's communicativeness +with--a service! + +"It's Sunday, you know," says the Colonel to the Prince, laying open +his book, "and we were just going to have church. You are accustomed to +going to church at Holy Cross, aren't you?" + +"When me kid me go church." + +"You haven't gone since you grew up? They still have church there, +don't they?" + +"Oh, Father Brachet, him have church." + +"Why don't you go?" + +Nicholas was vaguely conscious of threatened disapproval. + +"Me ... me must take up fish-traps." + +"Can't you do that another day?" + +It seemed not to have occurred to Nicholas before. He sat and +considered the matter. + +"Isn't Father Brachet," began the Colonel gravely--"he doesn't like it, +does he, when you don't come to church?" + +"He take care him church; him know me take care me fish-trap." + +But Nicholas saw plainly out of his one eye that he was not growing in +popularity. Suddenly that solitary organ gleamed with self-justification. + +"Me bring fish to Father Brachet and to Mother Aloysius and the +Sisters." + +Mac and the Colonel exchanged dark glances. + +"Do Mother Aloysius and the Sisters live where Father Brachet does?" + +"Father Brachet, and Father Wills, and Brother Paul, and Brother +Etienne, all here." The native put two fingers on the floor. "Big white +cross in middle"--he laid down his pipe to personate the +cross--"here"--indicating the other side--"here Mother Aloysius and the +Sisters." + +"I thought," says Mac, "we'd be hearing of a convent convenient." + +"Me help Father Brachet," observed Nicholas proudly. "Me show him boys +how make traps, show him girls how make mucklucks." "_What_!" gasps the +horrified Mac, "Father Brachet has got a family?" + +"Famly?" inquired Nicholas. "Kaiomi"; and he shook his head +uncertainly. + +"You say Father Brachet has got boys, and"--as though this were a yet +deeper brand of iniquity--"_girls_?" + +Nicholas, though greatly mystified, nodded firmly. + +"I suppose he thinks away off up here nobody will ever know. Oh, these +Jesuits!" + +"How many children has this shameless priest?" + +"Father Brachet, him got seventeen boys, and--me no savvy how much +girl--twelve girl ... twenty girl ..." + +The Boy, who had been splitting with inward laughter, exploded at this +juncture. + +"He keeps a native school, Mac." + +"Yes," says Nicholas, "teach boy make table, chair, potatoes grow--all +kinds. Sisters teach girl make dinner, wash--all kinds. Heap good +people up at Holy Cross." + +"Divil a doubt of it," says O'Flynn. + +But this blind belauding of the children of Loyola only fired Mac the +more to give the heathen a glimpse of the true light. In what darkness +must they grope when a sly, intriguing Jesuit (it was well known they +were all like that) was for them a type of the "heap good man"--a +priest, forsooth, who winked at Sabbath-breaking because he and his +neighbouring nuns shared in the spoil! + +Well, they must try to have a truly impressive service. Mac and the +Colonel telegraphed agreement on this head. Savages were said to be +specially touched by music. + +"I suppose when you were a kid the Jesuits taught you chants and so +on," said the Colonel, kindly. + +"Kaiomi," answered Nicholas after reflection. + +"You can sing, can't you?" asks O'Flynn. + +"Sing? No, me dance!" + +The Boy roared with delight. + +"Why, yes, I never thought of that. You fellows do the songs, and +Nicholas and I'll do the dances." + +Mac glowered angrily. "Look here: if you don't mind being blasphemous +for yourself, don't demoralise the natives." + +"Well, I like that! Didn't Miriam dance before the Lord? Why shouldn't +Nicholas and me?" + +The Colonel cleared his throat, and began to read the lessons for the +day. The natives sat and watched him closely. They really behaved very +well, and the Boy was enormously proud of his new friends. There was a +great deal at stake. The Boy felt he must walk warily, and he already +regretted those light expressions about dancing before the Lord. All +the fun of the winter might depend on a friendly relation between +Pymeut and the camp. It was essential that the Esquimaux should not +only receive, but make, a good impression. + +The singing "From Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral strand" +seemed to please them; but when, after the Colonel's "Here endeth the +second lesson," Mac said, in sepulchral tones, "Let us pray," the +visitors seemed to think it was time to go home. + +"No," said Mac sternly, "they mustn't go in the middle of the meeting"; +and he proceeded to kneel down. + +But Nicholas was putting on his fur coat, and the others only waited to +follow him out. The Boy, greatly concerned lest, after all, the visit +should end badly, dropped on his knees to add the force of his own +example, and through the opening phrases of Mac's prayer the agnostic +was heard saying, in a loud stage-whisper, "Do like me--down! Look +here! Suppose you ask us come big feast, and in the middle of your +dance we all go home--. + +"Oh no," remonstrated Nicholas. + +"Very well. These friends o' mine no like man go home in the middle. +They heap mad at me when I no stay. You savvy?" + +"Me savvy," says Nicholas slowly and rather depressed. + +"Kneel down, then," says the Boy. And first Nicholas, and then the +others, went on their knees. + +Alternately they looked in the Boy's corner where the grub was, and +then over their shoulders at the droning Mac and back, catching the +Boy's eye, and returning his reassuring nods and grins. + +Mac, who had had no innings up to this point, was now embarked upon a +most congenial occupation. Wrestling with the Lord on behalf of the +heathen, he lost count of time. On and on the prayer wound its slow +way; involution after involution, coil after coil, like a snake, the +Boy thought, lazing in the sun. Unaccustomed knees grew sore. + +"Hearken to the cry of them that walk in darkness, misled by wolves in +sheep's clothing--_wolves_, Lord, wearing the sign of the Holy Cross--" + +O'Flynn shuffled, and Mac pulled himself up. No light task this of +conveying to the Creator, in covert terms, a due sense of the iniquity +of the Jesuits, without, at the same time, stirring O'Flynn's bile, and +seeing him get up and stalk out of meeting, as had happened once +before. + +O'Flynn was not deeply concerned about religious questions, but "there +were limits." The problem was how to rouse the Lord without rousing +O'Flynn--a piece of negotiation so delicate, calling for a skill in +pious invective so infinitely absorbing to Mac's particular cast of +mind, that he was quickly stone-blind and deaf to all things else. + +"Not all the heathen are sunk in iniquity; but they are weak, tempted, +and they weary, Lord!" + +"Amen," said the Boy, discreetly. "How long?" groaned Mac--"Oh Lord, +how long?" But it was much longer than he realised. The Boy saw the +visitors shifting from one knee to another, and feared the worst. But +he sympathised deeply with their predicament. To ease his own legs, he +changed his position, and dragged a corner of the sailcloth down off +the little pile of provisions, and doubled it under his knees. + +The movement revealed the bag of dried apples within arm's length. +Nicholas was surreptitiously reaching for his coat. No doubt about it, +he had come to the conclusion that this was the fitting moment to +depart. A look over his shoulder showed Mac absorbed, and taking fresh +breath at "Sixthly, Oh Lord." The Boy put out a hand, and dragged the +apple-bag slowly, softly towards him. The Prince dropped the sleeve of +his coat, and fixed his one eye on his friend. The Boy undid the neck +of the sack, thrust in his hand, and brought out a fistfull. Another +look at Mac--still hard at it, trying to spare O'Flynn's feelings +without mincing matters with the Almighty. + +The Boy winked at Nicholas, made a gesture, "Catch!" and fired a bit of +dried apple at him, at the same time putting a piece in his own mouth +to show him it was all right. + +Nicholas followed suit, and seemed pleased with the result. He showed +all his strong, white teeth, and ecstatically winked his one eye back +at the Boy, who threw him another bit and then a piece to each of the +others. + +The Colonel had "caught on," and was making horrible frowns at the Boy. +Potts and O'Flynn looked up, and in dumbshow demanded a share. No? Very +well, they'd tell Mac. So the Boy had to feed them, too, to keep them +quiet. And still Mac prayed the Lord to catch up this slip he had made +here on the Yukon with reference to the natives. In the midst of a +powerful peroration, he happened to open his eyes a little, and they +fell on the magnificent great sable collar of Prince Nicholas's coat. + +Without any of the usual slowing down, without the accustomed warning +of a gradual descent from the high themes of heaven to the things of +common earth, Mac came down out of the clouds with a bump, and the +sudden, business-like "Amen" startled all the apple-chewing +congregation. + +Mac stood up, and says he to Nicholas: + +"Where did you get that coat?" + +Nicholas, still on his knees, stared, and seemed in doubt if this were +a part of the service. + +"Where did you get that coat?" repeated Mac. + +The Boy had jumped up nimbly. "I told you his father has a lot of +furs." + +"Like this?" + +"No," says Nicholas; "this belong white man." + +"Ha," says Mac excitedly, "I thought I'd seen it before. Tell us how +you got it." + +"Me leave St. Michael; me got ducks, reindeer meat--oh, _plenty_ +kow-kow! [Footnote: Food] Two sleeps away St. Michael me meet Indian. +Heap hungry. Him got bully coat." Nicholas picked it up off the floor. +"Him got no kow-kow. Him say, 'Give me duck, give me back-fat. You take +coat, him too heavy.' Me say, 'Yes.'" + +"But how did he get the coat?" + +"Him say two white men came down river on big ice." + +"Yes, yes--" + +"Men sick." He tapped his forehead. "Man no sick, he no go down with +the ice"; and Nicholas shuddered. "Before Ikogimeut, ice jam. Indian +see men jump one big ice here, more big ice here, and one... go down. +Indian"--Nicholas imitated throwing out a line--"man tie mahout +round--but--big ice come--" Nicholas dashed his hands together, and +then paused significantly. "Indian sleep there. Next day ice hard. +Indian go little way out to see. Man dead. Him heap good coat," he +wound up unemotionally, and proceeded to put it on. + +"And the other white man--what became of him?" + +Nicholas shrugged: "Kaiomi," though it was plain he knew well enough +the other lay under the Yukon ice. + +"And that--_that_ was the end of the fellows who went by jeering at +us!" + +"We'd better not crow yet," said Mac. And they bade Prince Nicholas and +his heathen retinue good-bye in a mood chastened not by prayer alone. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HOUSE-WARMING + +"There is a sort of moral climate in a household."--JOHN MORLEY. + + +No idle ceremony this, but the great problem of the dwellers in the +country of the Yukon. + +The Colonel and the Boy made up their minds that, whatever else they +had or had not, they would have a warm house to live in. And when they +had got it, they would have a "Blow-out" to celebrate the achievement. + +"We'll invite Nicholas," says the Boy. "I'll go to Pymeut myself, and +let him know we are going to have 'big fire, big feed. Oh, heap big +time!'" + +If the truth were told, it had been a difficult enough matter to keep +away from Pymeut since the hour Nicholas had vanished in that +direction; but until winter quarters were made, and until they were +proved to be warm, there was no time for the amenities of life. + +The Big Cabin (as it was quite seriously called, in contradistinction +to the hut of the Trio) consisted of a single room, measuring on the +outside sixteen feet by eighteen feet. + +The walls of cotton-wood logs soared upward to a level of six feet, and +this height was magnificently increased in the middle by the angle of +the mildly gable roof. But before the cabin was breast-high the Boy had +begun to long for a window. + +"Sorry we forgot the plate-glass," says Mac. + +"Wudn't ye like a grrand-piana?" asks O'Flynn. + +"What's the use of goin' all the way from Nova Scotia to Caribou," says +the Boy to the Schoolmaster-Miner, "if you haven't learned the way to +make a window like the Indians, out of transparent skin?" + +Mac assumed an air of elevated contempt. + +"I went to mine, not to learn Indian tricks." + +"When the door's shut it'll be dark as the inside of a cocoa-nut." + +"You ought to have thought of that before you left the sunny South," +said Potts. + +"It'll be dark all winter, window or no window," Mac reminded them. + +"Never mind," said the Colonel, "when the candles give out we'll have +the fire-light. Keep all the spruce knots, boys!" + +But one of the boys was not pleased. The next day, looking for a +monkey-wrench under the tarpaulin, he came across the wooden box a +California friend had given him at parting, containing a dozen tall +glass jars of preserved fruit. The others had growled at the extra bulk +and weight, when the Boy put the box into the boat at St. Michael's, +but they had now begun to look kindly on it and ask when it was to be +opened. He had answered firmly: + +"Not before Christmas," modifying this since Nicholas's visit to "Not +before the House-Warming." But one morning the Boy was found pouring +the fruit out of the jars into some empty cans. + +"What you up to?" + +"Wait an' see." He went to O'Flynn, who was dish-washer that week, got +him to melt a couple of buckets of snow over the open-air campfire and +wash the fruit-jars clean. + +"Now, Colonel," says the Boy, "bring along that buck-saw o' yours and +lend a hand." + +They took off the top log from the south wall of the cabin, measured a +two-foot space in the middle, and the Colonel sawed out the superfluous +spruce intervening. While he went on doing the same for the other logs +on that side, the Boy roughly chiselled a moderately flat sill. Then +one after another he set up six of the tall glass jars in a row, and +showed how, alternating with the other six bottles turned upside down, +the thick belly of one accommodating itself to the thin neck of the +other, the twelve made a very decent rectangle of glass. When they had +hoisted up, and fixed in place, the logs on each side, and the big +fellow that went all across on top; when they had filled the +inconsiderable cracks between the bottles with some of the mud-mortar +with which the logs were to be chinked, behold a double glass window +fit for a king! + +The Boy was immensely pleased. + +"Oh, that's an old dodge," said Mac depreciatingly. "Why, they did that +at Caribou!" + +"Then, why in--Why didn't you suggest it?" + +"You wait till you know more about this kind o' life, and you won't go +in for fancy touches." + +Nevertheless, the man who had mined at Caribou seemed to feel that some +contribution from him was necessary to offset the huge success of that +window. He did not feel called upon to help to split logs for the roof +of the Big Cabin, but he sat cutting and whittling away at a little +shelf which he said was to be nailed up at the right of the Big Cabin +door. Its use was not apparent, but no one dared call it a "fancy +touch," for Mac was a miner, and had been to Caribou. + +When the shelf was nailed up, its maker brought forth out of his +medicine-chest a bottle of Perry Davis's Pain-killer. + +"Now at Caribou," says he, "they haven't got any more thermometers +kicking round than we have here, but they discovered that when Perry +Davis congeals you must keep a sharp look-out for frost-bite, and when +Perry Davis freezes solid, you'd better mind your eye and stay in your +cabin, if you don't want to die on the trail." With which he tied a +string round Perry Davis's neck, set the bottle up on the shelf, and +secured it firmly in place. They all agreed it was a grand advantage to +have been to Caribou! + +But Mac knew things that he had probably not learned there, about +trees, and rocks, and beasts, and their manners and customs and family +names. If there were more than a half-truth in the significant lament +of a very different man, "I should be a poet if only I knew the names +of things," then, indeed, Samuel MacCann was equipped to make a mark in +literature. + +From the time he set foot on the volcanic shore of St Michael's Island, +Mac had begun his "collection." + +Nowadays, when he would spend over "that truck of his" hours that might +profitably (considering his talents) be employed in helping to fortify +the camp against the Arctic winter, his companions felt it little use +to remonstrate. + +By themselves they got on rapidly with work on the roof, very much +helped by three days' unexpectedly mild weather. When the split logs +had been marshalled together on each side of the comb, they covered +them with dried moss and spruce boughs. + +Over all they laid a thick blanket of the earth which had been dug out +to make a level foundation. The cracks in the walls were chinked with +moss and mud-mortar. The floor was the naked ground, "to be carpeted +with skins by-and-by," so Mac said; but nobody believed Mac would put a +skin to any such sensible use. + +The unreasonable mildness of three or four days and the little surface +thaw, came to an abrupt end in a cold rain that turned to sleet as it +fell. Nobody felt like going far afield just then, even after game, but +they had set the snare that Nicholas told the Boy about on that first +encounter in the wood. Nicholas, it seemed, had given him a noose made +of twisted sinew, and showed how it worked in a running loop. He had +illustrated the virtue of this noose when attached to a pole balanced +in the crotch of a tree, caught over a horizontal stick by means of a +small wooden pin tied to the snare. A touch at the light end of the +suspended pole (where the baited loop dangles) loosens the pin, and the +heavy end of the pole falls, hanging ptarmigan or partridge in the air. + +For some time after rigging this contrivance, whenever anyone reported +"tracks," Mac and the Boy would hasten to the scene of action, and set +a new snare, piling brush on each side of the track that the game had +run in, so barring other ways, and presenting a line of least +resistance straight through the loop. + +In the early days Mac would come away from these preparations saying +with dry pleasure: + +"Now, with luck, we may get a _Xema Sabinii_," or some such fearful +wildfowl. + +"Good to eat?" the Boy would ask, having had his disappointments ere +now in moments of hunger for fresh meat, when Mac, with the nearest +approach to enthusiasm he permitted himself, had brought in some +miserable little hawk-owl or a three-toed woodpecker to add, not to the +larder, but to the "collection." + +"No, you don't _eat_ Sabine gulls," Mac would answer pityingly. + +But those snares never seemed to know what they were there for. The +first one was set expressly to catch one of the commonest birds that +fly--Mac's _Lagopus albus_, the beautiful white Arctic grouse, or at +the very least a _Bonasa umbellus_, which, being interpreted, is ruffed +ptarmigan. The tracks had been bird tracks, but the creature that swung +in the air next day was a baby hare. The Schoolmaster looked upon the +incident as being in the nature of a practical joke, and resented it. +But the others were enchanted, and professed thereafter a rooted +suspicion of the soundness of the Schoolmaster's Natural History, which +nobody actually felt. For he had never yet pretended to know anything +that he didn't know well; and when Potts would say something +disparaging of Mac's learning behind his back (which was against the +unwritten rules of the game) the Colonel invariably sat on Potts. + +"Knows a darned sight too much? No, he _don't_, sir; that's just the +remarkable thing about Mac. He isn't trying to carry any more than he +can swing." + +At the same time it is to be feared that none of his companions really +appreciated the pedagogue's learning. Nor had anyone but the Boy +sympathised with his resolution to make a Collection. What they wanted +was eatable game, and they affected no intelligent interest in knowing +the manners and customs of the particular species that was sending up +appetising odours from the pot. + +They even applauded the rudeness of the Boy, who one day responded to +Mac's gravely jubilant "Look here! I've got the _Parus Hudsonicus_!"-- + +"Poor old man! What do you do for it?" + +And when anybody after that was indisposed, they said he might be +sickening for an attack of Parus Hudsonicus, and in that case it was a +bad look-out. + +Well for Mac that he wouldn't have cared a red cent to impress the +greatest naturalist alive, let alone a lot of fellows who didn't know a +titmouse from a disease. + +Meanwhile work on the Big Cabin had gone steadily forward. From the +outside it looked finished now, and distinctly imposing. From what were +left of the precious planks out of the bottom of the best boat they had +made the door--two by four, and opening directly in front of that +masterpiece, the rock fireplace. The great stone chimney was the pride +of the camp and the talk before the winter was done of all "the Lower +River." + +Spurred on partly by the increased intensity of the cold, partly by the +Colonel's nonsense about the way they did it "down South," Mac roused +himself, and turned out a better piece of masonry for the Big Cabin +than he had thought necessary for his own. But everybody had a share in +the glory of that fireplace. The Colonel, Potts, and the Boy selected +the stone, and brought it on a rude litter out of a natural quarry from +a place a mile or more away up on the bare mountain-side. O'Flynn mixed +and handed up the mud-mortar, while Mac put in some brisk work with it +before it stiffened in the increasing cold. + +Everybody was looking forward to getting out of the tent and into the +warm cabin, and the building of the fireplace stirred enthusiasm. It +was two and a half feet deep, three and a half feet high, and four feet +wide, and when furnished with ten-inch hack logs, packed in glowing +ashes and laid one above another, with a roaring good blaze in front of +birch and spruce, that fire would take a lot of beating, as the Boy +admitted, "even in the tat-pine Florida country." + +But no fire on earth could prevent the cabin from being swept through, +the moment the door was opened, by a fierce and icy air-current. The +late autumnal gales revealed the fact that the sole means of +ventilation had been so nicely contrived that whoever came in or went +out admitted a hurricane of draught that nearly knocked him down. Potts +said it took a good half-hour, after anyone had opened the door, to +heat the place up again. + +"What! You cold?" inquired the usual culprit. The Boy had come in to +put an edge on his chopper. "It's stopped snowin', an' you better come +along with me, Potts. Swing an axe for a couple of hours--that'll warm +you." + +"I've got rheumatism in my shoulder to-day," says Potts, hugging the +huge fire closer. + +"And you've got something wrong with your eyes, eh, Mac?" + +Potts narrowed his and widened the great mouth; but he had turned his +head so Mac couldn't see him. + +The Nova Scotian only growled and refilled his pipe. Up in the woods +the Boy repeated the conversation to the Colonel, who looked across at +O'Flynn several yards away, and said: "Hush!" + +"Why must I shut up? Mac's _eyes_ do look rather queer and bloodshot. I +should think he'd rather feel we lay it to his eyes than know we're +afraid he's peterin' out altogether." + +"I never said I was afraid--" + +"No, you haven't _said_ much." "I haven't opened my head about it." + +"No, but you've tried hard enough for five or six days to get Mac to +the point where he would come out and show us how to whip-saw. You +haven't _said_ anything, but you've--you've got pretty dignified each +time you failed, and we all know what that means." + +"We ought to have begun sawing boards for our bunks and swing-shelf a +week back, before this heavy snowfall. Besides, there's enough +fire-wood now; we're only marking time until--" + +"Until Mac's eyes get all right. I understand." + +Again the Colonel had made a sound like "Sh!" and went on swinging his +axe. + +They worked without words till the Boy's tree came down. Then he +stopped a moment, and wiped his face. + +"It isn't so cold to-day, not by a long shot, for all Potts's howling +about his rheumatics." + +"It isn't cold that starts that kind of pain." + +"No, siree. I'm not much of a doctor, but I can see Potts's rheumatism +doesn't depend on the weather." + +"Never you mind Potts." + +"I don't mind Potts. I only mind Mac. What's the matter with Mac, +anyway?" + +"Oh, he's just got cold feet. Maybe he'll thaw out by-and-by." + +"Did you ever think what Mac's like? With that square-cut jaw and +sawed-off nose, everything about him goin' like this"--the Boy +described a few quick blunt angles in the air--"well, sir, he's the +livin' image of a monkey-wrench. I'm comin' to think he's as much like +it inside as he is out. He can screw up for a prayer-meetin', or he can +screw down for business--when he's a mind, but, as Jimmie over there +says, 'the divil a different pace can you put him through.' I _like_ +monkey-wrenches! I'm only sayin' they aren't as limber as willa-trees." + +No response from the Colonel, who was making the chips fly. It had cost +his great body a good many aches and bruises, but he was a capital +axeman now, and not such a bad carpenter, though when the Boy said as +much he had answered: + +"Carpenter! I'm just a sort of a well-meanin' wood-butcher"; and deeply +he regretted that in all his young years on a big place in the country +he had learnt so little about anything but horses and cattle. + +On the way back to dinner they spoke again of this difficulty of the +boards. O'Flynn whistled "Rory O'More" with his pleasant air of +detachment. + +"You and the others would take more interest in the subject," said the +Boy a little hotly, "if we hadn't let you fellows use nearly all the +boat-planks for _your_ bunks, and now we haven't got any for our own." + +"_Let_ us use 'em! Faith! we had a right to'm." + +"To boards out of _our_ boat!" + +"And ye can have the loan o' the whip-saw to make more, whenever the +fancy takes ye." + +"Loan o' the whip-saw! Why, it's mine," says the Colonel. + +"Divil a bit of it, man!" says O'Flynn serenely. "Everything we've got +belongs to all of us, except a sack o' coffee, a medicine-chest, and a +dimmi-john. And it's mesilf that's afraid the dimmi-john--" + +"What's the use of my having bought a whip-saw?" interrupted the +Colonel, hurriedly. "What's the good of it, if the only man that knows +how to use it--" + +"Is more taken up wid bein' a guardjin angel to his pardner's +dimmi-john--" + +The Colonel turned and frowned at the proprietor of the dimmi-john. The +Boy had dropped behind to look at some marten tracks in the +fresh-fallen snow. + +"I'll follow that trail after dinner," says he, catching up the others +in time to hear O'Flynn say: + +"If it wusn't that ye think only a feller that's been to Caribou can +teach ye annything it's Jimmie O'Flynn that 'ud show ye how to play a +chune on that same whip-saw." + +"Will you show us after dinner?" + +"Sure I will." + +And he was as good as his word. + +This business of turning a tree into boards without the aid of a +saw-mill is a thing many placer-miners have to learn; for, even if they +are disposed to sleep on the floor, and to do without shelves, they +can't do sluicing without sluice-boxes, and they can't make those long, +narrow boxes without boards. + +So every party that is well fitted out has a whip-saw. + +"Furrst ye dig a pit," O'Flynn had said airily, stretched out before +the fire after dinner. "Make it about four feet deep, and as long as +ye'd like yer boards. When ye've done that I'll come and take a hand." + +The little job was not half finished when the light tailed. Two days +more of soil-burning and shovelling saw it done. + +"Now ye sling a couple o' saplings acrost the durrt ye've chucked out. +R-right! Now ye roll yer saw-timber inter the middle. R-right! An' on +each side ye want a log to stand on. See? Wid yer 'guide-man' on top +sthradlin' yer timberr, watchin' the chalk-line and doin' the pull-up, +and the otherr fellerr in the pit lookin' afther the haul-down, ye'll +be able to play a chune wid that there whip-saw that'll make the +serryphims sick o' plain harps." O'Flynn superintended it all, and even +Potts had the curiosity to come out and see what they were up to. Mac +was "kind o' dozin'" by the fire. + +When the frame was finished O'Flynn helped to put the trial-log in +place, having marked it off with charcoal to indicate inch and a +quarter planks. Then the Colonel, down in the pit, and O'Flynn on top +of the frame, took the great two-handled saw between them, and began +laboriously, one drawing the big blade up, and the other down, +vertically through the log along the charcoal line. + +"An' _that's_ how it's done, wid bits of yer arrums and yer back that +have niver been called on to wurruk befure. An' whin ye've been at it +an hour ye'll find it goes betther wid a little blasphemin';" and he +gave his end of the saw to the reluctant Potts. + +Potts was about this time as much of a problem to his pardners as was +the ex-schoolmaster. If the bank clerk had surprised them all by his +handiness on board ship, and by making a crane to swing the pots over +the fire, he surprised them all still more in these days by an apparent +eclipse of his talents. It was unaccountable. Potts's carpentering, +Potts's all-round cleverness, was, like "payrock in a pocket," as the +miners say, speedily worked out, and not a trace of it afterwards to be +found. + +But less and less was the defection of the Trio felt. The burly +Kentucky stock-farmer was getting his hand in at "frontier" work, +though he still couldn't get on without his "nigger," as the Boy said, +slyly indicating that it was he who occupied this exalted post. These +two soon had the bunks made out of the rough planks they had sawed with +all a green-horn's pains. They put in a fragrant mattress of spring +moss, and on that made up a bed of blankets and furs. + +More boards were laboriously turned out to make the great swing-shelf +to hang up high in the angle of the roof, where the provisions might be +stored out of reach of possible marauders. + +The days were very short now, bringing only about five hours of pallid +light, so little of which struggled through the famous bottle-window +that at all hours they depended chiefly on the blaze from the great +fireplace. There was still a good deal of work to be done indoors, +shelves to be put up on the left as you entered (whereon the +granite-ware tea-service, etc., was kept), a dinner-table to be made, +and three-legged stools. While these additions--"fancy touches," as the +Trio called them--were being made, Potts and O'Flynn, although +occasionally they went out for an hour or two, shot-gun on shoulder, +seldom brought home anything, and for the most part were content with +doing what they modestly considered their share of the cooking and +washing. For the rest, they sat by the fire playing endless games of +euchre, seven-up and bean poker, while Mac, more silent than ever, +smoked and read Copps's "Mining Laws" and the magazines of the previous +August. + +Nobody heard much in those days of Caribou. The Colonel had gradually +slipped into the position of Boss of the camp. The Trio were still just +a trifle afraid of him, and he, on his side, never pressed a dangerous +issue too far. + +But this is a little to anticipate. + +One bitter gray morning, that had reduced Perry Davis to a solid lump +of ice, O'Flynn, the Colonel, and the Boy were bringing into the cabin +the last of the whip-sawed boards. The Colonel halted and looked +steadily up the river. + +"Is that a beast or a human?" said he. + +"It's a man," the Boy decided after a moment--"no, two men, single +file, and--yes--Colonel, it's dogs. Hooray! a dog-team at last!" + +They had simultaneously dropped the lumber. The Boy ran on to tell the +cook to prepare more grub, and then pelted after O'Flynn and the +Colonel, who had gone down to meet the newcomers--an Indian driving +five dogs, which were hitched tandem to a low Esquimaux sled, with a +pack and two pairs of web-foot snow-shoes lashed on it, and followed by +a white man. The Indian was a fine fellow, younger than Prince +Nicholas, and better off in the matter of eyes. The white man was a +good deal older than either, with grizzled hair, a worn face, bright +dark eyes, and a pleasant smile. + +"I had heard some white men had camped hereabouts," says he. "I am glad +to see we have such substantial neighbours." He was looking up at the +stone chimney, conspicuous a long way off. + +"We didn't know we had any white neighbours," said the Colonel in his +most grand and gracious manner. "How far away are you, sir?" + +"About forty miles above." + +As he answered he happened to be glancing at the Boy, and observed his +eagerness cloud slightly. Hadn't Nicholas said it was "about forty +miles above" that the missionaries lived? + +"But to be only forty miles away," the stranger went on, +misinterpreting the fading gladness, "is to be near neighbours in this +country." + +"We aren't quite fixed yet," said the Colonel, "but you must come in +and have some dinner with us. We can promise you a good fire, anyhow." + +"Thank you. You have chosen a fine site." And the bright eyes with the +deep crow's-feet raying out from the corners scanned the country in so +keen and knowing a fashion that the Boy, with hope reviving, ventured: + +"Are--are you a prospector?" + +"No. I am Father Wills from Holy Cross." + +"Oh!" And the Boy presently caught up with the Indian, and walked on +beside him, looking back every now and then to watch the dogs or +examine the harness. The driver spoke English, and answered questions +with a tolerable intelligence. "Are dogs often driven without reins?" + +The Indian nodded. + +The Colonel, after the stranger had introduced himself, was just a +shade more reserved, but seemed determined not to be lacking in +hospitality. O'Flynn was overflowing, or would have been had the Jesuit +encouraged him. He told their story, or, more properly, his own, and +how they had been wrecked. + +"And so ye're the Father Superior up there?" says the Irishman, pausing +to take breath. + +"No. Our Superior is Father Brachet. That's a well-built cabin!" + +The dogs halted, though they had at least five hundred yards still to +travel before they would reach the well-built cabin. + +"_Mush!_" shouted the Indian. + +The dogs cleared the ice-reef, and went spinning along so briskly over +the low hummocks that the driver had to run to keep up with them. + +The Boy was flying after when the priest, having caught sight of his +face, called out: "Here! Wait! Stop a moment!" and hurried forward. + +He kicked through the ice-crust, gathered up a handful of snow, and +began to rub it on the Boy's right cheek. + +"What in the name of--" The Boy was drawing back angrily. + +"Keep still," ordered the priest; "your cheek is frozen"; and he +applied more snow and more friction. "You ought to watch one another in +such weather as this. When a man turns dead-white like that, he's +touched with frost-bite." After he had restored the circulation: "There +now, don't go near the fire, or it will begin to hurt." + +"Thank you," said the Boy, a little shame-faced. "It's all right now, I +suppose?" + +"I think so," said the priest. "You'll lose the skin, and you may be a +little sore--nothing to speak of," with which he fell back to the +Colonel's side. + +The dogs had settled down into a jog-trot now, but were still well on +in front. + +"Is 'mush' their food?" asked the Boy. + +"_Mush?_ No, fish." + +"Why does your Indian go on like that about mush, then?" + +"Oh, that's the only word the dogs know, except--a--certain expressions +we try to discourage the Indians from using. In the old days the +dog-drivers used to say 'mahsh.' Now you never hear anything but +swearing and 'mush,' a corruption of the French-Canadian _marche_." He +turned to the Colonel: "You'll get over trying to wear cheechalko boots +here--nothing like mucklucks with a wisp of straw inside for this +country." + +"I agree wid ye. I got me a pair in St. Michael's," says O'Flynn +proudly, turning out his enormous feet. "Never wore anything so +comf'table in me life." + +"You ought to have drill parkis too, like this of mine, to keep out the +wind." + +They were going up the slope now, obliquely to the cabin, close behind +the dogs, who were pulling spasmodically between their little rests. + +Father Wills stooped and gathered up some moss that the wind had swept +almost bare of snow. "You see that?" he said to O'Flynn, while the Boy +stopped, and the Colonel hurried on. "Wherever you find that growing no +man need starve." + +The Colonel looked back before entering the cabin and saw that the Boy +seemed to have forgotten not alone the Indian, but the dogs, and was +walking behind with the Jesuit, face upturned, smiling, as friendly as +you please. + +Within a different picture. + +Potts and Mac were having a row about something, and the Colonel struck +in sharply on their growling comments upon each other's character and +probable destination. + +"Got plenty to eat? Two hungry men coming in. One's an Indian, and you +know what that means, and the other's a Catholic priest." It was this +bomb that he had hurried on to get exploded and done with before the +said priest should appear on the scene. + +"A _what_?" Mac raised his heavy eyes with fight in every wooden +feature. + +"A Jesuit priest is what I said." + +"He won't eat his dinner here." + +"That is exactly what he will do." + +"Not by--" Whether it was the monstrous proposition that had unstrung +Mac, he was obliged to steady himself against the table with a shaking +hand. But he set those square features of his like iron, and, says he, +"No Jesuit sits down to the same table with me." + +"That means, then, that you'll eat alone." + +"Not if I know it." + +The Colonel slid in place the heavy wooden bar that had never before +been requisitioned to secure the door, and he came and stood in the +middle of the cabin, where he could let out all his inches. Just +clearing the swing-shelf, he pulled his great figure up to its full +height, and standing there like a second Goliath, he said quite softly +in that lingo of his childhood that always came back to his tongue's +tip in times of excitement: "Just as shuah as yo' bohn that priest will +eat his dinner to-day in my cabin, sah; and if yo' going t' make any +trouble, just say so now, and we'll get it ovah, and the place cleaned +up again befoh our visitors arrive." + +"Mind what you're about, Mac," growled Potts. "You know he could lick +the stuffin' out o' you." + +The ex-schoolmaster produced some sort of indignant sound in his throat +and turned, as if he meant to go out. The Colonel came a little nearer. +Mac flung up his head and squared for battle. + +Potts, in a cold sweat, dropped a lot of tinware with a rattle, while +the Colonel said, "No, no. We'll settle this after the people go, Mac." +Then in a whisper: "Look here: I've been trying to shield you for ten +days. Don't give yourself away now--before the first white neighbour +that comes to see us. You call yourself a Christian. Just see if you +can't behave like one, for an hour or two, to a fellow-creature that's +cold and hungry. Come, _you're_ the man we've always counted on! Do the +honours, and take it out of me after our guests are gone." + +Mac seemed in a haze. He sat down heavily on some beanbags in the +corner; and when the newcomers were brought in and introduced, he "did +the honours" by glowering at them with red eyes, never breaking his +surly silence. + +"Well!" says Father Wills, looking about, "I must say you're very +comfortable here. If more people made homes like this, there'd be fewer +failures." They gave him the best place by the fire, and Potts dished +up dinner. There were only two stools made yet. The Boy rolled his +section of sawed spruce over near the priest, and prepared to dine at +his side. + +"No, no," said Father Wills firmly. "You shall sit as far away from +this splendid blaze as you can get, or you will have trouble with that +cheek." So the Boy had to yield his place to O'Flynn, and join Mac over +on the bean-bags. + +"Why didn't you get a parki when you were at St. Michael's?" said the +priest as this change was being effected. + +"We had just as much--more than we could carry. Besides, I thought we +could buy furs up river; anyway, I'm warm enough." + +"No you are not," returned the priest smiling. "You must get a parki +with a hood." + +"I've got an Arctic cap; it rolls down over my ears and goes all round +my neck--just leaves a little place in front for my eyes." + +"Yes; wear that if you go on the trail; but the good of the parki hood +is, that it is trimmed all round with long wolf-hair. You see"--he +picked his parki up off the floor and showed it to the company--"those +long hairs standing out all round the face break the force of the wind. +It is wonderful how the Esquimaux hood lessens the chance of +frost-bite." + +While the only object in the room that he didn't seem to see was Mac, +he was most taken up with the fireplace. + +The Colonel laid great stress on the enormous services of the +delightful, accomplished master-mason over there on the beanbags, who +sat looking more than ever like a monkey-wrench incarnate. + +But whether that Jesuit was as wily as the Calvinist thought, he had +quite wit enough to overlook the great chimney-builder's wrathful +silence. + +He was not the least "professional," talked about the country and how +to live here, saying incidentally that he had spent twelve years at the +mission of the Holy Cross. The Yukon wasn't a bad place to live in, he +told them, if men only took the trouble to learn how to live here. +While teaching the Indians, there was a great deal to learn from them +as well. + +"You must all come and see our schools," he wound up. + +"We'd like to awfully," said the Boy, and all but Mac echoed him. "We +were so afraid," he went on, "that we mightn't see anybody all winter +long." + +"Oh, you'll have more visitors than you want." + +"_Shall_ we, though?" Then, with a modified rapture: "Indians, I +suppose, and--and missionaries." + +"Traders, too, and miners, and this year cheechalkos as well. You are +directly on the great highway of winter travel. Now that there's a good +hard crust on the snow you will have dog-trains passing every week, and +sometimes two or three." + +It was good news! + +"We've already had one visitor before you," said the Boy, looking +wonderfully pleased at the prospect the priest had opened out. "You +must know Nicholas of Pymeut, don't you?" + +"Oh yes; we all know Nicholas"; and the priest smiled. + +"We _like_ him," returned the Boy as if some slighting criticism had +been passed upon his friend. + +"Of course you do; so do we all"; and still that look of quiet +amusement on the worn face and a keener twinkle glinting in the eyes. + +"We're afraid he's sick," the Boy began. + +Before the priest could answer, "He was educated at Howly Cross, he +_says_," contributed O'Flynn. + +"Oh, he's been to Holy Cross, among other places." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, Nicholas is a most impartial person. He was born at Pymeut, but +his father, who is the richest and most intelligent man in his tribe, +took Nicholas to Ikogimeut when the boy was only six. He was brought up +in the Russian mission there, as the father had been before him, and +was a Greek--in religion--till he was fourteen. There was a famine that +year down yonder, so Nicholas turned Catholic and came up to us. He was +at Holy Cross some years, when business called him to Anvik, where he +turned Episcopalian. At Eagle City, I believe, he is regarded as a +pattern Presbyterian. There are those that say, since he has been a +pilot, Nicholas makes six changes a trip in his religious convictions." + +Father Wills saw that the Colonel, to whom he most frequently addressed +himself, took his pleasantry gravely. "Nicholas is not a bad fellow," +he added. "He told me you had been kind to him." + +"If you believe that about his insincerity," said the Colonel, "are you +not afraid the others you spend your life teaching may turn out as +little credit to you--to Christianity?" + +The priest glanced at the listening Indian. "No," said he gravely; "I +do not think _all_ the natives are like Nicholas. Andrew here is a true +son of the Church. But even if it were otherwise, _we_, you know"--the +Jesuit rose from the table with that calm smile of his--"we simply do +the work without question. The issue is not in our hands." He made the +sign of the cross and set back his stool. + +"Come, Andrew," he said; "we must push on." + +The Indian repeated the priest's action, and went out to see to the +dogs. + +"Oh, are you going right away?" said the Colonel politely, and O'Flynn +volubly protested. + +"We thought," said the Boy, "you'd sit awhile and smoke and--at least, +of course, I don't mean smoke exactly--but--" + +The Father smiled and shook his head. + +"Another time I would stay gladly." + +"Where are you going now?" + +"Andrew and I are on our way to the _Oklahoma_, the steamship frozen in +the ice below here." + +"How far?" asked the Boy. + +"About seven miles below the Russian mission, and a mile or so up the +Kuskoquim Slough." + +"Wrecked there?" + +"Oh no. Gone into winter quarters." + +"In a slew?" for it was so Father Wills pronounced s-l-o-u-g-h. + +"Oh, that's what they call a blind river up in this country. They come +into the big streams every here and there, and cheechalkos are always +mistaking them for the main channel. Sometimes they're wider and deeper +for a mile or so than the river proper, but before you know it they +land you in a marsh. This place I'm going to, a little way up the +Kuskoquim, out of danger when the ice breaks up, has been chosen for a +new station by the N. A. T. and T. Company--rival, you know, to the +old-established Alaska Commercial, that inherited the Russian fur +monopoly and controlled the seal and salmon trade so long. Well, the +younger company runs the old one hard, and they've sent this steamer +into winter quarters loaded with provisions, ready to start for Dawson +the instant the ice goes out." + +"Why, then, it's the very boat that'll be takin' us to the Klondyke." + +"You just goin' down to have a look at her?" asked Potts enviously. + +"No. I go to get relief for the Pymeuts." + +"What's the matter with 'em?" + +"Epidemic all summer, starvation now." + +"Guess you won't find _any_body's got such a lot he wants to give it +away to the Indians." + +"Our Father Superior has given much," said the priest gently; "but we +are not inexhaustible at Holy Cross. And the long winter is before us. +Many of the supply steamers have failed to get in, and the country is +flooded with gold-seekers. There'll be wide-spread want this +year--terrible suffering all up and down the river." + +"The more reason for people to hold on to what they've got. A white +man's worth more 'n an Indian." + +The priest's face showed no anger, not even coldness. + +"White men have got a great deal out of Alaska and as yet done little +but harm here. The government ought to help the natives, and we believe +the Government will. All we ask of the captain of the _Oklahoma_ is to +sell us, on fair terms, a certain supply, we assuming part of the risk, +and both of us looking to the Government to make it good." + +"Reckon you'll find that steamer-load down in the ice is worth its +weight in gold," said Potts. + +"One must always try," replied the Father. + +He left the doorpost, straightened his bowed back, and laid a hand on +the wooden latch. + +"But Nicholas--when you left Pymeut was he--" began the Boy. + +"Oh, he is all right," the Father smiled and nodded. "Brother Paul has +been looking after Nicholas's father. The old chief has enough food, +but he has been very ill. By the way, have you any letters you want to +send out?" + +"Oh, if we'd only known!" was the general chorus; and Potts flew to +close and stamp one he had hardly more than begun to the future Mrs. +Potts. + +The Boy had thoughtlessly opened the door to have a look at the dogs. + +"Shut that da--Don't keep the door open!" howled Potts, trying to hold +his precious letter down on the table while he added "only two words." +The Boy slammed the door behind him. + +"With all our trouble, the cabin isn't really warm," said the Colonel +apologetically. "In a wind like this, if the door is open, we have to +hold fast to things to keep them from running down the Yukon. It's a +trial to anybody's temper." + +"Why don't you build a false wall?" + +"Well, I don't know; we hadn't thought of it." + +"You'd find it correct this draught"; and the priest explained his +views on the subject while Potts's letter was being addressed. Andrew +put his head in. + +"Ready, Father!" + +As the priest was pocketing the letter the Boy dashed in, put on the +Arctic cap he set such store by, and a fur coat and mittens. + +"Do you mind if I go a little way with you?" he said. + +"Of course not," answered the priest. "I will send him back in half an +hour," he said low to the Colonel. "It's a hitter day." + +It was curious how already he had divined the relation of the elder man +to the youngest of that odd household. + +The moment they had gone Mac, with an obvious effort, pulled himself up +out of his corner, and, coming towards the Colonel at the fireplace, he +said thickly: + +"You've put an insult upon me, Warren, and that's what I stand from no +man. Come outside." + +The Colonel looked at him. + +"All right, Mac; but we've just eaten a rousing big dinner. Even +Sullivan wouldn't accept that as the moment for a round. We'll both +have forty winks, hey? and Potts shall call us, and O'Flynn shall be +umpire. You can have the Boy's bunk." + +Mac was in a haze again, and allowed himself to be insinuated into bed. + +The others got rid of the dinner things, and "sat round" for an hour. + +"Doubt if he sleeps long," says Potts a little before two; "that's what +he's been doing all morning." + +"We haven't had any fresh meat for a week," returns the Colonel +significantly. "Why don't you and O'Flynn go down to meet the Boy, and +come round by the woods? There'll be full moon up by four o'clock; you +might get a brace of grouse or a rabbit or two." + +O'Flynn was not very keen about it; but the Jesuit's visit had stirred +him up, and he offered less opposition to the unusual call to activity +than the Colonel expected. + +When at last he was left alone with the sleeping man, the Kentuckian +put on a couple more logs, and sat down to wait. At three he got up, +swung the crane round so that the darting tongues of flame could lick +the hot-water pot, and then he measured out some coffee. In a quarter +of an hour the cabin was full of the fragrance of good Mocha. + +The Colonel sat and waited. Presently he poured out a little coffee, +and drank it slowly, blissfully, with half-closed eyes. But when he had +set the granite cup down again, he stood up alert, like a man ready for +business. Mac had been asleep nearly three hours. The others wouldn't +be long now. + +Well, if they came prematurely, they must go to the Little Cabin for +awhile. The Colonel shot the bar across door and jamb for the second +time that day. Mac stirred and lifted himself on his elbow, but he +wasn't really awake. + +"Potts," he said huskily. + +The Colonel made no sound. "Potts, measure me out two fingers, will +you? Cabin's damn cold." + +No answer. + +Mac roused himself, muttering compliments for Potts. When he had +bundled himself out over the side of the bunk, he saw the Colonel +seemingly dozing by the fire. + +He waited a moment. Then, very softly, he made his way to the farther +end of the swing-shelf. + +The Colonel opened one eye, shut it, and shuffled in a sleepy sort of +way. Mac turned sharply back to the fire. + +The Colonel opened his eyes and yawned. + +"I made some cawfee a little while back. Have some?" + +"No." + +"Better; it's A 1." + +"Where's Potts?" + +"Gone out for a little. Back soon." He poured out some of the strong, +black decoction, and presented it to his companion. "Just try it. +Finest cawfee in the world, sir." + +Mac poured it down without seeming to bother about tasting it. + +They sat quite still after that, till the Colonel said meditatively: + +"You and I had a little account to settle, didn't we?" + +"I'm ready." + +But neither moved for several moments. + +"See here, Mac: you haven't been ill or anything like that, have you?" + +"No." There was no uncertain note in the answer; if anything, there was +in it more than the usual toneless decision. Mac's voice was +machine-made--as innocent of modulation as a buzz-saw, and with the +same uncompromising finality as the shooting of a bolt. "I'm ready to +stand up against any man." + +"Good!" interrupted the Colonel. "Glad o' that, for I'm just longing to +see you stand up--" + +Mac was on his feet in a flash. + +"You had only to say so, if you wanted to see me stand up against any +man alive. And when I sit down again it's my opinion one of us two +won't be good-lookin' any more." + +He pushed back the stools. + +"I thought maybe it was only necessary to mention it," said the Colonel +slowly. "I've been wanting for a fortnight to see you stand up"--Mac +turned fiercely--"against Samuel David MacCann." + +"Come on! I'm in no mood for monkeyin'!" + +"Nor I. I realise, MacCann, we've come to a kind of a crisis. Things in +this camp are either going a lot better, or a lot worse, after to-day." + +"There's nothing wrong, if you quit asking dirty Jesuits to sit down +with honest men." + +"Yes; there's something worse out o' shape than that." + +Mac waited warily. + +"When we were stranded here, and saw what we'd let ourselves in for, +there wasn't one of us that didn't think things looked pretty much like +the last o' pea time. There was just one circumstance that kept us from +throwing up the sponge; _we had a man in camp."_ + +The Colonel paused. + +Mac stood as expressionless as the wooden crane. + +"A man we all believed in, who was going to help us pull through." +"That was you, I s'pose." Mac's hard voice chopped out the sarcasm. + +"You know mighty well who it was. The Boy's all right, but he's young +for this kind o' thing--young and heady. There isn't much wrong with me +that I'm aware of, except that I don't know shucks. Potts's petering +out wasn't altogether a surprise, and nobody expected anything from +O'Flynn till we got to Dawson, when a lawyer and a fella with capital +behind him may come in handy. But there was one man--who had a head on +him, who had experience, and who"--he leaned over to emphasise the +climax--"who had _character_. It was on that man's account that I +joined this party." + +Mac put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. His face +began to look a little more natural. The long sleep or the coffee had +cleared his eyes. + +"Shall I tell you what I heard about that man last night?" asked the +Colonel gravely. + +Mac looked up, but never opened his lips. + +"You remember you wouldn't sit here--" + +"The Boy was always in and out. The cabin was cold." + +"I left the Boy and O'Flynn at supper-time and went down to the Little +Cabin to--" + +"To see what I was doin'--to spy on me." + +"Well, all right--maybe I was spying, too. Incidentally I wanted to +tell you the cabin was hot as blazes, and get you to come to supper. I +met Potts hurrying up for his grub, and I said, 'Where's Mac? Isn't he +coming?' and your pardner's answer was: 'Oh, let him alone. He's got a +flask in his bunk, swillin' and gruntin'; he's just in hog-heaven.'" + +"Damn that sneak!" + +"The man he was talkin' about, Mac, was the man we had all built our +hopes on." + +"I'll teach Potts--" + +"You can't, Mac. Potts has got to die and go to heaven--perhaps to +hell, before he'll learn any good. But you're a different breed. Teach +MacCann." + +Mac suddenly sat down on the stool with his head in his hands. + +"The Boy hasn't caught on," said the Colonel presently, "but he said +something this morning to show he was wondering about the change that's +come over you." + +"That I don't split wood all day, I suppose, when we've got enough for +a month. Potts doesn't either. Why don't you go for Potts?" + +"As the Boy said, I don't care about Potts. It's Mac that matters." + +"Did the Boy say that?" He looked up. + +The Colonel nodded. + +"After you had made that chimney, you know, you were a kind of hero in +his eyes." + +Mac looked away. "The cabin's been cold," he muttered. + +"We are going to remedy that." + +"I didn't bring any liquor into camp. You must admit that I didn't +intend--" + +"I do admit it." + +"And when O'Flynn said that about keeping his big demijohn out of the +inventory and apart from the common stores, I sat on him." + +"So you did." + +"I knew it was safest to act on the 'medicinal purposes' principle." + +"So it is." + +"But I wasn't thinking so much of O'Flynn. I was thinking of ... things +that had happened before ... for ... I'd had experience. Drink was the +curse of Caribou. It's something of a scourge up in Nova Scotia ... I'd +had experience." + +"You did the very best thing possible under the circumstances." Mac was +feeling about after his self-respect, and must be helped to get hold of +it. "I realise, too, that the temptation is much greater in cold +countries," said the Kentuckian unblushingly. "Italians and Greeks +don't want fiery drinks half as much as Russians and +Scandinavians--haven't the same craving as Nova Scotians and +cold-country people generally, I suppose. But that only shows, +temperance is of more vital importance in the North." + +"That's right! It's not much in my line to shift blame, even when I +don't deserve it; but you know so much you might as well know ... it +wasn't I who opened that demijohn first." + +"But you don't mind being the one to shut it up--do you?" + +"Shut it up?" + +"Yes; let's get it down and--" The Colonel swung it off the shelf. It +was nearly empty, and only the Boy's and the Colonel's single bottles +stood unbroached. Even so, Mac's prolonged spree was something of a +mystery to the Kentuckian. It must be that a very little was too much +for Mac. The Colonel handed the demijohn to his companion, and lit the +solitary candle standing on its little block of wood, held in place +between three half-driven nails. + +"What's that for?" + +"Don't you want to seal it up?" + +"I haven't got any wax." + +"I have an inch or so." The Colonel produced out of his pocket the only +piece in camp. + +Mac picked up a billet of wood, and drove the cork in flush with the +neck. Then, placing upright on the cork the helve of the hammer, he +drove the cork down a quarter of an inch farther. + +"Give me your wax. What's for a seal?" They looked about. Mac's eye +fell on a metal button that hung by a thread from the old militia +jacket he was wearing. He put his hand up to it, paused, glanced +hurriedly at the Colonel, and let his fingers fall. + +"Yes, yes," said the Kentuckian, "that'll make a capital seal." + +"No; something of yours, I think, Colonel. The top of that tony +pencil-case, hey?" + +The Colonel produced his gold pencil, watched Mac heat the wax, drop it +into the neck of the demijohn, and apply the initialled end of the +Colonel's property. While Mac, without any further waste of words, was +swinging the wicker-bound temptation up on the shelf again, they heard +voices. + +"They're coming back," says the Kentuckian hurriedly. "But we've +settled our little account, haven't we, old man?" + +Mac jerked his head in that automatic fashion that with him meant +genial and whole-hearted agreement. + +"And if Potts or O'Flynn want to break that seal--" + +"I'll call 'em down," says Mac. And the Colonel knew the seal was safe. + + * * * * * + +"By-the-by, Colonel," said the Boy, just as he was turning in that +night, "I--a--I've asked that Jesuit chap to the House-Warming." + +"Oh, you did, did you?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you'd just better have a talk with Mac about it." + +"Yes. I've been tryin' to think how I'd square Mac. Of course, I know +I'll have to go easy on the raw." + +"I reckon you just will." + +"If Monkey-wrench screws down hard on me, you'll come to the rescue, +won't you, Colonel?" + +"No I'll side with Mac on that subject. Whatever he says, goes!" + +"Humph! _that_ Jesuit's all right." + +Not a word out of the Colonel. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +TWO NEW SPISSIMENS + +Medwjedew (zu Luka). Tag' mal--wer bist du? Ich +kenne dich nicht. + +Luka. Kennst du denn sonst alle Leute? + +Medwjedew. In meinem Revier muss ich jeden kennen und dich kenn'ich +nicht.... + +Luka. Das kommt wohl daher Onkelchen, dass dein Revier nicht die ganze +Erde umfasst ... 's ist da noch ein Endchen draussen geblieben.... + + +One of the curious results of what is called wild life, is a blessed +release from many of the timidities that assail the easy liver in the +centres of civilisation. Potts was the only one in the white camp who +had doubts about the wisdom of having to do with the natives. + +However, the agreeable necessity of going to Pymeut to invite Nicholas +to the Blow-out was not forced upon the Boy. They were still hard at +it, four days after the Jesuit had gone his way, surrounding the Big +Cabin with a false wall, that final and effectual barrier against +Boreas--finishing touch warranted to convert a cabin, so cold that it +drove its inmates to drink, into a dwelling where practical people, +without cracking a dreary joke, might fitly celebrate a House-Warming. + +In spite of the shortness of the days, Father Wills's suggestion was +being carried out with a gratifying success. Already manifest were the +advantages of the stockade, running at a foot's distance round the +cabin to the height of the eaves, made of spruce saplings not even +lopped of their short bushy branches, but planted close together, after +burning the ground cleared of snow. A second visitation of mild +weather, and a further two days' thaw, made the Colonel determine to +fill in the space between the spruce stockade and the cabin with +"burnt-out" soil closely packed down and well tramped in. It was +generally conceded, as the winter wore on, that to this contrivance of +the "earthwork" belonged a good half of the credit of the Big Cabin, +and its renown as being the warmest spot on the lower river that +terrible memorable year of the Klondyke Rush. + +The evergreen wall with the big stone chimney shouldering itself up to +look out upon the frozen highway, became a conspicuous feature in the +landscape, welcome as the weeks went on to many an eye wearied with +long looking for shelter, and blinded by the snow-whitened waste. + +An exception to what became a rule was, of all men, Nicholas. When the +stockade was half done, the Prince and an equerry appeared on the +horizon, with the second team the camp had seen, the driver much +concerned to steer clear of the softened snow and keep to that part of +the river ice windswept and firm, if roughest of all. Nicholas regarded +the stockade with a cold and beady eye. + +No, he hadn't time to look at it. He had promised to "mush." He wasn't +even hungry. + +It did little credit to his heart, but he seemed more in haste to leave +his new friends than the least friendly of them would have expected. + +"Oh, wait a sec.," urged the deeply disappointed Boy. "I wanted awf'ly +to see how your sled is made. It's better 'n Father Wills'." + +"Humph!" grunted Nicholas scornfully; "him no got Innuit sled." + +"Mac and I are goin' to try soon's the stockade's done--" + +"Goo'-bye," interrupted Nicholas. + +But the Boy paid no attention to the word of farewell. He knelt down in +the snow and examined the sled carefully. + +"Spruce runners," he called out to Mac, "and--jee! they're shod with +ivory! _Jee!_ fastened with sinew and wooden pegs. Hey?"--looking up +incredulously at Nicholas--"not a nail in the whole shebang, eh?" + +"Nail?" says Nicholas. "Huh, no _nail!_" as contemptuously as though +the Boy had said "bread-crumbs." + +"Well, she's a daisy! When you comin' back?" + +"Comin' pretty quick; goin' pretty quick. Goo'-bye! _Mush!_" shouted +Nicholas to his companion, and the dogs got up off their haunches. + +But the Boy only laughed at Nicholas's struggles to get started. He +hung on to the loaded sled, examining, praising, while the dogs, after +the merest affectation of trying to make a start, looked round at him +over their loose collars and grinned contentedly. + +"Me got to mush. Show nex' time. Mush!" + +"What's here?" the Boy shouted through the "mushing"; and he tugged at +the goodly load, so neatly disposed under an old reindeer-skin +sleeping-bag, and lashed down with raw hide. + +That? Oh, that was fish. _"Fish!_ Got so much fish at starving Pymeut +you can go hauling it down river? Well, sir, _we_ want fish. We _must_ +have fish. Hey?" The Boy appealed to the others. + +"Yes." + +"R-right y'arre!" + +"I reckon we just do!" + +But Nicholas had other views. + +"No, me take him--" He hitched his body in the direction of Ikogimeut. + +"Bless my soul! you've got enough there for a regiment. You goin' to +sell him? Hey?" + +Nicholas shook his head. + +"Oh, come off the roof!" advised the Boy genially. + +"You ain't carryin' it about for your health, I suppose?" said Potts. + +"The people down at Ikogimeut don't need it like us. We're white +duffers, and can't get fish through the ice. You sell _some_ of it to +us." But Nicholas shook his head and shuffled along on his snow-shoes, +beckoning the dog-driver to follow. + +"Or trade some fur--fur tay," suggested O'Flynn. + +"Or for sugar," said Mac. + +"Or for tobacco," tempted the Colonel. + +And before that last word Nicholas's resolve went down. Up at the cabin +he unlashed the load, and it quickly became manifest that Nicholas was +a dandy at driving a bargain. He kept on saying shamelessly: + +"More--more shuhg. Hey? Oh yes, me give heap fish. No nuff shuhg." + +If it hadn't been for Mac (his own clear-headed self again, and by no +means to be humbugged by any Prince alive) the purchase of a portion of +that load of frozen fish, corded up like so much wood, would have laid +waste the commissariat. + +But if the white men after this passage did not feel an absolute +confidence in Nicholas's fairness of mind, no such unworthy suspicion +of them found lodgment in the bosom of the Prince. With the exception +of some tobacco, he left all his ill-gotten store to be kept for him by +his new friends till he should return. When was that to be? In five +sleeps he would be back. + +"Good! We'll have the stockade done by then. What do you say to our big +chimney, Nicholas?" + +He emitted a scornful "Peeluck!" + +"What! Our chimney no good?" + +He shrugged: "Why you have so tall hole your house? How you cover him +up?" + +"We don't want to cover him up." + +"Humph! winter fin' you tall hole. Winter come down--bring in +snow--drive fire out." He shivered in anticipation of what was to +happen. "Peeluck!" + +The white men laughed. + +"What you up to now? Where you going?" + +Well, the fact was, Nicholas had been sent by his great ally, the +Father Superior of Holy Cross, on a mission, very important, demanding +despatch. + +"Father Brachet--him know him heap better send Nicholas when him want +man go God-damn quick. Me no stop--no--no stop." + +He drew on his mittens proudly, unjarred by remembrance of how his good +resolution had come to grief. + +"Where you off to now?" + +"Me ketchum Father Wills--me give letter." He tapped his +deerskin-covered chest. "Ketchum _sure_ 'fore him leave Ikogimeut." + +"You come back with Father Wills?" + +Nicholas nodded. + +"Hooray! we'll all work like sixty!" shouted the Boy, "and by Saturday +(that's five sleeps) we'll have the wall done and the house warm, and +you and"--he caught himself up; not thus in public would he break the +news to Mac--"you'll be back in time for the big Blow-Out." To clinch +matters, he accompanied Nicholas from the cabin to the river trail, +explaining: "You savvy? Big feast--all same Indian. Heap good grub. No +prayer-meetin'--you savvy?--no church this time. Big fire, big feed. +All kinds--apples, shuhg, bacon--no cook him, you no like," he added, +basely truckling to the Prince's peculiar taste. + +Nicholas rolled his single eye in joyful anticipation, and promised +faithfully to grace the scene. + + * * * * * + +This was all very fine ... but Father Wills! The last thing at night +and the first thing in the morning the Boy looked the problem in the +face, and devised now this, now that, adroit and disarming fashion of +breaking the news to Mac. + +But it was only when the daring giver of invitations was safely in bed, +and Mac equally safe down in the Little Cabin, that it seemed possible +to broach the subject. He devised scenes in which, airily and +triumphantly, he introduced Father Wills, and brought Mac to the point +of pining for Jesuit society; but these scenes were actable only under +conditions of darkness and of solitude. The Colonel refused to have +anything to do with the matter. + +"Our first business, as I see it, is to keep peace in the camp, and +hold fast to a good understanding with one another. It's just over +little things like this that trouble begins. Mac's one of us; Father +Wills is an outsider. I won't rile Mac for the sake of any Jesuit +alive. No, sir; this is _your_ funeral, and you're obliged to attend." + +Before three of Nicholas's five sleeps were accomplished, the Boy began +to curse the hour he had laid eyes on Father Wills. He began even to +speculate desperately on the good priest's chances of tumbling into an +air-hole, or being devoured by a timely wolf. But no, life was never so +considerate as that. Yet he could neither face being the cause of the +first serious row in camp, nor endure the thought of having his +particular guest--drat him!--flouted, and the whole House-Warming +turned to failure and humiliation. + +Indeed, the case looked desperate. Only one day more now before he +would appear--be flouted, insulted, and go off wounded, angry, leaving +the Boy with an irreconciliable quarrel against Mac, and the +House-Warming turned to chill recrimination and to wretchedness. + +But until the last phantasmal hope went down before the logic of events +it was impossible not to cling to the idea of melting Mac's Arctic +heart. There was still one course untried. + +Since there was so little left to do to the stockade, the Boy announced +that he thought he'd go up over the hill for a tramp. Gun in hand and +grub in pocket, he marched off to play his last trump-card. If he could +bring home a queer enough bird or beast for the collection, there was +still hope. To what lengths might Mac not go if one dangled before him +the priceless bait of a golden-tipped emperor goose, dressed in +imperial robes of rose-flecked snow? Or who, knowing Mac, would not +trust a _Xema Sabinii_ to play the part of a white-winged angel of +peace? Failing some such heavenly messenger, there was nothing for it +but that the Boy should face the ignominy of going forth to meet the +Father on the morrow, and confess the humiliating truth. It wasn't fair +to let him come expecting hospitality, and find--. Visions arose of Mac +receiving the bent and wayworn missionary with the greeting: "There is +no corner by the fire, no place in the camp for a pander to the Scarlet +Woman." The thought lent impassioned fervour to the quest for goose or +gull. + +It was pretty late when he got back to camp, and the men were at +supper. No, he hadn't shot anything. + +"What's that bulging in your pocket?" + +"Sort o' stone." + +"Struck it rich?" + +"Don't give me any chin-music, boys; give me tea. I'm dog-tired." + +But when Mac got up first, as usual, to go down to the Little Cabin to +"wood up" for the night, "I'll walk down with you," says the Boy, +though it was plain he was dead-beat. + +He helped to revive the failing fire, and then, dropping on the section +of sawed wood that did duty for a chair, with some difficulty and a +deal of tugging he pulled "the sort o' stone" out of the pocket of his +duck shooting-jacket. + +"See that?" He held the thing tightly clasped in his two red, chapped +hands. + +Mac bent down, shading his eyes from the faint flame flicker. + +"What is it?" "Piece o' tooth." + +"By the Lord Harry! so it is." He took the thing nearer the faint +light. "Fossil! Where'd you get it?" + +"Over yonder--by a little frozen river." + +"How far? Any more? Only this?" + +The Boy didn't answer. He went outside, and returned instantly, lugging +in something brown and whitish, weather-stained, unwieldy. + +"I dropped this at the door as I came along home. Thought it might do +for the collection." + +Mac stared with all his eyes, and hurriedly lit a candle. The Boy +dropped exhausted on a ragged bit of burlap by the bunks. Mac knelt +down opposite, pouring liberal libation of candle-grease on the +uncouth, bony mass between them. + +"Part of the skull!" he rasped out, masking his ecstasy as well as he +could. + +"Mastodon?" inquired the Boy. + +Mac shook his head. + +"I'll bet my boots," says Mac, "it's an _Elephas primigenius;_ and if +I'm right, it's 'a find,' young man. Where'd you stumble on him?" + +"Over yonder." The Boy leaned his head against the lower bunk. + +"Where?" "Across the divide. The bones have been dragged up on to some +rocks. I saw the end of a tusk stickin' up out of the snow, and I +scratched down till I found--" He indicated the trophy between them on +the floor. + +"Tusk? How long?" + +"'Bout nine feet." "We'll go and get it to-morrow." + +No answer from the Boy. + +"Early, hey?" + +"Well--a--it's a good ways." + +"What if it is?" + +"Oh, I don't mind. I'd do more 'n that for you, Mac." + +There was something unnatural in such devotion. Mac looked up. But the +Boy was too tired to play the big fish any longer. "I wonder if you'll +do something for me." He watched with a sinking heart Mac's sharp +uprising from the worshipful attitude. It was not like any other +mortal's gradual, many-jointed getting-up; it was more like the sudden +springing out of the big blade of a clasp-knife. + +"What's your game?" + +"Oh, I ain't got any game," said the Boy desperately; "or, if I have, +there's mighty little fun in it. However, I don't know as I want to +walk ten hours again in this kind o' weather with an elephant on my +back just for--for the poetry o' the thing." He laid his chapped hands +on the side board of the bunk and pulled himself up on his legs. + +"What's your game?" repeated Mac sternly, as the Boy reached the door. + +"What's the good o' talkin'?" he answered; but he paused, turned, and +leaned heavily against the rude lintel. + +"Course, I know you'd be shot before you'd do it, but what I'd _like_, +would be to hear you say you wouldn't kick up a hell of a row if Father +Wills happens in to the House-Warmin'." + +Mac jerked his set face, fire-reddened, towards the fossil-finder; and +he, without waiting for more, simply opened the door, and heavily +footed it back to the Big Cabin. + + * * * * * + +Next morning when Mac came to breakfast he heard that the Boy had had +his grub half an hour before the usual time, and was gone off on some +tramp again. Mac sat and mused. + +O'Flynn came in with a dripping bucket, and sat down to breakfast +shivering. + +"Which way'd he go?" + +"The Boy? Down river." + +"Sure he didn't go over the divide?" + +O'Flynn was sure. He'd just been down to the water-hole, and in the +faint light he'd seen the Boy far down on the river-trail "leppin" like +a hare in the direction of the Roosian mission." + +"Goin' to meet ... a ... Nicholas?" + +"Reckon so," said the Colonel, a bit ruffled. "Don't believe he'll run +like a hare very far with his feet all blistered." + +"Did you know he'd discovered a fossil elephant?" + +"No." + +"Well, he has. I must light out, too, and have a look at it." + +"Do; it'll be a cheerful sort of House-Warming with one of you off +scouring the country for more blisters and chilblains, and another +huntin' antediluvian elephants." The Colonel spoke with uncommon +irascibility. The great feast-day had certainly not dawned +propitiously. + +When breakfast was done Mac left the Big Cabin without a word; but, +instead of going over the divide across the treeless snow-waste to the +little frozen river, where, turned up to the pale northern dawn, were +lying the bones of a beast that had trampled tropic forests, in that +other dawn of the Prime, the naturalist, turning his back on _Elephas +primigenius,_ followed in the track of the Boy down the great river +towards Ikogimeut. + + * * * * * + +On the low left bank of the Yukon a little camp. On one side, a big +rock hooded with snow. At right angles, drawn up one on top of the +other, two sleds covered with reindeer-skins held down by stones. In +the corner formed by the angle of rocks and sleds, a small A-tent, very +stained and old. Burning before it on a hearth of greenwood, a little +fire struggling with a veering wind. + +Mac had seen from far off the faint blue banners of smoke blowing now +right, now left, then tossed aloft in the pallid sunshine. He looked +about sharply for the Boy, as he had been doing this two hours. There +was the Jesuit bending over the fire, bettering the precarious position +of a saucepan that insisted on sitting lop-sided, looking down into the +heart of coals. Nicholas was holding up the tent-flap. + +"Hello! How do!" he sang out, recognising Mac. The priest glanced up +and nodded pleasantly. Two Indians, squatting on the other side of the +fire, scrambled away as the shifting wind brought a cloud of stifling +smoke into their faces. "Where's the Boy?" demanded Mac, arresting the +stampede. + +Nicholas's dog-driver stared, winked, and wiped his weeping, +smoke-reddened eyes. + +"Is he in there?" Mac looked towards the tent. + +Andrew nodded between coughs. + +"What's he doing in there? Call him out," ordered Mac. + +"He no walk." + +Mac's hard face took on a look of cast-iron tragedy. + +The wind, veering round again, had brought the last words to the priest +on the other side of the fire. + +"Oh, it'll be all right by-and-by," he said cheerfully. + +"But knocking up like that just for blisters?" + +"Blisters? No; cold and general weakness. That's why we delayed--" + +Without waiting to hear more Mac strode over to the tent, and as he +went in, Nicholas came out. No sign of the Boy--nobody, nothing. What? +Down in the corner a small, yellow face lying in a nest of fur. Bright, +dark eyes stared roundly, and as Mac glowered astonished at the +apparition, a mouth full of gleaming teeth opened, smiling, to say in a +very small voice: + +"Farva!" + +Astonished as Mac was, disappointed and relieved all at once, there was +something arresting in the appeal. + +"I'm not your father," he said stiffly. "Who're you? Hey? You speak +English?" + +The child stared at him fixedly, but suddenly, for no reason on earth, +it smiled again. Mac stood looking down at it, seeming lost in thought. +Presently the small object stirred, struggled about feebly under the +encompassing furs, and, freeing itself, held out its arms. The mites of +hands fluttered at his sleeve and made ineffectual clutches. + +"What do you want?" To his own vast astonishment Mac lifted the little +thing out of its warm nest. It was woefully thin, and seemed, even to +his inexperience, to be insufficiently clothed, though the beaded +moccasins on its tiny feet were new and good. + +"Why, you're only about as big as a minute," he said gruffly. "What's +the matter--sick?" It suddenly struck him as very extraordinary that he +should have taken up the child, and how extremely embarrassing it would +be if anyone came in and caught him. Clutching the small morsel +awkwardly, he fumbled with the furs preparatory to getting rid, without +delay, of the unusual burden. While he was straightening the things, +Father Wills appeared at the flap, smoking saucepan in hand. The +instant the cold air struck the child it began to cough. + +"Oh, you mustn't do that!" said the priest to Mac with unexpected +severity. "Kaviak must lie in bed and keep warm." Down on the floor +went the saucepan. The child was caught away from the surprised Mac, +and the furs so closely gathered round the small shrunken body that +there was once more nothing visible but the wistful yellow face and +gleaming eyes, still turned searchingly on its most recent +acquaintance. + +But the priest, without so much as a glance at the new-comer, proceeded +to feed Kaviak out of the saucepan, blowing vigorously at each spoonful +before administering. + +"He's pretty hungry," commented Mac. "Where'd you find him?" + +"In a little village up on the Kuskoquim. Kaviak's an Esquimaux from +Norton Sound, aren't you, Kaviak?" But the child was wholly absorbed, +it seemed, in swallowing and staring at Mac. "His family came up there +from the coast in a bidarra only last summer--all dead now. Everybody +else in the village--and there isn't but a handful--all ailing and all +hungry. I was tramping across an igloo there a couple of days ago, and +I heard a strange little muffled sound, more like a snared rabbit than +anything else. But the Indian with me said no, everybody who had lived +there was dead, and he was for hurrying on. They're superstitious, you +know, about a place where people have died. But I crawled in, and found +this little thing lying in a bundle of rags with its hands bound and +dried grass stuffed in its mouth. It was too weak to stir or do more +than occasionally to make that muffled noise that I'd heard coming up +through the smoke-hole." + +"What you goin' to do with him?" + +"Well, I hardly know. The Sisters will look after him for a while, if I +get him there alive." + +"Why shouldn't you?" + +Kaviak supplied the answer straightway by choking and falling into an +appalling fit of coughing. + +"I've got some stuff that'll be good for that," said Mac, thinking of +his medicine-chest. "I'll give you some when we get back to camp." + +The priest nodded, taking Mac's unheard of civility as a matter of +course. + +"The ice is very rough; the jolting makes him cough awfully." + +The Jesuit had fastened his eyes on Mac's woollen muffler, which had +been loosened during the ministering to Kaviak and had dropped on the +ground. "Do you need that scarf?" he asked, as though he suspected Mac +of wearing it for show. "Because if you didn't you could wrap it round +Kaviak while I help the men strike camp." And without waiting to see +how his suggestion was received, he caught up the saucepan, lifted the +flap, and vanished. + +"Farva," remarked Kaviak, fixing melancholy eyes on Mac. + +"I ain't your father," muttered the gentleman so addressed. He picked +up his scarf and hung it round his own neck. + +"Farva!" insisted Kaviak. They looked at each other. + +"You cold? That it, hey?" Mac knelt down and pulled away the furs. "God +bless me! you only got this one rag on? God bless me!" He pulled off +his muffler and wound the child in it mummy-wise, round and round, +muttering the while in a surly way. When it was half done he +stopped--thought profoundly with a furrow cutting deep into his square +forehead between the straight brows. Slowly he pulled his gloves out of +his pocket, and turned out from each beaver gauntlet an inner mitten of +knitted wool. "Here," he said, and put both little moccasined feet into +one of the capacious mittens. Much pleased with his ingenuity, he went +on winding the long scarf until the yellow little Esquimaux bore a +certain whimsical resemblance to one of the adorable Delia Robbia +infants. But Mac's sinewy hands were exerting a greater pressure than +he realized. The morsel made a remonstrant squeaking, and squirmed +feebly. + +"Oh, oh! Too tight? Beg your pardon," said Mac hastily, as though not +only English, but punctilious manners were understanded of Kaviak. He +relaxed the woollen bandage till the morsel lay contented again within +its folds. + +Nicholas came in for Kaviak, and for the furs, that he might pack them +both in the Father's sled. Already the true son of the Church was +undoing the ropes that lashed firm the canvas of the tent. + +"Where's the Boy?" said Mac suddenly. "The young fellow that's with us. +You know, the one that found you that first Sunday and brought you to +camp. Where is he?" + +Nicholas paused an instant with Kaviak on his shoulder. + +"Kaiomi--no savvy." + +"You not seen him to-day?" + +"No. He no up--?" With the swaddled child he made a gesture up the +river towards the white camp. + +"No, he came down this morning to meet you." + +Nicholas shook his head, and went on gathering up the furs. As he and +Mac came out, Andrew was undoing the last fastening that held the +canvas to the stakes. In ten minutes they were on the trail, Andrew +leading, with Father Wills' dogs, Kaviak lying in the sled muffled to +the eyes, still looking round out of the corners--no, strangely enough, +the Kaviak eye had no corners, but fixedly he stared sideways at Mac. +"Farva," seeming not to take the smallest notice, trudged along on one +side of him, the priest on the other, and behind came Nicholas and the +other Indians with the second sled. It was too windy to talk much even +had they been inclined. + +The only sounds were the _Mush! Mush!_ of the drivers, the grate and +swish of the runners over the ice, and Kaviak's coughing. + +Mac turned once and frowned at him. It was curious that the child +seemed not to mind these menacing looks, not in the smallest degree. + +By-and-by the order of march was disturbed. + +Kaviak's right runner, catching at some obstacle, swerved and sent the +sled bumping along on its side, the small head of the passenger +narrowly escaping the ice. Mac caught hold of the single-tree and +brought the racing dogs to an abrupt halt. The priest and he righted +the sled, and Mac straddling it, tucked in a loosened end of fur. When +all was again in running order, Mac was on the same side as Father +Wills. He still wore that look of dour ill-temper, and especially did +he glower at the unfortunate Kaviak, seized with a fresh fit of +coughing that filled the round eyes with tears. + +"Don't you get kind o' tired listenin' to that noise? Suppose I was to +carry--just for a bit--. This is the roughest place on the trail. Hi! +Stop!" he called to Andrew. The priest had said nothing; but divining +what Mac would be at, he helped him to undo the raw-hide lashing, and +when Kaviak was withdrawn he wrapped one of the lighter fur things +round him. + +It was only when Mac had marched off, glowering still, and sternly +refusing to meet Kaviak's tearful but grateful eyes--it was only then, +bending over the sled and making fast the furs, that Father Wills, all +to himself, smiled a little. + +It wasn't until they were in sight of the smoke from the Little Cabin +that Mac slackened his pace. He had never for a moment found the trail +so smooth that he could return his burden to the sled. Now, however, he +allowed Nicholas and the priest to catch up with him. + +"You carry him the rest of the way," he commanded, and set his burden +in Nicholas's arms. Kaviak was ill-pleased, but Mac, falling behind +with the priest, stalked on with eyes upon the ground. + +"I've got a boy of my own," he jerked out presently, with the air of a +man who accounts confidentially for some weakness. + +"Really!" returned the priest; "they didn't tell me." + +"I haven't told them yet." + +"Oh, all right." + +"Why is he called that heathen name?" + +"Kaviak? Oh, it's the name of his tribe. His people belong to that +branch of the Innuits known as Kaviaks." + +"Humph! Then he's only Kaviak as I'm MacCann. I suppose you've +christened him?" + +"Well, not yet--no. What shall we call him? What's your boy's name?" +"Robert Bruce." They went on in silence till Mac said, "It's on account +of my boy I came up here." + +"Oh!" + +"It didn't use to matter if a man _was_ poor and self-taught, but in +these days of competition it's different. A boy must have chances if +he's going to fight the battle on equal terms. Of course, some boys +ain't worth botherin' about. But my boy--well, he seems to have +something in him." + +The priest listened silently, but with that look of brotherliness on +his face that made it so easy to talk to him. + +"It doesn't really matter to those other fellows." Mac jerked his hand +towards the camp. "It's never so important to men--who stand alone--but +I've _got_ to strike it rich over yonder." He lifted his head, and +frowned defiantly in the general direction of the Klondyke, thirteen +hundred miles away. "It's my one chance," he added half to himself. "It +means everything to Bob and me. Education, scientific education, costs +like thunder." + +"In the United States?" + +"Oh, I mean to send my boy to the old country. I want Bob to be +thorough." + +The priest smiled, but almost imperceptibly. + +"How old is he?" + +"Oh, 'bout as old as this youngster." Mac spoke with calculated +indifference. + +"Six or thereabouts?" + +"No; four and a half. But he's bigger--" + +"Of course." + +"And you can see already--he's got a lot in him." + +Father Wills nodded with a conviction that brought Mac nearer +confession than he had ever been in his life. + +"You see," he said quite low, and as if the words were dragged out with +pincers, "the fact is--my married life--didn't pan out very well. And +I--ran away from home as a little chap--after a lickin'--and never went +back. But there's one thing I mean to make a success of--that's my +boy." + +"Well, I believe you will, if you feel like that." + +"Why, they've gone clean past the camp trail," said Mac sharply, "all +but Nicholas--and what in thunder?--he's put the kid back on the +sled--" + +"Yes, I told my men we'd be getting on. But they were told to leave you +the venison--" + +"What! You goin' straight on? Nonsense!" Mac interrupted, and began to +shout to the Indians. + +"No; I _meant_ to stop; just tell your friends so," said the +unsuspecting Father; "but with a sick child--" + +"What can you do for him that we can't? And to break the journey may +make a big difference. We've got some condensed milk left--and--" + +"Ah yes, but we are more accustomed to--it's hardly fair to burden a +neighbour. No, we'll be getting on." + +"If those fellers up there make a row about your bringing in a +youngster"--he thrust out his jaw--"they can settle the account with +me. I've got to do something for that cough before the kid goes on." + +"Well," said the priest; and so wily are these Jesuits that he never +once mentioned that he was himself a qualified doctor in full and +regular practice. He kept his eyes on the finished stockade and the +great chimney, wearing majestically its floating plume of smoke. + +"Hi!" Mac called between his hands to the Indians, who had gone some +distance ahead. "Hi!" He motioned them back up the hill trail. + +O'Flynn had come out of the Little Cabin, and seemed to be laboriously +trundling something along the footpath. He got so excited when he heard +the noise and saw the party that, inadvertently, he let his burden +slide down the icy slope, bumping and bouncing clumsily from one +impediment to another. + +"Faith, look at 'im! Sure, that fossle can't resthrain his j'y at +seein' ye back. Mac, it's yer elephunt. I was takin' him in to the sate +of honour be the foir. We thought it 'ud be a pleasant surprise fur ye. +Sure, ye'r more surprised to see 'im leppin' down the hill to meet ye, +like a rale Irish tarrier." + +Mac was angry, and didn't conceal the fact. As he ran to stop the thing +before it should be dashed to pieces, the priest happened to glance +back, and saw coming slowly along the river trail a solitary figure +that seemed to make its way with difficulty. + +"It looks as though you'd have more than you bargained for at the +House-Warming," he said. + +O'Flynn came down the hill babbling like a brook. + +"Good-day to ye, Father. The blessin's o' Heaven on ye fur not kapin' +us starvin' anny longer. There's Potts been swearin', be this and be +that, that yourself and the little divvle wudn't be at the Blow-Out at +ahl, at ahl." + +"You mean the Boy hasn't come back?" called out Mac. He leaned _Elephas +primigenius_ against a tuft of willow banked round with snow, and +turned gloomily as if to go back down the river again. + +"Who's this?" They all stood and watched the limping traveller. + +"Why it's--of course. I didn't know him with that thing tied over his +cap"; and Mac went to meet him. + +The Boy bettered his pace. + +"How did I miss you?" demanded Mac. + +"Well," said the Boy, looking rather mischievous, "I can't think how it +happened on the way down, unless you passed when I 'd gone uphill a +piece after some tracks. I was lyin' under the Muff a few miles down +when you came back, and you--well, I kind o' thought you seemed to have +your hands full." Mac looked rigid and don't-you-try-to-chaff-me-sir. +"Besides," the Boy went on, "I couldn't cover the ground like you and +Father Wills." + +"What's the matter with you?" + +"Oh, nothin' to howl about. But see here, Mac." + +"Well?" + +"Soon's I can walk I'll go and get you the rest o' that elephant." + +There was no more said till they got up to the others, who had waited +for the Indians to come back, and had unpacked Kaviak to spare him the +jolting uphill. + +O'Flynn was screaming with excitement as he saw that the bundle +Nicholas was carrying had a head and two round eyes. + +"The saints in glory be among us! What's that? Man alive, what _is_ it, +be the Siven?" + +"That," answered Mac with a proprietary air, "is a little Esquimaux +boy, and I'm bringing him in to doctor his cold." + +"Glory be! An Esquimer! And wid a cowld! Sure, he can have some o' my +linnyeemint. Well, y'arre a boss collector, Mac! Faith, ye bang the +Jews! And me thinkin' ye'd be satisfied wid yer elephunt. Not him, be +the Siven! It's an Esquimer he must have to finish off his collection, +wan wid the rale Arctic cowld in his head, and two eyes that goes +snappin' through ye like black torpeders. Two spissimens in wan day! +Yer growin' exthravagant, Mac. Why, musha, child, if I don't think yer +the dandy Spissimen o' the lot!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE BLOW-OUT + +"How good it is to invite men to the pleasant feast." + + +Comfortable as rock fireplace and stockade made the cabin now, the +Colonel had been feeling all that morning that the official +House-Warming was fore-doomed to failure. Nevertheless, as he was cook +that week, he could not bring himself to treat altogether lightly his +office of Master of the Feast. There would probably be no guests. Even +their own little company would likely be incomplete, but t here was to +be a spread that afternoon, "anyways." + +Even had the Colonel needed any keeping up to the mark, the office +would have been cheerfully undertaken by O'Flynn or by Potts, for whom +interest in the gustatory aspect of the occasion was wholly undimmed by +the threatened absence of Mac and the "little divvle." + +"There'll be the more for us," said Potts enthusiastically. + +O'Flynn's argument seemed to halt upon a reservation. He looked over +the various contributions to the feast, set out on a board in front of +the water-bucket, and, "It's mate I'm wishin' fur," says he. + +"We've got fish." + +"That's only mate on Fridays. We've had fish fur five days stiddy, an' +befure that, bacon three times a day wid sivin days to the week, an' +not enough bacon ayther, begob, whin all's said and done! Not enough to +be fillin', and plenty to give us the scurrvy. May the divil dance on +shorrt rations!" + +"No scurvy in this camp for a while yet," said the Colonel, throwing +some heavy objects into a pan and washing them vigorously round and +round. + +"Pitaties!" O'Flynn's eyes dwelt lovingly on the rare food. "Ye've +hoarded 'em too long, man, they've sprouted." + +"That won't prevent you hoggin' more'n your share, I'll bet," said +Potts pleasantly. + +"I don't somehow like wasting the sprouts," observed the Colonel +anxiously. "It's such a wonderful sight--something growing." He had cut +one pallid slip, and held it tenderly between knife and thumb. + +"Waste 'em with scurvy staring us in the face? Should think not. Mix +'em with cold potaters in a salad." + +"No. Make slumgullion," commanded O'Flynn. + +"What's that?" quoth the Colonel. + +"Be the Siven! I only wonder I didn't think of it befure. Arre ye +listening, Kentucky? Ye take lots o' wathur, an' if ye want it rich, ye +take the wathur ye've boiled pitaties or cabbage in--a vegetable stock, +ye mind--and ye add a little flour, salt, and pepper, an' a tomater if +ye're in New York or 'Frisco, and ye boil all that together with a few +fish-bones or bacon-rin's to make it rale tasty." + +"Yes--well?" + +"Well, an' that's slumgullion." + +"Don't sound heady enough for a 'Blow-Out,'" said the Colonel. "We'll +sober up on slumgullion to-morrow." + +"Anyhow, it's mate I'm wishin' fur," sighed O'Flynn, subsiding among +the tin-ware. "What's the good o' the little divvle and his thramps, if +he can't bring home a burrud, or so much as the scut iv a rabbit furr +the soup?" + +"Well, he's contributed a bottle of California apricots, and we'll have +boiled rice." + +"An' punch, glory be!" + +"Y-yes," answered the Colonel. "I've been thinkin' a good deal about +the punch." + +"So's myself," said O'Flynn frankly; but Potts looked at the Colonel +suspiciously through narrowed eyes. + +"There's very little whiskey left, and I propose to brew a mild bowl--" + +"To hell with your mild bowls!" + +"A good enough punch, sah, but one that--that--a--well, that the whole +kit and boodle of us can drink. Indians and everybody, you know ... +Nicholas and Andrew may turn up. I want you two fellas to suppoht me +about this. There are reasons foh it, sah"--he had laid a hand on +Potts' shoulder and fixed O'Flynn with his eye--"and"--speaking very +solemnly--"yoh neither o' yoh gentlemen that need mo' said on the +subject." + +Whereupon, having cut the ground from under their feet, he turned +decisively, and stirred the mush-pot with a magnificent air and a +newly-whittled birch stick. + +To give the Big Cabin an aspect of solid luxury, they had spread the +Boy's old buffalo "robe" on the floor, and as the morning wore on Potts +and O'Flynn made one or two expeditions to the Little Cabin, bringing +back selections out of Mac's hoard "to decorate the banquet-hall," as +they said. On the last trip Potts refused to accompany his pardner--no, +it was no good. Mac evidently wouldn't be back to see, and the laugh +would be on them "takin' so much trouble for nothin'." And O'Flynn +wasn't to be long either, for dinner had been absurdly postponed +already. + +When the door opened the next time, it was to admit Mac, Nicholas with +Kaviak in his arms, O'Flynn gesticulating like a windmill, and, last of +all, the Boy. + +Kaviak was formally introduced, but instead of responding to his hosts' +attentions, the only thing he seemed to care about, or even see, was +something that in the hurly-burly everybody else overlooked--the +decorations. Mac's stuffed birds and things made a remarkably good +show, but the colossal success was reserved for the minute shrunken +skin of the baby white hare set down in front of the great fire for a +hearthrug. If the others failed to appreciate that joke, not so Kaviak. +He gave a gurgling cry, struggled down out of Nicholas's arms, and +folded the white hare to his breast. + +"Where are the other Indians?" said Mac. + +"Looking after the dogs," said Father Wills; and as the door opened, +"Oh yes, give us that," he said to Andrew. "I thought"--he turned to +the Colonel--"maybe you'd like to try some Yukon reindeer." + +"Hooray!" + +"Mate? Arre ye sayin' mate, or is an angel singin'?" + +"Now I _know_ that man's a Christian," soliloquised Potts. + +"Look here: it'll take a little time to cook," said Mac, "and it's +worth waitin' for. Can you let us have a pail o' hot water in the +meantime?" + +"Y-yes," said the Colonel, looking as if he had enough to think about +already. + +"Yes, we always wash them first of all," said Father Wills, noticing +how Mac held the little heathen off at arm's length. "Nicholas used to +help with that at Holy Cross." He gave the new order with the old +authoritative gesture. + +"And where's the liniment I lent you that you're so generous with?" Mac +arraigned O'Flynn. "Go and get it." + +Under Nicholas's hands Kaviak was forced to relinquish not only the +baby hare, but his own elf locks. He was closely sheared, his moccasins +put off, and his single garment dragged unceremoniously wrong side out +over his head and bundled out of doors. + +"Be the Siven! he's got as manny bones as a skeleton!" + +"Poor little codger!" The Colonel stood an instant, skillet in hand +staring. + +"What's that he's got round his neck?" said the Boy, moving nearer. + +Kaviak, seeing the keen look menacing his treasure, lifted a shrunken +yellow hand and clasped tight the dirty shapeless object suspended from +a raw-hide necklace. + +Nicholas seemed to hesitate to divest him of this sole remaining +possession. + +"You must get him to give it up," said Father Wills, "and burn it." + +Kaviak flatly declined to fall in with as much as he understood of this +arrangement. + +"What is it, anyway?" the Boy pursued. + +"His amulet, I suppose." As Father Wills proceeded to enforce his +order, and pulled the leather string over the child's head, Kaviak rent +the air with shrieks and coughs. He seemed to say as well as he could, +"I can do without my parki and my mucklucks, but I'll take my death +without my amulet." + +Mac insinuated himself brusquely between the victim and his +persecutors. He took the dirty object away from the priest with scant +ceremony, in spite of the whisper, "Infection!" and gave it back to the +wrathful owner. + +"You talk his language, don't you?" Mac demanded of Nicholas. + +The Pymeut pilot nodded. + +"Tell him, if he'll lend the thing to me to wash, he shall have it +back." + +Nicholas explained. + +Kaviak, with streaming eyes and quivering lips, reluctantly handed it +over, and watched Mac anxiously till overwhelmed by a yet greater +misfortune in the shape of a bath for himself. + +"How shall I clean this thing thoroughly?" Mac condescended to ask +Father Wills. The priest shrugged. + +"He'll have forgotten it to-morrow." + +"He shall have it to-morrow," said Mac. + +With his back to Kaviak, the Boy, O'Flynn, and Potts crowding round +him, Mac ripped open the little bird-skin pouch, and took out three +objects--an ivory mannikin, a crow's feather, and a thing that Father +Wills said was a seal-blood plug. + +"What's it for?" "Same as the rest. It's an amulet; only as it's used +to stop the flow of blood from the wound of a captive seal, it is +supposed to be the best of all charms for anyone who spits blood." + +"I'll clean 'em all after the Blow-Out," said Mac, and he went out, +buried the charms in the snow, and stuck up a spruce twig to mark the +spot. + +Meanwhile, to poor Kaviak it was being plainly demonstrated what an +awful fate descended on a person so unlucky as to part with his amulet. +He stood straight up in the bucket like a champagne-bottle in a cooler, +and he could not have resented his predicament more if he had been set +in crushed ice instead of warm water. Under the remorseless hands of +Nicholas he began to splutter and choke, to fizz, and finally explode +with astonishment and wrath. It was quite clear Nicholas was trying to +drown him. He took the treatment so to heart, that he kept on howling +dismally for some time after he was taken out, and dried, and +linimented and dosed by Mac, whose treachery about the amulet he seemed +to forgive, since "Farva" had had the air of rescuing him from the +horrors he had endured in that water-bucket, where, for all Kaviak +knew, he might have stayed till he succumbed to death. The Boy +contributed a shirt of his own, and helped Mac to put it on the +incredibly thin little figure. The shirt came down to Kaviak's heels, +and had to have the sleeves rolled up every two minutes. But by the +time the reindeer-steak was nearly done Kaviak was done, too, and +O'Flynn had said, "That Spissimen does ye credit, Mac." + +Said Spissimen was now staring hungrily out of the Colonel's bunk, +holding towards Mac an appealing hand, with half a yard of shirt-sleeve +falling over it. + +Mac pretended not to see, and drew up to the table the one remaining +available thing to sit on, his back to his patient. + +When the dogs had been fed, and the other Indians had come in, and +squatted on the buffalo-skin with Nicholas, the first course was sent +round in tin cups, a nondescript, but warming, "camp soup." + +"Sorry we've got so few dishes, gentlemen," the Colonel had said. +"We'll have to ask some of you to wait till others have finished." + +"Farva," remarked Kaviak, leaning out of the bunk and sniffing the +savoury steam. + +"He takes you for a priest," said Potts, with the cheerful intention of +stirring Mac's bile. But not even so damning a suspicion as that could +cool the collector's kindness for his new Spissimen. + +"You come here," he said. Kaviak didn't understand. The Boy got up, +limped over to the bunk, lifted the child out, and brought him to Mac's +side. + +"Since there ain't enough cups," said Mac, in self-justification, and +he put his own, half empty, to Kaviak's lips. The Spissimen imbibed +greedily, audibly, and beamed. Mac, with unimpaired gravity, took no +notice of the huge satisfaction this particular remedy was giving his +patient, except to say solemnly, "Don't bubble in it." + +The next course was fish a la Pymeut. + +"You're lucky to be able to get it," said the Father, whether with +suspicion or not no man could tell. "I had to send back for some by a +trader and couldn't get enough." + +"We didn't see any trader," said the Boy to divert the current. + +"He may have gone by in the dusk; he was travelling hotfoot." + +"Thought that steamship was chockful o' grub. What did you want o' +fish?" + +"Yes; they've got plenty of food, but--" + +"They don't relish parting with it," suggested Potts. + +"They haven't much to think about except what they eat; they wanted to +try our fish, and were ready to exchange. I promised I would send a +load back from Ikogimeut if they'd--" He seemed not to care to finish +the sentence. + +"So you didn't do much for the Pymeuts after all?" + +"I did something," he said almost shortly. Then, with recovered +serenity, he turned to the Boy: "I promised I'd bring back any news." +"Yes." + +"Well?" + +Everybody stopped eating and hung on the priest's words. + +"Captain Rainey's heard there's a big new strike--" + +"In the Klondyke?" + +"On the American side this time." + +"Hail Columbia!" + +"Whereabouts?" + +"At a place called Minook." + +"Where's that?" + +"Up the river by the Ramparts." + +"How far?" + +"Oh, a little matter of six or seven hundred miles from here." + +"Glory to God!" + +"Might as well be six or seven thousand." + +"And very probably isn't a bona-fide strike at all," said the priest, +"but just a stampede--a very different matter." + +"Well, I tell you straight: I got no use for a gold-mine in Minook at +this time o' year." + +"Nop! Venison steak's more in my line than grub-stake just about now." + +Potts had to bestir himself and wash dishes before he could indulge in +his "line." When the grilled reindeer did appear, flanked by +really-truly potatoes and the Colonel's hot Kentucky biscuit, there was +no longer doubt in any man's mind but what this Blow-Out was being a +success. + +"Colonel's a daisy cook, ain't he?" the Boy appealed to Father Wills. + +The Jesuit assented cordially. + +"My family meant _me_ for the army," he said. "Seen much service, +Colonel?" + +The Kentuckian laughed. + +"Never wasted a day soldiering in my life." + +"Oh!" + +"Maybe you're wonderin'," said Potts, "why he's a Colonel!" + +The Jesuit made a deprecatory gesture, politely disclaiming any such +rude curiosity. + +"He's from Kentucky, you see;" and the smile went round. "Beyond that, +we can't tell you why he's a Colonel unless it's because he ain't a +Judge;" and the boss of the camp laughed with the rest, for the Denver +man had scored. + +By the time they got to the California apricots and boiled rice +everybody was feeling pretty comfortable. When, at last, the table was +cleared, except for the granite-ware basin full of punch, and when all +available cups were mustered and tobacco-pouches came out, a remarkably +genial spirit pervaded the company--with three exceptions. + +Potts and O'Flynn waited anxiously to sample the punch before giving +way to complete satisfaction, and Kaviak was impervious to +considerations either of punch or conviviality, being wrapped in +slumber on a corner of the buffalo-skin, between Mac's stool and the +natives, who also occupied places on the floor. + +Upon O'Flynn's first draught he turned to his next neighbour: + +"Potts, me bhoy, 'tain't s' bad." + +"I'll bet five dollars it won't make yer any happier." + +"Begob, I'm happy enough! Gentlemen, wud ye like I should sing ye a +song?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes," and the Colonel thumped the table for order, infinitely relieved +that the dinner was done, and the punch not likely to turn into a +_casus belli_. O'Flynn began a ditty about the Widdy Malone that woke +up Kaviak and made him rub his round eyes with astonishment. He sat up, +and hung on to the back of Mac's coat to make sure he had some +anchorage in the strange new waters he had so suddenly been called on +to navigate. + +The song ended, the Colonel, as toast-master, proposed the health +of--he was going to say Father Wills, but felt it discreeter to name no +names. Standing up in the middle of the cabin, where he didn't have to +stoop, he lifted his cup till it knocked against the swing-shelf, and +called out, "Here's to Our Visitors, Neighbours, and Friends!" +Whereupon he made a stately circular bow, which ended by his offering +Kaviak his hand, in the manner of one who executes a figure in an +old-fashioned dance. The smallest of "Our Visitors," still keeping hold +of Mac, presented the Colonel with the disengaged half-yard of flannel +undershirt on the other side, and the speech went on, very flowery, +very hospitable, very Kentuckian. + +When the Colonel sat down there was much applause, and O'Flynn, who had +lent his cup to Nicholas, and didn't feel he could wait till it came +back, began to drink punch out of the dipper between shouts of: + +"Hooray! Brayvo! Here's to the Kurrnul! God bless him! That's rale +oratry, Kurrnul! Here's to Kentucky--and ould Ireland." + +Father Wills stood up, smiling, to reply. + +_"Friends"_ (the Boy thought the keen eyes rested a fraction of a +moment longer on Mac than on the rest),--_"I think in some ways this is +the pleasantest House-Warming I ever went to. I won't take up time +thanking the Colonel for the friendly sentiments he's expressed, though +I return them heartily. I must use these moments you are good enough to +give me in telling you something of what I feel is implied in the +founding of this camp of yours. + +"Gentlemen, the few white dwellers in the Yukon country have not looked +forward"_ (his eyes twinkled almost wickedly) _"with that pleasure you +might expect in exiles, to the influx of people brought up here by the +great Gold Discovery. We knew what that sort of craze leads to. We knew +that in a barren land like this, more and more denuded of wild game +every year, more and more the prey of epidemic disease--we knew that +into this sorely tried and hungry world would come a horde of men, all +of them ignorant of the conditions up here, most of them ill-provided +with proper food and clothing, many of them (I can say it without +offence in this company)--many of them men whom the older, richer +communities were glad to get rid of. Gentlemen, I have ventured to take +you into our confidence so far, because I want to take you still +farther--to tell you a little of the intense satisfaction with which we +recognise that good fortune has sent us in you just the sort of +neighbours we had not dared to hope for. It means more to us than you +realise. When I heard a few weeks ago that, in addition to the +boat-loads that had already got some distance up the river beyond Holy +Cross--"_ + +"Going to Dawson?" + +"Oh, yes, Klondyke mad--" + +"They'll be there before us, boys!" + +"Anyways, they'll get to Minook." + +The Jesuit shook his head. "It isn't so certain. They probably made +only a couple of hundred miles or so before the Yukon went to sleep." + +"Then if grub gives out they'll be comin' back here?" suggested Potts. + +_"Small doubt of it,"_ agreed the priest. _"And when I heard there were +parties of the same sort stranded at intervals all along the Lower +River--"_ + +"You sure?" + +He nodded. + +_"And when Father Orloff of the Russian mission told us that he was +already having trouble with the two big rival parties frozen in the ice +below Ikogimeut--"_ + +"Gosh! Wonder if any of 'em were on our ship?" + +_"Well, gentlemen, I do not disguise from you that, when I heard of the +large amount of whiskey, the small amount of food, and the low type of +manners brought in by these gold-seekers, I felt my fears justified. +Such men don't work, don't contribute anything to the decent social +life of the community, don't build cabins like this. When I came down +on the ice the first time after you'd camped, and I looked up and saw +your solid stone chimney"_ (he glanced at Mac), _"I didn't know what a +House-Warming it would make; but already, from far off across the ice +and snow, that chimney warmed my heart. Gentlemen, the fame of it has +gone up the river and down the river. Father Orloff is coming to see it +next week, and so are the white traders from Anvik and Andreiefsky, for +they've heard there's nothing like it in the Yukon. Of course, I know +that you gentlemen have not come to settle permanently. I know that +when the Great White Silence, as they call the long winter up here, is +broken by the thunder of the ice rushing down to the sea, you, like the +rest, will exchange the snow-fields for the gold-fields, and pass out +of our ken. Now, I'm not usually prone to try my hand at prophecy; but +I am tempted to say, even on our short acquaintance, that I am +tolerably sure that, while we shall be willing enough to spare most of +the new-comers to the Klondyke, we shall grudge to the gold-fields the +men who built this camp and warmed this cabin."_ (His eye rested +reflectively on Mac.) _"I don't wish to sit down leaving an impression +of speaking with entire lack of sympathy of the impulse that brings men +up here for gold. I believe that, even with the sort in the two camps +below Ikogimeut--drinking, quarrelling, and making trouble with the +natives at the Russian mission--I believe that even with them, the gold +they came up here for is a symbol--a fetich, some of us may think. When +such men have it in their hands, they feel dimly that they are laying +tangible hold at last on some elusive vision of happiness that has +hitherto escaped them. Behind each man braving the Arctic winter up +here, is some hope, not all ignoble; some devotion, not all +unsanctified. Behind most of these men I seem to see a wife or child, a +parent, or some dear dream that gives that man his share in the Eternal +Hope. Friends, we call that thing we look for by different names; but +we are all seekers after treasure, all here have turned our backs on +home and comfort, hunting for the Great Reward--each man a new Columbus +looking for the New World. Some of us looking north, some south, +some"_--he hesitated the briefest moment, and then with a faint smile, +half sad, half triumphant, made a little motion of his head--_"some of +us ... looking upwards."_ + +But quickly, as though conscious that, if he had raised the moral tone +of the company, he had not raised its spirits, he hurried on: + +_"Before I sit down, gentlemen, just one word more. I must congratulate +you on having found out so soon, not only the wisdom, but the pleasure +of looking at this Arctic world with intelligent eyes, and learning +some of her wonderful lessons. It is so that, now the hardest work is +finished, you will keep up your spirits and avoid the disease that +attacks all new-comers who simply eat, sleep, and wait for the ice to +go out. When I hear cheechalkos complaining of boredom up here in this +world of daily miracles, I think of the native boy in the +history-class, who, called on to describe the progress of civilisation, +said: 'In those days men had as many wives as they liked, and that was +called polygamy. Now they have only one wife, and that's called +monotony.'"_ + +While O'Flynn howled with delight, the priest wound up: + +_"Gentlemen, if we find monotony up here, it's not the country's fault, +but a defect in our own civilisation."_ Wherewith he sat down amid +cheers. + +"Now, Colonel, is Mac goin' to recite some Border ballads?" inquired +the Boy, "or will he make a speech, or do a Highland fling?" + +The Colonel called formally upon Mr. MacCann. + +Mac was no sooner on his legs than Kaviak, determined not to lose his +grasp of the situation, climbed upon the three-legged stool just +vacated, and resumed his former relations with the friendly coat-tail. + +Everybody laughed but Mac, who pretended not to know what was going on +behind his back. + +"Gentlemen," he began harshly, with the air of one about to launch a +heavy indictment, "there's one element largely represented here by +numbers and by interests"--he turned round suddenly toward the natives, +and almost swung Kaviak off into space--"one element not explicitly +referred to in the speeches, either of welcome or of thanks. But, +gentlemen, I submit that these hitherto unrecognised Natives are our +real hosts, and a word about them won't be out of place. I've been told +to-day that, whether in Alaska, Greenland, or British America, they +call themselves _Innuits,_ which means human beings. They believed, no +doubt, that they were the only ones in the world. I've been thinking a +great deal about these Esquimaux of late--" + +"Hear, hear!" + +"About their origin and their destiny." (Mac was beginning to enjoy +himself. The Boy was beginning to be bored and to drum softly with his +fingers.) "Now, gentlemen, Buffon says that the poles were the first +portions of the earth's crust to cool. While the equator, and even the +tropics of Cancer and of Capricorn, were still too boiling hot to +support life, up here in the Arctic regions there was a carboniferous +era goin' on--" + +"Where's the coal, then?" sneered Potts. + +"It's bein' discovered ... all over ... ask him" (indicating Father +Wills, who smiled assent). "Tropical forests grew where there are +glayshers now, and elephants and mastodons began life here." + +"Jimminy Christmas!" interrupted the Boy, sitting up very straight. "Is +that Buffer you quoted a good authority?" + +"First-rate," Mac snapped out defiantly. + +"Good Lord! then the Garden o' Eden was up here." + +"Hey?" + +"Course! _This_ was the cradle o' the human race. Blow the Ganges! Blow +the Nile! It was our Yukon that saw the first people, 'cause of course +the first people lived in the first place got ready for 'em." + +"That don't follow. Read your Bible." + +"If I'm not right, how did it happen there were men here when the North +was first discovered?" + +"Sh!" + +"Mac's got the floor." + +"Shut up!" + +But the Boy thumped the table with one hand and arraigned the +schoolmaster with the other. + +"Now, Mac, I put it to you as a man o' science: if the race had got a +foothold in any other part o' the world, what in Sam Hill could make +'em come up here?" + +"_We're_ here." + +"Yes, tomfools after gold. They never dreamed there was gold. No, +Sir_ee!_ the only thing on earth that could make men stay here, would +be that they were born here, and didn't know any better. Don't the +primitive man cling to his home, no matter what kind o' hole it is? +He's _afraid_ to leave it. And these first men up here, why, it's plain +as day--they just hung on, things gettin' worse and worse, and colder +and colder, and some said, as the old men we laugh at say at home, 'The +climate ain't what it was when I was a boy,' and nobody believed 'em, +but everybody began to dress warmer and eat fat, and--" + +"All that Buffon says is--" + +"Yes--and they invented one thing after another to meet the new +conditions--kaiaks and bidarras and ivory-tipped harpoons"--he was +pouring out his new notions at the fastest express rate--"and the +animals that couldn't stand it emigrated, and those that stayed behind +got changed--" + +"Dry up." + +"One at a time." + +"Buffon--" + +"Yes, yes, Mac, and the hares got white, and the men, playin' a losin' +game for centuries, got dull in their heads and stunted in their +legs--always cramped up in a kaiak like those fellas at St. Michael's. +And, why, it's clear as crystal--they're survivals! The Esquimaux are +the oldest race in the world." + +"Who's makin' this speech?" + +"Order!" + +"Order!" + +"Well, see here: _do_ you admit it, Mac? Don't you see there were just +a few enterprisin' ones who cleared out, or, maybe, got carried away in +a current, and found better countries and got rich and civilised, and +became our forefathers? Hey, boys, ain't I right?" + +"You sit down." + +"You'll get chucked out." + +"Buffon--" + +Everybody was talking at once. + +"Why, it goes on still," the Boy roared above the din. "People who +stick at home, and are patient, and put up with things, they're doomed. +But look at the fellas that come out o' starvin' attics and stinkin' +pigsties to America. They live like lords, and they look at life like +men." + +Mac was saying a great deal about the Ice Age and the first and second +periods of glaciation, but nobody could hear what. + +_"Prince_ Nicholas? Well, I should smile. He belongs to the oldest +family in the world. Hoop-la!" The Boy jumped up on his stool and +cracked his head against the roof; but he only ducked, rubbed his wild, +long hair till it stood out wilder than ever, and went on: "Nicholas's +forefathers were kings before Caesar; they were here before the +Pyramids--" + +The Colonel came round and hauled the Boy down. Potts was egging the +miscreant on. O'Flynn, poorly disguising his delight in a scrimmage, +had been shouting: "Ye'll spoil the Blow-Out, ye meddlin' jackass! +Can't ye let Mac make his spache? No; ye must ahlways be huntin' round +fur harrum to be doin' or throuble to make." + +In the turmoil and the contending of many voices Nicholas began to +explain to his friends that it wasn't a real fight, as it had every +appearance of being, and the visitors were in no immediate danger of +their lives. But Kaviak feared the worst, and began to weep forlornly. + +"The world is dyin' at top and bottom!" screamed the Boy, writhing +under the Colonel's clutch. "The ice will spread, the beasts will turn +white, and we'll turn yella, and we'll all dress in skins and eat fat +and be exactly like Kaviak, and the last man'll be found tryin' to warm +his hands at the Equator, his feet on an iceberg and his nose in a +snowstorm. Your old Buffer's got a long head, Mac. Here's to Buffer!" +Whereupon he subsided and drank freely of punch. + +"Well," said the Colonel, severely, "you've had a Blow-Out if nobody +else has!" + +"Feel better?" inquired Potts, tenderly. + +"Now, Mac, you shall have a fair field," said the Colonel, "and if the +Boy opens his trap again--" + +"I'll punch 'im," promised O'Flynn, replenishing the disturber's cup. + +But Mac wouldn't be drawn. Besides, he was feeding Kaviak. So the +Colonel filled in the breach with "My old Kentucky Home," which he sang +with much feeling, if not great art. + +This performance restored harmony and a gentle reflectiveness. + +Father Wills told about his journey up here ten years before and of a +further expedition he'd once made far north to the Koyukuk. + +"But Nicholas knows more about the native life and legends than anyone +I ever met, except, of course, Yagorsha." + +"Who's Yag----?" began the Boy. + +"Oh, that's the Village Story-teller." He was about to speak of +something else, but, lifting his eyes, he caught Mac's sudden glance of +grudging attention. The priest looked away, and went on: "There's a +story-teller in every settlement. He has always been a great figure in +the native life, I believe, but now more than ever." + +"Why's that?" + +"Oh, battles are over and blood-feuds are done, but the need for a +story-teller abides. In most villages he is a bigger man than the +chief--they're all 'ol' chiefs,' the few that are left--and when they +die there will be no more. So the tribal story-teller comes to be the +most important character"--the Jesuit smiled in that shrewd and gentle +way of his--"that is, of course, after the Shaman, as the Russians call +him, the medicine-man, who is a teller of stories, too, in his more +circumscribed fashion. But it's the Story-teller who helps his people +through the long winter--helps them to face the terrible new enemies, +epidemic disease and famine. He has always been their best defence +against that age-old dread they all have of the dark. Yes, no one +better able to send such foes flying than Yagorsha of Pymeut. Still, +Nicholas is a good second." The Prince of Pymeut shook his head. + +"Tell them 'The White Crow's Last Flight,'" urged the priest. + +But Nicholas was not in the vein, and when they all urged him overmuch, +he, in self-defence, pulled a knife out of his pocket and a bit of +walrus ivory about the size of his thumb, and fell to carving. + +"What you makin'?" + +"Button," says Nicholas; "me heap hurry get him done." + +"It looks more like a bird than a button," remarked the Boy. + +"Him bird--him button," replied the imperturbable one. + +"Half the folk-lore of the North has to do with the crow (or raven)," +the priest went on. "Seeing Kaviak's feather reminded me of a native +cradle-song that's a kind of a story, too. It's been roughly +translated." + +"Can you say it?" + +"I used to know how it went." + +He began in a deep voice: + + "'The wind blows over the Yukon. + My husband hunts deer on the Koyukun mountains. + Ahmi, ahmi, sleep, little one. + + There is no wood for the fire, + The stone-axe is broken, my husband carries the other. + Where is the soul of the sun? Hid in the dam of the beaver, waiting the + spring-time. + Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not! + + Look not for ukali, old woman. + Long since the cache was emptied, the crow lights no more on the ridge + pole. + Long since, my husband departed. Why does he wait in the mountains? + Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, softly. + + Where, where, where is my own? + Does he lie starving on the hillside? Why does he linger? + Comes he not soon I must seek him among the mountains. + Ahmi, ahmi, little one, sleep sound. + + Hush! hush! hush! The crow cometh laughing. + Red is his beak, his eyes glisten, the false one! + "Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala the Shaman-- + On the far mountain quietly lieth your husband." + Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not. + + "Twenty deers' tongues tied to the pack on his shoulders; + Not a tongue in his mouth to call to his wife with. + Wolves, foxes, and ravens are tearing and fighting for morsels. + Tough and hard are the sinews; not so the child in your bosom." + Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not! + + Over the mountain slowly staggers the hunter. + Two bucks' thighs on his shoulders. + Twenty deers' tongues in his belt. + "Go, gather wood, kindle a fire, old woman!" + Off flew the crow--liar, cheat and deceiver. + Wake, oh sleeper, awake! welcome your father! + + He brings you back fat, marrow, venison fresh from the mountain + Tired and worn, yet he's carved you a toy of the deer's horn, + While he was sitting and waiting long for the deer on the hillside. + Wake! see the crow! hiding himself from the arrow; + Wake, little one, wake! here is your father safe home.'" + +"Who's 'Kuskokala the Shaman'?" the Boy inquired. + +"Ah, better ask Nicholas," answered the priest. + +But Nicholas was absorbed in his carving. + +Again Mr. O'Flynn obliged, roaring with great satisfaction: + + "'I'm a stout rovin' blade, and what matther my name, + For I ahlways was wild, an' I'll niver be tame; + An' I'll kiss putty gurrls wheriver I go, + An' what's that to annyone whether or no. + + _Chorus._ + + "'Ogedashin, den thashin, come, boys! let us drink; + 'Tis madness to sorra, 'tis folly to think. + For we're ahl jolly fellows wheriver we go-- + Ogedashin, den thashin, na boneen sheen lo!'" + +Potts was called on. No, he couldn't sing, but he could show them a +trick or two. And with his grimy euchre-deck he kept his word, showing +that he was not the mere handy-man, but the magician of the party. The +natives, who know the cards as we know our A B C's, were enthralled, +and began to look upon Potts as a creature of more than mortal skill. + +Again the Boy pressed Nicholas to dance. "No, no;" and under his +breath: "You come Pymeut." + +Meanwhile, O'Flynn, hugging the pleasant consciousness that he had +distinguished himself--his pardner, too--complained that the only +contribution Mac or the Boy had made was to kick up a row. What steps +were they going to take to retrieve their characters and minister to +the public entertainment? + +"I've supplied the decorations," said Mac in a final tone. + +"Well, and the Bhoy? What good arre ye, annyway?" + +"Hard to say," said the person addressed; but, thinking hard: "Would +you like to see me wag my ears?" Some languid interest was manifested +in this accomplishment, but it fell rather flat after Potts' splendid +achievements with the euchre-deck. + +"No, ye ain't good fur much as an enthertainer," said O'Flynn frankly. + +Kaviak had begun to cry for more punch, and Mac was evidently growing a +good deal perplexed as to the further treatment for his patient. + +"Did ye be tellin' some wan, Father, that when ye found that Esquimer +he had grass stuffed in his mouth? Sure, he'll be missin' that grass. +Ram somethin' down his throat." + +"Was it done to shorten his sufferings?" the Colonel asked in an +undertone. + +"No," answered the priest in the same low voice; "if they listen long +to the dying, the cry gets fixed in their imagination, and they hear it +after the death, and think the spirit haunts the place. Their fear and +horror of the dead is beyond belief. They'll turn a dying man out of +his own house, and not by the door, but through a hole in the roof. Or +they pull out a log to make an opening, closing it up quick, so the +spirit won't find his way back." + +Kaviak continued to lament. + +"Sorry we can't offer you some blubber, Kaviak." + +"'Tain't that he's missin'; he's got an inexhaustible store of his own. +His mistake is offerin' it to us." + +"I know what's the matter with that little shaver," said the Boy. "He +hasn't got any stool, and you keep him standin' on those legs of his +like matches." + +"Let him sit on the buffalo-skin there," said Mac gruffly. + +"Don't you s'pose he's thought o' the buffalo-skin? But he'd hate it. A +little fella likes to be up where he can see what's goin' on. He'd feel +as lost 'way down there on the buffalo as a puppy in a corn-brake." + +The Boy was standing up, looking round. + +"I know. Elephas! come along, Jimmie!" In spite of remonstrance, they +rushed to the door and dragged in the "fossle." When Nicholas and his +friends realised what was happening, they got up grunting and +protesting. "Lend a hand, Andrew," the Boy called to the man nearest. + +"No--no!" objected the true son of the Church, with uncommon fervour. + +"You, then, Nicholas." + +_"Oo,_ ha, _oo!_ No touch! No touch!" + +"What's up? You don't know what this is." + +"Huh! Nicholas know plenty well. Nicholas no touch bones of dead +devils." This view of the "fossle" so delighted the company that, +acting on a sudden impulse, they pushed the punch-bowl out of the way, +and, with a whoop, hoisted the huge thing on the table. Then the Boy +seized the whimpering Kaviak, and set him high on the throne. So +surprised was the topmost Spissimen that he was as quiet for a moment +as the one underneath him, staring about, blinking. Then, looking down +at Mac's punch-cup, he remembered his grievance, and took up the wail +where he had left it off. + +"Nuh, nuh! don't you do that," said the Boy with startling suddenness. +"If you make that noise, I'll have to make a worse one. If you cry, +Kaviak, I'll have to sing. Hmt, hmt! don't you do it." And as Kaviak, +in spite of instructions, began to bawl, the Boy began to do a +plantation jig, crooning monotonously: + + "'Grashoppah sett'n on de swee' p'tater vine, + Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine; + Grasshoppah--'" + +He stopped as suddenly as he'd begun. "_Now_, will you be good?" + +Kaviak drew a breath with a catch in it, looked round, and began as +firmly as ever: + +"Weh!--eh!--eh!" + +"Sh--sh!" The Boy clapped his hands, and lugubriously intoned: + + "'Dey's de badger and de bah, + En de funny lil hah, + En de active lil flea, + En de lil armadillah + Dat sleeps widouter pillah, + An dey all gottah mate but me--ee--ee!' + +"Farva!" Kaviak gasped. + +"Say, do a nigger breakdown," solicited Potts. + +"Ain't room; besides, I can't do it with blisters." + +They did the impossible--they made room, and turned back the +buffalo-skin. Only the big Colonel, who was most in the way of all, +sat, not stirring, staring in the fire. Such a look on the absent, +tender face as the great masters, the divinest poets cannot often +summon, but which comes at the call of some foolish old nursery jingle, +some fragment of half-forgotten folk-lore, heard when the world was +young--when all hearing was music, when all sight was "pictures," when +every sense brought marvels that seemed the everyday way of the +wonderful, wonderful world. + +For an obvious reason it is not through the utterances of the greatest +that the child receives his first intimations of the beauty and the +mystery of things. These come in lowly guise with familiar everyday +voices, but their eloquence has the incommunicable grace of infancy, +the promise of the first dawn, the menace of the first night. + +"Do you remember the thing about the screech-owl and the weather +signs?" said the Colonel, roused at last by the jig on his toes and the +rattle of improvised "bones" almost in his face. + +"Reckon I do, honey," said the Boy, his feet still flying and flapping +on the hard earthen floor. + + "_'Wen de screech-owl light on de gable en' + En holler, Who--ool oh--oh!'_" + +He danced up and hooted in Kaviak's face. + + "_'Den yo' bettah keep yo eyeball peel, + Kase 'e bring bad luck t' yo'. + Oh--oh! oh-oh!'_" + +Then, sinking his voice, dancing slowly, and glancing anxiously under the +table: + + "_'Wen de ole black cat widdee yalla eyes + Slink round like she atterah mouse, + Den yo' bettah take keer yo'self en frien's, + Kase deys sholy a witch en de house.'_" + +An awful pause, a shiver, and a quick change of scene, indicated by a +gurgling whoop, ending in a quacking: + + "_'Wen de puddle-duck'e leave de pon', + En start t' comb e fedder, + Den yo' bettah take yo' omberel, + Kase deys gwine tubbee wet wedder.'_" + +"Now comes the speckly rooster," the Colonel prompted. + +The Boy crowed long and loud: + + "_'Effer ole wile rooster widder speckly tail + Commer crowin' befoh de do', + En yo got some comp'ny a'ready, + Yo's gwinter have some mo'.'_" + +Then he grunted, and went on all fours. "Kaviak!" he called, "you take +warnin'---- + + "_'Wen yo' see a pig agoin' along--'_" + +Look here: Kaviak's never seen a pig! I call it a shame. + + _"'Wen yo' see a pig agoin' along + Widder straw en de sider 'is mouf, + It'll be a tuhble winter, + En yo' bettuh move down Souf.'"_ + +He jumped up and dashed into a breakdown, clattering the bones, and +screeching: + + _"'Squirl he got a bushy tail, + Possum's tail am bah, + Raccoon's tail am ringed all roun'-- + Touch him ef yo dah! + Rabbit got no tail at all, + Cep a little bit o' bunch o' hah.'"_ + +The group on the floor, undoubtedly, liked that part of the +entertainment that involved the breakdown, infinitely the best of all, +but simultaneously, at its wildest moment, they all turned their heads +to the door. Mac noticed the movement, listened, and then got up, +lifted the latch, and cautiously looked out. The Boy caught a glimpse +of the sky over Mac's shoulder. + +"Jimminy Christmas!" He stopped, nearly breathless. "It can't be a +fire. Say, boys! they're havin' a Blow-Out up in heaven." + +The company crowded out. The sky was full of a palpitant light. An +Indian appeared from round the stockade; he was still staring up at the +stone chimney. + +"Are we on fire?" + +"How-do." He handed Father Wills a piece of dirty paper. + +"Hah! Yes. All right. Andrew!" + +Andrew needed no more. He bustled away to harness the dogs. The white +men were staring up at the sky. "What's goin' on in heaven, Father? +S'pose you call this the Aurora Borealis--hey?" + +"Yes," said the priest; "and finer than we often get it. We are not far +enough north for the great displays." + +He went in to put on his parki. + +Mac, after looking out, had shut the door and stayed behind with +Kaviak. + +On Father Will's return Farva, speaking apparently less to the priest +than to the floor, muttered: "Better let him stop where he is till his +cold's better." + +The Colonel came in. + +"Leave the child here!" ejaculated the priest. + +"--till he's better able to travel." + +"Why not?" said the Colonel promptly. + +"Well, it would be a kindness to keep him a few days. I'll _have_ to +travel fast tonight." + +"Then it's settled." Mac bundled Kaviak into the Boy's bunk. + +When the others were ready to go out again, Farva caught up his fur +coat and went along with them. + +The dogs were not quite ready. The priest was standing a little +absentmindedly, looking up. The pale green streamers were fringed with +the tenderest rose colour, and from the corona uniting them at the +zenith, they shot out across the heavens, with a rapid circular and +lateral motion, paling one moment, flaring up again the next. + +"Wonder what makes it," said the Colonel. + +"Electricity," Mac snapped out promptly. + +The priest smiled. + +"One mystery for another." + +He turned to the Boy, and they went on together, preceding the others, +a little, on the way down the trail towards the river. + +"I think you must come and see us at Holy Cross--eh? Come soon;" and +then, without waiting for an answer: "The Indians think these flitting +lights are the souls of the dead at play. But Yagorsha says that long +ago a great chief lived in the North who was a mighty hunter. It was +always summer up here then, and the big chief chased the big game from +one end of the year to another, from mountain to mountain and from +river to sea. He killed the biggest moose with a blow of his fist, and +caught whales with his crooked thumb for a hook. One long day in summer +he'd had a tremendous chase after a wonderful bird, and he came home +without it, deadbeat and out of temper. He lay down to rest, but the +sunlight never winked, and the unending glare maddened him. He rolled, +and tossed, and roared, as only the Yukon roars when the ice rushes +down to the sea. But he couldn't sleep. Then in an awful fury he got +up, seized the day in his great hands, tore it into little bits, and +tossed them high in the air. So it was dark. And winter fell on the +world for the first time. During months and months, just to punish this +great crime, there was no bright sunshine; but often in the long night, +while the chief was wearying for summer to come again, he'd be +tantalised by these little bits of the broken day that flickered in the +sky. Coming, Andrew?" he called back. + +The others trooped down-hill, dogs, sleds, and all. There was a great +hand-shaking and good-byeing. + +Nicholas whispered: + +"You come Pymeut?" + +"I should just pretty nearly think I would." + +"You dance heap good. Buttons no all done." He put four little ivory +crows into the Boy's hands. They were rudely but cleverly carved, with +eyes outlined in ink, and supplied under the breast with a neat +inward-cut shank. + +"Mighty fine!" The Boy examined them by the strange glow that +brightened in the sky. + +"You keep." + +"Oh no, can't do that." + +"_Yes!_" Nicholas spoke peremptorily. "Yukon men have big feast, must +bring present. Me no got reindeer, me got button." He grinned. +"Goo'-bye." And the last of the guests went his way. + + * * * * * + +It was only habit that kept the Colonel toasting by the fire before he +turned in, for the cabin was as warm to-night as the South in +mid-summer. + + _"Grasshoppah sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine,"_ + +The Boy droned sleepily as he untied the leathern thongs that kept up +his muckluck legs-- + + _"Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'ta--"_ + +"All those othahs"--the Colonel waved a hand in the direction of +Pymeut--"I think we dreamed 'em, Boy. You and me playing the Big Game +with Fohtune. Foolishness! Klondyke? Yoh crazy. Tell me the river's +hard as iron and the snow's up to the windah? Don' b'lieve a wo'd of +it. We're on some plantation, Boy, down South, in the niggah quawtaws." + +The Boy was turning back the covers, and balancing a moment on the side +of the bunk. + + + _"Sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'ta--"_ + +"Great Caesar's ghost!" He jumped up, and stood staring down at the +sleeping Kaviak. + +"Ah--a--didn't you know? He's been left behind for a few days." + +"Yes, I can see he's left behind. No, Colonel, I reckon we're in the +Arctic regions all right when it comes to catchin' Esquimers in your +bed!" + +He pulled the furs over Kaviak and himself, and curled down to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SHAMAN. + +"For my part, I have ever believed and do now know, that there are +witches."--_Religio Medici._ + + +The Boy had hoped to go to Pymeut the next day, but his feet refused to +carry him. Mac took a diagram and special directions, and went after +the rest of elephas, conveying the few clumsy relics home, bit by bit, +with a devotion worthy of a pious pilgrim. + +For three days the Boy growled and played games with Kaviak, going +about at first chiefly on hands and knees. + +On the fifth day after the Blow-Out, "You comin' long to Pymeut this +mornin'?" he asked the Colonel. + +"What's the rush?" + +"_Rush!_ Good Lord! it's 'most a week since they were here. And it's +stopped snowin', and hasn't thought of sleetin' yet or anything else +rambunksious. Come on, Colonel." + +But Father Wills had shown the Colonel the piece of dirty paper the +Indian had brought on the night of the Blow-Out. + +"_Trouble threatened. Pymeuts think old chief dying not of consumption, +but of a devil. They've sent a dogteam to bring the Shaman down over +the ice. Come quickly.--_PAUL." + +"Reckon we'd better hold our horses till we hear from Holy Cross." + +"Hear what?" + +The Colonel didn't answer, but the Boy didn't wait to listen. He +swallowed his coffee scalding hot, rolled up some food and stuff for +trading, in a light reindeer skin blanket, lashed it packwise on his +back, shouldered his gun, and made off before the Trio came in to +breakfast. + +The first sign that he was nearing a settlement, was the appearance of +what looked like sections of rude wicker fencing, set up here and there +in the river and frozen fast in the ice. High on the bank lay one of +the long cornucopia-shaped basket fish-traps, and presently he caught +sight of something in the bleak Arctic landscape that made his heart +jump, something that to Florida eyes looked familiar. + +"Why, if it doesn't make me think of John Fox's cabin on Cypress +Creek!" he said to himself, formulating an impression that had vaguely +haunted him on the Lower River in September; wondering if the Yukon +flooded like the Caloosahatchee, and if the water could reach as far up +as all that. + +He stopped to have a good look at this first one of the Pymeut caches, +for this modest edifice, like a Noah's Ark on four legs, was not a +habitation, but a storehouse, and was perched so high, not for fear of +floods, but for fear of dogs and mice. This was manifest from the fact +that there were fish-racks and even ighloos much nearer the river. + +The Boy stopped and hesitated; it was a sore temptation to climb up and +see what they had in that cache. There was an inviting plank all ready, +with sticks nailed on it transversely to prevent the feet from +slipping. But the Boy stopped at the rude ladder's foot, deciding that +this particular mark of interest on the part of a stranger might be +misinterpreted. It would, perhaps, be prudent to find Nicholas first of +all. But where was Nicholas?--where was anybody? + +The scattered, half-buried huts were more like earth-mounds, +snow-encrusted, some with drift-logs propped against the front face +looking riverwards. + +While he was cogitating how to effect an entrance to one of these, or +to make his presence known, he saw, to his relief, the back of a +solitary Indian going in the direction of an ighloo farther up the +river. + +"Hi, hi!" he shouted, and as the figure turned he made signs. It +stopped. + +"How-do?" the Boy called out when he got nearer. "You talk English?" + +The native laughed. A flash of fine teeth and sparkling eyes lit up a +young, good-looking face. This boy seemed promising. + +"How d'ye do? You know Nicholas?" + +"Yes." + +The laugh was even gayer. It seemed to be a capital joke to know +Nicholas. + +"Where is he?" + +The figure turned and pointed, and then: "Come. I show you." + +This was a more highly educated person than Nicholas, thought the +visitor, remarking the use of the nominative scorned of the Prince. + +They walked on to the biggest of the underground dwellings. + +"Is this where the King hangs out? Nicholas' father lives here?" + +"No. This is the Kazhga." + +"Oh, the Kachime. Ain't you comin' in?" + +"Oh no." + +"Why?" + +His guide had a fit of laughter, and then turned to go. + +"Say, what's your name?" + +The answer sounded like "Muckluck." + +And just then Nicholas crawled out of the tunnel-like opening leading +into the council-house. He jumped up, beaming at the sight of his +friend. + +"Say, Nicholas, who's this fella that's always laughing, no matter what +you say? Calls himself 'Muckluck.'" + +The individual referred to gave way to another spasm of merriment, +which infected Nicholas. + +"My sister--this one," he explained. + +"Oh-h!" The Boy joined in the laugh, and pulled off his Arctic cap with +a bow borrowed straight from the Colonel. + +"Princess Muckluck, I'm proud to know you." + +"Name no Muckluck," began Nicholas; "name Mahk----" + +"Mac? Nonsense! Mac's a man's name--she's Princess Muckluck. Only, +how's a fella to tell, when you dress her like a man?" + +The Princess still giggled, while her brother explained. + +"No like man. See?" He showed how the skirt of her deerskin parki, +reaching, like her brother's, a little below the knee, was shaped round +in front, and Nicholas's own--all men's parkis were cut straight +across. + +"I see. How's your father?" + +Nicholas looked grave; even Princess Muckluck stopped laughing. + +"Come," said Nicholas, and the Boy followed him on all fours into the +Kachime. + +Entering on his stomach, he found himself in a room about sixteen by +twenty feet, two-thirds underground, log-walls chinked with moss, a +roof of poles sloping upwards, tent-like, but leaving an opening in the +middle for a smoke-hole some three feet square, and covered at present +by a piece of thin, translucent skin. With the sole exception of the +smoke-hole, the whole thing was so covered with earth, and capped with +snow, that, expecting a mere cave, one was surprised at the wood-lining +within. The Boy was still more surprised at the concentration, there, +of malignant smells. + +He gasped, and was for getting out again as fast as possible, when the +bearskin flap fell behind him over the Kachime end of the +entrance-tunnel. + +Through the tobacco-smoke and the stifling air he saw, vaguely, a grave +gathering of bucks sitting, or, rather, lounging and squatting, on the +outer edge of the wide sleeping-bench that ran all round the room, +about a foot and a half from the hewn-log floor. + +Their solemn, intent faces were lit grotesquely by the uncertain glow +of two seal-oil lamps, mounted on two posts, planted one in front of +the right sleeping-bench, the other on the left. + +The Boy hesitated. Was it possible he could get used to the atmosphere? +Certainly it was warm in here, though there was no fire that he could +see. Nicholas was talking away very rapidly to the half-dozen grave and +reverend signiors, they punctuating his discourse with occasional +grunts and a well-nigh continuous coughing. Nicholas wound up in +English. + +"Me tell you: he heap good friend. You ketch um tobacco?" he inquired +suddenly of his guest. Fortunately, the Boy had remembered to "ketch" +that essential, and his little offering was laid before the +council-men. More grunts, and room made for the visitor on the +sleeping-bench next the post that supported one of the lamps, a clay +saucer half-full of seal-oil, in which a burning wick of twisted moss +gave forth a powerful odour, a fair amount of smoke, and a faint light. + +The Boy sat down, still staring about him, taking note of the well-hewn +logs, and of the neat attachment of the timbers by a saddle-joint at +the four corners of the roof. + +"Who built this?" he inquired of Nicholas. + +"Ol' father, an' ... heap ol' men gone dead." + +"Gee! Well, whoever did it was on to his job," he said. "I don't seen a +nail in the whole sheebang." + +"No, no nail." + +The Boy remembered Nicholas's sled, and, looking again at the +disproportionately small hands of the men about him, corrected his +first impression that they were too feminine to be good for much. + +A dirty old fellow, weak and sickly in appearance, began to talk +querulously. All the others listened with respect, smoking and making +inarticulate noises now and then. When that discourse was finished, a +fresh one was begun by yet another coughing councillor. + +"What's it all about?" the Boy asked. + +"Ol' Chief heap sick," said the buck on the Boy's right. + +"Ol' Chief, ol' father, b'long me," Nicholas observed with pride. + +"Yes; but aren't the Holy Cross people nursing him?" + +"Brother Paul gone; white medicine no good." + +They all shook their heads and coughed despairingly. + +"Then try s'm' other--some yella-brown, Esquimaux kind," hazarded the +Boy lightly, hardly noticing what he was saying till he found nearly +all the eyes of the company fixed intently upon him. Nicholas was +translating, and it was clear the Boy had created a sensation. + +"Father Wills no like," said one buck doubtfully. "He make cross-eyes +when Shaman come." + +"Oh yes, medicine-man," said the Boy, following the narrative eagerly. + +"Shaman go way," volunteered an old fellow who hitherto had held his +peace; "all get sick"--he coughed painfully--"heap Pymeuts die." + +"Father Wills come." Nicholas took up the tale afresh. "Shaman come. +Father Wills heap mad. He no let Shaman stay." + +"No; him say, 'Go! plenty quick, plenty far. Hey, you! _Mush!_'" + +They smoked awhile in silence broken only by coughs. + +"Shaman say, 'Yukon Inua plenty mad.'" + +"Who is Yukon Inua? Where does he live?" + +"Unner Yukon ice," whispered Nicholas. "Oh, the river spirit?... Of +course." + +"Him heap strong. Long time"--he motioned back into the ages with one +slim brown hand--"fore Holy Cross here, Yukon Inua take good care +Pymeuts." + +"No tell Father Wills?" + +"No." + +Then in a low guttural voice: "Shaman come again." + +"Gracious! When?" + +"To-night." + +"Jiminny Christmas!" + +They sat and smoked and coughed. By-and-by, as if wishing thoroughly to +justify their action, Nicholas resumed: + +"You savvy, ol' father try white medicine--four winter, four summer. No +good. Ol' father say, 'Me well man? Good friend Holy Cross, good friend +Russian mission. Me ol'? me sick? Send for Shaman.'" + +The entire company grunted in unison. + +"You no tell?" Nicholas added with recurrent anxiety. + +"No, no; they shan't hear through me. I'm safe." + +Presently they all got up, and began removing and setting back the hewn +logs that formed the middle of the floor. It then appeared that, +underneath, was an excavation about two feet deep. In the centre, +within a circle of stones, were the charred remains of a fire, and here +they proceeded to make another. + +As soon as it began to blaze, Yagorsha the Story-teller took the cover +off the smoke-hole, so the company was not quite stifled. + +A further diversion was created by several women crawling in, bringing +food for the men-folk, in old lard-cans or native wooden kantaks. These +vessels they deposited by the fire, and with an exchange of grunts went +out as they had come. + +Nicholas wouldn't let the Boy undo his pack. + +"No, we come back," he said, adding something in his own tongue to the +company, and then crawled out, followed by the Boy. Their progress was +slow, for the Boy's "Canadian webfeet" had been left in the Kachime, +and he sank in the snow at every step. Twice in the dusk he stumbled +over an ighloo, or a sled, or some sign of humanity, and asked of the +now silent, preoccupied Nicholas, "Who lives here?" The answer had +been, "Nobody; all dead." + +The Boy was glad to see approaching, at last, a human figure. It came +shambling through the snow, with bent head and swaying, jerking gait, +looked up suddenly and sheered off, flitting uncertainly onward, in the +dim light, like a frightened ghost. + +"Who is that?" + +"Shaman. Him see in dark all same owl. Him know you white man." + +The Boy stared after him. The bent figure of the Shaman looked like a +huge bat flying low, hovering, disappearing into the night. + +"Those your dogs howling?" the visitor asked, thinking that for sheer +dismalness Pymeut would be hard to beat. + +Nicholas stopped suddenly and dropped down; the ground seemed to open +and swallow him. The Boy stooped and saw his friend's feet disappearing +in a hole. He seized one of them. "Hold on; wait for me!" + +Nicholas kicked, but to no purpose; he could make only such progress as +his guest permitted. + +Presently a gleam. Nicholas had thrust away the flap at the tunnel's +end, and they stood in the house of the Chief of the Pymeuts, that +native of whom Father Wills had said, "He is the richest and most +intelligent man of his tribe." + +The single room seemed very small after the spaciousness of the +Kachime, but it was the biggest ighloo in the settlement. + +A fire burnt brightly in the middle of the earthen floor, and over it +was bending Princess Muckluck, cooking the evening meal. She nodded, +and her white teeth shone in the blaze. Over in the corner, wrapped in +skins, lay a man on the floor groaning faintly. The salmon, toasting on +sticks over wood coals, smelt very appetising. + +"Why, your fish are whole. Don't you clean 'em first?" asked the +visitor, surprised out of his manners. + +"No," said Nicholas; "him better no cut." + +They sat down by the fire, and the Princess waited on them. The Boy +discovered that it was perfectly true. Yukon salmon broiled in their +skins over a birch fire are the finest eating in the world, and any +"other way" involves a loss of flavour. + +He was introduced for the first time to the delights of reindeer +"back-fat," and found even that not so bad. + +"You are lucky, Nicholas, to have a sister--such a nice one, too"--(the +Princess giggled)--"to keep house for you." + +Nicholas understood, at least, that politeness was being offered, and +he grinned. + +"I've got a sister myself. I'll show you her picture some day. I care +about her a lot. I've come up here to make a pile so that we can buy +back our old place in Florida." + +He said this chiefly to the Princess, for she evidently had profited +more by her schooling, and understood things quite like a Christian. + +"Did you ever eat an orange, Princess?" he continued. + +"Kind o' fish?" + +"No, fruit; a yella ball that grows on a tree." + +"Me know," said Nicholas; "me see him in boxes St. Michael's. Him +bully." + +"Yes. Well, we had a lot of trees all full of those yella balls, and we +used to eat as many as we liked. We don't have much winter down where I +live--summer pretty nearly all the time." + +"I'd like go there," said the girl. + +"Well, will you come and see us, Muckluck? When I've found a gold-mine +and have bought back the Orange Grove, my sister and me are goin' to +live together, like you and Nicholas." + +"She look like you?" + +"No; and it's funny, too, 'cause we're twins." + +"Twins! What's twins?" + +"Two people born at the same time." + +"No!" ejaculated Nicholas. + +"Why, yes, and they always care a heap about each other when they're +twins." + +But Muckluck stared incredulously. + +"_Two_ at the same time!" she exclaimed. "It's like that, then, in your +country?" + +The Boy saw not astonishment alone, but something akin to disgust in +the face of the Princess. He felt, vaguely, he must justify his +twinship. + +"Of course; there's nothing strange about it; it happens quite often." + +"_Often?_" + +"Yes; people are very much pleased. Once in a while there are even +three--" + +"All at the same time!" Her horror turned into shrieks of laughter. +"Why, your women are like our dogs! Human beings and seals never have +more than one at a time!" + +The old man in the corner began to moan and mutter feverishly. Nicholas +went to him, bent down, and apparently tried to soothe him. Muckluck +gathered up the supper-things and set them aside. + +"You were at the Holy Cross school?" asked the Boy. + +"Six years--with Mother Aloysius and the Sisters. They very good." + +"So you're a Catholic, then?" + +"Oh yes." + +"You speak the best English I've heard from a native." + +"I love Sister Winifred. I want to go back--unless"--she regarded the +Boy with a speculative eye--"unless I go your country." + +The sick man began to talk deliriously, and lifted up a terrible old +face with fever-bright eyes glaring through wisps of straight gray +hair. No voice but his was heard for some time in the ighloo, then, "I +fraid," said Muckluck, crouching near the fire, but with head turned +over shoulder, staring at the sick man. + +"No wonder," said the Boy, thinking such an apparition enough to +frighten anybody. + +"Nicholas 'fraid, too," she whispered, "when the devil talks." + +"The devil?" + +"Yes. Sh! You hear?" + +The delirious chatter went on, rising to a scream. Nicholas came +hurrying back to the fire with a look of terror in his face. + +"Me go get Shaman." + +"No; he come soon." Muckluck clung to him. + +They both crouched down by the fire. + +"You 'fraid he'll die before the Shaman gets here?" + +"Oh no," said Muckluck soothingly, but her face belied her words. + +The sick man called hoarsely. Nicholas got him some water, and propped +him up to drink. He glared over the cup with wild eyes, his teeth +chattering against the tin. The Boy, himself, felt a creep go down his +spine. + +Muckluck moved closer to him. + +"Mustn't say he die," she whispered. "If Nicholas think he die, he drag +him out--leave him in the snow." "Never!" + +"Sh!" she made him a sign to be quiet. The rambling fever-talk went on, +Nicholas listening fascinated. "No Pymeut," she whispered, "like live +in ighloo any more if man die there." + +"You mean, if they know a person's dying they haul him out o' +doors--and _leave_ him a night like this?" + +"If not, how get him out ... after?" + +"Why, carry him out." + +"_Touch_ him? Touch _dead_ man?" She shuddered. "Oh, no. Bad, bad! I no +think he die," she resumed, raising her voice. But Nicholas rejoined +them, silent, looking very grave. Was he contemplating turning the poor +old fellow out? The Boy sat devising schemes to prevent the barbarism +should it come to that. The wind had risen; it was evidently going to +be a rough night. + +With imagination full of sick people turned out to perish, the Boy +started up as a long wail came, muffled, but keen still with anguish, +down through the snow and the earth, by way of the smoke-hole, into the +dim little room. + +"Oh, Nicholas! what was that?" + +"What?" + +"Wait! Listen! There, that! Why, it's a child crying." + +"No, him Chee." + +"Let's go and bring him in." + +"Bring dog in here?" + +"Dog! That's no dog." + +"Yes, him dog; him my Chee." + +"Making a human noise like that?" + +Nicholas nodded. The only sounds for some time were the doleful +lamenting of the Mahlemeut without, and the ravings of the Pymeut Chief +within. + +The Boy was conscious of a queer, dream-like feeling. All this had been +going on up here for ages. It had been like this when Columbus came +over the sea. All the world had changed since then, except the +steadfast North. The Boy sat up suddenly, and rubbed his eyes. With +that faculty on the part of the unlearned that one is tempted to call +"American," a faculty for assimilating the grave conclusions of the +doctors, and importing them light-heartedly into personal experience, +he realised that what met his eyes here in Nicholas' house was one of +the oldest pictures humanity has presented. This was what was going on +by the Yukon, when King John, beside that other river, was yielding +Magna Charta to the barons. While the Caesars were building Rome the +Pymeut forefathers were building just such ighloos as this. While +Pheidias wrought his marbles, the men up here carved walrus-ivory, and, +in lieu of Homer, recited "The Crow's Last Flight" and "The Legend of +the Northern Lights." + +Nicholas had risen again, his mouth set hard, his small hands shaking. +He unrolled an old reindeer-skin full of holes, and examined it. At +this the girl, who had been about to make up the fire, threw down the +bit of driftwood and hid her face. + +The sick man babbled on. + +Faint under the desolate sound another--sibilant, clearer, uncannily +human. Nicholas had heard, too, for he threw down the tattered +deerskin, and went to the other side of the fire. Voices in the tunnel. +Nicholas held back the flap and gravely waited there, till one Pymeut +after another crawled in. They were the men the Boy had seen at the +Kachime, with one exception--a vicious-looking old fellow, thin, wiry, +with a face like a smoked chimpanzee and eyes of unearthly brightness. +He was given the best place by the fire, and held his brown claws over +the red coals while the others were finding their places. + +The Boy, feeling he would need an interpreter, signed to Muckluck to +come and sit by him. Grave as a judge she got up, and did as she was +bid. + +"That the Shaman?" whispered the Boy. + +She nodded. It was plain that this apparition, however hideous, had +given her great satisfaction. + +"Any more people coming?" + +"Got no more now in Pymeut." + +"Where is everybody?" + +"Some sick, some dead." + +The old Chief rambled on, but not so noisily. + +"See," whispered Muckluck, "devil 'fraid already. He begin to speak +small." + +The Shaman never once looked towards the sufferer till he himself was +thoroughly warm. Even then he withdrew from the genial glow, only to +sit back, humped together, blinking, silent. The Boy began to feel +that, if he did finally say something it would be as surprising as to +hear an aged monkey break into articulate speech. + +Nicholas edged towards the Shaman, presenting something in a birch-bark +dish. + +"What's that?" + +"A deer's tongue," whispered Muckluck. + +The Boy remembered the Koyukun song, "Thanks for a good meal to +Kuskokala, the Shaman." + +Nicholas seemed to be haranguing the Shaman deferentially, but with +spirit. He pulled out from the bottom of his father's bed three fine +marten-skins, shook them, and dangled them before the Shaman. They +produced no effect. He then took a box of matches and a plug of the +Boy's tobacco out of his pocket, and held the lot towards the Shaman, +seeming to say that to save his life he couldn't rake up another +earthly thing to tempt his Shamanship. Although the Shaman took the +offerings his little black eyes glittered none the less rapaciously, as +they flew swiftly round the room, falling at last with a vicious snap +and gleam upon the Boy. Then it was that for the first time he spoke. + +"Nuh! nuh!" interrupted Muckluck, chattering volubly, and evidently +commending the Boy to the Shaman. Several of the old bucks laughed. + +"He say Yukon Inua no like you." + +"He think white men bring plague, bring devils." + +"Got some money?" whispered Muckluck. + +"Not here." + +The Boy saw the moment when he would be turned out. He plunged his +hands down into his trousers pockets and fished up a knife, his +second-best one, fortunately. + +"Tell him I'm all right, and he can give this to Yukon Inua with my +respects." + +Muckluck explained and held up the shining object, blades open, +corkscrew curling attractively before the covetous eyes of the Shaman. +When he could endure the temptation no longer his two black claws shot +out, but Nicholas intercepted the much-envied object, while, as it +seemed, he drove a more advantageous bargain. Terms finally settled, +the Shaman seized the knife, shut it, secreted it with a final grunt, +and stood up. + +Everyone made way for him. He jerked his loosely-jointed body over to +the sick man, lifted the seal-oil lamp with his shaky old hands, and +looked at the patient long and steadily. When he had set the lamp down +again, with a grunt, he put his black thumb on the wick and squeezed +out the light. When he came back to the fire, which had burnt low, he +pulled open his parki and drew out an ivory wand, and a long eagle's +feather with a fluffy white tuft of some sort at the end. He deposited +these solemnly, side by side, on the ground, about two feet apart. + +Turning round to the dying fire, he took a stick, and with Nicholas's +help gathered the ashes up and laid them over the smouldering brands. + +The ighloo was practically dark. No one dared speak save the yet +unabashed devil in the sick man, who muttered angrily. It was curious +to see how the coughing of the others, which in the Kachime had been +practically constant, was here almost silenced. Whether this was +achieved through awe and respect for the Shaman, or through nervous +absorption in the task he had undertaken, who shall say? + +The Boy felt rather than saw that the Shaman had lain down between the +ivory wand and the eagle's feather. Each man sat as still as death, +listening, staring, waiting. + +Presently a little jet of flame sprang up out of the ashes. The Shaman +lifted his head angrily, saw it was no human hand that had dared turn +on the light, growled, and pulled something else from under his +inexhaustible parki. The Boy peered curiously. The Shaman seemed to be +shutting out the offensive light by wrapping himself up in something, +head and all. + +"What's he doing now?" the Boy ventured to whisper under cover of the +devil's sudden loud remonstrance, the sick man at this point breaking +into ghastly groans. + +"He puts on the Kamlayka. Sh!" + +The Shaman, still enveloped head and body, began to beat softly, +keeping time with the eagle's feather. You could follow the faint gleam +of the ivory wand, but on what it fell with that hollow sound no eye +could see. Now, at intervals, he uttered a cry, a deep bass +danger-note, singularly unnerving. Someone answered in a higher key, +and they kept this up in a kind of rude, sharply-timed duet, till one +by one the whole group of natives was gathered into the swing of it, +swept along involuntarily, it would seem, by some magnetic attraction +of the rhythm. + +_"Ung hi yah! ah-ha-yah! yah-yah-yah!"_ was the chorus to that deep, +recurrent cry of the Shaman. Its accompanying drum-note was muffled +like far-off thunder, conjured out of the earth by the ivory wand. + +Presently a scream of terror from the bundle of skins and bones in the +corner. + +"Ha!" Muckluck clasped her hands and rocked back and forth. + +"They'll frighten the old man to death if he's conscious," said the +Boy, half rising. + +She pulled him down. + +"No, no; frighten devil." She was shaking with excitement and with +ecstacy. + +The sick man cried aloud. A frenzy seemed to seize the Shaman. He +raised his voice in a series of blood-curdling shrieks, then dropped +it, moaning, whining, then bursting suddenly into diabolic laughter, +bellowing, whispering, ventriloquising, with quite extraordinary skill. +The dim and foetid cave might indeed be full of devils. + +If the hideous outcry slackened, but an instant, you heard the sick man +raving with the preternatural strength of delirium, or of mad +resentment. For some time it seemed a serious question as to who would +come out ahead. Just as you began to feel that the old Chief was at the +end of his tether, and ready to give up the ghost, the Shaman, rising +suddenly with a demoniac yell, flung himself down on the floor in a +convulsion. His body writhed horribly; he kicked and snapped and +quivered. + +The Boy was for shielding Muckluck from the crazy flinging out of legs +and arms; but she leaned over, breathless, to catch what words might +escape the Shaman during the fit, for these were omens of deep +significance. + +When at last the convulsive movements quieted, and the Shaman lay like +one dead, except for an occasional faint twitch, the Boy realised for +the first time that the sick man, too, was dumb. Dead? The only sound +now was the wind up in the world above. Even the dog was still. + +The silence was more horrible than the hell-let-loose of a few minutes +before. + +The dim group sat there, motionless, under the spell of the stillness +even more than they had been under the spell of the noise. At last a +queer, indescribable scratching and scraping came up out of the bowels +of the earth. + +How does the old devil manage to do that? thought the Boy. But the +plain truth was that his heart was in his mouth, for the sound came +from the opposite direction, behind the Boy, and not near the Shaman at +all. It grew louder, came nearer, more inexplicable, more awful. He +felt he could not bear it another minute, sprang up, and stood there, +tense, waiting for what might befall. Were _all_ the others dead, then? + +Not a sound in the place, only that indescribable stirring of something +in the solid earth under his feet. + +The Shaman had his knife. A ghastly sensation of stifling came over the +Boy as he thought of a struggle down there under the earth and the +snow. + +On came the horrible underground thing. Desperately the Boy stirred the +almost extinct embers with his foot, and a faint glow fell on the +terror-frozen faces of the natives, fell on the bear-skin flap. _It +moved!_ A huge hand came stealing round. A hand? The skeleton of a +hand--white, ghastly, with fingers unimaginably long. No mortal in +Pymeut had a hand like that--no mortal in all the world! + +A crisp, smart sound, and a match blazed. A tall, lean figure rose up +from behind the bear-skin and received the sudden brightness full in +his face, pale and beautiful, but angry as an avenging angel's. For an +instant the Boy still thought it a spectre, the delusion of a +bewildered brain, till the girl cried out, "Brother Paul!" and fell +forward on the floor, hiding her face in her hands. + +"Light! make a light!" he commanded. Nicholas got up, dazed but +obedient, and lit the seal-oil lamp. + +The voice of the white man, the call for light, reached the Shaman. He +seemed to shiver and shrink under the folds of the Kamlayka. But +instead of getting up and looking his enemy in the face, he wriggled +along on his belly, still under cover of the Kamlayka, till he got to +the bear-skin, pushed it aside with a motion of the hooded head, and +crawled out like some snaky symbol of darkness and superstition fleeing +before the light. + +"Brother Paul!" sobbed the girl, "don't, _don't_ tell Sister Winifred." + +He took no notice of her, bending down over the motionless bundle in +the corner. + +"You've killed him, I suppose?" + +"Brother Paul--" began Nicholas, faltering. + +"Oh, I heard the pandemonium." He lifted his thin white face to the +smoke-hole. "It's all useless, useless. I might as well go and leave +you to your abominations. But instead, go _you_, all of you--go!" He +flung out his long arms, and the group broke and scuttled, huddling +near the bear-skin, fighting like rats to get out faster than the +narrow passage permitted. + +The Boy turned from watching the instantaneous flight, the scuffle, and +the disappearance, to find the burning eyes of the Jesuit fixed +fascinated on his face. If Brother Paul had appeared as a spectre in +the ighloo, it was plain that he looked upon the white face present at +the diabolic rite as dream or devil. The Boy stood up. The lay-brother +started, and crossed himself. + +"In Christ's name, what--who are you?" + +"I--a--I come from the white camp ten miles below." + +"And you were _here_--you allowed this? Ah-h!" He flung up his arms, +the pale lips moved convulsively, but no sound came forth. + +"I--you think I ought to have interfered?" began the Boy. + +"I think--" the Brother began bitterly, checked himself, knelt down, +and felt the old man's pulse. + +Nicholas at the bear-skin was making the Boy signs to come. + +The girl was sobbing with her face on the ground. Again Nicholas +beckoned, and then disappeared. There seemed to be nothing to do but to +follow his host. When the bear-skin had dropped behind the Boy, and he +crawled after Nicholas along the dark passage, he heard the muffled +voice of the girl praying: "Oh, Mary, Mother of God, don't let him tell +Sister Winifred." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A PENITENTIAL JOURNEY + + "... Certain London parishes still receive L12 per annum + for fagots to burn heretics."--JOHN RICHARD GREEN. + + +The Boy slept that night in the Kachime beside a very moody, restless +host. Yagorsha dispensed with the formality of going to bed, and seemed +bent on doing what he could to keep other people awake. He sat +monologuing under the seal lamp till the Boy longed to throw the dish +of smouldering oil at his head. But strangely enough, when, through +sheer fatigue, his voice failed and his chin fell on his broad chest, a +lad of fourteen or so, who had also had difficulty to keep awake, would +jog Yagorsha's arm, repeating interrogatively the last phrase used, +whereon the old Story-Teller would rouse himself and begin afresh, with +an iteration of the previous statement. If the lad failed to keep him +going, one or other of the natives would stir uneasily, lift a head +from under his deerskin, and remonstrate. Yagorsha, opening his eyes +with a guilty start, would go on with the yarn. When morning came, and +the others waked, Yagorsha and the lad slept. + +Nicholas and all the rest who shared the bench at night, and the fire +in the morning, seemed desperately depressed and glum. A heavy cloud +hung over Pymeut, for Pymeut was in disgrace. + +About sunset the women came in with the kantaks and the lard-cans. +Yagorsha sat up and rubbed his eyes. He listened eagerly, while the +others questioned the women. The old Chief wasn't dead at all. No, he +was much better. Brother Paul had been about to all the house-bound +sick people, and given everybody medicine, and flour, and a terrible +scolding. Oh yes, he was angrier than anybody had ever been before. +Some natives from the school at Holy Cross were coming for him +tomorrow, and they were all going down river and across the southern +portage to the branch mission at Kuskoquim. + +"Down river? Sure?" + +Yes, sure. Brother Paul had not waited to come with those others, being +so anxious to bring medicine and things to Ol' Chief quick; and this +was how he was welcomed back to the scene of his labours. A Devil's +Dance was going on! That was what he called it. + +"You savvy?" said Nicholas to his guest. "Brother Paul go plenty soon. +You wait." + +I'll have company back to camp, was the Boy's first thought, and +then--would there be any fun in that after all? It was plain Brother +Paul was no such genial companion as Father Wills. + +And so it was that he did not desert Nicholas, although Brother Paul's +companions failed to put in an appearance on the following morning. +However, on the third day after the incident of the Shaman (who seemed +to have vanished into thin air), Brother Paul shook the snow of Pymeut +from his feet, and with three Indians from the Holy Cross school and a +dog-team, he disappeared from the scene. Not till he had been gone some +time did Nicholas venture to return to the parental roof. + +They found Muckluck subdued but smiling, and the old man astonishingly +better. It looked almost as if he had turned the corner, and was +getting well. + +There was certainly something very like magic in such a recovery, but +it was quickly apparent that this aspect of the case was not what +occupied Nicholas, as he sat regarding his parent with a keen and +speculative eye. He asked him some question, and they discussed the +point volubly, Muckluck following the argument with close attention. +Presently it seemed that father and son were taking the guest into +consideration. Muckluck also turned to him now and then, and by-and-by +she said: "I think he go." + +"Go where?" + +"Holy Cross," said the old man eagerly. + +"Brother Paul," Nicholas explained. "He go _down_ river. We get Holy +Cross--more quick." + +"I see. Before he can get back. But why do you want to go?" + +"See Father Brachet." + +"Sister Winifred say: 'Always tell Father Brachet; then everything all +right,'" contributed Muckluck. + +"You tell Pymeut belly solly," the old Chief said. + +"Nicholas know he not able tell all like white man," Muckluck +continued. "Nicholas say you good--hey? you good?" + +"Well--a--pretty tollable, thank you." + +"You go with Nicholas; you make Father Brachet unnerstan'--forgive. +Tell Sister Winifred--" She stopped, perplexed, vaguely distrustful at +the Boy's chuckling. + +"You think we can explain it all away, hey?" He made a gesture of happy +clearance. "Shaman and everything, hey?" + +"Me no can," returned Nicholas, with engaging modesty. "_You_--" He +conveyed a limitless confidence. + +"Well, I'll be jiggered if I don't try. How far is it?" + +"Go slow--one sleep." + +"Well, we won't go slow. We've got to do penance. When shall we start?" + +"Too late now. Tomalla," said the Ol' Chief. + + * * * * * + +They got up very early--it seemed to the Boy like the middle of the +night--stole out of the dark Kachime, and hurried over the hard crust +that had formed on the last fall of snow, down the bleak, dim slope to +the Ol' Chief's, where they were to breakfast. + +Not only Muckluck was up and doing, but the Ol' Chief seemed galvanised +into unwonted activity. He was doddering about between his bed and the +fire, laying out the most imposing parkis and fox-skins, fur blankets, +and a pair of seal-skin mittens, all of which, apparently, he had had +secreted under his bed, or between it and the wall. + +They made a sumptuous breakfast of tea, the last of the bacon the Boy +had brought, and slapjacks. + +The Boy kept looking from time to time at the display of furs. Father +Wills was right; he ought to buy a parki with a hood, but he had meant +to have the priest's advice, or Mac's, at least, before investing. Ol' +Chief watching him surreptitiously, and seeing he was no nearer making +an offer, felt he should have some encouragement. He picked up the +seal-skin mittens and held them out. + +"Present," said Ol' Chief. "You tell Father Brachet us belly solly." + +"Oh, I'll handle him without gloves," said the Boy, giving back the +mittens. But Ol' Chief wouldn't take them. He was holding up the +smaller of the two parkis. + +"You no like?" + +"Oh, very nice." + +"You no buy?" + +"You go sleep on trail," said Nicholas, rising briskly. "You die, no +parki." + +The Boy laughed and shook his head, but still Ol' Chief held out the +deer-skin shirt, and caressed the wolf-fringe of the hood. + +"Him cheap." + +"How cheap?" + +"Twenty-fi' dollah." + +"Don't know as I call that cheap." + +"Yes," said Nicholas. "St. Michael, him fifty dollah." + +The Boy looked doubtful. + +"I saw a parki there at the A. C. Store about like this for twenty." + +"A. C. parki, peeluck," Nicholas said contemptuously. Then patting the +one his father held out, "You wear _him_ fifty winter." + +"Lord forbid! Anyhow, I've only got about twenty dollars' worth of +tobacco and stuff along with me." + +"Me come white camp," Nicholas volunteered. "Me get more fi' dollah." + +"Oh, will you? Now, that's very kind of you." But Nicholas, impervious +to irony, held out the parki. The Boy laughed, and took it. Nicholas +stooped, picked up the fur mittens, and, laying them on the Boy's arm, +reiterated his father's "Present!" and then departed to the Kachime to +bring down the Boy's pack. + +The Princess meanwhile had withdrawn to her own special corner, where +in the daytime appeared only a roll of plaited mats, and a little, +cheap, old hat-box, which she evidently prized most of all she had in +the world. + +"You see? Lock!" + +The Boy expressed surprise and admiration. + +"No! Really! I call that fine." + +"I got present for Father Brachet"; and turning over the rags and +nondescript rubbish of the hat-box, she produced an object whose use +was not immediately manifest. A section of walrus ivory about six +inches long had been cut in two. One of these curved halves had been +mounted on four ivory legs. In the upper flat side had been stuck, at +equal distances from the two ends and from each other, two delicate +branches of notched ivory, standing up like horns. Between these sat an +ivory mannikin, about three inches long, with a woeful countenance and +with arms held out like one beseeching mercy. + +"It's fine," said the Boy, "but--a--what's it for? Just look pretty?" + +"Wait, I show you." She dived into the hat-box, and fished up a bit of +battered pencil. With an air of pride, she placed the pencil across the +outstretched hands of the ivory suppliant, asking the Boy in dumb-show, +was not this a pen-rest that might be trusted to melt the heart of the +Holy Father? + +"This way, too." She illustrated how anyone embarrassed by the +possession of more than one pencil could range them in tiers on the +ivory horns above the head of the Woeful One. + +"I call that scrumptious! And he looks as if he was saying he was sorry +all the time." + +She nodded, delighted that the Boy comprehended the subtle symbolism. + +"One more!" she said, showing her dazzling teeth. Like a child playing +a game, she half shut the hat-box and hugged it lovingly. Then with +eyes sparkling, slowly the small hand crept in--was thrust down the +side and drew out with a rapturous "Ha!" a gaudy advertisement card, +setting forth the advantages of smoking "Kentucky Leaf" She looked at +it fondly. Then slowly, regretfully, all the fun gone now, she passed +it to the Boy. + +"For Sister Winifred!" she said, like one who braces herself to make +some huge renunciation. "You tell her I send with my love, and I always +say my prayers. I very good. Hey? You tell Sister Winifred?" + +"_Sure_," said the Boy. + +The Ol' Chief was pulling the other parki over his head. Nicholas +reappeared with the visitor's effects. Under the Boy's eyes, he calmly +confiscated all the tea and tobacco. But nothing had been touched in +the owner's absence. + +"Look here: just leave me enough tea to last till I get home. I'll make +it up to you." + +Nicholas, after some reflection, agreed. Then he bustled about, +gathered together an armful of things, and handed the Boy a tea-kettle +and an axe. + +"You bring--dogs all ready. Mush!" and he was gone. + +To the Boy's surprise, while he and Muckluck were getting the food and +presents together, the lively Ol' Chief--so lately dying--made off, in +a fine new parki, on all fours, curious, no doubt, to watch the +preparations without. + +But not a bit of it. The Ol' Chief's was a more intimate concern in the +expedition. When the Boy joined him, there he was sitting up in +Nicholas's sled, appallingly emaciated, but brisk as you please, +ordering the disposition of the axe and rifle along either side, the +tea-kettle and grub between his feet, showing how the deer-skin +blankets should be wrapped, and especially was he dictatorial about the +lashing of the mahout. + +"How far's he comin'?" asked the Boy, astonished. + +"All the way," said Muckluck. "He want to be _sure_." + +Several bucks came running down from the Kachime, and stood about, +coughed and spat, and offered assistance or advice. When at last Ol' +Chief was satisfied with the way the raw walrus-hide was laced and +lashed, Nicholas cracked his whip and shouted, "Mush! God-damn! Mush!" + +"Good-bye, Princess. We'll take care of your father, though I'm sure he +oughtn't to go." + +"Oh yes," answered Muckluck confidently; then lower, "Shaman make all +well quick. Hey? Goo'-bye." + +"Good-bye." + +"Don't forget tell Sister Winifred I say my p--" But the Boy had to run +to keep up with the sled. + +For some time he kept watching the Ol' Chief with unabated +astonishment, wondering if he'd die on the way. But, after all, the +open-air cure was tried for his trouble in various other parts of the +world--why not here? + +There was no doubt about it, Nicholas had a capital team of dogs, and +knew how to drive them. Two-legged folk often had to trot pretty +briskly to keep up. Pymeut was soon out of sight. + +"Nicholas, what'll you take for a couple o' your dogs?" + +"No sell." + +"Pay you a good long price." + +"No sell." + +"Well, will you help me to get a couple?" + +"Me try"; but he spoke dubiously. + +"What do they cost?" + +"Good leader cost hunder and fifty in St. Michael." + +"You don't mean dollahs?" + +"Mean dollahs." + +"Come off the roof!" + +But Nicholas seemed to think there was no need. + +"You mean that if I offer you a hundred and fifty dollahs for your +leader, straight off, this minute, you won't take it?" + +"No, no take," said the Prince, stolidly. + +And his friend reflected. Nicholas without a dog-team would be +practically a prisoner for eight months of the year, and not only that, +but a prisoner in danger of starving to death. After all, perhaps a +dog-team in such a country _was_ priceless, and the Ol' Chief was +travelling in truly royal style. + +However, it was stinging cold, and running after those expensive dogs +was an occupation that palled. By-and-by, "How much is your sled +worth?" he asked Ol' Chief. + +"Six sables," said the monarch. + + * * * * * + +It was a comfort to sight a settlement off there on the point. + +"What's this place?" + +"Fish-town." + +"Pymeuts there?" + +"No, all gone. Come back when salmon run." + +Not a creature there, as Nicholas had foretold--a place built wilfully +on the most exposed point possible, bleak beyond belief. If you open +your mouth at this place on the Yukon, you have to swallow a hurricane. +The Boy choked, turned his back to spit out the throttling blast, and +when he could catch his breath inquired: + +"This a good place for a village?" + +"Bully. Wind come, blow muskeetah--" + +Nicholas signified a remote destination with his whip. + +"B'lieve you! This kind o' thing would discourage even a mosquito." + +In the teeth of the blast they went past the Pymeut Summer Resort. +Unlike Pymeut proper, its cabins were built entirely above ground, of +logs unchinked, its roofs of watertight birch-bark. + +A couple of hours farther on Nicholas permitted a halt on the edge of a +struggling little grove of dwarfed cotton-wood. + +The kettle and things being withdrawn from various portions of the Ol' +Chief's person, he, once more warmly tucked up and tightly lashed down, +drew the edge of the outer coverlid up till it met the wolf-skin fringe +of his parki hood, and relapsed into slumber. + +Nicholas chopped down enough green wood to make a hearth. + +"What! bang on the snow?" + +Nicholas nodded, laid the logs side by side, and on them built a fire +of the seasoned wood the Boy had gathered. They boiled the kettle, made +tea, and cooked some fish. + +Ol' Chief waked up just in time to get his share. The Boy, who had kept +hanging about the dogs with unabated interest, had got up from the fire +to carry them the scraps, when Nicholas called out quite angrily, "No! +no feed dogs," and waved the Boy off. + +"What! It's only some of my fish. Fish is what they eat, ain't it?" + +"No feed now; wait till night." + +"What for? They're hungry." + +"You give fish--dogs no go any more." + +Peremptorily he waved the Boy off, and fell to work at packing up. Not +understanding Nicholas's wisdom, the Boy was feeling a little sulky and +didn't help. He finished up the fish himself, then sat on his heels by +the fire, scorching his face while his back froze, or wheeling round +and singeing his new parki while his hands grew stiff in spite of +seal-skin mittens. + +No, it was no fun camping with the temperature at thirty degrees below +zero--better to be trotting after those expensive and dinnerless dogs; +and he was glad when they started again. + +But once beyond the scant shelter of the cottonwood, it was evident the +wind had risen. It was blowing straight out of the north and into their +faces. There were times when you could lean your whole weight against +the blast. + +After sunset the air began to fill with particles of frozen snow. They +did not seem to fall, but continually to whirl about, and present +stinging points to the travellers' faces. Talking wasn't possible even +if you were in the humour, and the dead, blank silence of all nature, +unbroken hour after hour, became as nerve-wearing as the cold and +stinging wind. The Boy fell behind a little. Those places on his heels +that had been so badly galled had begun to be troublesome again. Well, +it wouldn't do any good to holla about it--the only thing to do was to +harden one's foolish feet. But in his heart he felt that all the +time-honoured conditions of a penitential journey were being complied +with, except on the part of the arch sinner. Ol' Chief seemed to be +getting on first-rate. + +The dogs, hardly yet broken in to the winter's work, were growing +discouraged, travelling so long in the eye of the wind. And Nicholas, +in the kind of stolid depression that had taken possession of him, +seemed to have forgotten even to shout "Mush!" for a very long time. + +By-and-by Ol' Chief called out sharply, and Nicholas seemed to wake up. +He stopped, looked back, and beckoned to his companion. + +The Boy came slowly on. + +"Why you no push?" + +"Push what?" + +"Handle-bar." + +He went to the sled and illustrated, laying his hands on the +arrangement at the back that stood out like the handle behind a baby's +perambulator. The Boy remembered. Of course, there were usually two men +with each sled. One ran ahead and broke trail with snow-shoes, but that +wasn't necessary today, for the crust bore. But the other man's +business was to guide the sled from behind and keep it on the trail. + +"Me gottah drive, you gottah push. Dogs heap tired." + +Nicholas spoke severely. The Boy stared a moment at what he mentally +called "the nerve of the fella," laughed, and took hold, swallowing +Nicholas's intimation that he, after all, was far more considerate of +the dogs than the person merely sentimental, who had been willing to +share his dinner with them. + +"How much farther?" + +"Oh, pretty quick now." + +The driver cracked his whip, called out to the dogs, and suddenly +turned off from the river course. Unerringly he followed an invisible +trail, turning sharply up a slough, and went zig-zagging on without +apparent plan. It was better going when they got to a frozen lake, and +the dogs seemed not to need so much encouragement. It would appear an +impossible task to steer accurately with so little light; but once on +the other side of the lake it was found that Nicholas had hit a +well-beaten track as neatly as a thread finds the needle's eye. + +Far off, out of the dimness, came a sound--welcome because it was +something to break the silence but hardly cheerful in itself. + +"Hear that, Nicholas?" + +"Mission dogs." + +Their own had already thrown up their noses and bettered the pace. + +The barking of the dogs had not only announced the mission to the +travellers, but to the mission a stranger at the gates. + +Before anything could be seen of the settlement, clumsy, fur-clad +figures had come running down the slope and across the ice, greeting +Nicholas with hilarity. + +Indian or Esquimaux boys they seemed to be, who talked some jargon +understanded of the Pymeut pilot. The Boy, lifting tired eyes, saw +something white glimmering high in the air up on the right river bank. +In this light it refused to form part of any conceivable plan, but hung +there in the air detached, enigmatic, spectral. Below it, more on +humanity's level, could be dimly distinguished, now, the Mission +Buildings, apparently in two groups with an open space in the middle. +Where are the white people? wondered the Boy, childishly impatient. +Won't they come and welcome us? He followed the Esquimaux and Indians +from the river up to the left group of buildings. With the heathen +jargon beating on his ears, he looked up suddenly, and realized what +the white thing was that had shone out so far. In the middle of the +open space a wooden cross stood up, encrusted with frost crystals, and +lifting gleaming arms out of the gloom twenty feet or so above the +heads of the people. + +"Funny thing for an Agnostic," he admitted to himself, "but I'm right +glad to see a Christian sign." And as he knocked at the door of the big +two-story log-house on the left he defended himself. "It's the +swing-back of the pendulum after a big dose of Pymeut and heathen +tricks. I welcome it as a mark of the white man." He looked over his +shoulder a little defiantly at the Holy Cross. Recognition of what the +high white apparition was had given him a queer jolt, stirring +unsuspected things in imagination and in memory. He had been accustomed +to see that symbol all his life, and it had never spoken to him before. +Up here it cried aloud and dominated the scene. "Humph!" he said to +himself, "to look at you a body'd think 'The Origin' had never been +written, and Spencer and Huxley had never been born.' He knocked again, +and again turned about to scan the cross. + +"Just as much a superstition, just as much a fetich as Kaviak's +seal-plug or the Shaman's eagle feather. With long looking at a couple +of crossed sticks men grow as dazed, as hypnotized, as Pymeuts watching +a Shaman's ivory wand. All the same, I'm not sure that faith in 'First +Principles' would build a house like this in the Arctic Regions, and +it's convenient to find it here--if only they'd open the door." + +He gave another thundering knock, and then nearly fell backwards into +the snow, for Brother Paul stood on the threshold holding up a lamp. + +"I--a--oh! How do you do? Can I come in?" + +Brother Paul, still with the look of the Avenging Angel on his pale, +young face, held the door open to let the Boy come in. Then, leaning +out into the night and lifting the lamp high, "Is that Nicholas?" he +said sternly. + +But the Pymeuts and the school-boys had vanished. He came in and set +down the lamp. + +"We--a--we heard you were going down river," said the Boy, tamely, for +he had not yet recovered himself after such an unexpected blow. + +"Are you cold? Are you wet?" demanded Brother Paul, standing erect, +unwelcoming, by the table that held the lamp. + +The Boy pulled himself together. + +"Look here"--he turned away from the comforting stove and confronted +the Jesuit--"those Pymeuts are not only cold and wet and sick too, but +they're sorry. They've come to ask forgiveness." + +"It's easily done." + +Such scorn you would hardly expect from a follower of the meek +Galilean. + +"No, not easily done, a penance like this. I know, for I've just +travelled that thirty miles with 'em over the ice from Pymeut." + +"You? Yes, it amuses you." + +The sombre eyes shone with a cold, disconcerting light. + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I've been better amused." + +The Boy looked down at his weary, wounded feet. And the others--where +were his fellow pilgrims? It struck him as comic that the upshot of the +journey should be that he was doing penance for the Pymeuts, but he +couldn't smile with that offended archangel in front of him. + +"Thirty miles over the ice, in the face of a norther, hasn't been so +'easy' even for me. And I'm not old, nor sick--no, nor frightened, +Brother Paul." + +He flung up his head, but his heart failed him even while he made the +boast. Silently, for a moment, they confronted each other. + +"Where are you bound for?" + +"I--a--" The Boy had a moment of wondering if he was expected to answer +"Hell," and he hesitated. + +"Are you on your way up the river?" + +"No--I" (was the man not going to let them rest their wicked bones +there a single night?)--"a--I--" + +The frozen river and the wind-racked wood were as hospitable as the +beautiful face of the brother. Involuntarily the Boy shivered. + +"I came to see the Father Superior." + +He dropped back into a chair. + +"The Father Superior is busy." + +"I'll wait." + +"And very tired." + +"So'm I." + +"--worn out with the long raging of the plague. I have waited till he +is less harassed to tell him about the Pymeuts' deliberate depravity. +Nicholas, too!--one of our own people, one of the first pupils of the +school, a communicant in the church; distinguished by a thousand +kindnesses. And this the return!" + +"The return is that he takes his backsliding so to heart, he can't rest +without coming to confess and to beg the Father Superior--" + +"I shall tell the Father Superior what I heard and saw. He will agree +that, for the sake of others who are trying to resist temptation, an +example should be made of Nicholas and of his father." + +"And yet you nursed the old man and were kind to him, I believe, after +the offense." + +"I--I thought you had killed him. But even you must see that we cannot +have a man received here as Nicholas was--the most favoured child of +the mission--who helps to perpetuate the degrading blasphemies of his +unhappy race. It's nothing to you; you even encourage--" + +"'Pon my soul--" But Brother Paul struck in with an impassioned +earnestness: + +"We spend a life-time making Christians of these people; and such as +you come here, and in a week undo the work of years." + +"I--_I?_" + +"It's only eighteen months since I myself came, but already I've +seen--" The torrent poured out with never a pause. "Last summer some +white prospectors bribed our best native teacher to leave us and become +a guide. He's a drunken wreck now somewhere up on the Yukon Flats. You +take our boys for pilots, you entice our girls away with trinkets--" + +"Great Caesar! _I_ don't." + +But vain was protest. For Brother Paul the visitor was not a particular +individual. He stood there for the type of the vicious white +adventurer. + +The sunken eyes of the lay-brother, burning, impersonal, saw not a +particular young man and a case compounded of mixed elements, but--The +Enemy! against whom night and day he waged incessant warfare. + +"The Fathers and Sisters wear out their lives to save these people. We +teach them with incredible pains the fundamental rules of civilization; +we teach them how to save their souls alive." The Boy had jumped up and +laid his hand on the door-knob. "_You_ come. You teach them to smoke--" + +The Boy wheeled round. + +"I don't smoke." + +"... and to gamble." + +"Nicholas taught _me_ to gamble. Brother Paul, I swear--" + +"Yes, and to swear and get drunk, and so find the shortest way to +hell." + +"Father Brachet! Father Wills!" a voice called without. + +The door-knob turned under the Boy's hand, and before he could more +than draw back, a whiff of winter blew into the room, and a creature +stood there such as no man looks to find on his way to an Arctic gold +camp. A girl of twenty odd, with the face of a saint, dressed in the +black habit of the Order of St. Anne. + +"Oh, Brother Paul! you are wanted--wanted quickly. I think Catherine is +worse; don't wait, or she'll die without--" And as suddenly as she came +the vision vanished, carrying Brother Paul in the wake of her streaming +veil. + +The Boy sat down by the stove, cogitating how he should best set about +finding Nicholas to explain the failure of their mission.... What was +that? Voices from the other side. The opposite door opened and a man +appeared, with Nicholas and his father close behind, looking anything +but cast down or decently penitential. + +"How do you do?" The white man's English had a strong French accent. He +shook hands with great cordiality. "We have heard of you from Father +Wills also. These Pymeut friends of ours say you have something to tell +me." + +He spoke as though this something were expected to be highly +gratifying, and, indeed, the cheerfulness of Nicholas and his father +would indicate as much. + +As the Boy, hesitating, did not accept the chair offered, smiling, the +Jesuit went on: + +"Will you talk of zis matter--whatever it is--first, or will you first +go up and wash, and have our conference after supper?" + +"No, thank you--a--Are you the Father Superior?" + +He bowed a little ceremoniously, but still smiling. + +"I am Father Brachet." + +"Oh, well, Nicholas is right. The first thing to do is to explain why +we're here." + +Was it the heat of the stove after the long hours of cold that made him +feel a little dizzy? He put up his hand to his head. + +"I have told zem to take hot water upstairs," the Father was saying, +"and I zink a glass of toddy would be a good sing for you." He slightly +emphasised the "you," and turned as if to supplement the original +order. + +"No, no!" the Boy called after him, choking a little, half with +suppressed merriment, half with nervous fatigue. "Father Brachet, if +you're kind to us, Brother Paul will never forgive you. We're all in +disgrace." + +"Hein! What?" + +"Yes, we're all desperately wicked." + +"No, no," objected Nicholas, ready to go back on so tactless an +advocate. + +"And Brother Paul has just been saying--" + +"What is it, what is it?" + +The Father Superior spoke a little sharply, and himself sat down in the +wooden armchair he before had placed for his white guest. + +The three culprits stood in front of him on a dead level of iniquity. + +"You see, Father Brachet, Ol' Chief has been very ill--" + +"I know. Much as we needed him here, Paul insisted on hurrying back to +Pymeut"--he interrupted himself as readily as he had interrupted the +Boy--"but ze Ol' Chief looks lively enough." + +"Yes; he--a--his spirits have been raised by--a--what you will think an +unwarrantable and wicked means." + +Nicholas understood, at least, that objectionable word "wicked" +cropping up again, and he was not prepared to stand it from the Boy. + +He grunted with displeasure, and said something low to his father. + +"Brother Paul found them--found _us_ having a seance with the Shaman." + +Father Brachet turned sharply to the natives. + +"Ha! you go back to zat." + +Nicholas came a step forward, twisting his mittens and rolling his eye +excitedly. + +"Us no wicked. Shaman say he gottah scare off--" He waved his arm +against an invisible army. Then, as it were, stung into plain speaking: +"Shaman say _white man_ bring sickness--bring devils--" + +"Maybe the old Orang Outang's right." + +The Boy drew a tired breath, and sat down without bidding in one of the +wooden chairs. What an idiot he'd been not to take the hot grog and the +hot bath, and leave these people to fight their foolishness out among +themselves! It didn't concern him. And here was Nicholas talking away +comfortably in his own tongue, and the Father was answering. A native +opened the door and peeped in cautiously. + +Nicholas paused. + +"Hein!" said Father Brachet, "what is it!" + +The Indian came in with two cups of hot tea and a cracker in each +saucer. He stopped at the priest's side. + +"You get sick, too. Please take. Supper little late." He nodded to +Nicholas, and gave the white stranger the second cup. As he was going +out: "Same man here in July. You know"--he tapped himself on the left +side--"man with sore heart." + +"Yansey?" said the priest quickly. "Well, what about Yansey?" + +"He is here." + +"But no! Wiz zose ozzers?" + +"No, I think they took the dogs and deserted him. He's just been +brought in by our boys; they are back with the moose-meat. Sore heart +worse. He will die." + +"Who's looking after him?" + +"Brother Paul"; and he padded out of the room in his soft native shoes. + +"Then Brother Paul has polished off Catherine," thought the Boy, "and +he won't waste much time over a sore heart. It behoves us to hurry up +with our penitence." This seemed to be Nicholas's view as well. He was +beginning again in his own tongue. + +"You know we like best for you to practise your English," said the +priest gently; "I expect you speak very well after working so long on +ze John J. Healy." + +"Yes," Nicholas straightened himself. "Me talk all same white man now." +(He gleamed at the Boy: "Don't suppose I need you and your perfidious +tongue.") "No; us Pymeuts no wicked!" + +Again he turned away from the priest, and challenged the Boy to repeat +the slander. Then with an insinuating air, "Shaman no say you wicked," +he reassured the Father. "Shaman say Holy Cross all right. Cheechalko +no good; Cheechalko bring devils; Cheechalko all same _him_," he wound +up, flinging subterfuge to the winds, and openly indicating his +faithless ambassador. + +"Strikes me I'm gettin' the worst of this argument all round. Brother +Paul's been sailing into me on pretty much the same tack." + +"No," said Nicholas, firmly; "Brother Paul no unnerstan'. _You_ +unnerstan'." He came still nearer to the Father, speaking in a +friendly, confidential tone. "You savvy! Plague come on steamboat up +from St. Michael. One white man, he got coast sickness. Sun shining. +Salmon run big. Yukon full o' boats. Two days: no canoe on river. Men +all sit in tent like so." He let his mittens fall on the floor, +crouched on his heels, and rocked his head in his hands. Springing up, +he went on with slow, sorrowful emphasis: "Men begin die--" + +"Zen we come," said the Father, "wiz nurses and proper medicine--" + +Nicholas gave the ghost of a shrug, adding the damaging fact: "Sickness +come to Holy Cross." + +The Father nodded. + +"We've had to turn ze schools into wards for our patients," he +explained to the stranger. "We do little now but nurse ze sick and +prepare ze dying. Ze Muzzer Superieure has broken down after heroic +labours. Paul, I fear, is sickening too. Yes, it's true: ze disease +came to us from Pymeut." + +In the Father's mind was the thought of contagion courageously faced in +order to succour "the least of these my brethren." In Nicholas's mind +was the perplexing fact that these white men could bring sickness, but +not stay it. Even the heap good people at Holy Cross were not saved by +their deaf and impotent God. + +"Fathers sick, eight Sisters sick, boy die in school, three girl die. +Holy Cross people kind--" Again he made that almost French motion of +the shoulders. "Shaman say, 'Peeluck!' No good be kind to devils; scare +'em--make 'em run." + +"Nicholas," the priest spoke wearily, "I am ashamed of you. I sought +you had learned better. Zat old Shaman--he is a rare old rogue. What +did you give him?" + +Nicholas' mental processes may not have been flattering, but their +clearness was unmistakable. If Father Brachet was jealous of the rival +holy man's revenue, it was time to bring out the presents. + +Ol' Chief had a fine lynx-skin over his arm. He advanced at a word from +Nicholas, and laid it down before the Father. + +"No!" said Father Brachet, with startling suddenness; "take it away and +try to understand." + +Nicholas approached trembling, but no doubt remembering how necessary +it had been to add to the Shaman's offering before he would consent to +listen with favour to Pymeut prayers, he pulled out of their respective +hiding--places about his person a carved ivory spoon and an embroidered +bird-skin pouch, advanced boldly under the fire of the Superior's keen +eyes and sharp words, and laid the further offering on the lynx-skin at +his feet. + +"Take zem away," said the priest, interrupting his brief homily and +standing up. "Don't you understand yet zat we are your friends wizzout +money and wizzout price? We do not want zese sings. Shaman takes +ivories from ze poor, furs from ze shivering, and food from zem zat +starve. And he gives nossing in return--nossing! Take zese sings away; +no one wants zem at Holy Cross." + +Ol' Chief wiped his eyes pathetically. Nicholas, the picture of +despair, turned in a speechless appeal to his despised ambassador. +Before anyone could speak, the door-knob rattled rudely, and the big +bullet-head of a white man was put in. + +"Pardon, mon Pere; cet homme qui vient de Minook--faudrait le coucher +de suite--mais ou, mon Dieu, ou?" + +While the Superior cogitated, "How-do, Brother Etienne?" said Nicholas, +and they nodded. + +Brother Etienne brought the rest of his heavy body half inside the +door. He wore aged, weather-beaten breeches, and a black sweater over +an old hickory shirt. + +"Ses compagnons l'ont laisse, la, je crois. Mais ca ne durera pas +longtemps." + +"Faudra bien qu'il reste ici--je ne vois pas d'autre moyen," said the +Father. "Enfin--on verra. Attendez quelques instants." + +"C'est bien." Brother Etienne went out. + +Ol' Chief was pulling the Boy's sleeve during the little colloquy, and +saying, "You tell." But the Boy got up like one who means to make an +end. + +"You haven't any time or strength for this--" + +"Oh yes," said Father Brachet, smiling, and arresting the impetuous +movement. "Ziz is--part of it." + +"Well," said the Boy, still hesitating, "they _are_ sorry, you know, +_really_ sorry." + +"You sink so?" The question rang a little sceptically. + +"Yes, I do, and I'm in a position to know. You'd forgive them if you'd +seen, as I did, how miserable and overwhelmed they were when Brother +Paul--when--I'm not saying it's the highest kind of religion that +they're so almighty afraid of losing your good opinion, but it--it +gives you a hold, doesn't it?" And then, as the Superior said nothing, +only kept intent eyes on the young face, the Boy wound up a little +angrily: "Unless, of course, you're like Brother Paul, ready to throw +away the power you've gained--" + +"Paul serves a great and noble purpose--but--zese questions are--a--not +in his province." Still he bored into the young face with those kind +gimlets, his good little eyes, and-- + +"You are--one of us?" he asked, "of ze Church?" + +"No, I--I'm afraid I'm not of any Church." + +"Ah!" + +"And I ought to take back 'afraid.' But I'm telling you the truth when +I say there never were honester penitents than the Pymeuts. The whole +Kachime's miserable. Even the girl, Ol' Chief's daughter she cried like +anything when she thought Sister--" + +"Winifred?" + +"Sister Winifred would be disappointed in her." + +"Ah, yes; Sister Winifred has zem--" he held out his hand, spread the +fingers apart, and slowly, gently closed them. "Comme ca." + +"But what's the good of it if Brother Paul--" + +"Ah, it is not just zere Paul comes in. But I tell you, my son, Paul +does a work here no ozzer man has done so well." + +"He is a flint--a fanatic." + +"Fanatique!" He flung out an expressive hand. "It is a name, my son. It +often means no more but zat a man is in earnest. Out of such a 'flint' +we strike sparks, and many a generous fire is set alight. We all do +what we can here at Holy Cross, but Paul will do what we cannot." + +"Well, give _me_--" He was on the point of saying "Father Wills," but +changed it to "a man who is tolerant." + +"Tolerant? Zere are plenty to be tolerant, my son. Ze world is full. +But when you find a man zat can _care_, zat can be 'fanatique'--ah! It +is"--he came a little nearer--"it is but as if I would look at you and +say, 'He has earnest eyes! He will go far _whatever_ road he follow.'" +He drew off, smiling shrewdly. "You may live, my son, to be yourself +called 'fanatique.' Zen you will know how little--" + +"I!" the Boy broke in. "You are pretty wide of the mark this time." + +"Ah, perhaps! But zere are more trails zan ze Yukon for a fanatique. +You have zere somesing to show me?" + +"I promised the girl that cried so--I promised her to bring the Sister +this." He had pulled out the picture. In spite of the careful wrapping, +it had got rather crumpled. The Father looked at it, and then a swift +glance passed between him and the Boy. + +"You could see it was like pulling out teeth to part with it. Can it go +up there till the Sister sends for it?" + +Father Brachet nodded, and the gorgeous worldling, counselling all men +to "Smoke Kentucky Leaf!" was set up in the high place of honour on the +mantel-shelf, beside a print of the Madonna and the Holy Child. +Nicholas cheered up at this, and Ol' Chief stopped wiping his eyes. +While the Boy stood at the mantel with his back to Father Brachet, +acting on a sudden impulse, he pulled the ivory pen-rest out of his +shirt, and stuck its various parts together, saying as he did so, "She +sent an offering to you, too. If the Ol' Chief an' I fail to convince +you of our penitence, we're all willin' to let this gentleman plead for +us." Whereupon he wheeled round and held up the Woeful One before the +Father's eyes. + +The priest grasped the offering with an almost convulsive joy, and +instantly turned his back that the Pymeuts might not see the laugh that +twisted up his humorous old features. The penitents looked at each +other, and telegraphed in Pymeut that after all the Boy had come up to +time. The Father had refused the valuable lynx-skin and Nicholas' +superior spoon, but was ready, it appeared, to look with favour on +anything the Boy offered. + +But very seriously the priest turned round upon the Pymeuts. "I will +just say a word to you before we wash and go in to supper." With a +kindly gravity he pronounced a few simple sentences about the +gentleness of Christ with the ignorant, but how offended the Heavenly +Father was when those who knew the true God descended to idolatrous +practices, and how entirely He could be depended upon to punish wicked +people. + +Ol' Chief nodded vigorously and with sudden excitement. "Me jus' like +God." + +"Hein?" + +"Oh, yes. Me no stan' wicked people. When me young me kill two ol' +squaws--_witches!_" With an outward gesture of his lean claws he swept +these wicked ones off the face of the earth, like a besom of the Lord. + +A sudden change had passed over the tired face of the priest. "Go, go!" +he called out, driving the Pymeuts forth as one shoos chickens out of a +garden. "Go to ze schoolhouse and get fed, for it's all you seem able +to get zere." + +But the perplexed flight of the Pymeuts was arrested. Brother Paul and +Brother Etienne blocked the way with a stretcher. They all stood back +to let the little procession come in. Nobody noticed them further, but +the Pymeuts scuttled away the instant they could get by. The Boy, +equally forgotten, sat down in a corner, while the three priests +conferred in low-voiced French over the prostrate figure. + +"Father Brachet," a weak voice came up from the floor. + +Brother Paul hurried out, calling Brother Etienne softly from the door. + +"I am here." The Superior came from the foot of the pallet, and knelt +down near the head. + +"You--remember what you said last July?" + +"About--" + +"About making restitution." + +"Yes." + +"Well, I can do it now." + +"I am glad." + +"I've brought you the papers. That's why--I--_had_ to come. Will +you--take them--out of my--" + +The priest unbuckled a travel-stained buckskin miner's belt and laid it +on the floor. All the many pockets were empty save the long one in the +middle. He unbuttoned the flap and took out some soiled, worn-looking +papers. "Are zese in proper form?" he asked, but the man seemed to have +dropped into unconsciousness. Hurriedly the priest added: "Zere is no +time to read zem. Ah! Mr.--will you come and witness zis last will and +testament?" + +The Boy got up and stood near. The man from Minook opened his eyes. + +"Here!" The priest had got writing materials, and put a pen into the +slack hand, with a block of letter-paper under it. + +"I--I'm no lawyer," said the faint voice, "but I think it's all--in +shape. Anyhow--you write--and I'll sign." He half closed his eyes, and +the paper slipped from under his hand. The Boy caught it, and set down +the faint words:--"will and bequeath to John M. Berg, Kansas City, my +right and title to claim No. 11 Above, Little Minook, Yukon Ramparts--" + +And the voice fell away into silence. They waited a moment, and the +Superior whispered: + +"Can you sign it?" + +The dull eyes opened. "Didn't I--?" + +Father Brachet held him up; the Boy gave him the pen and steadied the +paper. "Thank you, Father. Obliged to you, too." He turned his dimming +eyes upon the Boy, who wrote his name in witness. "You--going to +Minook?" + +"I hope so." + +The Father went to the writing-table, where he tied up and sealed the +packet. + +"Anybody that's going to Minook will have to hustle." The slang of +everyday energy sounded strangely from dying lips--almost a whisper, +and yet like a far-off bugle calling a captive to battle. + +The Boy leaned down to catch the words, yet fainter: + +"Good claims going like hot cakes." + +"How much," the Boy asked, breathless, "did you get out of yours?" + +"Waiting till summer. Nex' summer--" The eyelids fell. + +"So it isn't a fake after all." The Boy stood up. "The camp's all +right!" + +"You'll see. It will out-boom the Klondyke." + +"Ha! How long have you been making the trip?" + +"Since August." + +The wild flame of enterprise sunk in the heart of the hearer. + +"Since _August_?" + +"No cash for steamers; we had a canoe. She went to pieces up by--" The +weak voice fell down into that deep gulf that yawns waiting for man's +last word. + +"But there is gold at Minook, you're sure? You've seen it?" + +The Father Superior locked away the packet and stood up. But the Boy +was bending down fascinated, listening at the white lips. "There is +gold there?" he repeated. + +Out of the gulf came faintly back like an echo: + +"Plenty o' gold there--plenty o' gold." + +"Jee-rusalem!" He stood up and found himself opposite the contemplative +face of the priest. + +"We have neglected you, my son. Come upstairs to my room." + +They went out, the old head bent, and full of thought; the young head +high, and full of dreams. Oh, to reach this Minook, where there was +"plenty of gold, plenty of gold," before the spring floods brought +thousands. What did any risk matter? Think of the Pymeuts doing their +sixty miles over the ice just to apologise to Father Brachet for being +Pymeuts. This other, this white man's penance might, would involve a +greater mortification of the flesh. What then? The reward was +proportionate--"plenty of gold." The faint whisper filled the air. + +A little more hardship, and the long process of fortune-building is +shortened to a few months. No more office grind. No more anxiety for +those one loves. + +Gold, plenty of gold, while one is young and can spend it gaily--gold +to buy back the Orange Grove, to buy freedom and power, to buy wings, +and to buy happiness! + +On the stairs they passed Brother Paul and the native. + +"Supper in five minutes, Father." + +The Superior nodded. + +"There is a great deal to do," the native went on hurriedly to Paul. +"We've got to bury Catherine to-morrow--" + +"And this man from Minook," agreed Paul, pausing with his hand on the +door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +KAVIAK'S CRIME + + "My little son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes, + And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, + Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, + I struck him, and dismiss'd + With hard words and unkiss'd...." + + +Even with the plague and Brother Paul raging at the mission--even with +everyone preoccupied by the claims of dead and dying, the Boy would +have been glad to prolong his stay had it not been for "nagging" +thoughts of the Colonel. As it was, with the mercury rapidly rising and +the wind fallen, he got the Pymeuts on the trail next day at noon, +spent what was left of the night at the Kachime, and set off for camp +early the following day. He arrived something of a wreck, and with an +enormous respect for the Yukon trail. + +It did him good to sight the big chimney, and still more to see the big +Colonel putting on his snow-shoes near the bottom of the hill, where +the cabin trail met the river trail. When the Boss o' the camp looked +up and saw the prodigal coming along, rather groggy on his legs, he +just stood still a moment. Then he kicked off his web-feet, turned back +a few paces uphill, and sat down on a spruce stump, folded his arms, +and waited. Was it the knapsack on his back that bowed him so? + +"Hello, Kentucky!" + +But the Colonel didn't look up till the Boy got quite near, chanting in +his tuneless voice: + + "'Grasshoppah sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, + Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine--'" + +"What's the matter, hey, Colonel? Sorry as all that to see me back?" + +"Reckon it's the kind o' sorrah I can bear," said the Colonel. "We +thought you were dead." + +"You ought t' known me better. Were you just sendin' out a rescue-party +of one?" + +The Colonel nodded. "That party would have started before, but I cut my +foot with the axe the day you left. Where have you been, in the name o' +the nation?" + +"Pymeut an' Holy Cross." + +"Holy Cross? Holy Moses! _You?_" + +"Yes; and do you know, one thing I saw there gave me a serious nervous +shock." + +"That don't surprise me. What was it?" + +"Sheets. When I came to go to bed--a real bed, Colonel, on legs--I +found I was expected to sleep between sheets, and I just about +fainted." + +"That the only shock you had?" + +"No, I had several. I saw an angel. I tell you straight, Colonel--you +can bank on what I'm sayin'--that Jesuit outfit's all right." + +"Oh, you think so?" The rejoinder came a little sharply. + +"Yes, sir, I just do. I think I'd be bigoted not to admit it." + +"So, you'll be thick as peas in a pod with the priests now?" + +"Well, I'm the one that can afford to be. They won't convert _me!_ And, +from my point o' view, it don't matter what a man is s' long's he's a +decent fella." + +The Colonel's only answer was to plunge obliquely uphill. + +"Say, Boss, wait for me." + +The Colonel looked back. The Boy was holding on to a scrub willow that +put up wiry twigs above the snow. + +"Feel as if I'd never get up the last rungs o' this darn ice-ladder!" + +"Tired? H'm! Something of a walk to Holy Cross even on a nice mild day +like this." The Colonel made the reflection with obvious satisfaction, +took off his knapsack, and sat down again. The Boy did the same. "The +very day you lit out Father Orloff came up from the Russian mission." + +"What's he like?" + +"Oh, little fella in petticoats, with a beard an' a high pot-hat, like +a Russian. And that same afternoon we had a half-breed trader fella +here, with two white men. Since that day we haven't seen a human +creature. We bought some furs of the trader. Where'd you get yours?" + +"Pymeut. Any news about the strike?" + +"Well, the trader fella was sure it was all gammon, and told us stories +of men who'd sacrificed everything and joined a stampede, and got +sold--sold badly. But the two crazy whites with him--miners from +Dakotah--they were on fire about Minook. Kept on bragging they hadn't +cold feet, and swore they'd get near to the diggins as their dogs'd +take 'em. The half-breed said they might do a hundred miles more, but +probably wouldn't get beyond Anvik." + +"Crazy fools! I tell you, to travel even thirty miles on the Yukon in +winter, even with a bully team and old Nick to drive 'em, and not an +extra ounce on your back--I tell you, Colonel, it's no joke." + +"B'lieve you, sonny." + +It wasn't thirty seconds before sonny was adding: "Did that half-breed +think it was any use our trying to get dogs?" + +"Ain't to be had now for love or money." + +"Lord, Colonel, if we had a team--" + +"Yes, I know. We'll probably owe our lives to the fact that we +haven't." + +It suddenly occurred to the Boy that, although he had just done a +pretty good tramp and felt he'd rather die than go fifty feet further, +it was the Colonel who was most tired. + +"How's everybody?" + +"Oh, I s'pose we might all of us be worse off." + +"What's the matter?" + +He was so long answering that the Boy's eyes turned to follow the +serious outward gaze of the older man, even before he lifted one hand +and swept it down the hill and out across the dim, grey prospect. + +"This," said the Colonel. + +Their eyes had dropped down that last stretch of the steep snow slope, +across the two miles of frozen river, and ran half round the wide +horizon-line, like creatures in a cage. Whether they liked it or +whether they didn't, for them there was no way out. + +"It's the awful stillness." The Colonel arraigned the distant +ice-plains. + +They sat there looking, listening, as if they hoped their protest might +bring some signal of relenting. No creature, not even a crystal-coated +willow-twig, nothing on all the ice-bound earth stirred by as much as a +hair; no mark of man past or present broke the grey monotony; no sound +but their two voices disturbed the stillness of the world. It was a +quiet that penetrated, that pricked to vague alarm. Already both knew +the sting of it well. + +"It's the kind of thing that gets on a fella's nerves," said the +Colonel. "I don't know as I ever felt helpless in any part of the world +before. But a man counts for precious little up here. Do you notice how +you come to listen to the silence?" + +"Oh, yes, I've noticed." + +"Stop." Again he lifted his hand, and they strained their ears. "I've +done that by the hour since you left and the daft gold-diggers went up +trail after you. The other fellas feel it, too. Don't know what we'd +have done without Kaviak. Think we ought to keep that kid, you know." + +"I could get on without Kaviak if only we had some light. It's this +villainous twilight that gets into my head. All the same, you know"--he +stood up suddenly--"we came expecting to stand a lot, didn't we?" + +The elder man nodded. "Big game, big stakes. It's all right." + +Eventless enough after this, except for the passing of an Indian or +two, the days crawled by. + +The Boy would get up first in the morning, rake out the dead ashes, put +on a couple of back-logs, bank them with ashes, and then build the fire +in front. He broke the ice in the water-bucket, and washed; filled +coffee-pot and mush-kettle with water (or ice), and swung them over the +fire; then he mixed the corn-bread, put it in the Dutch oven, covered +it with coals, and left it to get on with its baking. Sometimes this +part of the programme was varied by his mixing a hoe-cake on a board, +and setting it up "to do" in front of the fire. Then he would call the +Colonel-- + + "'Wake up Massa, + De day am breakin'; + Peas in de pot, en de + Hoe-cake bakin''"-- + +for it was the Colonel's affair to take up proceedings at this +point--make the coffee and the mush and keep it from burning, fry the +bacon, and serve up breakfast. + +Saturday brought a slight variation in the early morning routine. The +others came straggling in, as usual, but once a week Mac was sure to be +first, for he had to get Kaviak up. Mac's view of his whole duty to man +seemed to centre in the Saturday scrubbing of Kaviak. Vainly had the +Esquimer stood out against compliance with this most repulsive of +foreign customs. He seemed to be always ready with some deep-laid +scheme for turning the edge of Mac's iron resolution. He tried hiding +at the bottom of the bed. It didn't work. The next time he crouched far +back under the lower bunk. He was dragged out. Another Saturday he +embedded himself, like a moth, in a bundle of old clothes. Mac shook +him out. He had been very sanguine the day he hid in the library. This +was a wooden box nailed to the wall on the right of the door. Most of +the bigger books--Byron, Wordsworth, Dana's "Mineralogy," and two +Bibles--he had taken out and concealed in the lower bunk very +skilfully, far back behind the Colonel's feet. Copps's "Mining" and the +two works on "Parliamentary Law" piled at the end of the box served as +a pillow. After climbing in and folding himself up into an incredibly +small space, Kaviak managed with superhuman skill to cover himself +neatly with a patchwork quilt of _Munsey, Scribner, Century, Strand_, +and _Overland_ for August, '97. No one would suspect, glancing into +that library, that underneath the usual top layer of light reading, was +matter less august than Law, Poetry, Science, and Revelation. + +It was the base Byron, tipping the wink to Mac out of the back of the +bunk, that betrayed Kaviak. + +It became evident that "Farva" began to take a dour pride in the Kid's +perseverance. One morning he even pointed out to the camp the strong +likeness between Kaviak and Robert Bruce. + +"No, sah; the Scottish chief had to have an object-lesson, but +Kaviak--Lawd!--Kaviak could give points to any spider livin'!" + +This was on the morning that the Esquimer thought to escape scrubbing, +even at the peril of his life, by getting up on to the swing-shelf +--how, no man ever knew. But there he sat in terror, like a +very young monkey in a wind-rocked tree, hardly daring to breathe, his +arms clasped tight round the demijohn; but having Mac to deal with, the +end of it was that he always got washed, and equally always he seemed +to register a vow that, s'help him, Heaven! it should never happen +again. + +After breakfast came the clearing up. It should have been done (under +this regime) by the Little Cabin men, but it seldom was. O'Flynn was +expected to keep the well-hole in the river chopped open and to bring +up water every day. This didn't always happen either, though to drink +snow-water was to invite scurvy, Father Wills said. There was also a +daily need, if the Colonel could be believed, for everybody to chop +firewood. + +"We got enough," was Potts' invariable opinion. + +"For how long? S'pose we get scurvy and can't work; we'd freeze to +death in a fortnight." + +"Never saw a fireplace swalla logs whole an' never blink like this +one." + +"But you got no objection to sittin' by while the log-swallerin' goes +on." + +The Colonel or the Boy cooked the eternal beans, bacon and mush dinner, +after whatever desultory work was done; as a matter of fact, there was +extraordinarily little to occupy five able-bodied men. The fun of +snow-shoeing, mitigated by frostbite, quickly degenerated from a sport +into a mere means of locomotion. One or two of the party went hunting, +now and then, for the scarce squirrel and the shy ptarmigan. They +tried, with signal lack of success, to catch fish, Indian fashion, +through a hole in the ice. + +But, for the most part, as winter darkened round them, they lounged +from morning till night about the big fireplace, and smoked, and +growled, and played cards, and lived as men do, finding out a deal +about each other's characters, something about each other's opinions, +and little or nothing about each other's history. + +In the appalling stillness of the long Arctic night, any passer-by was +hailed with enthusiasm, and although the food-supply in the Big Cabin +was plainly going to run short before spring, no traveller--white, +Indian, or Esquimaux--was allowed to go by without being warmed and +fed, and made to tell where he came from and whither he was +bound--questions to tax the sage. Their unfailing hospitality was not +in the least unexpected or unusual, being a virtue practised even by +scoundrels in the great North-west; but it strained the resources of +the little camp, a fourth of whose outfit lay under the Yukon ice. + +In the state of lowered vitality to which the poor, ill-cooked food, +the cold and lack of exercise, was slowly reducing them, they talked to +one another less and less as time went on, and more and more--silently +and each against his will--grew hyper-sensitive to the shortcomings and +even to the innocent "ways" of the other fellow. + +Not Mac's inertia alone, but his trick of sticking out his jaw became +an offence, his rasping voice a torture. The Boy's occasional +ebullition of spirits was an outrage, the Colonel's mere size +intolerable. O'Flynn's brogue, which had amused them, grew to be just +part of the hardship and barbarism that had overtaken them like an evil +dream, coercing, subduing all the forces of life. Only Kaviak seemed +likely to come unscathed through the ordeal of the winter's captivity; +only he could take the best place at the fire, the best morsel at +dinner, and not stir angry passions; only he dared rouse Mac when the +Nova Scotian fell into one of his bear-with-a-sore-head moods. Kaviak +put a stop to his staring angrily by the hour into the fire, and set +him to whittling out boats and a top, thereby providing occupation for +the morrow, since it was one man's work to break Kaviak of spinning the +one on the table during mealtime, and sailing the other in the +drinking-water bucket at all times when older eyes weren't watching. +The Colonel wrote up his journal, and read the midsummer magazines and +Byron, in the face of Mac's "I do not like Byron's thought; I do not +consider him healthy or instructive." In one of his more energetic +moods the Colonel made a four-footed cricket for Kaviak, who preferred +it to the high stool, and always sat on it except at meals. + +Once in a while, when for hours no word had been spoken except some +broken reference to a royal flush or a jack-pot, or O'Flynn had said, +"Bedad! I'll go it alone," or Potts had inquired anxiously, "Got the +joker? Guess I'm euchred, then," the Boy in desperation would catch up +Kaviak, balance the child on his head, or execute some other gymnastic, +soothing the solemn little heathen's ruffled feelings, afterwards, by +crooning out a monotonous plantation song. It was that kind of addition +to the general gloom that, at first, would fire O'Flynn to raise his +own spirits, at least, by roaring out an Irish ditty. But this was +seldomer as time went on. Even Jimmie's brogue suffered, and grew less +robust. + +In a depressed sort of way Mac was openly teaching Kaviak his letters, +and surreptitiously, down in the Little Cabin, his prayers. He was very +angry when Potts and O'Flynn eavesdropped and roared at Kaviak's +struggles with "Ow Farva." In fact, Kaviak did not shine as a student +of civilisation, though that told less against him with O'Flynn, than +the fact that he wasn't "jolly and jump about, like white children." +Moreover, Jimmie, swore there was something "bogey" about the boy's +intermittent knowledge of English. Often for days he would utter +nothing but "Farva" or "Maw" when he wanted his plate replenished, then +suddenly he would say something that nobody could remember having +taught him or even said in his presence. + +It was not to be denied that Kaviak loved sugar mightily, and stole it +when he could. Mac lectured him and slapped his minute yellow hands, +and Kaviak stole it all the same. When he was bad--that is, when he had +eaten his daily fill of the camp's scanty store (in such a little place +it was not easy to hide from such a hunter as Kaviak)--he was taken +down to the Little Cabin, smacked, and made to say "Ow Farva." Nobody +could discover that he minded much, though he learnt to try to shorten +the ceremony by saying "I solly" all the way to the cabin. + +As a rule he was strangely undemonstrative; but in his own grave little +fashion he conducted life with no small intelligence, and learned, with +an almost uncanny quickness, each man's uses from the Kaviak point of +view. The only person he wasn't sworn friends with was the handy-man, +and there came to be a legend current in the camp, that Kaviak's first +attempt at spontaneously stringing a sentence under that roof was, "Me +got no use for Potts." + +The best thing about Kaviak was that his was no craven soul. He was +obliged to steal the sugar because he lived with white people who were +bigger than he, and who always took it away when they caught him. But +once the sugar was safe under his shirt, he owned up without the +smallest hesitation, and took his smacking like a man. For the rest, he +flourished, filled out, and got as fat as a seal, but never a whit less +solemn. + +One morning the Colonel announced that now the days had grown so short, +and the Trio were so late coming to breakfast, and nobody did any work +to speak of, it would be a good plan to have only two meals a day. + +The motion was excessively unpopular, but it was carried by a plain, +and somewhat alarming, exposition of the state of supplies. + +"We oughtn't to need as much food when we lazy round the fire all day," +said the Colonel. But Potts retorted that they'd need a lot more if +they went on adoptin' the aborigines. + +They knocked off supper, and all but the aborigine knew what it meant +sometimes to go hungry to bed. + +Towards the end of dinner one day late in December, when everybody else +had finished except for coffee and pipe, the aborigine held up his +empty plate. + +"Haven't you had enough?" asked the Colonel mildly, surprised at +Kaviak's bottomless capacity. + +"Maw." Still the plate was extended. + +"There isn't a drop of syrup left," said Potts, who had drained the +can, and even wiped it out carefully with halves of hot biscuit. + +"He don't really want it." + +"Mustn't open a fresh can till to-morrow." + +"No, sir_ee_. We've only got--" + +"Besides, he'll bust." + +Kaviak meanwhile, during this paltry discussion, had stood up on the +high stool "Farva" had made for him, and personally inspected the big +mush-pot. Then he turned to Mac, and, pointing a finger like a straw +(nothing could fatten those infinitesimal hands), he said gravely and +fluently: + +"Maw in de plenty-bowl." + +"Yes, maw mush, but no maw syrup." + +The round eyes travelled to the store corner. + +"We'll have to open a fresh can some time--what's the odds?" + +Mac got up, and not only Kaviak watched him--for syrup was a luxury not +expected every day--every neck had craned, every pair of eyes had +followed anxiously to that row of rapidly diminishing tins, all that +was left of the things they all liked best, and they still this side of +Christmas! + +"What you rubber-neckin' about?" Mac snapped at the Boy as he came back +with the fresh supply. This unprovoked attack was ample evidence that +Mac was uneasy under the eyes of the camp, angry at his own weakness, +and therefore the readier to dare anybody to find fault with him. + +"How can I help watchin' you?" said the Boy. Mac lifted his eyes +fiercely. "I'm fascinated by your winnin' ways; we're all like that." +Kaviak had meanwhile made a prosperous voyage to the plenty-bowl, and +returned to Mac's side--an absurd little figure in a strange +priest-like cassock buttoned from top to bottom (a waistcoat of Mac's), +and a jacket of the Boy's, which was usually falling off (and trailed +on the ground when it wasn't), and whose sleeves were rolled up in +inconvenient muffs. Still, with a gravity that did not seem impaired by +these details, he stood clutching his plate anxiously with both hands, +while down upon the corn-mush descended a slender golden thread, +manipulated with a fine skill to make the most of its sweetness. It +curled and spiralled, and described the kind of involved and +long-looped flourishes which the grave and reverend of a hundred years +ago wrote jauntily underneath the most sober names. + +Lovingly the dark eyes watched the engrossing process. Even when the +attenuated thread was broken, and the golden rain descended in slow, +infrequent drops, Kaviak stood waiting, always for just one drop more. + +"That's enough, greedy." + +"Now go away and gobble." + +But Kaviak daintily skimmed off the syrupy top, and left his mush +almost as high a hill as before. + +It wasn't long after the dinner, things had been washed up, and the +Colonel settled down to the magazines--he was reading the +advertisements now--that Potts drew out his watch. + +"Golly! do you fellers know what o'clock it is?" He held the open +timepiece up to Mac. "Hardly middle o' the afternoon. All these hours +before bedtime, and nothin' to eat till to-morrow!" + +"Why, you've just finished--" + +"But look at the _time!_" + +The Colonel said nothing. Maybe he had been a little previous with +dinner today; it was such a relief to get it out of the way. Oppressive +as the silence was, the sound of Potts's voice was worse, and as he +kept on about how many hours it would be till breakfast, the Colonel +said to the Boy: + +"'Johnny, get your gun,' and we'll go out." + +In these December days, before the watery sun had set, the great, +rich-coloured moon arose, having now in her resplendent fulness quite +the air of snuffing out the sun. The pale and heavy-eyed day was put to +shame by this brilliant night-lamp, that could cast such heavy shadows, +and by which men might read. + +The instant the Big Cabin door was opened Kaviak darted out between the +Colonel's legs, threw up his head like a Siwash dog, sniffed at the +frosty air and the big orange moon, flung up his heels, and tore down +to the forbidden, the fascinating fish-hole. If he hadn't got snared in +his trailing coat he would have won that race. When the two hunters had +captured Kaviak, and shut him indoors, they acted on his implied +suggestion that the fish-trap ought to be examined. They chopped away +the fresh-formed ice. Empty, as usual. + +It had been very nice, and neighbourly, of Nicholas, as long ago as the +1st of December, to bring the big, new, cornucopia-shaped trap down on +his sled on the way to the Ikogimeut festival. It had taken a long time +to cut through the thick ice, to drive in the poles, and fasten the +slight fencing, in such relation to the mouth of the sunken trap, that +all well-conducted fish ought easily to find their way thither. As a +matter of fact, they didn't. Potts said it was because the Boy was +always hauling out the trap "to see"; but what good would it be to have +it full of fish and not know? + +They had been out about an hour when the Colonel brought down a +ptarmigan, and said he was ready to go home. The Boy hesitated. + +"Going to give in, and cook that bird for supper?" + +It was a tempting proposition, but the Colonel said, rather sharply: +"No, sir. Got to keep him for a Christmas turkey." + +"Well, I'll just see if I can make it a brace." + +The Colonel went home, hung his trophy outside to freeze, and found the +Trio had decamped to the Little Cabin. He glanced up anxiously to see +if the demijohn was on the shelf. Yes, and Kaviak sound asleep in the +bottom bunk. The Colonel would climb up and have forty winks in the top +one before the Boy got in for their game of chess. He didn't know how +long he had slept when a faint scratching pricked through the veil of +slumber, and he said to himself, "Kaviak's on a raid again," but he was +too sodden with sleep to investigate. Just before he dropped off again, +however, opening a heavy eye, he saw Potts go by the bunk, stop at the +door and listen. Then he passed the bunk again, and the faint noise +recommenced. The Colonel dropped back into the gulf of sleep, never +even woke for his chess, and in the morning the incident had passed out +of his mind. + +Just before dinner the next day the Boy called out: + +"See here! who's spilt the syrup?" + +"Spilt it?" + +"Syrup?" + +"No; it don't seem to be spilt, either." He patted the ground with his +hand. + +"You don't mean that new can--" + +"Not a drop in it." He turned it upside down. + +Every eye went to Kaviak. He was sitting on his cricket by the fire +waiting for dinner. He returned the accusing looks of the company with +self-possession. + +"Come here." He got up and trotted over to "Farva." + +"Have you been to the syrup?" + +Kaviak shook his head. + +"You _must_ have been." + +"No." + +"You sure?" + +He nodded. + +"How did it go--all away--Do you know?" + +Again the silent denial. Kaviak looked over his shoulder at the dinner +preparations, and then went back to his cricket. It was the best place +from which to keep a strict eye on the cook. + +"The gintlemin don't feel conversaytional wid a pint o' surrup in his +inside." + +"I tell you he'd be currled up with colic if he--" + +"Well," said O'Flynn hopefully, "bide a bit. He ain't lookin' very +brash." + +"Come here." + +Kaviak got up a second time, but with less alacrity. + +"Have you got a pain?" + +He stared. + +"Does it hurt you there?" Kaviak doubled up suddenly. + +"He's awful ticklish," said the Boy. + +Mac frowned with perplexity, and Kaviak retired to the cricket. + +"Does the can leak anywhere?" + +"That excuse won't hold water 'cause the can will." The Colonel had +just applied the test. + +"Besides, it would have leaked on to something," Mac agreed. + +"Oh, well, let's mosy along with our dinner," said Potts. + +"It's gettin' pretty serious," remarked the Colonel. "We can't afford +to lose a pint o' syrup." + +"No, _Siree_, we can't; but there's one thing about Kaviak," said the +Boy, "he always owns up. Look here, Kiddie: don't say no; don't shake +your head till you've thought. Now, think _hard_." + +Kaviak's air of profound meditation seemed to fill every requirement. + +"Did you take the awful good syrup and eat it up?" + +Kaviak was in the middle of a head-shake when he stopped abruptly. The +Boy had said he wasn't to do that. Nobody had seemed pleased when he +said "No." + +"I b'lieve we're on the right track. He's remembering. Think again. You +are a tip-top man at finding sugar, aren't you?" + +"Yes, fin' shugh." Kaviak modestly admitted his prowess in that +direction. + +"And you get hungry in the early morning?" + +Yes, he would go so far as to admit that he did. + +"You go skylarkin' about, and you remember--the syrup can! And you get +hold of it--didn't you?" + +"To-malla." + +"You mean yesterday--this morning?" + +"N--" + +"Sh!" + +Kaviak blinked. + +"Wait and think. Yesterday this was full. You remember Mac opened it +for you?" + +Kaviak nodded. + +"And now, you see"--he turned the can bottom side up--"all gone!" + +"Oh-h!" murmured Kaviak with an accent of polite regret. Then, with +recovered cheerfulness, he pointed to the store corner: "Maw!" + +Potts laughed in his irritating way, and Mac's face got red. Things +began to look black for Kaviak. + +"Say, fellas, see here!" The Boy hammered the lid on the can with his +fist, and then held it out. "It was put away shut up, for I shut it, +and even one of us can't get that lid off without a knife or something +to pry it." + +The company looked at the small hands doubtfully. They were none too +little for many a forbidden feat. How had he got on the swing-shelf? +How-- + +"Ye see, crayther, it must uv been yersilf, becuz there isn't annybuddy +else." + +"Look here," said the Colonel, "we'll forgive you this time if you'll +own up. Just tell us--" + +"Kaviak!" Again that journey from the cricket to the judgment-seat. + +"Show us"--Mac had taken the shut tin, and now held it out--"show us +how you got the lid off." + +But Kaviak turned away. Mac seized him by the shoulder and jerked him +round. + +Everyone felt it to be suspicious that Kaviak was unwilling even to try +to open the all too attractive can. Was he really cunning, and did he +want not to give himself away? Wasn't he said to be much older than he +looked? and didn't he sometimes look a hundred, and wise for his years? + +"See here: I haven't caught you in a lie yet, but if I do--" + +Kaviak stared, drew a long breath, and seemed to retire within himself. + +"You'd better attend to me, for I mean business." + +Kaviak, recalled from internal communing, studied "Farva" a moment, and +then retreated to the cricket, as to a haven now, hastily and with +misgiving, tripping over his trailing coat. Mac stood up. + +"Wait, old man." The Colonel stooped his big body till he was on a +level with the staring round eyes. "Yo' see, child, yo' can't have any +dinnah till we find out who took the syrup." + +The little yellow face was very serious. He turned and looked at the +still smoking plenty-bowl. + +"Are yoh hungry?" + +He nodded, got up briskly, held up his train, and dragged his high +stool to the table, scrambled up, and established himself. + +"Look at that!" said the Colonel triumphantly. "That youngster hasn't +just eaten a pint o' syrup." + +Mac was coming slowly up behind Kaviak with a face that nobody liked +looking at. + +"Oh, let the brat alone, and let's get to our grub!" said Potts, with +an extreme nervous irritation. + +Mac swept Kaviak off the stool. "You come with me!" + +Only one person spoke after that till the meal was nearly done. That +one had said, "Yes, Farva," and followed Mac, dinnerless, out to the +Little Cabin. + +The Colonel set aside a plateful for each of the two absent ones, and +cleared away the things. Potts stirred the fire in a shower of sparks, +picked up a book and flung it down, searched through the sewing-kit for +something that wasn't lost, and then went to the door to look at the +weather--so he said. O'Flynn sat dozing by the fire. He was in the way +of the washing-up. + +"Stir your stumps, Jimmie," said the Colonel, "and get us a bucket of +water." Sleepily O'Flynn gave it as his opinion that he'd be damned if +he did. + +With unheard-of alacrity, "I'll go," said Potts. + +The Colonel stared at him, and, by some trick of the brain, he had a +vision of Potts listening at the door the night before, and then +resuming that clinking, scratching sound in the corner--the store +corner. + +"Hand me over my parki, will you?" Potts said to the Boy. He pulled it +over his head, picked up the bucket, and went out. + +"Seems kind o' restless, don't he?" + +"Yes. Colonel--" + +"Hey?" + +"Nothin'." + +Ten minutes--a quarter of an hour went by. + +"Funny Mac don't come for his dinner, isn't it? S'pose I go and look +'em up?" + +"S'pose you do." + +Not far from the door he met Mac coming in. + +"Well?" said the Boy, meaning, Where's the kid? + +"Well?" Mac echoed defiantly. "I lammed him, as I'd have lammed Robert +Bruce if he'd lied to me." + +The Boy stared at this sudden incursion into history, but all he said +was: "Your dinner's waitin'." + +The minute Mac got inside he looked round hungrily for the child. Not +seeing him, he went over and scrutinised the tumbled contents of the +bunks. + +"Where's Kaviak?" + +"P'raps you'll tell us." + +"You mean he isn't here?" Mac wheeled round sharply. + +"_Here?_" + +"He didn't come back here for his dinner?" + +"Haven't seen him since you took him out." Mac made for the door. The +Boy followed. + +"Kaviak!" each called in turn. It was quite light enough to see if he +were anywhere about, although the watery sun had sunk full half an hour +before. The fantastically huge full-moon hung like a copper shield on a +steel-blue wall. + +"Do you see anything?" whispered Mac. + +"No." + +"Who's that yonder?" + +"Potts gettin' water." + +The Boy was bending down looking for tracks. Mac looked, too, but +ineffectually, feverishly. + +"Isn't Potts calling?" + +"I knew he would if he saw us. He's never carried a bucket uphill yet +without help. See, there are the Kid's tracks going. We must find some +turned the other way." + +They were near the Little Cabin now. + +"Here!" shouted the Boy; "and ... yes, here again!" And so it was. +Clean and neatly printed in the last light snowfall showed the little +footprints. "We're on the right trail now. Kaviak!" + +Through his parki the Boy felt a hand close vise-like on his shoulder, +and a voice, not like MacCann's: + +"Goin' straight down to the fish-trap hole!" + +The two dashed forward, down the steep hill, the Boy saying breathless +as they went: "And Potts--where's Potts?" + +He had vanished, but there was no time to consider how or where. + +"Kaviak!" + +"Kaviak!" And as they got to the river: + +"Think I hear--" + +"So do I--" + +"Coming! coming! Hold on tight! Coming, Kaviak!" + +They made straight for the big open fish-hole. Farther away from the +Little Cabin, and nearer the bank, was the small well-hole. Between the +two they noticed, as they raced by, the water-bucket hung on that heavy +piece of driftwood that had frozen aslant in the river. Mac saw that +the bucket-rope was taut, and that it ran along the ice and disappeared +behind the big funnel of the fish-trap. + +The sound was unmistakable now--a faint, choked voice calling out of +the hole, "Help!" + +"Coming!" + +"Hold tight!" + +"Half a minute!" + +And how it was done or who did it nobody quite knew, but Potts, still +clinging by one hand to the bucket-rope, was hauled out and laid on the +ice before it was discovered that he had Kaviak under his arm--Kaviak, +stark and unconscious, with the round eyes rolled back till one saw the +whites and nothing more. + +Mac picked the body up and held it head downwards; laid it flat again, +and, stripping off the great sodden jacket, already beginning to +freeze, fell to putting Kaviak through the action of artificial +breathing. + +"We must get them up to the cabin first thing," said the Boy. + +But Mac seemed not to hear. + +"Don't you see Kaviak's face is freezing?" + +Still Mac paid no heed. Potts lifted a stiff, uncertain hand, and, with +a groan, let it fall heavily on his own cheek. + +"Come on; I'll help you in, anyhow, Potts." + +"Can't walk in this damned wet fur." + +With some difficulty having dragged off Potts' soaked parki, already +stiffening unmanageably, the Boy tried to get him on his feet. + +"Once you're in the cabin you're all right." + +But the benumbed and miserable Potts kept his eyes on Kaviak, as if +hypnotised by the strange new death-look in the little face. + +"Well, I can't carry you up," said the Boy; and after a second he began +to rub Potts furiously, glancing over now and then to see if Kaviak was +coming to, while Mac, dumb and tense, laboured on without success. +Potts, under the Boy's ministering, showed himself restored enough to +swear feebly. + +"H'ray! my man's comin' round. How's yours?" No answer, but he could +see that the sweat poured off Mac's face as he worked unceasingly over +the child. The Boy pulled Potts into a sitting posture. It was then +that Mac, without looking up, said: + +"Run and get whiskey. Run like hell!" + +When he got back with the Colonel and the whiskey, O'Flynn floundering +in the distance, Potts was feebly striking his breast with his arms, +and Mac still bent above the motionless little body. + +They tried to get some of the spirit down the child's throat, but the +tight-clenched teeth seemed to let little or nothing pass. The stuff +ran down towards his ears and into his neck. But Mac persisted, and +went on pouring, drop by drop, whenever he stopped trying to restore +the action of the lungs. O'Flynn just barely managed to get "a swig" +for Potts in the interval, though they all began to feel that Mac was +working to bring back something that had gone for ever. The Boy went +and bent his face down close over the rigid mouth to feel for the +breath. When he got up he turned away sharply, and stood looking +through tears into the fish-hole, saying to himself, "Yukon Inua has +taken him." + +"He was in too long." Potts' teeth were chattering, and he looked +unspeakably wretched. "When my arm got numb I couldn't keep his head +up;" and he swallowed more whiskey. "You fellers oughtn't to have left +that damn trap up!" + +"What's that got to do with it?" said the Boy guiltily. + +"Kaviak knew it ought to be catchin' fish. When I came down he was +cryin' and pullin' the trap backwards towards the hole. Then he +slipped." + +"Come, Mac," said the Colonel quietly, "let's carry the little man to +the cabin." + +"No, no, not yet; stuffy heat isn't what he wants;" and he worked on. + +They got Potts up on his feet. + +"I called out to you fellers. Didn't you hear me?" + +"Y-yes, but we didn't understand." + +"Well, you'd better have come. It's too late now." O'Flynn half +dragged, half carried him up to the cabin, for he seemed unable to walk +in his frozen trousers. The Colonel and the Boy by a common impulse +went a little way in the opposite direction across the ice. + +"What can we do, Colonel?" + +"Nothing. It's not a bit o' use." They turned to go back. + +"Well, the duckin' will be good for Potts' parki, anyhow," said the Boy +in an angry and unsteady voice. + +"What do you mean?" + +"When he asked me to hand it to him I nearly stuck fast to it. It's all +over syrup; and we don't wear furs at our meals." + +"Tchah!" The Colonel stopped with a face of loathing. + +"Yes, he was the only one of us that didn't bully the kid to-day." + +"Couldn't go _that_ far, but couldn't own up." + +"Potts is a cur." + +"Yes, sah." Then, after an instant's reflection: "But he's a cur that +can risk his life to save a kid he don't care a damn for." + +They went back to Mac, and found him pretty well worn out. The Colonel +took his place, but was soon pushed away. Mac understood better, he +said; had once brought a chap round that everybody said was ... dead. +He wasn't dead. The great thing was not to give in. + +A few minutes after, Kaviak's eyelids fluttered, and came down over the +upturned eyeballs. Mac, with a cry that brought a lump to the Colonel's +throat, gathered the child up in his arms and ran with him up the hill +to the cabin. + + * * * * * + +Three hours later, when they were all sitting round the fire, Kaviak +dosed, and warm, and asleep in the lower bunk, the door opened, and in +walked a white man followed by an Indian. + +"I'm George Benham." They had all heard of the Anvik trader, a man of +some wealth and influence, and they made him welcome. + +The Indian was his guide, he said, and he had a team outside of seven +dogs. He was going to the steamship _Oklahoma_ on some business, and +promised Father Wills of Holy Cross that he'd stop on the way, and +deliver a letter to Mr. MacCann. + +"Stop on the way! I should think so." + +"We were goin' to have supper to-night, anyhow, and you'll stay and +sleep here." + +All Mac's old suspicions of the Jesuits seemed to return with the +advent of that letter. + +"I'll read it presently." He laid it on the mantel-shelf, between the +sewing-kit and the tobacco-can, and he looked at it, angrily, every now +and then, while he helped to skin Mr. Benham. That gentleman had thrown +back his hood, pulled off his great moose-skin gauntlets and his +beaver-lined cap, and now, with a little help, dragged the drill parki +over his head, and after that the fine lynx-bordered deer-skin, +standing revealed at last as a well-built fellow, of thirty-eight or +so, in a suit of mackinaws, standing six feet two in his heelless +salmon-skin snow-boots. "Bring in my traps, will you?" he said to the +Indian, and then relapsed into silence. The Indian reappeared with his +arms full. + +"Fine lot o' pelts you have there," said the Colonel. + +Benham didn't answer. He seemed to be a close-mouthed kind of a chap. +As the Indian sorted and piled the stuff in the corner, Potts said: + +"Got any furs you want to sell?" + +"No." + +"Where you takin' 'em?" + +"Down to the _Oklahoma_." + +"All this stuff for Cap'n Rainey?" + +Benham nodded. + +"I reckon there's a mistake about the name, and he's Cap'n Tom Thumb or +Commodore Nutt." The Boy had picked up a little parki made carefully of +some very soft dark fur and trimmed with white rabbit, the small hood +bordered with white fox. + +"That's a neat piece of work," said the Colonel. + +Benham nodded. "One of the Shageluk squaws can do that sort of thing." + +"What's the fur?" + +"Musk-rat." And they talked of the weather--how the mercury last week +had been solid in the trading-post thermometer, so it was "over forty +degrees, anyhow." + +"What's the market price of a coat like that?" Mac said suddenly. + +"That isn't a 'market' coat. It's for a kid of Rainey's back in the +States." + +Still Mac eyed it enviously. + +"What part of the world are you from, sir?" said the Colonel when they +had drawn up to the supper table. + +"San Francisco. Used to teach numskulls Latin and mathematics in the +Las Palmas High School." + +"What's the value of a coat like that little one?" interrupted Mac. + +"Oh, about twenty dollars." + +"The Shageluks ask that much?" + +Benham laughed. "If _you_ asked the Shageluks, they'd say forty." + +"You've been some time in this part of the world, I understand," said +the Colonel. + +"Twelve years." + +"Without going home?" + +"Been home twice. Only stayed a month. Couldn't stand it." + +"I'll give you twenty-two dollars for that coat," said Mac. + +"I've only got that one, and as I think I said--" + +"I'll give you twenty-four." + +"It's an order, you see. Rainey--" + +"I'll give you twenty-six." + +Benham shook his head. + +"Sorry. Yes, it's queer about the hold this country gets on you. The +first year is hell, the second is purgatory, with glimpses ... of +something else. The third--well, more and more, forever after, you +realise the North's taken away any taste you ever had for civilisation. +That's when you've got the hang of things up here, when you've learned +not to stay in your cabin all the time, and how to take care of +yourself on the trail. But as for going back to the boredom of +cities--no, thank you." + +Mac couldn't keep his eyes off the little coat. Finally, to enable him +to forget it, as it seemed, he got up and opened Father Wills' letter, +devoured its contents in silence, and flung it down on the table. The +Colonel took it up, and read aloud the Father's thanks for all the +white camp's kindness to Kaviak, and now that the sickness was about +gone from Holy Cross, how the Fathers felt that they must relieve their +neighbours of further trouble with the little native. + +"I've said I'd take him back with me when I come up river about +Christmas." + +"We'd be kind o' lost, now, without the little beggar," said the Boy, +glancing sideways at Mac. + +"There's nothin' to be got by luggin' him off to Holy Cross," answered +that gentleman severely. + +"Unless it's clo'es," said Potts. + +"He's all right in the clo'es he's got," said Mac, with the air of one +who closes an argument. He stood up, worn and tired, and looked at his +watch. + +"You ain't goin' to bed this early?" said Potts, quite lively and +recovered from his cold bath. That was the worst of sleeping in the +Little Cabin. Bedtime broke the circle; you left interesting visitors +behind, and sometimes the talk was better as the night wore on. + +"Well, someone ought to wood up down yonder. O'Flynn, will you go?" + +O'Flynn was in the act of declining the honour. But Benham, who had +been saying, "It takes a year in the Yukon for a man to get on to +himself," interrupted his favourite theme to ask: "Your other cabin +like this?" + +Whereon, O'Flynn, shameless of the contrast in cabins, jumped up, and +said: "Come and see, while I wood up." + +"You're very well fixed here," said Benham, rising and looking round +with condescension; "but men like you oughtn't to try to live without +real bread. No one can live and work on baking-powder." + +There was a general movement to the door, of which Benham was the +centre. + +"I tell you a lump of sour dough, kept over to raise the next batch, is +worth more in this country than a pocket full of gold." + +"I'll give you twenty-eight for that musk-rat coat," said Mac. + +Benham turned, stared back at him a moment, and then laughed. + +"Oh, well, I suppose I can get another made for Rainey before the first +boat goes down." + +"Then is it on account o' the bread," the Colonel was saying, "that the +old-timer calls himself a Sour-dough?" + +"All on account o' the bread." + +They crowded out after Benham. + +"Coming?" The Boy, who was last, held the door open. Mac shook his +head. + +It wasn't one of the bitter nights; they'd get down yonder, and talk by +the fire, till he went in and disturbed them. That was all he had +wanted. For Mac was the only one who had noticed that Kaviak had waked +up. He was lying as still as a mouse. + +Alone with him at last, Mac kept his eyes religiously turned away, sat +down by the fire, and watched the sparks. By-and-by a head was put up +over the board of the lower bunk. Mac saw it, but sat quite still. + +"Farva." + +He meant to answer the appeal, half cleared his throat, but his voice +felt rusty; it wouldn't turn out a word. + +Kaviak climbed timidly, shakily out, and stood in the middle of the +floor in his bare feet. + +"Farva!" + +He came a little nearer till the small feet sank into the rough brown +curls of the buffalo. The child stooped to pick up his wooden cricket, +wavered, and was about to fall. Mac shot out a hand, steadied him an +instant without looking, and then set the cricket in front of the fire. +He thereupon averted his face, and sat as before with folded arms. He +hadn't deliberately meant to make Kaviak be the first to "show his +hand" after all that had happened, but something had taken hold of him +and made him behave as he hadn't dreamed of behaving. It was, perhaps, +a fear of playing the fool as much as a determination to see how much +ground he'd lost with the youngster. + +The child was observing him with an almost feverish intensity. With +eyes fixed upon the wooden face to find out how far he might venture, +shakily he dragged the cricket from where Mac placed it, closer, +closer, and as no terrible change in the unmoved face warned him to +desist, he pulled it into its usual evening position between Mac's +right foot and the fireplace. He sank down with a sigh of relief, as +one who finishes a journey long and perilous. The fire crackled and the +sparks flew gaily. Kaviak sat there in the red glow, dressed only in a +shirt, staring with incredulous, mournful eyes at the Farva who had-- + +Then, as Mac made no sign, he sighed again, and held out two little +shaky hands to the blaze. + +Mac gave out a sound between a cough and a snort, and wiped his eyes on +the back of his hand. + +Kaviak had started nervously. + +"You cold?" asked Mac. + +Kaviak nodded. + +"Hungry?" + +He nodded again, and fell to coughing. + +Mac got up and brought the newly purchased coat to the fire. + +"It's for you," he said, as the child's big eyes grew bigger with +admiration. + +"Me? Me own coat?" He stood up, and his bare feet fluttered up and down +feebly, but with huge delight. + +As the parki was held ready the child tumbled dizzily into it, and Mac +held him fast an instant. + +In less than five minutes Kaviak was once more seated on the cricket, +but very magnificent now in his musk-rat coat, so close up to Mac that +he could lean against his arm, and eating out of a plenty-bowl on his +knees a discreet spoonful of mush drowned in golden syrup--a supper for +a Sultan if only there had been more! + +When he had finished, he set the bowl down, and, as a puppy might, he +pushed at Mac's arm till he found a way in, laid his head down on +"Farva's" knee with a contented sigh, and closed his heavy eyes. + +Mac put his hand on the cropped head and began: + +"About that empty syrup-can--" + +Kaviak started up, shaking from head to foot. Was the obscure nightmare +coming down to crush him again? + +Mac tried to soothe him. But Kaviak, casting about for charms to disarm +the awful fury of the white man--able to endure with dignity any +reverse save that of having his syrup spilt--cried out: + +"I solly--solly. Our Farva--" + +"I'm sorry, too, Kaviak," Mac interrupted, gathering the child up to +him; "and we won't either of us do it any more." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CHRISTMAS + + "Himlen morkner, mens Jordens Trakt + Straaler lys som i Stjernedragt. + Himlen er bleven Jordens Gjaest + Snart er det Julens sode Fest." + + +It had been moved, seconded, and carried by acclamation that they +should celebrate Christmas, not so much by a feast of reason as by a +flow of soul and a bang-up dinner, to be followed by speeches and some +sort of cheerful entertainment. + +"We're goin' to lay ourselves out on this entertainment," said the Boy, +with painful misgivings as to the "bang-up dinner." + +Every time the banquet was mentioned somebody was sure to say, "Well, +anyhow, there's Potts's cake," and that reflection never failed to +raise the tone of expectation, for Potts's cake was a beauty, evidently +very rich and fruity, and fitted by Nature to play the noble part of +plum-pudding. But, in making out the bill of fare, facts had to be +faced. "We've got our everyday little rations of beans and bacon, and +we've got Potts's cake, and we've got one skinny ptarmigan to make a +banquet for six hungry people!" + +"But we'll have a high old time, and if the bill o' fare is a little +... restricted, there's nothin' to prevent our programme of toasts, +songs, and miscellaneous contributions from bein' rich and varied." + +"And one thing we can get, even up here"--the Colonel was looking at +Kaviak--"and that's a little Christmas-tree." + +"Y-yes," said Potts, "you can get a little tree, but you can't get the +smallest kind of a little thing to hang on it." + +"Sh!" said the Boy, "it must be a surprise." + +And he took steps that it should be, for he began stealing away +Kaviak's few cherished possessions--his amulet, his top from under the +bunk, his boats from out the water-bucket, wherewith to mitigate the +barrenness of the Yukon tree, and to provide a pleasant surprise for +the Esquimer who mourned his playthings as gone for ever. Of an evening +now, after sleep had settled on Kaviak's watchful eyes, the Boy worked +at a pair of little snow-shoes, helped out by a ball of sinew he had +got from Nicholas. Mac bethought him of the valuable combination of +zoological and biblical instruction that might be conveyed by means of +a Noah's Ark. He sat up late the last nights before the 25th, +whittling, chipping, pegging in legs, sharpening beaks, and inking +eyes, that the more important animals might be ready for the Deluge by +Christmas. + +The Colonel made the ark, and O'Flynn took up a collection to defray +the expense of the little new mucklucks he had ordered from Nicholas. +They were to come "_sure_ by Christmas Eve," and O'Flynn was in what he +called "a froightful fanteeg" as the short day of the 24th wore towards +night, and never a sign of the one-eyed Pymeut. Half a dozen times +O'Flynn had gone beyond the stockade to find out if he wasn't in sight, +and finally came back looking intensely disgusted, bringing a couple of +white travellers who had arrived from the opposite direction; very +cold, one of them deaf, and with frost-bitten feet, and both so tired +they could hardly speak. Of course, they were made as comfortable as +was possible, the frozen one rubbed with snow and bandaged, and both +given bacon and corn-bread and hot tea. + +"You oughtn't to let yourself get into a state like this," said Mac, +thinking ruefully of these strangers' obvious inability to travel for a +day or two, and of the Christmas dinner, to which Benham alone had been +bidden, by a great stretch of hospitality. + +"That's all very well," said the stranger, who shouted when he talked +at all, "but how's a man to know his feet are going to freeze?" + +"Ye see, sorr," O'Flynn explained absent-mindedly, "Misther MacCann +didn't know yer pardner was deaf." + +This point of view seemed to thaw some of the frost out of the two +wayfarers. They confided that they were Salmon P. Hardy and Bill +Schiff, fellow-passengers in the _Merwin_, "locked in the ice down +below," and they'd mined side by side back in the States at Cripple +Creek. "Yes, sir, and sailed for the Klondyke from Seattle last July." +And now at Christmas they were hoping that, with luck, they might reach +the new Minook Diggings, seven hundred miles this side of the Klondyke, +before the spring rush. During this recital O'Flynn kept rolling his +eyes absently. + +"Theyse a quare noise without." + +"It's the wind knockin' down yer chimbly," says Mr. Hardy +encouragingly. + +"It don't sound like Nich'las, annyhow. May the divil burrn him in +tarment and ile fur disappoyntin' th' kid." + +A rattle at the latch, and the Pymeut opened the door. + +"Lorrd love ye! ye're a jool, Nich'las!" screamed O'Flynn; and the +mucklucks passed from one to the other so surreptitiously that for all +Kaviak's wide-eyed watchfulness he detected nothing. + +Nicholas supped with his white friends, and seemed bent on passing the +night with them. He had to be bribed with tobacco and a new half-dollar +to go home and keep Christmas in the bosom of his family. And still, at +the door, he hesitated, drew back, and laid the silver coin on the +table. + +"No. It nights." + +"But it isn't really dark." + +"Pretty soon heap dark." + +"Why, I thought you natives could find your way day or night?" + +"Yes. Find way." + +"Then what's the matter?" + +"Pymeut no like dark;" and it was not until Mac put on his own +snow-shoes and offered to go part of the way with him that Nicholas was +at last induced to return home. + +The moment Kaviak was ascertained to be asleep, O'Flynn displayed the +mucklucks. No mistake, they were dandies! The Boy hung one of them up, +by its long leg, near the child's head at the side of the bunk, and +then conferred with O'Flynn. + +"The Colonel's made some little kind o' sweet-cake things for the tree. +I could spare you one or two." + +"Divil a doubt Kaviak'll take it kindly, but furr mesilf I'm thinkin' a +pitaty's a dale tastier." + +There was just one left in camp. It had rolled behind the flour-sack, +and O'Flynn had seized on it with rapture. Where everybody was in such +need of vegetable food, nobody under-estimated the magnificence of +O'Flynn's offering, as he pushed the pitaty down into the toe of the +muckluck. + +"Sure, the little haythen'll have a foine Christian Christmas wid that +same to roast in the coals, begorra!" and they all went to bed save +Mac, who had not returned, and the Boy, who put on his furs, and went +up the hill to the place where he kept the Christmas-tree lodged in a +cotton-wood. + +He shook the snow off its branches, brought it down to the cabin, +decorated it, and carried it back. + + * * * * * + +Mac, Salmon P. Hardy, and the frost-bitten Schiff were waked, bright +and early Christmas morning, by the Boy's screaming with laughter. + +The Colonel looked down over the bunk's side, and the men on the +buffalo-skin looked up, and they all saw Kaviak sitting in bed, holding +in one hand an empty muckluck by the toe, and in the other a half-eaten +raw potato. + +"Keep the rest of it to roast, anyhow, or O'Flynn's heart will be +broken." + +So they deprived Kaviak of the gnawed fragment, and consoled him by +helping him to put on his new boots. + +When the Little Cabin contingent came in to breakfast, "Hello! what you +got up on the roof?" says Potts. + +"Foot of earth and three feet o' snow!" + +"But what's in the bundle!" + +"Bundle?" echoes the Boy. + +"If you put a bundle on the roof, I s'pose you know what's in it," says +the Colonel severely. + +The occupants of the two cabins eyed each other with good-humoured +suspicion. + +"Thank you," says the Boy, "but we're not takin' any bundles to-day." + +"Call next door," advised the Colonel. + +"You think we're tryin' to jolly you, but just go out and see for +yourself--" + +"No, sir, you've waked the wrong passenger!" + +"They're tryin' it on _us_," said Potts, and subsided into his place at +the breakfast-table. + +During the later morning, while the Colonel wrestled with the dinner +problem, the Boy went through the thick-falling snow to see if the tree +was all right, and the dogs had not appropriated the presents. Half-way +up to the cotton-wood, he glanced back to make sure Kaviak wasn't +following, and there, sure enough, just as the Little Cabin men had +said--there below him on the broad-eaved roof was a bundle packed round +and nearly covered over with snow. He went back eyeing it suspiciously. + +Whatever it was, it seemed to be done up in sacking, for a bit stuck +out at the corner where the wind struck keen. The Boy walked round the +cabin looking, listening. Nobody had followed him, or nothing would +have induced him to risk the derision of the camp. As it was, he would +climb up very softly and lightly, and nobody but himself would be the +wiser even if it was a josh. He brushed away the snow, touching the +thing with a mittened hand and a creepy feeling at his spine. It was +precious heavy, and hard as iron. He tugged at the sacking. "Jee! if I +don't b'lieve it's meat." The lid of an old cardboard box was bound +round the frozen mass with a string, and on the cardboard was written: +"Moose and Christmas Greeting from Kaviak's friends at Holy Cross to +Kaviak's friends by the Big Chimney." + +"H'ray! h'ray! Come out, you fellas! Hip! hip! hurrah!" and the Boy +danced a breakdown on the roof till the others had come out, and then +he hurled the moose-meat down over the stockade, and sent the placard +flying after. They all gathered round Mac and read it. + +"Be the Siven!" + +"Well, I swan!" + +"Don't forget, Boy, you're not takin' any." + +"Just remember, if it hadn't been for me it might have stayed up there +till spring." + +"You run in, Kaviak, or you'll have no ears." + +But that gentleman pulled up his hood and stood his ground. + +"How did it get on the roof, in the name o' the nation?" asked the +Colonel, stamping his feet. + +"Never hear of Santa Claus? Didn't I tell you, Kaviak, he drove his +reindeer team over the roofs?" + +"Did you hear any dogs go by in the night?" + +"I didn't; Nicholas brought it, I s'pose, and was told to cache it up +there. Maybe that's why he came late to give us a surprise." + +"Don't believe it; we'd have heard him. Somebody from the mission came +by in the night and didn't want to wake us, and saw there were dogs--" + +"It's froze too hard to cut," interrupted Salmon P. Hardy, who had been +trying his jack-knife on one end; "it's too big to go in any mortal +pot." + +"And it'll take a month to thaw!" + +They tried chopping it, but you could more easily chop a bolt of linen +sheeting. The axe laboriously chewed out little bits and scattered +shreds. + +"Stop! We'll lose a lot that way." + +While they were lamenting this fact, and wondering what to do, the dogs +set up a racket, and were answered by some others. Benham was coming +along at a rattling pace, his dogs very angry to find other dogs there, +putting on airs of possession. + +"We got all this moose-meat," says Potts, when Benham arrived on the +scene, "but we can't cut it." + +"Of course not. Where's your hand-saw?" + +The Boy brought it, and Mr. Benham triumphantly sawed off two fine +large steaks. Kaviak scraped up the meat saw-dust and ate it with grave +satisfaction. With a huge steak in each hand, the Colonel, beaming, led +the procession back to the cabin. The Boy and Mac cached the rest of +the moose on the roof and followed. + +"Fine team, that one o' yours," said Salmon P. Hardy to the trader. +"_You'll_ get to Minook, anyhow." + +"Not me." + +"Hey?" + +"I'm not going that way." + +"Mean to skip the country? Got cold feet?" + +"No. I'm satisfied enough with the country," said the trader quietly, +and acknowledged the introduction to Mr. Schiff, sitting in bandages by +the fire. + +Benham turned back and called out something to his guide. + +"I thought maybe you'd like some oysters for your Christmas dinner," he +said to the Colonel when he came in again, "so I got a couple o' cans +from the A. C. man down below;" and a mighty whoop went up. + +The great rapture of that moment did not, however, prevent O'Flynn's +saying under his breath: + +"Did ye be chanct, now, think of bringin' a dtrop o'--hey?" + +"No," says Benham a little shortly. + +"Huh! Ye say that like's if ye wuz a taytotlerr?" + +"Not me. But I find it no good to drink whiskey on the trail." + +"Ah!" says Salmon P. with interest, "you prefer brandy?" + +"No," says Benham, "I prefer tea." + +"Lorrd, now! look at that!" + +"Drink spirit, and it's all very fine and reviving for a few minutes; +but a man can't work on it." + +"It's the wan thing, sorr," says O'Flynn with solemnity--"it's the wan +thing on the top o' God's futstool that makes me feel I cud wurruk." + +"Not in this climate; and you're safe to take cold in the reaction." + +"Cowld is ut? Faith, ye'll be tellin' us Mr. Schiff got his toes froze +wid settin' too clost be the foire." + +"You don't seriously mean you go on the trail without any alcohol?" +asks the Colonel. + +"No, I don't go without, but I keep it on the outside of me, unless I +have an accident." + +Salmon P. studied the trader with curiosity. A man with seven +magnificent dogs and a native servant, and the finest furs he'd ever +seen--here was either a capitalist from the outside or a man who had +struck it rich "on the inside." + +"Been in long?" + +"Crossed the Chilcoot in June, '85." + +"What! twelve year ago?" + +Benham nodded. + +"Gosh! then you've been in the Klondyke?" + +"Not since the gold was found." + +"And got a team like that 'n outside, and not even goin' to Minook?" + +"Guess not!" + +What made the feller so damn satisfied? Only one explanation was +possible: he'd found a mine without going even as far as Minook. He was +a man to keep your eye on. + +A goodly aroma of steaming oysters and of grilling moose arose in the +air. The Boy set up the amended bill of fare, lit the Christmas +candles--one at the top, one at the bottom of the board--and the +Colonel announced the first course, though it wasn't one o'clock, and +they usually dined at four. + +The soup was too absorbingly delicious to admit of conversation. The +moose-steaks had vanished like the "snaw-wreath in the thaw" before +anything much was said, save: + +"Nothin' th' matter with moose, hey?" + +"Nop! Bet your life." + +The "Salmi of ptarmigan" appeared as a great wash of gravy in which +portions of the much cut-up bird swam in vain for their lives. But the +high flat rim of the dish was plentifully garnished by fingers of +corn-bread, and the gravy was "galoppshus," so Potts said. + +Salmon P., having appeased the pangs of hunger, returned to his +perplexed study of Benham. + +"Did I understand you to say you came into this country to _prospect_?" + +"Came down the Never-Know-What and prospected a whole summer at Forty +Mile." + +"What river did you come by?" + +"Same as you go by--the Yukon. Indians up yonder call it the +Never-Know-What, and the more you find out about it, the better you +think the name." + +"Did you do any good at Forty Mile?" + +"Not enough to turn my head, so I tried the Koyukuk--and other diggins +too." + +"Hear that, Schiff?" he roared at his bandaged friend. "Never say die! +This gen'l'man's been at it twelve years--tried more 'n one camp, but +now--well, he's so well fixed he don't care a cuss about the Klondyke." + +Schiff lit up and pulled hard at the cutty. + +O'Flynn had taken Kaviak to the fire, and was showing him how to roast +half a petaty in wood ashes; but he was listening to the story and +putting in "Be the Siven!" at appropriate moments. + +Schiff poured out a cloud of rank smoke. + +"Gen'lemen," he said, "the best Klondyke claims'll be potted. Minook's +the camp o' the future. You'd better come along with us." + +"Got no dogs," sighed the Boy; but the two strangers looked hard at the +man who hadn't that excuse. + +Benham sat and idly watched preparations for the next course. + +"Say, a nabob like you might give us a tip. How did you do the trick?" + +"Well, I'd been playing your game for three years, and no galley slave +ever worked half as hard--" + +"That's it! work like the devil for a couple o' years and then live +like a lord for ever after." + +"Yes; well, when the time came for me to go into the Lord business I +had just forty-two dollars and sixty cents to set up on." + +"What had you done with the rest?" + +"I'd spent the five thousand dollars my father left me, and I'd cleaned +up just forty-two dollars sixty cents in my three years' mining." + +The announcement fell chill on the company. + +"I was dead broke and I had no credit. I went home." + +"But"--Mac roused himself--"you didn't stay--" + +"No, you don't stay--as a rule;"--Mac remembered Caribou--"get used to +this kind o' thing, and miss it. Miss it so you--" + +"You came back," says Salmon P., impatient of generalities. + +"And won this time," whispered Schiff. + +For that is how every story must end. The popular taste in fiction is +universal. + +"A friend at home grub-staked me, and I came in again--came down on the +high water in June. Prospected as long as my stuff lasted, and +then--well, I didn't care about starving, I became an A. C. Trader." + +A long pause. This was no climax; everybody waited. + +"And now I'm on my own. I often make more money in a day trading with +the Indians in furs, fish, and cord-wood, than I made in my whole +experience as a prospector and miner." + +A frost had fallen on the genial company. + +"But even if _you_ hadn't any luck," the Boy suggested, "you must have +seen others--" + +"Oh, I saw some washing gravel that kept body and soul together, and I +saw some ... that didn't." + +In the pause he added, remorseless: + +"I helped to bury some of them." + +"Your experience was unusual, or why do men come back year after year?" + +"Did you ever hear of a thing called Hope?" + +They moved uneasily on their stools, and some rubbed stubbly chins with +perplexed, uncertain fingers, and they all glowered at the speaker. He +was uncomfortable, this fellow. + +"Well, there mayn't be as much gold up here as men think, but there's +more hope than anywhere on earth." + +"To hell with hope; give me certainty," says Salmon P. + +"Exactly. So you shuffle the cards, and laugh down the five-cent limit. +You'll play one last big game, and it'll be for life this time as well +as fortune." + +"Cheerful cuss, ain't he?" whispered Schiff. + +"They say we're a nation of gamblers. Well, sir, the biggest game we +play is the game that goes on near the Arctic Circle." + +"What's the matter with Wall Street?" + +"'Tisn't such a pretty game, and they don't play for their lives. I +tell you it's love of gambling brings men here, and it's the splendid +stiff game they find going on that keeps them. There's nothing like it +on earth." + +His belated enthusiasm deceived nobody. + +"It don't seem to have excited you much," said Mac. + +"Oh, I've had my turn at it. And just by luck I found I could play +another--a safer game, and not bad fun either." He sat up straight and +shot his hands down deep in the pockets of his mackinaws. "I've got a +good thing, and I'm willing to stay with it." + +The company looked at him coldly. + +"Well," drawled Potts, "you can look after the fur trade; give me a +modest little claim in the Klondyke." + +"Oh, Klondyke! Klondyke!" Benham got up and stepped over Kaviak on his +way to the fire. He lit a short briarwood with a flaming stick and +turned about. "Shall I tell you fellows a little secret about the +Klondyke?" He held up the burning brand in the dim room with telling +emphasis. The smoke and flame blew black and orange across his face as +he said: + +"_Every dollar that's taken out of the Klondyke in gold-dust will cost +three dollars in coin_." + +A sense of distinct dislike to Benham had spread through the company--a +fellow who called American enterprise love of gambling, for whom +heroism was foolhardy, and hope insane. Where was a pioneer so bold he +could get up now and toast the Klondyke? Who, now, without grim +misgiving, could forecast a rosy future for each man at the board? And +that, in brief, had been the programme. + +"Oh, help the puddin', Colonel," said the Boy like one who starts up +from an evil dream. + +But they sat chilled and moody, eating plum-pudding as if it had been +so much beans and bacon. Mac felt Robert Bruce's expensive education +slipping out of reach. Potts saw his girl, tired of waiting, taking up +with another fellow. The Boy's Orange Grove was farther off than +Florida. Schiff and Hardy wondered, for a moment, who was the gainer +for all their killing hardship? Not they, at present, although there +was the prospect--the hope--oh, damn the Trader! + +The Colonel made the punch. O'Flynn drained his cup without waiting for +the mockery of that first toast--_To our Enterprise_--although no one +had taken more interest in the programme than O'Flynn. Benham talked +about the Anvik saw-mill, and the money made in wood camps along the +river. Nobody listened, though everyone else sat silent, smoking and +sulkily drinking his punch. + +Kaviak's demand for some of the beverage reminded the Boy of the +Christmas-tree. It had been intended as a climax to wind up the +entertainment, but to produce it now might save the situation. He got +up and pulled on his parki. + +"Back 'n a minute." But he was gone a long time. + +Benham looked down the toast-list and smiled inwardly, for it was +Klondyked from top to bottom. The others, too, stole uneasy glances at +that programme, staring them in the face, unabashed, covertly +ironic--nay, openly jeering. They actually hadn't noticed the fact +before, but every blessed speech was aimed straight at the wonderful +gold camp across the line--not the Klondyke of Benham's croaking, but +the Klondyke of their dreams. + +Even the death's head at the feast regretted the long postponement of +so spirited a programme, interspersed, as it promised to be, with +songs, dances, and "tricks," and winding up with an original poem, "He +won't be happy till he gets it." + +Benham's Indian had got up and gone out. Kaviak had tried to go too, +but the door was slammed in his face. He stood there with his nose to +the crack exactly as a dog does. Suddenly he ran back to Mac and tugged +at his arm. Even the dull white men could hear an ominous snarling +among the Mahlemeuts. + +Out of the distance a faint answering howl of derision from some enemy, +advancing or at bay. It was often like this when two teams put up at +the Big Chimney Camp. + +"Reckon our dogs are gettin' into trouble," said Salmon P. anxiously to +his deaf and crippled partner. + +"It's nothing," says the Trader. "A Siwash dog of any spirit is always +trailing his coat"; and Salmon P. subsided. + +Not so Kaviak. Back to the door, head up, he listened. They had +observed the oddity before. The melancholy note of the Mahlemeut never +yet had failed to stir his sombre little soul. He was standing now +looking up at the latch, high, and made for white men, eager, breathing +fast, listening to that dismal sound that is like nothing else in +nature--listening as might an exiled Scot to the skirl of bagpipes; +listening as a Tyrolese who hears yodelling on foreign hills, or as the +dweller in a distant land to the sound of the dear home speech. + +The noise outside grew louder, the air was rent with howls of rage and +defiance. + +"Sounds as if there's 'bout a million mad dogs on your front stoop," +says Schiff, knowing there must be a great deal going on if any of it +reached his ears. + +"You set still." His pardner pushed him down on his stool. "Mr. Benham +and I'll see what's up." + +The Trader leisurely opened the door, Salmon P. keeping modestly +behind, while Kaviak darted forward only to be caught back by Mac. An +avalanche of sound swept in--a mighty howling and snarling and cracking +of whips, and underneath the higher clamour, human voices--and in +dashes the Boy, powdered with snow, laughing and balancing carefully in +his mittened hands a little Yukon spruce, every needle diamond-pointed, +every sturdy branch white with frost crystals and soft woolly snow, and +bearing its little harvest of curious fruit--sweet-cake rings and stars +and two gingerbread men hanging by pack-thread from the white and green +branches, the Noah's Ark lodged in one crotch, the very amateur +snow-shoes in another, and the lost toys wrapped up, transfigured in +tobacco-foil, dangling merrily before Kaviak's incredulous eyes. + +"There's your Christmas-tree!" and the bringer, who had carried the +tree so that no little puff of snow or delicate crystal should fall +off, having made a successful entrance and dazzled the child, gave way +to the strong excitement that shot light out of his eyes and brought +scarlet into his cheeks. "Here, take it!" He dashed the tree down in +front of Kaviak, and a sudden storm agitated its sturdy branches; it +snowed about the floor, and the strange fruit whirled and spun in the +blast. Kaviak clutched it, far too dazed to do more than stare. The Boy +stamped the snow off his mucklucks on the threshold, and dashed his cap +against the lintel, calling out: + +"Come in! come in! let the dogs fight it out." Behind him, between the +snow-walls at the entrance, had appeared two faces--weather-beaten men, +crowding in the narrow space, craning to see the reception of the +Christmas-tree and the inside of the famous Big Chimney Cabin. + +"These gentlemen," says the Boy, shaking with excitement as he ushered +them in, "are Mr. John Dillon and General Lighter. They've just done +the six hundred and twenty-five miles from Minook with dogs over the +ice! They've been forty days on the trail, and they're as fit as +fiddles. An' no yonder, for Little Minook has made big millionaires o' +both o' them!" + +Millionaires or not, they'll never, either of them, create a greater +sensation than they did that Christmas Day, in the Big Chimney Cabin, +on the bleak hillside, up above the Never-Know-What. Here was Certainty +at last! Here was Justification! + +Precious symbols of success, they were taken by both hands, they were +shaken and wildly welcomed, "peeled," set down by the fire, given +punch, asked ten thousand questions all in a breath, rejoiced over, and +looked up to as glorious dispellers of doubt, blessed saviours from +despair. + +Schiff had tottered forward on bandaged feet, hand round ear, mouth +open, as if to swallow whole whatever he couldn't hear. The Colonel +kept on bowing magnificently at intervals and pressing refreshment, +O'Flynn slapping his thigh and reiterating, "Be the Siven!" Potts not +only widened his mouth from ear to ear, but, as O'Flynn said after, +"stretched it clane round his head and tyed it up furr jy in a nate +knot behind." Benham took a back seat, and when anybody remembered him +for the next hour it was openly to gloat over his discomfiture. + +John Dillon was one of those frontiersmen rightly called typically +American. You see him again and again--as a cowboy in Texas, as a miner +or herdsman all through the Far West; you see him cutting lumber along +the Columbia, or throwing the diamond hitch as he goes from camp to +camp for gold and freedom. He takes risks cheerfully, and he never +works for wages when he can go "on his own." + +John Dillon was like the majority, tall, lean, muscular, not an ounce +of superfluous flesh on his bones, a face almost gaunt in its clearness +of cut, a thin straight nose, chin not heavy but well curved out, the +eye orbit arched and deep, a frown fixed between thick eyebrows, and +few words in his firm, rather grim-looking mouth. He was perhaps +thirty-six, had been "in" ten years, and had mined before that in +Idaho. Under his striped parki he was dressed in spotted deer-skin, +wore white deer-skin mucklucks, Arctic cap, and moose mittens. Pinned +on his inner shirt was the badge of the Yukon Order of Pioneers--a +footrule bent like the letter A above a scroll of leaves, and in the +angle two linked O's over Y. P. + +It was the other man--the western towns are full of General +Lighters--who did the talking. An attorney from Seattle, he had come up +in the July rush with very little but boundless assurance, fell in with +an old miner who had been grubstaked by Captain Rainey out of the +_Oklahoma's_ supplies, and got to Minook before the river went to +sleep. + +"No, we're not pardners exactly," he said, glancing good-humouredly at +Dillon; "we've worked separate, but we're going home two by two like +animals into the Ark. We've got this in common. We've both 'struck +ile'--haven't we, Dillon?" + +Dillon nodded. + +"Little Minook's as rich a camp as Dawson, and the gold's of higher +grade--isn't it, Dillon?" + +"That's right." + +"One of the many great advantages of Minook is that it's the _nearest_ +place on the river where they've struck pay dirt." says the General. +"And another great advantage is that it's on the American side of the +line." + +"What advantage is that?" Mac grated out. + +"Just the advantage of not having all your hard earnings taken away by +an iniquitous tax." + +"Look out! this fella's a Britisher--" + +"Don't care if he is, and no disrespect to you, sir. The Canadians in +the Klondyke are the first to say the tax is nothing short of highway +robbery. You'll see! The minute they hear of gold across the line +there'll be a stampede out of Dawson. I can put you in the way of +getting a claim for eight thousand dollars that you can take eighty +thousand out of next August, with no inspector coming round to check +your clean-up, and no Government grabbing at your royalties." + +"Why aren't you taking out that eighty thousand yourself?" asked Mac +bluntly. + +"Got more 'n one man can handle," answered the General. "Reckon we've +earned a holiday." + +Dillon backed him up. + +"Then it isn't shortage in provisions that takes you outside," said the +Boy. + +"Not much." + +"Plenty of food at Rampart City; that's the name o' the town where the +Little Minook meets the Yukon." + +"Food at gold-craze prices, I suppose." + +"No. Just about the same they quote you in Seattle." + +"How is that possible when it's been carried four thousand miles?" + +"Because the A. C. and N. A. T. and T. boats got frozen in this side of +Dawson. They know by the time they get there in June a lot of stuff +will have come in by the short route through the lakes, and the town +will be overstocked. So there's flour and bacon to burn when you get up +as far as Minook. It's only along the Lower River there's any real +scarcity." + +The Big Chimney men exchanged significant looks. + +"And there are more supply-boats wintering up at Fort Yukon and at +Circle City," the General went on. "I tell you on the Upper River +there's food to burn." + +Again the Big Chimney men looked at one another. The General kept +helping himself to punch, and as he tossed it off he would say, +"Minook's the camp for me!" When he had given vent to this conviction +three times, Benham, who hadn't spoken since their entrance, said +quietly: + +"And you're going away from it as hard as you can pelt." + +The General turned moist eyes upon him. + +"Are you a man of family, sir?" + +"No." + +"Then I cannot expect you to understand." His eyes brimmed at some +thought too fine and moving for public utterance. + +Each member of the camp sat deeply cogitating. Not only gold at Minook, +but food! In the inner vision of every eye was a ship-load of +provisions "frozen in" hard by a placer claim; in every heart a fervid +prayer for a dog-team. + +The Boy jumped up, and ran his fingers through his long wild hair. He +panted softly like a hound straining at a leash. Then, with an obvious +effort to throw off the magic of Minook, he turned suddenly about, and +"Poor old Kaviak!" says he, looking round and speaking in quite an +everyday sort of voice. + +The child was leaning against the door clasping the forgotten +Christmas-tree so tight against the musk-rat coat that the branches hid +his face. From time to time with reverent finger he touched silver boat +and red-foil top, and watched, fascinated, how they swung. A white +child in a tenth of the time would have eaten the cakes, torn off the +transfiguring tinfoil, tired of the tree, and forgotten it. The Boy +felt some compunction at the sight of Kaviak's steadfast fidelity. + +"Look here, we'll set the tree up where you can see it better." He put +an empty bucket on the table, and with Mac's help, wedged the spruce in +it firmly, between some blocks of wood and books of the law. + +The cabin was very crowded. Little Mr. Schiff was sitting on the +cricket. Kaviak retired to his old seat on Elephas beyond the bunks, +where he still had a good view of the wonderful tree, agreeably lit by +what was left of the two candles. + +"Those things are good to eat, you know," said the Colonel kindly. + +Mac cut down a gingerbread man and gave it into the tiny hands. + +"What wind blew that thing into your cabin?" asked the General, +squinting up his snow-blinded eyes at the dim corner where Kaviak sat. + +There wasn't a man in the camp who didn't resent the millionaire's +tone. + +"This is a great friend of ours--ain't you, Kaviak?" said the Boy. +"He's got a soul above gold-mines, haven't you? He sees other fellas +helping themselves to his cricket and his high chair--too polite to +object--just goes and sits like a philosopher on the bones of dead +devils and looks on. Other fellas sittin' in his place talkin' about +gold and drinkin' punch--never offerin' him a drop--" + +Several cups were held out, but Mac motioned them back. + +"I don't think," says John Dillon slyly--"don't think _this_ punch will +hurt the gentleman." + +And a roar went up at the Colonel's expense. General Lighter pulled +himself to his feet, saying there was a little good Old Rye left +outside, and he could stock up again when he got to the _Oklahoma_. + +"Oh, and it's yersilf that don't shoy off from a dthrop o' the craythur +whin yer thravellin' the thrail." + +Everybody looked at Benham. He got up and began to put on his furs; his +dog-driver, squatting by the door, took the hint, and went out to see +after the team. + +"Oh, well," said the General to O'Flynn, "it's Christmas, you know"; +and he picked his way among the closely-packed company to the door. + +"We ought to be movin', too," said Dillon, straightening up. The +General halted, depressed at the reminder. "You know we swore we +wouldn't stop again unless--" + +"Look here, didn't you hear me saying it was Christmas?" + +"You been sayin' that for twenty-four hours. Been keepin' Christmas +right straight along since yesterday mornin." But the General had gone +out to unpack the whisky. "He knocked up the mission folks, bright and +early yesterday, to tell 'em about the Glad News Tiding's--Diggin's, I +mean." + +"What did they say?" + +"Weren't as good an audience as the General's used to; that's why we +pushed on. We'd heard about your camp, and the General felt a call to +preach the Gospel accordin' to Minook down this way." + +"He don't seem to be standin' the racket as well as you," said Schiff. + +"Well, sir, this is the first time I've found him wantin' to hang round +after he's thoroughly rubbed in the news." + +Dillon moved away from the fire; the crowded cabin was getting hot. + +Nevertheless the Colonel put on more wood, explaining to Salmon P. and +the others, who also moved back, that it was for illuminating +purposes--those two candles burning down low, each between three nails +in a little slab of wood--those two had been kept for Christmas, and +were the last they had. + +In the general movement from the fire, Benham, putting on his cap and +gloves, had got next to Dillon. + +"Look here," said the Trader, under cover of the talk about candles, +"what sort of a trip have you had?" + +The Yukon pioneer looked at him a moment, and then took his pipe out of +his mouth to say: + +"Rank." + +"No fun, hey?" + +"That's right." He restored the pipe, and drew gently. + +"And yet to hear the General chirp--" + +"He's got plenty o' grit, the General has." + +"Has he got gold?" + +Dillon nodded. "Or will have." + +"Out of Minook?" + +"Out of Minook." + +"In a sort of a kind of a way. I think I understand." Benham wagged his +head. "He's talkin' for a market." + +Dillon smoked. + +"Goin' out to stir up a boom, and sell his claim to some sucker." + +The General reappeared with the whisky, stamping the snow off his feet +before he joined the group at the table, where the Christmas-tree was +seasonably cheek by jowl with the punch-bowl between the low-burnt +candles. Mixing the new brew did not interrupt the General's ecstatic +references to Minook. + +"Look here!" he shouted across to Mac, "I'll give you a lay on my best +claim for two thousand down and a small royalty." + +Mac stuck out his jaw. + +"I'd like to take a look at the country before I deal." + +"Well, see here. When will you go?" + +"We got no dogs." + +"_We_ have!" exclaimed Salmon P. and Scruff with one voice. + +"Well, I _can_ offer you fellows--" + +"How many miles did you travel a day?" + +"Sixty," said the General promptly. + +"Oh Lord!" ejaculated Benham, and hurriedly he made his good-byes. + +"What's the matter with _you?_" demanded the General with dignity. + +"I'm only surprised to hear Minook's twenty-four hundred miles away." + +"More like six hundred," says the Colonel. + +"And you've been forty days coming, and you cover sixty miles a +day--Good-bye," he laughed, and was gone. + +"Well--a--" The General looked round. + +"Travelin' depends on the weather." Dillon helped him out. + +"Exactly. Depends on the weather," echoed the General. "You don't get +an old Sour-dough like Dillon to travel at forty degrees." + +"How are you to know?" whispered Schiff. + +"Tie a little bottle o' quick to your sled," answered Dillon. + +"Bottle o' what?" asked the Boy. + +"Quicksilver--mercury," interpreted the General. + +"No dog-puncher who knows what he's about travels when his quick goes +dead." + +"If the stuff's like lead in your bottle--" The General stopped to +sample the new brew. In the pause, from the far side of the cabin +Dillon spat straight and clean into the heart of the coals. + +"Well, what do you do when the mercury freezes?" asked the Boy. + +"Camp," said Dillon impassively, resuming his pipe. + +"I suppose," the Boy went on wistfully--"I suppose you met men all the +way making straight for Minook?" + +"Only on this last lap." + +"They don't get far, most of 'em." + +"But... but it's worth trying!" the Boy hurried to bridge the chasm. + +The General lifted his right arm in the attitude of the orator about to +make a telling hit, but he was hampered by having a mug at his lips. In +the pause, as he stood commanding attention, at the same time that he +swallowed half a pint of liquor, he gave Dillon time leisurely to get +up, knock the ashes out of his pipe stick it in his belt, put a slow +hand behind him towards his pistol pocket, and bring out his buckskin +gold sack. Now, only Mac of the other men had ever seen a miner's purse +before, but every one of the four cheechalkos knew instinctively what +it was that Dillon held so carelessly. In that long, narrow bag, like +the leg of a child's stocking, was the stuff they had all come seeking. + +The General smacked his lips, and set down the granite cup. + +"_That's_ the argument," he said. "Got a noospaper?" + +The Colonel looked about in a flustered way for the tattered San +Francisco _Examiner_; Potts and the Boy hustled the punch-bowl on to +the bucket board, recklessly spilling some of the precious contents. +O'Flynn and Salmon P. whisked the Christmas tree into the corner, and +not even the Boy remonstrated when a gingerbread man broke his neck, +and was trampled under foot. + +"Quick! the candles are going out!" shouted the Boy, and in truth each +wick lay languishing in a little island of grease, now flaring bravely, +now flickering to dusk. It took some time to find in the San Francisco +_Examiner_ of August 7 a foot square space that was whole. But as +quickly as possible the best bit was spread in the middle of the table. +Dillon, in the breathless silence having slowly untied the thongs, held +his sack aslant between the two lights, and poured out a stream-nuggets +and coarse bright gold. + +The crowd about the table drew audible breath. Nobody actually spoke at +first, except O'Flynn, who said reverently: "Be--the Siven! Howly +Pipers!--that danced at me--gran'-mother's weddin'--when the +divvle--called the chune!" Even the swimming wicks flared up, and +seemed to reach out, each a hungry tongue of flame to touch and taste +the glittering heap, before they went into the dark. Low exclamations, +hands thrust out to feel, and drawn back in a sort of superstitious +awe. + +Here it was, this wonderful stuff they'd come for! Each one knew by the +wild excitement in his own breast, how in secret he had been brought to +doubt its being here. But here it was lying in a heap on the Big Cabin +table! and--now it was gone. + +The right candle had given out, and O'Flynn, blowing with impatience +like a walrus, had simultaneously extinguished the other. + +For an instant a group of men with strained and dazzled eyes still bent +above the blackness on the boards. + +"Stir the fire," called the Colonel, and flew to do it himself. + +"I'll light a piece of fat pine," shouted the Boy, catching up a stick, +and thrusting it into the coals. + +"Where's your bitch?" said Dillon calmly. + +"Bitch?" + +"Haven't you got a condensed milk can with some bacon grease in it, and +a rag wick? Makes a good enough light." + +But the fire had been poked up, and the cabin was full of dancing +lights and shadows. Besides that, the Boy was holding a resinous stick +alight over the table, and they all bent down as before. + +"It was passin' a bank in 'Frisco wid a windy full o' that stuff that +brought me up here," said O'Flynn. + +"It was hearin' about that winder brought _me_" added Potts. + +Everyone longed to touch and feel about in the glittering pile, but no +one as yet had dared to lay a finger on the smallest grain in the +hoard. An electrical shock flashed through the company when the General +picked up one of the biggest nuggets and threw it down with a rich, +full-bodied thud. "That one is four ounces." + +He took up another. + +"This is worth about sixty dollars." + +"More like forty," said Dillon. + +They were of every conceivable shape and shapelessness, most of them +flattened; some of them, the greenhorn would swear, were fashioned by +man into roughly embossed hearts, or shells, or polished discs like +rude, defaced coins. One was a perfect staple, another the letter "L," +another like an axe-head, and one like a peasant's sabot. Some were +almost black with iron stains, and some were set with "jewels" of +quartz, but for the most part they were formless fragments of a rich +and brassy yellow. + +"Lots of the little fellas are like melon-seeds"; and the Boy pointed a +shaking finger, longing and still not daring to touch the treasure. + +Each man had a dim feeling in the back of his head that, after all, the +hillock of gold was an illusion, and his own hand upon the dazzling +pile would clutch the empty air. + +"Where's your dust?" asked the Boy. + +Dillon stared. + +"Why, here." + +"This is all nuggets and grains." + +"Well, what more do you want?" + +"Oh, it'd do well enough for me, but it ain't dust." + +"It's what we call dust." + +"As coarse as this?" + +The Sour-dough nodded, and Lighter laughed. + +"There's a fox's mask," said the Colonel at the bottom of the table, +pointing a triangular bit out. + +"Let me look at it a minute," begged the Boy. + +"Hand it round," whispered Schiff. + +It was real. It was gold. Their fingers tingled under the first +contact. This was the beginning. + +The rude bit of metal bred a glorious confidence. Under the magic of +its touch Robert Bruce's expensive education became a simple certainty. +In Potts's hand the nugget gave birth to a mighty progeny. He saw +himself pouring out sackfuls before his enraptured girl. + +The Boy lifted his flaring torch with a victorious sense of having just +bought back the Orange Grove; and Salmon P. passed the nugget to his +partner with a blissful sigh. + +"Well, I'm glad we didn't get cold feet," says he. + +"Yes," whispered Schiff; "it looks like we goin' to the right place." + +The sheen of the heap of yellow treasure was trying even to the nerves +of the Colonel. + +"Put it away," he said quite solemnly, laying the nugget on the +paper--"put it all away before the firelight dies down." + +Dillon leisurely gathered it up and dropped the nuggets, with an +absent-minded air, into the pouch which Lighter held. + +But the San Francisco _Examiner_ had been worn to the softness of an +old rag and the thinness of tissue. Under Dillon's sinewy fingers +pinching up the gold the paper gave way. + +"Oh!" exclaimed more than one voice, as at some grave mishap. + +Dillon improvised a scoop out of a dirty envelope. Nobody spoke and +everybody watched, and when, finally, with his hand, he brushed the +remaining grains off the torn paper into the envelope, poured them into +the gaping sack-mouth, and lazily pulled at the buckskin draw-string, +everybody sat wondering how much, if any, of the precious metal had +escaped through the tear, and how soon Dillon would come out of his +brown study, remember, and recover the loss. But a spell seemed to have +fallen on the company. No one spoke, till Dillon, with that lazy +motion, hoisting one square shoulder and half turning his body round, +was in the act of returning the sack to his hip-pocket. + +"Wait!" said Mac, with the explosiveness of a firearm, and O'Flynn +jumped. + +"You ain't got it all," whispered Schiff hurriedly. + +"Oh, I'm leavin' the fox-face for luck," Dillon nodded at the Colonel. + +But Schiff pointed reverently at the tear in the paper, as Dillon only +went on pushing his sack deep down in his pocket, while Mac lifted the +_Examiner_. All but the two millionaires bent forward and scrutinised +the table. O'Flynn impulsively ran one lone hand over the place where +the gold-heap had lain, his other hand held ready at the table's edge +to catch any sweepings. None! But the result of O'Flynn's action was +that those particles of gold that that fallen through the paper were +driven into the cracks and inequalities of the board. + +"There! See?" + +"Now look what you've done!" + +Mac pointed out a rough knot-hole, too, that slyly held back a pinch of +gold. + +"Oh, that!" + +Dillon slapped his hip, and settled into his place. But the men nearest +the crack and the knot-hole fell to digging out the renegade grains, +and piously offering them to their lawful owner. + +"That ain't worth botherin' about," laughed Dillon; "you always reckon +to lose a little each time, even if you got a China soup-plate." + +"Plenty more where that came from," said the General, easily. + +Such indifference was felt to be magnificent indeed. The little +incident said more for the richness of Minook than all the General's +blowing; they forgot that what was lost would amount to less than fifty +cents. The fact that it was gold--Minook gold--gave it a symbolic value +not to be computed in coin. + +"How do you go?" asked the Colonel, as the two millionaires began +putting on their things. + +"We cut across to Kuskoquim. Take on an Indian guide there to Nushagak, +and from there with dogs across the ocean ice to Kadiak." + +"Oh! the way the letters go out." + +"When they _do_," smiled Dillon. "Yes, it's the old Russian Post Trail, +I believe. South of Kadiak Island the sea is said to be open as early +as the first of March. We'll get a steamer to Sitka, and from Sitka, of +course, the boats run regular." + +"Seattle by the middle of March!" says the General. "Come along, +Dillon; the sooner you get to Seattle, and blow in a couple o' hundred +thousand, the sooner you'll get back to Minook." + +Dillon went out and roused up the dogs, asleep in the snow, with their +bushy tails sheltering their sharp noses. + +"See you later?" + +"Yes, 'outside.'" + +"Outside? No, sir! _Inside_." + +Dillon swore a blood-curdling string of curses and cracked his whip +over the leader. + +"Why, you comin' back?" + +"Bet your life!" + +And nobody who looked at the face of the Yukon pioneer could doubt he +meant what he said. + +They went indoors. The cabin wore an unwonted and a rakish air. The +stools seemed to have tried to dance the lancers and have fallen out +about the figure. Two were overturned. The unwashed dishes were tossed +helter-skelter. A tipsy Christmas tree leaned in drunken fashion +against the wall, and under its boughs lay a forgotten child asleep. On +the other side of the cabin an empty whisky bottle caught a ray of +light from the fire, and glinted feebly back. Among the ashes on the +hearth was a screw of paper, charred at one end, and thrown there after +lighting someone's pipe. The Boy opened it. The famous programme of the +Yukon Symposium! + +"It's been a different sort of Christmas from what we planned," +observed the Colonel, not quite as gaily as you might expect. + +"Begob!" says O'Flynn, stretching out his interminable legs; "ye can't +say we haven't hearrd Glad Tidings of gr-reat j'y--" + +"Colonel," interrupts the Boy, throwing the Programme in the fire, +"let's look at your nugget again." + +And they all took turns. Except Potts. He was busy digging the +remaining gold-grains out of the crack and the knothole. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC + + "--giver mig Rum! + Himlen bar Stjerner Natten er stum." + + +It was a good many days before they got the dazzle of that gold out of +their eyes. They found their tongues again, and talked "Minook" from +morning till night among themselves and with the rare passer up or down +the trail. + +Mac began to think they might get dogs at Anvik, or at one of the +Ingalik villages, a little further on. The balance of opinion in the +camp was against this view. But he had Potts on his side. When the New +Year opened, the trail was in capital condition. On the second of +January two lots of Indians passed, one with dogs hauling flour and +bacon for Benham, and the other lot without dogs, dragging light +hand-sleds. Potts said restlessly: + +"After all, _they_ can do it." + +"So can we if we've a mind to," said Mac. + +"Come on, then." + +The camp tried hard to dissuade them. Naturally neither listened. They +packed the Boy's sled and set off on the morning of the third, to +Kaviak's unbounded surprise and disgust, his view of life being that, +wherever Mac went, he was bound to follow. And he did follow--made off +as hard as his swift little feet could carry him, straight up the Yukon +trail, and Farva lost a good half of that first morning bringing him +home. + +Just eight days later the two men walked into the Cabin and sat +down--Potts with a heart-rending groan, Mac with his jaw almost +dislocated in his cast-iron attempt to set his face against defeat; +their lips were cracked with the cold, their faces raw from frostbite, +their eyes inflamed. The weather--they called it the weather--had been +too much for them. It was obvious they hadn't brought back any dogs, +but-- + +"What did you think of Anvik?" says the Boy. + +"Anvik? You don't suppose we got to Anvik in weather like this!" + +"How far _did_ you get?" + +Mac didn't answer. Potts only groaned. He had frozen his cheek and his +right hand. + +They were doctored and put to bed. + +"Did you see my friends at Holy Cross?" the Boy asked Potts when he +brought him a bowl of hot bean-soup. + +"You don't suppose we got as far as Holy Cross, with the wind--" + +"Well, where _did_ you get to? Where you been?" + +"Second native village above." + +"Why, that isn't more'n sixteen miles." + +"Sixteen miles too far." + +Potts breathed long and deep between hot and comforting swallows. + +"Where's the Boy's sled?" said the Colonel, coming in hurriedly. + +"We cached it," answered Potts feebly. + +"Couldn't even bring his sled home! _Where've_ you cached it?" + +"It's all right--only a few miles back." + +Potts relinquished the empty soup-bowl, and closed his eyes. + + * * * * * + +When he opened them again late in the evening it was to say: + +"Found some o' those suckers who were goin' so slick to Minook; some o' +_them_ down at the second village, and the rest are winterin' in Anvik, +so the Indians say. Not a single son of a gun will see the diggins till +the ice goes out." + +"Then, badly off as we are here," says the Colonel to the Boy, "it's +lucky for us we didn't join the procession." + +When Mac and the Boy brought the sled home a couple of days later, it +was found that a portion of its cargo consisted of a toy kyak and two +bottles of hootchino, the maddening drink concocted by the natives out +of fermented dough and sugar. + +Apart from the question of drinking raised again by the "hootch," it is +perhaps possible that, having so little else to do, they were ready to +eat the more; it is also true that, busy or idle, the human body +requires more nourishment in the North than it does in the South. + +Certainly the men of the little Yukon camp began to find their rations +horribly short commons, and to suffer a continual hunger, never wholly +appeased. It is conditions like these that bring out the brute latent +in all men. The day came to mean three scant meals. Each meal came to +mean a silent struggle in each man's soul not to let his stomach get +the better of his head and heart. At first they joked and laughed about +their hunger and the scarcity. By-and-by it became too serious, the +jest was wry-faced and rang false. They had, in the beginning, each +helped himself from common dishes set in the middle of the rough plank +table. Later, each found how, without meaning to--hating himself for +it--he watched food on its way to others' plates with an evil eye. When +it came to his turn, he had an ever-recurrent struggle with himself not +to take the lion's share. There were ironical comments now and then, +and ill-concealed bitterness. No one of the five would have believed he +could feel so towards a human being about a morsel of food, but those +who think they would be above it, have not wintered in the Arctic +regions or fought in the Boer War. The difficulty was frankly faced at +last, and it was ordained in council that the Colonel should be +dispenser of the food. + +"Can't say I like the office," quoth he, "but here goes!" and he cut +the bacon with an anxious hand, and spooned out the beans solemnly as +if he weighed each "go." And the Trio presently retired to the Little +Cabin to discuss whether the Colonel didn't show favouritism to the +Boy, and, when Mac was asleep, how they could get rid of Kaviak. + +So presently another council was called, and the Colonel resigned his +office, stipulating that each man in turn should hold it for a week, +and learn how ungrateful it was. Moreover, that whoever was, for the +nonce, occupying the painful post, should be loyally upheld by all the +others, which arrangement was in force to the end. + +And still, on grounds political, religious, social, trivial, the +disaffection grew. Two of the Trio sided against the odd man, Potts, +and turned him out of the Little Cabin one night during a furious +snowstorm, that had already lasted two days, had more than half buried +the hut, and nearly snowed up the little doorway. The Colonel and the +Boy had been shovelling nearly all the day before to keep free the +entrance to the Big Cabin and the precious "bottle" window, as well as +their half of the path between the two dwellings. O'Flynn and Potts had +played poker and quarrelled as usual. + +The morning after the ejection of Potts, and his unwilling reception at +the Big Cabin, Mac and O'Flynn failed to appear for breakfast. + +"Guess they're huffy," says Potts, stretching out his feet, very +comfortable in their straw-lined mucklucks, before the big blaze. +"Bring on the coffee, Kaviak." + +"No," says the Colonel, "we won't begin without the other fellows." + +"By the living Jingo, _I_ will then!" says Potts, and helps himself +under the Colonel's angry eyes. + +The other two conferred a moment, then drew on their parkis and +mittens, and with great difficulty, in spite of yesterday's work, got +the door open. It was pretty dark, but there was no doubt about it, the +Little Cabin had disappeared. + +"Look! isn't that a curl of smoke?" said the Boy. + +"Yes, by George! they're snowed under!" + +"Serve 'em right!" + +A heavy sigh from the Colonel. "Yes, but _we'll_ have to dig 'em out!" + +"Look here, Colonel"--the Boy spoke with touching solemnity--"_not +before breakfast!_" + +"Right you are!" laughed the Colonel; and they went in. + +It was that day, after the others had been released and fed, that the +Boy fell out with Potts concerning who had lost the hatchet--and they +came to blows. A black eye and a bloody nose might not seem an +illuminating contribution to the question, but no more was said about +the hatchet after the Colonel had dragged the Boy off the prostrate +form of his adversary. + +But the Colonel himself lost his temper two days later when O'Flynn +broached the seal set months before on the nearly empty demijohn. For +those famous "temperance punches" the Colonel had drawn on his own +small stock. He saw his blunder when O'Flynn, possessing himself of the +demijohn, roared out: + +"It's my whisky, I tell you! I bought it and paid furr it, and but for +me it would be at the bottom o' the Yukon now." + +"Yes, and you'd be at the bottom of the Yukon yourself if you hadn't +been dragged out by the scruff o' your neck. And you'd be in a pretty +fix now, if we left you alone with your whisky, which is about all +you've got." + +"We agreed," Potts chipped in, "that it should be kept for medicinal +purposes only." + +Sullenly O'Flynn sipped at his grog. Potts had "hogged most of the +hootch." + + * * * * * + +"Look here, Boy," said Mac at supper, "I said I wouldn't eat off this +plate again." + +"Oh, dry up! One tin plate's like another tin plate." + +"Are you reflecting on the washer-up, Mr. MacCann?" asked Potts. + +"I'm saying what I've said before--that I've scratched my name on my +plate, and I won't eat off this rusty, battered kettle-lid." + +He held it up as if to shy it at the Boy. The young fellow turned with +a flash in his eye and stood taut. Then in the pause he said quite low: + +"Let her fly, MacCann." + +But MacCann thought better of it. He threw the plate down on the table +with a clatter. The Colonel jumped up and bent over the mush-pot at the +fire, beside the Boy, whispering to him. + +"Oh, all right." + +When the Boy turned back to the table, with the smoking kettle, the +cloud had gone from his face. MacCann had got up to hang a blanket over +the door. While his back was turned the Boy brought a tin plate, still +in good condition, set it down at Mac's place, planted a nail on end in +the middle, and with three blows from a hammer fastened the plate +firmly to the board. + +"Maybe you can't hand it up for more as often as you like, but you'll +always find it there," he said when McCann came back. And the laugh +went against the dainty pioneer, who to the end of the chapter ate from +a plate nailed fast to the table. + +"I begin to understand," says the Colonel to the Boy, under cover of +the others' talk, "why it's said to be such a devil of a test of a +fellow's decency to winter in this infernal country." + +"They say it's always a man's pardner he comes to hate most," returned +the Boy, laughing good-humouredly at the Colonel. + +"Naturally. Look at the row in the Little Cabin." + +"That hasn't been the only row," the Boy went on more thoughtfully. "I +say, Colonel"--he lowered his voice--"do you know there'll have to be a +new system of rations? I've been afraid--now I'm _sure_--the grub won't +last till the ice goes out." + +"I know it," said the Colonel very gravely. + +"Was there a miscalculation?" + +"I hope it was that--or else," speaking still lower, "the stores have +been tampered with, and not by Kaviak either. There'll be a hell of a +row." He looked up, and saw Potts watching them suspiciously. It had +come to this: if two men talked low the others pricked their ears. "But +lack of grub," resumed the Colonel in his usual voice, as though he had +not noticed, "is only one of our difficulties. Lack of work is just +about as bad. It breeds a thousand devils. We're a pack o' fools. Here +we are, all of us, hard hit, some of us pretty well cleaned out o' +ready cash, and here's dollars and dollars all round us, and we sit +over the fire like a lot of God-forsaken natives." + +"Dollars! Where?" + +"Growin' on the trees, boys; a forest full." + +"Oh, timber." Enthusiasm cooled. + +"Look at what they say about those fellows up at Anvik, what they made +last year." + +"They've got a saw-mill." + +"_Now_ they have. But they cut and sold cord-wood to the steamers two +years before they got a mill, and next summer will be the biggest +season yet. We ought to have set to, as soon as the cabins were built, +and cut wood for the summer traffic. But since there are five of us, we +can make a good thing of it yet." + +The Colonel finally carried the day. They went at it next morning, and, +as the projector of the work had privately predicted, a better spirit +prevailed in the camp for some time. But here were five men, only one +of whom had had any of the steadying grace of stiff discipline in his +life, men of haphazard education, who had "chucked" more or less easy +berths in a land of many creature comforts ... for this--to fell and +haul birch and fir trees in an Arctic climate on half-rations! It began +to be apparent that the same spirit was invading the forest that had +possession of the camp; two, or at most three, did the work, and the +rest shirked, got snow-blindness and rheumatism, and let the others do +his share, counting securely, nevertheless, on his fifth of the +proceeds, just as he counted (no matter what proportion he had +contributed) on his full share of the common stock of food. + +"I came out here a Communist--" said the Boy one day to the Colonel. + +"And an agnostic," smiled the older man. + +"Oh, I'm an agnostic all right, now and for ever. But this winter has +cured my faith in Communism." + +Early February brought not only lengthening daylight, but a radical +change in the weather. The woodsmen worked in their shirt-sleeves, +perspired freely, and said in the innocence of their hearts, "If winter +comes early up here, spring does the same." The whole hillside was one +slush, and the snow melting on the ill-made Little Cabin roof brought a +shower-bath into the upper bunk. + +Few things in nature so surely stir the pulse of man as the untimely +coming of a few spring days, that have lost their way in the calendar, +and wandered into winter. No trouble now to get the Big Chimney men +away from the fireside. They held up their bloodless faces in the faint +sunshine, and their eyes, with the pupils enlarged by the long reign of +night, blinked feebly, like an owl's forced to face the morning. + +There were none of those signs in the animal world outside, of +premature stir and cheerful awaking, that in other lands help the +illusion that winter lies behind, but there was that even more +stimulating sweet air abroad, that subtle mixture of sun and yielding +frost, that softened wind that comes blowing across the snow, still +keen to the cheek, but subtly reviving to the sensitive nostril, and +caressing to the eyes. The Big Chimney men drew deep breaths, and said +in their hearts the battle was over and won. + +Kaviak, for ever following at Mac's heels "like a rale Irish tarrier," +found his allegiance waver in these stirring, blissful days, if ever +Farva so belied character and custom as to swing an axe for any length +of time. Plainly out of patience, Kaviak would throw off the musk-rat +coat, and run about in wet mucklucks and a single garment--uphill, +downhill, on important errands which he confided to no man. + +It is part of the sorcery of such days that men's thoughts, like +birds', turn to other places, impatient of the haven that gave them +shelter in rough weather overpast. The Big Chimney men leaned on their +axes and looked north, south, east, west. + +Then the Colonel would give a little start, turn about, lift his +double-bitter, and swing it frontier fashion, first over one shoulder, +then over the other, striking cleanly home each time, working with a +kind of splendid rhythm more harmonious, more beautiful to look at, +than most of the works of men. This was, perhaps, the view of his +comrades, for they did a good deal of looking at the Colonel. He said +he was a modest man and didn't like it, and Mac, turning a little rusty +under the gibe, answered: + +"Haven't you got the sense to see we've cut all the good timber just +round here?" and again he turned his eyes to the horizon line. + +"Mac's right," said the Boy; and even the Colonel stood still a moment, +and they all looked away to that land at the end of the world where the +best materials are for the building of castles--it's the same country +so plainly pointed out by the Rainbow's End, and never so much as in +the springtime does it lure men with its ancient promise. + +"Come along, Colonel; let's go and look for real timber--" + +"And let's find it nearer water-level--where the steamers can see it +right away." + +"What about the kid?" + +"Me come," said Kaviak, with a highly obliging air. + +"No; you stay at home." + +"No; go too." + +"Go too, thou babbler! Kaviak's a better trail man than some I could +mention." + +"We'll have to carry him home," objected Potts. + +"Now don't tell us you'll do any of the carryin', or we'll lose +confidence in you, Potts." + +The trail was something awful, but on their Canadian snowshoes they got +as far as an island, six miles off. One end of it was better wooded +than any easily accessible place they had seen. + +"Why, this is quite like real spruce," said the Boy, and O'Flynn +admitted that even in California "these here would be called 'trees' +wid no intintion o' bein' sarcaustic." + +So they cut holes in the ice, and sounded for the channel. + +"Yes, sir, the steamers can make a landin' here, and here's where we'll +have our wood-rack." + +They went home in better spirits than they had been in since that +welter of gold had lain on the Big Cabin table. + + * * * * * + +But a few days sufficed to wear the novelty off the new wood camp for +most of the party. Potts and O'Flynn set out in the opposite direction +one morning with a hand-sled, and provisions to last several days. They +were sick of bacon and beans, and were "goin' huntin'." No one could +deny that a moose or even a grouse--anything in the shape of fresh +meat--was sufficiently needed. But Potts and O'Flynn were really sick +and sore from their recent slight attack of wood-felling. They were +after bigger game, too, as well as grouse, and a few days "off." It had +turned just enough colder to glaze the trail and put it in fine +condition. They went down the river to the _Oklahoma,_ were generously +entertained by Captain Rainey, and learned that, with earlier contracts +on his hands, he did not want more wood from them than they had already +corded. They returned to the camp without game, but with plenty of +whisky, and information that freed them from the yoke of labour, and +from the lash of ironic comment. In vain the Colonel urged that the +_Oklahoma_ was not the only steamer plying the Yukon, that with the big +rush of the coming season the traffic would be enormous, and a +wood-pile as good as a gold mine. The cause was lost. + +"You won't get us to make galley-slaves of ourselves on the off-chance +of selling. Rainey says that wood camps have sprung up like mushrooms +all along the river. The price of wood will go down to--" + +"All along the river! There isn't one between us and Andreievsky, nor +between here and Holy Cross." + +But it was no use. The travellers pledged each other in _Oklahoma_ +whisky, and making a common cause once more, the original Trio put in a +night of it. The Boy and the Colonel turned into their bunks at eleven +o'clock. They were roused in the small hours, by Kaviak's frightened +crying, and the noise of angry voices. + +"You let the kid alone." + +"Well, it's mesilf that'll take the liberty o' mintionin' that I ain't +goin' to stand furr another minyit an Esquimer's cuttin' down _my_ +rations. Sure it's a fool I've been!" + +"You can't help that," Mac chopped out. + +"Say Mac," said Potts in a drunken voice, "I'm talkin' to you like a +friend. You want to get a move on that kid." + +"Kaviak's goin' won't make any more difference than a fly's." + +The other two grumbled incoherently. + +"But I tell you what _would_ make a difference: if you two would quit +eatin' on the sly--out o' meal-times." + +"Be the Siven!" + +"You lie!" A movement, a stool overturned, and the two men in the bunks +were struck broad awake by the smart concussion of a gun-shot. Nobody +was hurt, and between them they disarmed Potts, and turned the Irishman +out to cool off in his own cabin. It was all over in a minute. Kaviak, +reassured, curled down to sleep again. Mac and Potts stretched +themselves on the buffalo-robe half under the table, and speedily fell +to snoring. The Boy put on some logs. He and the Colonel sat and +watched the sparks. + +"It's a bad business." + +"It can't go on," says the Colonel; "but Mac's right: Kaviak's being +here isn't to blame. They--we, too--are like a lot of powder-cans." + +The Boy nodded. "Any day a spark, and _biff!_ some of us are in a +blaze, and wh-tt! bang! and some of us are in Kingdom Come." + +"I begin to be afraid to open my lips," said the Colonel. "We all are; +don't you notice?" + +"Yes. I wonder why we came." + +"_You_ had no excuse," said the elder man almost angrily. + +"Same excuse as you." + +The Colonel shook his head. + +"Exactly," maintained the Boy. "Tired of towns and desk-work, +and--and--" The Boy shifted about on his wooden stool, and held up his +hands to the reviving blaze. "Life owes us steady fellows one year of +freedom, anyhow--one year to make ducks and drakes of. Besides, we've +all come to make our fortunes. Doesn't every mother's son of us mean to +find a gold-mine in the spring when we get to the Klondyke--eh?" And he +laughed again, and presently he yawned, and tumbled back into his bunk. +But he put his head out in a moment. "Aren't you going to bed?" + +"Yes." The Colonel stood up. + +"Did you know Father Wills went by, last night, when those fellows +began to row about getting out the whisky?" + +"No." + +"He says there's another stampede on." + +"Where to?" + +"Koyukuk this time." + +"Why didn't he come in?" + +"Awful hurry to get to somebody that sent for him. Funny fellas these +Jesuits. They _believe_ all those odd things they teach." + +"So do other men," said the Colonel, curtly. + +"Well, I've lived in a Christian country all my life, but I don't know +that I ever saw Christianity _practised_ till I went up the Yukon to +Holy Cross." + +"I must say you're complimentary to the few other Christians scattered +about the world." + +"Don't get mifft, Colonel. I've known plenty of people straight as a +die, and capital good fellows. I've seen them do very decent things now +and then. But with these Jesuit missionaries--Lord! there's no let up +to it." + +No answer from the Protestant Colonel. Presently the Boy in a sleepy +voice added elegantly: + +"No Siree! The Jesuits go the whole hog!" + + * * * * * + +Winter was down on the camp again. The whole world was hard as iron. +The men kept close to the Big Chimney all day long, and sat there far +into the small hours of the morning, saying little, heavy-eyed and +sullen. The dreaded insomnia of the Arctic had laid hold on all but the +Colonel. Even his usually unbroken repose was again disturbed one night +about a week later. Some vague sort of sound or movement in the +room--Kaviak on a raid?--or--wasn't that the closing of a door? + +"Kaviak!" He put his hand down and felt the straight hair of the +Esquimaux in the under bunk. "Potts! Who's there?" He half sat up. +"Boy! Did you hear that, Boy?" + +He leaned far down over the side and saw distinctly by the fire-light +there was nobody but Kaviak in the under bunk. + +The Colonel was on his legs in a flash, putting his head through his +parki and drawing on his mucklucks. He didn't wait to cross and tie the +thongs. A presentiment of evil was strong upon him. Outside in the +faint star-light he thought a dim shape was passing down towards the +river. + +"Who's that? Hi, there! Stop, or I'll shoot!" He hadn't brought his +gun, but the ruse worked. + +"Don't shoot!" came back the voice of the Boy. + +The Colonel stumbled down the bank in the snow, and soon stood by the +shape. The Boy was dressed for a journey. His Arctic cap was drawn down +over his ears and neck. The wolf-skin fringe of his parki hood stood +out fiercely round the defiant young face. Wound about one of his +seal-skin mittens was the rope of the new hand-sled he'd been +fashioning so busily of nights by the camp fire. His two blankets were +strapped on the sled, Indian fashion, along with a gunny sack and his +rifle. + +The two men stood looking angrily at each other a moment, and then the +Colonel politely inquired: + +"What in hell are you doing?" + +"Goin' to Minook." + +"The devil you are!" + +"Yes, the devil I am!" + +They stood measuring each other in the dim light, till the Colonel's +eyes fell on the loaded sled. The Boy's followed. + +"I've only taken short rations for two weeks. I left a statement in the +cabin; it's about a fifth of what's my share, so there's no need of a +row." + +"What are you goin' for?" + +"Why, to be first in the field, and stake a gold-mine, of course." + +The Colonel laid a rough hand on the Boy's shoulder. He shook it off +impatiently, and before the older man could speak: + +"Look here, let's talk sense. Somebody's got to go, or there'll be +trouble. Potts says Kaviak. But what difference would Kaviak make? I've +been afraid you'd get ahead of me. I've watched you for a week like a +hawk watches a chicken. But it's clear I'm the one to go." + +He pulled up the rope of the sled, and his little cargo lurched towards +him. The Colonel stepped in front of him. + +"Boy--" he began, but something was the matter with his voice; he got +no further. + +"I'm the youngest," boasted the other, "and I'm the strongest, and--I'm +the hungriest." + +The Colonel found a perturbed and husky voice in which to say: + +"I didn't know you were such a Christian." + +"Nothin' o' the sort." + +"What's this but--" + +"Why, it's just--just my little scheme." + +"You're no fool. You know as well as I do you've got the devil's own +job in hand." + +"Somebody's got to go," he repeated doggedly. + +"Look here," said the Colonel, "you haven't impressed me as being tired +of life." + +"Tired of life!" The young eyes flashed in that weird aureole of long +wolf-hair. "Tired of life! Well, I should just pretty nearly think I +wasn't." + +"H'm! Then if it isn't Christianity, it must be because you're young." + +"Golly, man! it's because I'm hungry--HUNGRY! Great Jehosaphat! I could +eat an ox!" + +"And you leave your grub behind, to be eaten by a lot of--" + +"I can't stand here argyfying with the thermometer down to--" The Boy +began to drag the sled over the snow. + +"Come back into the cabin." + +"No." + +"Come with me, I say; I've got something to propose." Again the Colonel +stood in front, barring the way. "Look here," he went on gently, "are +you a friend of mine?" + +"Oh, so-so," growled the Boy. But after looking about him for an angry +second or two, he flung down the rope of his sled, walked sulkily +uphill, and kicked off his snow-shoes at the door of the cabin, all +with the air of one who waits, but is not baulked of his purpose. They +went in and stripped off their furs. + +"Now see here: if you've made up your mind to light out, I'm not going +to oppose you." + +"Why didn't you say anything as sensible as that out yonder?" + +"Because I won't be ready to go along till to-morrow." + +"You?" + +"Yep." + +There was a little silence. + +"I wish you wouldn't, Colonel." + +"It's dangerous alone--not for two." + +"Yes, it IS dangerous, and you know it." + +"I'm goin' along, laddie." Seeing the Boy look precious grave and +harassed: "What's the matter?" + +"I'd hate awfully for anything to happen to you." + +The Colonel laughed. "Much obliged, but it matters uncommon little if I +do drop in my tracks." + +"You be blowed!" + +"You see I've got a pretty bad kind of a complaint, anyhow." The Boy +leaned over in the firelight and scanned the Colonel's face. + +"What's wrong?" + +The Colonel smiled a queer little one-sided smile. "I've been out o' +kelter nearly ten years." + +"Oh, _that's_ all right. You'll go on for another thirty if you stay +where you are till the ice goes out." + +The Colonel bent his head, and stared at the smooth-trodden floor at +the edge of the buffalo-skin. "To tell the truth, I'll be glad to go, +not only because of--" He hitched his shoulders towards the corner +whence came the hoarse and muffled breathing of the Denver clerk. "I'll +be glad to have something to tire me out, so I'll sleep--sleep too +sound to dream. That's what I came for, not to sit idle in a God-damn +cabin and think--think--" He got up suddenly and strode the tiny space +from fire to door, a man transformed, with hands clenching and dark +face almost evil. "They say the men who winter up here either take to +drink or go mad. I begin to see it is so. It's no place to do any +forgetting in." He stopped suddenly before the Boy with glittering +eyes. "It's the country where your conscience finds you out." + +"That religion of yours is makin' you morbid, Colonel." The Boy spoke +with the detached and soothing air of a sage. + +"You don't know what you're talking about." He turned sharply away. The +Boy relapsed into silence. The Colonel in his renewed prowling brought +up against the wooden crane. He stood looking down into the fire. Loud +and regular sounded the sleeping man's breathing in the quiet little +room. + +"I did a wrong once to a woman--ten years ago," said the Colonel, +speaking to the back-log--"although I loved her." He raised a hand to +his eyes with a queer choking sound. "I loved her," he repeated, still +with his back to the Boy. "By-and-by I could have righted it, but +she--she wasn't the kind to hang about and wait on a man's better +nature when once he'd shown himself a coward. She skipped the country." +He leaned his head against the end of the shelf over the fire, and said +no more. + +"Go back in the spring, find out where she is, and--" + +"I've spent every spring and every summer, every fall and every winter +till this one, trying to do just that thing." + +"You can't find her?" + +"Nobody can find her." + +"She's dead--" + +"She's _not_ dead!" + +The Boy involuntarily shrank back; the Colonel looked ready to smash +him. The action recalled the older man to himself. + +"I feel sure she isn't dead," he said more quietly, but still +trembling. "No, no; she isn't dead. She had some money of her own, and +she went abroad. I followed her. I heard of her in Paris, in Rome. I +saw her once in a droschky in Vienna; there I lost the trail. Her +people said she'd gone to Japan. _I_ went to Japan. I'm sure she wasn't +in the islands. I've spent my life since trying to find her--writing +her letters that always come back--trying--" His voice went out like a +candle-wick suddenly dying in the socket. Only the sleeper was audible +for full five minutes. Then, as though he had paused only a comma's +space, the Colonel went on: "I've been trying to put the memory of her +behind me, as a sane man should. But some women leave an arrow sticking +in your flesh that you can never pull out. You can only jar against it, +and cringe under the agony of the reminder all your life long.... Bah! +Go out, Boy, and bring in your sled." + +And the Boy obeyed without a word. + +Two days after, three men with a child stood in front of the larger +cabin, saying good-bye to their two comrades who were starting out on +snow-shoes to do a little matter of 625 miles of Arctic travelling, +with two weeks' scant provisioning, some tea and things for trading, +bedding, two rifles, and a kettle, all packed on one little hand-sled. + +There had been some unexpected feeling, and even some real generosity +shown at the last, on the part of the three who were to profit by the +exodus--falling heir thereby to a bigger, warmer cabin and more food. + +O'Flynn was moved to make several touching remonstrances. It was a sign +of unwonted emotion on Mac's part that he gave up arguing (sacrificing +all the delight of a set debate), and simply begged and prayed them not +to be fools, not to fly in the face of Providence. + +But Potts was made of sterner stuff. Besides, the thing was too good to +be true. O'Flynn, when he found they were not to be dissuaded, solemnly +presented each with a little bottle of whisky. Nobody would have +believed O'Flynn would go so far as that. Nor could anyone have +anticipated that close-fisted Mac would give the Boy his valuable +aneroid barometer and compass, or that Potts would be so generous with +his best Virginia straight-cut, filling the Colonel's big pouch without +so much as a word. + +"It's a crazy scheme," says he, shaking the giant Kentuckian by the +hand, "and you won't get thirty miles before you find it out." + +"Call it an expedition to Anvik," urged Mac. "Load up there with +reindeer meat, and come back. If we don't get some fresh meat soon, +we'll be having scurvy." + +"What you're furr doin'," says O'Flynn for the twentieth time, "has +niver been done, not ayven be Indians. The prastes ahl say so." + +"So do the Sour-doughs," said Mac. "It isn't as if you had dogs." + +"Good-bye," said the Colonel, and the men grasped hands. + +Potts shook hands with the Boy as heartily as though that same hand had +never half throttled him in the cause of a missing hatchet. + +"Good-bye, Kiddie. I bequeath you my share o' syrup." + +"Good-bye; meet you in the Klondyke!" + +"Good-bye. Hooray for the Klondyke in June!" + +"Klondyke in June! Hoop-la!" + +The two travellers looked back, laughing and nodding, as jolly as you +please. The Boy stooped, made a snow-ball, and fired it at Kaviak. The +child ducked, chuckling, and returned as good as he got. His loosely +packed ball broke in a splash on the back of the Boy's parki, and +Kaviak was loudly cheered. + +Still, as they went forward, they looked back. The Big Chimney wore an +air wondrous friendly, and the wide, white world looked coldly at them, +with small pretence of welcome or reward. + +"I don't believe I ever really knew how awful jolly the Big Chimney +was--till this minute." + +The Colonel smiled. "Hardly like myself, to think whatever else I see, +I'll never see that again." + +"Better not boast." + +The Colonel went on in front, breaking trail in the newfallen snow, the +Boy pulling the sled behind him as lightly as if its double burden were +a feather. + +"They look as if they thought it'd be a picnic," says Mac, grimly. + +"I wonder be the Siven Howly Pipers! will we iver see ayther of 'em +again." + +"If they only stay a couple o' nights at Anvik," said Potts, with +gloomy foreboding, "they could get back here inside a week." + +"No," answered Mac, following the two figures with serious eyes, "they +may be dead inside a week, but they won't be back here." + +And Potts felt his anxiety eased. A man who had mined at Caribou ought +to know. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PRINCESS MUCKLUCK + + "We all went to Tibbals to see the Kinge, who used my mother + and my aunt very gratiouslie; but we all saw a great chaunge + betweene the fashion of the Court as it was now, and of y in ye + Queene's, for we were all lowzy by sittinge in Sr Thomas + Erskin's chamber." _Memoir: Anne Countess of Dorset_, 1603. + + +It was the 26th of February, that first day that they "hit the Long +Trail." + +Temperature only about twenty degrees, the Colonel thought, and so +little wind it had the effect of being warmer. Trail in fair condition, +weather gray and steady. Never men in better spirits. To have left the +wrangling and the smouldering danger of the camp behind, that alone, as +the Boy said, was "worth the price of admission." Exhilarating, too, to +men of their temperament, to have cut the Gordian knot of the +difficulty by risking themselves on this unprecedented quest for peace +and food. Gold, too? Oh, yes--with a smile to see how far that main +object had drifted into the background--they added, "and for gold." + +They believed they had hearkened well to the counsel that bade them +"travel light." "Remember, every added ounce is against you." "Nobody +in the North owns anything that's heavy," had been said in one fashion +or another so often that it lost its ironic sound in the ears of men +who had come so far to carry away one of the heaviest things under the +sun. + +The Colonel and the Boy took no tent, no stove, not even a miner's pick +and pan. These last, General Lighter had said, could be obtained at +Minook; and "there isn't a cabin on the trail," Dillon had added, +"without 'em." + +For the rest, the carefully-selected pack on the sled contained the +marmot-skin, woollen blankets, a change of flannels apiece, a couple of +sweaters, a Norfolk jacket, and several changes of foot-gear. This last +item was dwelt on earnestly by all. "Keep your feet dry," John Dillon +had said, "and leave the rest to God Almighty." They were taking barely +two weeks' rations, and a certain amount of stuff to trade with the +up-river Indians, when their supplies should be gone. They carried a +kettle, an axe, some quinine, a box of the carbolic ointment all miners +use for foot-soreness, O'Flynn's whisky, and two rifles and ammunition. +In spite of having eliminated many things that most travellers would +count essential, they found their load came to a little over two +hundred pounds. But every day would lessen it, they told each other +with a laugh, and with an inward misgiving, lest the lightening should +come all too quickly. + +They had seen in camp that winter so much of the frailty of human +temper that, although full of faith by now in each other's native sense +and fairness, they left nothing to a haphazard division of labour. They +parcelled out the work of the day with absolute impartiality. To each +man so many hours of going ahead to break trail, if the snow was soft, +while the other dragged the sled; or else while one pulled in front, +the other pushed from behind, in regular shifts by the watch, turn and +turn about. The Colonel had cooked all winter, so it was the Boy's turn +at that--the Colonel's to decide the best place to camp, because it was +his affair to find seasoned wood for fuel, his to build the fire in the +snow on green logs laid close together--his to chop enough wood to cook +breakfast the next morning. All this they had arranged before they left +the Big Chimney. + +That they did not cover more ground that first day was a pure chance, +not likely to recur, due to an unavoidable loss of time at Pymeut. + +Knowing the fascination that place exercised over his companion, the +Colonel called a halt about seven miles off from the Big Chimney, that +they might quickly despatch a little cold luncheon they carried in +their pockets, and push on without a break till supper. + +"We've got no time to waste at Pymeut," observes the Colonel +significantly. + +"I ain't achin' to stop at Pymeut," says his pardner with a superior +air, standing up, as he swallowed his last mouthful of cold bacon and +corn-bread, and cheerfully surveyed the waste. "Who says it's cold, +even if the wind is up? And the track's bully. But see here, Colonel, +you mustn't go thinkin' it's smooth glare-ice, like this, all the way." + +"Oh, I was figurin' that it would be." But the Boy paid no heed to the +irony. + +"And it's a custom o' the country to get the wind in your face, as a +rule, whichever way you go." + +"Well, I'm not complainin' as yet." + +"Reckon you needn't if you're blown like dandelion-down all the way to +Minook. Gee! the wind's stronger! Say, Colonel, let's rig a sail." + +"Foolishness." + +"No, sir. We'll go by Pymeut in an ice-boat, lickety split. And it'll +be a good excuse for not stopping, though I think we ought to say +good-bye to Nicholas." + +This view inclined the Colonel to think better of an ice-boat. He had +once crossed the Bay of Toronto in that fashion, and began to wonder if +such a mode of progression applied to sleds might not aid largely in +solving the Minook problem. + +While he was wondering the Boy unlashed the sled-load, and pulled off +the canvas cover as the Colonel came back with his mast. Between them, +with no better tools than axe, jack-knives, and a rope, and with +fingers freezing in the south wind, they rigged the sail. + +The fact that they had this increasingly favourable wind on their very +first day showed that they were specially smiled on by the great +natural forces. The superstitious feeling that only slumbers in most +breasts, that Mother Nature is still a mysterious being, who has her +favourites whom she guards, her born enemies whom she baulks, pursues, +and finally overwhelms, the age-old childishness stirred pleasantly in +both men, and in the younger came forth unabashed in speech: + +"I tell you the omens are good! This expedition's goin' to get there." +Then, with the involuntary misgiving that follows hard upon such +boasting, he laughed uneasily and added, "I mean to sacrifice the first +deer's tongue I don't want myself, to Yukon Inua; but here's to the +south wind!" He turned some corn-bread crumbs out of his pocket, and +saw, delighted, how the gale, grown keener, snatched eagerly at them +and hurried them up the trail. The ice-boat careened and strained +eagerly to sail away. The two gold-seekers, laughing like schoolboys, +sat astride the pack; the Colonel shook out the canvas, and they +scudded off up the river like mad. The great difficulty was the +steering; but it was rip-roaring fun, the Boy said, and very soon there +were natives running down to the river, to stare open-mouthed at the +astounding apparition, to point and shout something unintelligible that +sounded like "Muchtaravik!" + +"Why, it's the Pymeuts! Pardner, we'll be in Minook by supper-ti--" + +The words hadn't left his lips when he saw, a few yards in front of +them, a faint cloud of steam rising up from the ice--that dim +danger-signal that flies above an air-hole. The Colonel, never +noticing, was heading straight for the ghastly trap. + +"God, Colonel! Blow-hole!" gasped the Boy. + +The Colonel simply rolled off the pack turning over and over on the +ice, but keeping hold of the rope. + +The sled swerved, turned on her side, and slid along with a sound of +snapping and tearing. + +While they were still headed straight for the hole, the Boy had +gathered himself for a clear jump to the right, but the sled's sudden +swerve to the left broke his angle sharply. He was flung forward on the +new impetus, spun over the smooth surface, swept across the verge and +under the cloud, clutching wildly at the ragged edge of ice as he went +down. + +All Pymeut had come rushing pell-mell. + +The Colonel was gathering himself up and looking round in a dazed kind +of way as Nicholas flashed by. Just beyond, in that yawning hole, fully +ten feet wide by fifteen long, the Boy's head appeared an instant, and +then was lost like something seen in a dream. Some of the Pymeuts with +quick knives were cutting the canvas loose. One end was passed to +Nicholas; he knotted it to his belt, and went swiftly, but gingerly, +forward nearer the perilous edge. He had flung himself down on his +stomach just as the Boy rose again. Nicholas lurched his body over the +brink, his arms outstretched, straining farther, farther yet, till it +seemed as if only the counterweight of the rest of the population at +the other end of the canvas prevented his joining the Boy in the hole. +But Nicholas had got a grip of him, and while two of the Pymeuts hung +on to the half-stunned Colonel to prevent his adding to the +complication, Nicholas, with a good deal of trouble in spite of +Yagorsha's help, hauled the Boy out of the hole and dragged him up on +the ice-edge. The others applied themselves lustily to their end of the +canvas, and soon they were all at a safe distance from the yawning +danger. + +The Boy's predominant feeling had been one of intense surprise. He +looked round, and a hideous misgiving seized him. + +"Anything the matter with you, Colonel?" His tone was so angry that, as +they stared at each other, they both fell to laughing. + +"Well, I rather thought that was what _I_ was going to say"; and +Kentucky heaved a deep sigh of relief. + +The Boy's teeth began to chatter, and his clothes were soon freezing on +him. They got him up off the ice, and Nicholas and the sturdy old +Pymeut story-teller, Yagorsha, walked him, or ran him rather, the rest +of the way to Pymeut, for they were not so near the village as the +travellers had supposed on seeing nearly the whole male population. The +Colonel was not far behind, and several of the bucks were bringing the +disabled sled. Before reaching the Kachime, they were joined by the +women and children, Muckluck much concerned at the sight of her friend +glazed in ice from head to heel. Nicholas and Yagorsha half dragged, +half pulled him into the Kachime. The entire escort followed, even two +or three very dirty little boys--everybody, except the handful of women +and girls left at the mouth of the underground entrance and the two men +who had run on to make a fire. It was already smoking viciously as +though the seal-lamps weren't doing enough in that line, when Yagorsha +and Nicholas laid the half-frozen traveller on the sleeping-bench. + +The Pymeuts knew that the great thing was to get the ice-stiffened +clothes off as quickly as might be, and that is to be done +expeditiously only by cutting them off. In vain the Boy protested. +Recklessly they sawed and cut and stripped him, rubbed him and wrapped +him in a rabbit-blanket, the fur turned inside, and a wolverine skin +over that. The Colonel at intervals poured small doses of O'Flynn's +whisky down the Boy's throat in spite of his unbecoming behaviour, for +he was both belligerent and ungrateful, complaining loudly of the ruin +of his clothes with only such intermission as the teeth-chattering, +swallowing, and rude handling necessitated. + +"I didn't like--bein' in--that blow-hole. (Do you know--it was so +cold--it burnt!) But I'd rather--be--in a blow-hole--than--br-r-r! +Blow-hole isn't so s-s-melly as these s-s-kins!' + +"You better be glad you've got a whole skin of your own and ain't +smellin' brimstone," said the Colonel, pouring a little more whisky +down the unthankful throat. "Pretty sort o' Klondyker you are--go and +get nearly drowned first day out!" Several Pymeut women came in +presently and joined the men at the fire, chattering low and staring at +the Colonel and the Boy. + +"I can't go--to the Klondyke--naked--no, nor wrapped in a +rabbit-skin--like Baby Bunting--" + +Nicholas was conferring with the Colonel and offering to take him to +Ol' Chief's. + +"Oh, yes; Ol' Chief got two clo'es. You come. Me show"; and they +crawled out one after the other. + +"You pretty near dead that time," said one of the younger women +conversationally. + +"That's right. Who are you, anyway?" + +"Me Anna--Yagorsha's daughter." + +"Oh, yes, I thought I'd seen you before." She seemed to be only a +little older than Muckluck, but less attractive, chiefly on account of +her fat and her look of ill-temper. She was on specially bad terms with +a buck they called Joe, and they seemed to pass all their time abusing +one another. + +The Boy craned his neck and looked round. Except just where he was +lying, the Pymeut men and women were crowded together, on that side of +the Kachime, at his head and at his feet, thick as herrings on a +thwart. They all leaned forward and regarded him with a beady-eyed +sympathy. He had never been so impressed by the fact before, but all +these native people, even in their gentlest moods, frowned in a chronic +perplexity and wore their wide mouths open. He reflected that he had +never seen one that didn't, except Muckluck. + +Here she was, crawling in with a tin can. + +"Got something there to eat?" + +The rescued one craned his head as far as he could. + +"Too soon," she said, showing her brilliant teeth in the fire-light. +She set the tin down, looked round, a little embarrassed, and stirred +the fire, which didn't need it. + +"Well"--he put his chin down under the rabbit-skin once more--"how goes +the world, Princess?" + +She flashed her quick smile again and nodded reassuringly. "You stay +here now?" + +"No; goin' up river." + +"What for?" She spoke disapprovingly. + +"Want to get an Orange Grove." + +"Find him up river?" + +"Hope so." + +"I think I go, too"; and all the grave folk, sitting so close on the +sleeping-bench, stretched their wide mouths wider still, smiling +good-humouredly. + +"You better wait till summer." + +"Oh!" She lifted her head from the fire as one who takes careful note +of instructions. "Nex' summer?" + +"Well, summer's the time for squaws to travel." + +"I come nex' summer," she said. + +By-and-by Nicholas returned with a new parki and a pair of wonderful +buckskin breeches--not like anything worn by the Lower River natives, +or by the coast-men either: well cut, well made, and handsomely fringed +down the outside of the leg where an officer's gold stripe goes. + +"Chaparejos!" screamed the Boy. "Where'd you get 'em?" + +"Ol' Chief--he ketch um." + +"They're _bully!_" said the Boy, holding the despised rabbit-skin under +his chin with both hands, and craning excitedly over it. He felt that +his fortunes were looking up. Talk about a tide in the affairs of men! +Why, a tide that washes up to a wayfarer's feet a pair o' chaparejos +like that--well! legs so habited would simply _have_ to carry a fella +on to fortune. He lay back on the sleeping-bench with dancing eyes, +while the raw whisky hummed in his head. In the dim light of seal-lamps +vague visions visited him of stern and noble chiefs out of the Leather +Stocking Stories of his childhood--men of daring, whose legs were +invariably cased in buck-skin with dangling fringes. But the dashing +race was not all Indian, nor all dead. Famous cowboys reared before him +on bucking bronchos, their leg-fringes streaming on the blast, and +desperate chaps who held up coaches and potted Wells Fargo guards. +Anybody must needs be a devil of a fellow who went about in "shaps," as +his California cousins called chaparejos. Even a peaceable fella like +himself, not out after gore at all, but after an Orange Grove--even he, +once he put on--He laughed out loud at his childishness, and then grew +grave. "Say, Nicholas, what's the tax?" + +"Hey?" + +"How much?" + +"Oh, your pardner--he pay." + +"Humph! I s'pose I'll know the worst on settlin'-day." + +Then, after a few moments, making a final clutch at economy before the +warmth and the whisky subdued him altogether: + +"Say, Nicholas, have you got--hasn't the Ol' Chief got any--less +glorious breeches than those?" + +"Hey?" + +"Anything little cheaper?" + +"Nuh," says Nicholas. + +The Boy closed his eyes, relieved on the whole. Fate had a mind to see +him in chaparejos. Let her look to the sequel, then! + +When consciousness came back it brought the sound of Yagorsha's yarning +by the fire, and the occasional laugh or grunt punctuating the eternal +"Story." + +The Colonel was sitting there among them, solacing himself by adding to +the smoke that thickened the stifling air. + +Presently the Story-teller made some shrewd hit, that shook the Pymeut +community into louder grunts of applause and a general chuckling. The +Colonel turned his head slowly, and blew out a fresh cloud: "Good +joke?" + +In the pause that fell thereafter, Yagorsha, imperturbable, the only +one who had not laughed, smoothed his lank, iron-gray locks down on +either side of his wide face, and went on renewing the sinew open-work +in his snow-shoe. + +"When Ol' Chief's father die--" + +All the Pymeuts chuckled afresh. The Boy listened eagerly. Usually +Yagorsha's stories were tragic, or, at least, of serious interest, +ranging from bereaved parents who turned into wolverines, all the way +to the machinations of the Horrid Dwarf and the Cannibal Old Woman. + +The Colonel looked at Nicholas. He seemed as entertained as the rest, +but quite willing to leave his family history in professional hands. + +"Ol' Chief's father, Glovotsky, him Russian," Yagorsha began again, +laying down his sinew-thread a moment and accepting some of the +Colonel's tobacco. + +"I didn't know you had any white blood in you," interrupted the +Colonel, offering his pouch to Nicholas. "I might have suspected +Muckluck--" + +"Heap got Russian blood," interrupted Joe. + +As the Story-teller seemed to be about to repeat the enlivening +tradition concerning the almost mythical youth of Ol' Chief's father, +that subject of the great Katharine's, whose blood was flowing still in +Pymeut veins, just then in came Yagorsha's daughter with some message +to her father. He grunted acquiescence, and she turned to go. Joe +called something after her, and she snapped back. He jumped up to bar +her exit. She gave him a smart cuff across the eyes, which surprised +him almost into the fire, and while he was recovering his equilibrium +she fled. Yagorsha and all the Pymeuts laughed delightedly at Joe's +discomfiture. + +The Boy had been obliged to sit up to watch this spirited encounter. +The only notice the Colonel took of him was to set the kettle on the +fire. While he was dining his pardner gathered up the blankets and +crawled out. + +"Comin' in half a minute," the Boy called after him. The answer was +swallowed by the tunnel. + +"Him go say goo'-bye Ol' Chief," said Nicholas, observing how the +Colonel's pardner was scalding himself in his haste to despatch a +second cup of tea. + +But the Boy bolted the last of his meal, gathered up the kettle, mug, +and frying-pan, which had served him for plate as well, and wormed his +way out as fast as he could. There was the sled nearly packed for the +journey, and watching over it, keeping the dogs at bay, was an +indescribably dirty little boy in a torn and greasy denim parki over +rags of reindeer-skin. Nobody else in sight but Yagorsha's daughter +down at the water-hole. + +"Where's my pardner gone?" The child only stared, having no English +apparently. + +While the Boy packed the rest of the things, and made the tattered +canvas fast under the lashing, Joe came out of the Kachime. He stood +studying the prospect a moment, and his dull eyes suddenly gleamed. +Anna was coming up from the river with her dripping pail. He set off +with an affectation of leisurely indifference, but he made straight for +his enemy. She seemed not to see him till he was quite near, then she +sheered off sharply. Joe hardly quickened his pace, but seemed to gain. +She set down her bucket, and turned back towards the river. + +"Idiot!" ejaculated the Boy; "she could have reached her own ighloo." +The dirty child grinned, and tore off towards the river to watch the +fun. Anna was hidden now by a pile of driftwood. The Boy ran down a few +yards to bring her within range again. For all his affectation of +leisureliness and her obvious fluster, no doubt about it, Joe was +gaining on her. She dropped her hurried walk and frankly took to her +heels, Joe doing the same; but as she was nearly as fleet of foot as +Muckluck, in spite of her fat, she still kept a lessening distance +between herself and her pursuer. + +The ragged child had climbed upon the pile of drift-wood, and stood +hunched with the cold, his shoulders up to his ears, his hands +withdrawn in his parki sleeves, but he was grinning still. The Boy, a +little concerned as to possible reprisals upon so impudent a young +woman, had gone on and on, watching the race down to the river, and +even across the ice a little way. He stood still an instant staring as +Joe, going now as hard as he could, caught up with her at last. He took +hold of the daughter of the highly-respected Yagorsha, and fell to +shaking and cuffing her. The Boy started off full tilt to the rescue. +Before he could reach them Joe had thrown her down on the ice. She half +got up, but her enemy, advancing upon her again, dealt her a blow that +made her howl and sent her flat once more. + +"Stop that! You hear? _Stop_ it!" the Boy called out. + +But Joe seemed not to hear. Anna had fallen face downward on the ice +this time, and lay there as if stunned. Her enemy caught hold of her, +pulled her up, and dragged her along in spite of her struggles and +cries. + +"Let her alone!" the Boy shouted. He was nearly up to them now. But +Joe's attention was wholly occupied in hauling Anna back to the +village, maltreating her at intervals by the way. Now the girl was +putting up one arm piteously to shield her bleeding face from his +fists. "Don't you hit her again, or it'll be the worse for you." But +again Joe's hand was lifted. The Boy plunged forward, caught the blow +as it descended, and flung the arm aside, wrenched the girl free, and +as Joe came on again, looking as if he meant business, the Boy planted +a sounding lick on his jaw. The Pymeut staggered, and drew off a little +way, looking angry enough, but, to the Boy's surprise, showing no +fight. + +It occurred to him that the girl, her lip bleeding, her parki torn, +seemed more surprised than grateful; and when he said, "You come back +with me; he shan't touch you," she did not show the pleased alacrity +that you would expect. But she was no doubt still dazed. They all stood +looking rather sheepish, and like actors "stuck" who cannot think of +the next line, till Joe turned on the girl with some mumbled question. +She answered angrily. He made another grab at her. She screamed, and +got behind the Boy. Very resolutely he widened his bold buck-skin legs, +and dared Joe to touch the poor frightened creature cowering behind her +protector. Again silence. + +"What's the trouble between you two?" + +They looked at each other, and then away. Joe turned unexpectedly, and +shambled off in the direction of the village. Not a word out of Anna as +she returned by the side of her protector, but every now and then she +looked at him sideways. The Boy felt her inexpressive gratitude, and +was glad his journey had been delayed, or else, poor devil-- + +Joe had stopped to speak to-- + +"Who on earth's that white woman?" + +"Nicholas' sister." + +"Not Muckluck?" + +She nodded. + +"What's she dressed like that for?" + +"Often like that in summer. Me, too--me got Holy Cross clo'es." + +Muckluck went slowly up towards the Kachime with Joe. When the others +got to the water-hole, Anna turned and left the Boy without a word to +go and recover her pail. The Boy stood a moment, looking for some sign +of the Colonel, and then went along the river bank to Ol' Chief's. No, +the Colonel had gone back to the Kachime. + +The Boy came out again, and to his almost incredulous astonishment, +there was Joe dragging the unfortunate Anna towards an ighloo. As he +looked back, to steer straight for the entrance-hole, he caught sight +of the Boy, dropped his prey, and disappeared with some precipitancy +into the ground. When Anna had gathered herself up, the Boy was +standing in front of her. + +"You don't seem to be able to take very good care o' yourself." She +pushed her tousled hair out of her eyes. "I don't wonder your own +people give it up if you have to be rescued every half-hour. What's the +matter with you and Joe?" She kept looking down. "What have you done to +make him like this?" She looked up suddenly and laughed, and then her +eyes fell. + +"Done nothin'." + +"Why should he want to kill you, then?" + +"No _kill_" she said, smiling, a little rueful and embarrassed again, +with her eyes on the ground. Then, as the Boy still stood there +waiting, "Joe," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder--"Joe want me +be he squaw." + +The Boy fell back an astonished step. + +"Jee-rusalem! He's got a pretty way o' sayin' so. Why don't you tell +your father?" + +"Tell--father?" It seemed never to have occurred to her. + +"Yes; can't Yagorsha protect you?" + +She looked about doubtfully and then over her shoulder. + +"That Joe's ighloo," she said. + +He pictured to himself the horror that must assail her blood at the +sight. Yes, he was glad to have saved any woman from so dreadful a +fate. Did it happen often? and did nobody interfere? Muckluck was +coming down from the direction of the Kachime. The Boy went to meet +her, throwing over his shoulder, "You'd better stick to me, Anna, as +long as I'm here. I don't know, I'm sure, _what'll_ happen to you when +I'm gone." Anna followed a few paces, and then sat down on the snow to +pull up and tie her disorganized leg-gear. + +Muckluck was standing still, looking at the Boy with none of the +kindness a woman ought to show to one who had just befriended her sex. + +"Did you see that?" + +She nodded. "See that any day." + +The Boy stopped, appalled at the thought of woman in a perpetual state +of siege. + +"Brute! hound!" he flung out towards Joe's ighloo. + +"No," says Muckluck firmly; "Joe all right." + +"You say that, after what's happened this morning?" Muckluck declined +to take the verdict back. "Did you see him strike her?" + +"No _hurt_." + +"Oh, didn't it? He threw her down, as hard as he could, on the ice." + +"She get up again." + +He despised Muckluck in that moment. + +"You weren't sorry to see another girl treated so?" + +She smiled. + +"What if it had been you?" + +"Oh, he not do that to _me_." + +"Why not? You can't tell." + +"Oh, yes." She spoke with unruffled serenity. + +"It will very likely be you the next time." The Boy took a brutal +pleasure in presenting the hideous probability. + +"No," she returned unmoved. "Joe savvy I no marry Pymeut." + +The Boy stared, mystified by the lack of sequence. "Poor Anna doesn't +want to marry _that_ Pymeut." + +Muckluck nodded. + +The Boy gave her up. Perversity was not confined to the civilized of +her sex. He walked on to find the Colonel. Muckluck followed, but the +Boy wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't look at her. + +"You like my Holy Cross clo'es?" she inquired. "Me--I look like your +kind of girls now, huh?" No answer, but she kept up with him. "See?" +She held up proudly a medallion, or coin of some sort, hung on a narrow +strip of raw-hide. + +He meant not to look at it at all, and he jerked his head away after +the merest glance that showed him the ornament was tarnished silver, a +little bigger than an American dollar, and bore no device familiar to +his eyes. He quickened his pace, and walked on with face averted. The +Colonel appeared just below the Kachime. + +"Well, aren't you _ever_ comin'?" he called out. + +"I've been ready this half-hour--hangin' about waitin' for you. That +devil Joe," he went on, lowering his voice as he came up and speaking +hurriedly, "has been trying to drag Yagorsha's girl into his ighloo. +They've just had a fight out yonder on the ice. I got her away, but not +before he'd thrown her down and given her a bloody face. We ought to +tell old Yagorsha, hey?" + +Muckluck chuckled. The Boy turned on her angrily, and saw her staring +back at Joe's ighloo. There, sauntering calmly past the abhorred trap, +was the story-teller's daughter. Past it? No. She actually halted and +busied herself with her legging thong. + +"That girl must be an imbecile!" Or was it the apparition of her +father, up at the Kachime entrance, that inspired such temerity? + +The Boy had gone a few paces towards her, and then turned. "Yagorsha!" +he called up the slope. Yagorsha stood stock-still, although the Boy +waved unmistakable danger-signals towards Joe's ighloo. Suddenly an arm +flashed out of the tunnel, caught Anna by the ankle, and in a twinkling +she lay sprawling on her back. Two hands shot out, seized her by the +heels, and dragged the wretched girl into the brute's lair. It was all +over in a flash. A moment's paralysis of astonishment, and the +involuntary rush forward was arrested by Muckluck, who fastened herself +on to the rescuer's parki-tail and refused to be detached. "Yagorsha!" +shouted the Boy. But it was only the Colonel who hastened towards them +at the summons. The poor girl's own father stood calmly smoking, up +there, by the Kachime, one foot propped comfortably on the travellers' +loaded sled. "Yagorsha!" he shouted again, and then, with a jerk to +free himself from Muckluck, the Boy turned sharply towards the ighloo, +seeming in a bewildered way to be, himself, about to transact this +paternal business for the cowardly old loafer. But Muckluck clung to +his arm, laughing. + +"Yagorsha know. Joe give him nice mitts--sealskin--_new_ mitts." + +"Hear that, Colonel? For a pair of mitts he sells his daughter to that +ruffian." + +Without definite plan, quite vaguely and instinctively, he shook +himself free from Muckluck, and rushed down to the scene of the +tragedy. Muffled screams and yells issued with the smoke. Muckluck +turned sharply to the Colonel, who was following, and said something +that sent him headlong after the Boy. He seized the doughty champion by +the feet just as he was disappearing in the tunnel, and hauled him out. + +"What in thunder--All right, you go first, then. _Quick_! as more +screams rent the still air. + +"Don't be a fool. You've been interruptin' the weddin' ceremonies." + +Muckluck had caught up with them, and Yagorsha was advancing leisurely +across the snow. + +"She no want _you_," whispered Muckluck to the Boy. "She _like_ +Joe--like him best of all." Then, as the Boy gaped incredulously: "She +tell me heap long time ago she want Joe." + +"That's just part of the weddin' festivity," says the Colonel, as +renewed shrieks issued from under the snow. "You've been an officious +interferer, and I think the sooner I get you out o' Pymeut the +healthier it'll be for you." + +The Boy was too flabbergasted to reply, but he was far from convinced. +The Colonel turned back to apologise to Yagorsha. + +"No like this in your country?" inquired Muckluck of the crestfallen +champion. + +"N-no--not exactly." + +"When you like girl--what you do?" + +"Tell her so," muttered the Boy mechanically. + +"Well--Joe been tellin' Anna--all winter." + +"And she hated him." + +"No. She like Joe--best of any." + +"What did she go on like that for, then?" + +"Oh-h! She know Joe savvy." + +The Boy felt painfully small at his own lack of _savoir_, but no less +angry. + +"When you marry"--he turned to her incredulously--"will it be"--again +the shrieks--"like this?" + +"I no marry Pymeut." + +Glancing riverwards, he saw the dirty imp, who had been so wildly +entertained by the encounter on the ice, still huddled on his +drift-wood observatory, presenting as little surface to the cold as +possible, but grinning still with rapture at the spirited last act of +the winter-long drama. As the Boy, with an exclamation of "Well, I give +it up," walked slowly across the slope after the Colonel and Yagorsha, +Muckluck lingered at his side. + +"In your country when girl marry--she no scream?" + +"Well, no; not usually, I believe." + +"She go quiet? Like--like she _want_--" Muckluck stood still with +astonishment and outraged modesty. + +"They agree," he answered irritably. "They don't go on like wild +beasts." + +Muckluck pondered deeply this matter of supreme importance. + +"When you--get you squaw, you no _make_ her come?" + +The Boy shook his head, and turned away to cut short these excursions +into comparative ethnology. + +But Muckluck was athirst for the strange new knowledge. + +"What you do?" + +He declined to betray his plan of action. + +"When you--all same Joe? Hey?" + +Still no answer. + +"When you _know_--girl like you best--you no drag her home?" + +"No. Be quiet." + +_"No?_ How you marry you self, then?" + +The conversation would be still more embarrassing before the Colonel, +so he stopped, and said shortly: "In our country nobody beats a woman +because he likes her." + +"How she know, then?" + +"They _agree_, I tell you." + +"Oh--an' girl--just come--when he call? Oh-h!" She dropped her jaw, and +stared. "No fight a _little?"_ she gasped. "No scream quite _small?"_ + +_"No_, I tell you." He ran on and joined the Colonel. Muckluck stood +several moments rooted in amazement. + +Yagorsha had called the rest of the Pymeuts out, for these queer guests +of theirs were evidently going at last. + +They all said "Goo'-bye" with great goodwill. Only Muckluck in her +chilly "Holy Cross clo'es" stood sorrowful and silent, swinging her +medal slowly back and forth. + +Nicholas warned them that the Pymeut air-hole was not the only one. + +"No," Yagorsha called down the slope; "better no play tricks with +_him_." He nodded towards the river as the travellers looked back. "Him +no like. Him got heap plenty mouths--chew you up." And all Pymeut +chuckled, delighted at their story-teller's wit. + +Suddenly Muckluck broke away from the group, and ran briskly down to +the river trail. + +"I will pray for you--hard." She caught hold of the Boy's hand, and +shook it warmly. "Sister Winifred says the Good Father--" + +"Fact is, Muckluck," answered the Boy, disengaging himself with +embarrassment, "my pardner here can hold up that end. Don't you think +you'd better square Yukon Inua? Don't b'lieve he likes me." + +And they left her, shivering in her "Holy Cross clo'es," staring after +them, and sadly swinging her medal on its walrus-string. + +"I don't mind sayin' I'm glad to leave Pymeut behind," said the +Colonel. + +"Same here." + +"You're safe to get into a muss if you mix up with anything that has to +do with women. That Muckluck o' yours is a minx." + +"She ain't my Muckluck, and I don't believe she's a minx, not a little +bit." + +Not wishing to be too hard on his pardner, the Colonel added: + +"I lay it all to the chaparejos myself." Then, observing his friend's +marked absence of hilarity, "You're very gay in your fine fringes." + +"Been a little too gay the last two or three hours." + +"Well, now, I'm glad to hear you say that. I think myself we've had +adventures enough right here at the start." + +"I b'lieve you. But there's something in that idea o' yours. Other +fellas have noticed the same tendency in chaparejos." + +"Well, if the worst comes to the worst," drawled the Colonel, "we'll +change breeches." + +The suggestion roused no enthusiasm. + +"B'lieve I'd have a cammin' influence. Yes, sir, I reckon I could keep +those fringes out o' kinks." + +"Oh, I think they'll go straight enough after this"; and the Boy's good +spirits returned before they passed the summer village. + +It came on to snow again, about six o'clock, that second day out, and +continued steadily all the night. What did it matter? They were used to +snow, and they were as jolly as clams at high-tide. + +The Colonel called a halt in the shelter of a frozen slough, between +two banks, sparsely timbered, but promising all the wood they needed, +old as well as new. He made his camp fire on the snow, and the Boy soon +had the beef-tea ready--always the first course so long as Liebig +lasted. + +Thereafter, while the bacon was frying and the tea brewing, the Colonel +stuck up in the snow behind the fire some sticks on which to dry their +foot-gear. When he pulled off his mucklucks his stockinged feet smoked +in the frosty air. The hint was all that was needed, that first night +on the trail, for the Boy to follow suit and make the change into dry +things. The smoky background was presently ornamented with German +socks, and Arctic socks (a kind of felt slipper), and mucklucks, each +with a stick run through them to the toe, all neatly planted in a row, +like monstrous products of a snow-garden. With dry feet, burning faces +and chilly backs, they hugged the fire, ate supper, laughed and talked, +and said that life on the trail wasn't half bad. Afterwards they rolled +themselves in their blankets, and went to sleep on their spruce-bough +spring mattresses spread near the fire on the snow. + +After about half an hour of oblivion the Boy started up with the drowsy +impression that a flying spark from the dying fire had set their stuff +ablaze. No. But surely the fire had been made up again--and--he rubbed +the sleep out of his incredulous eyes--yes, Muckluck was standing +there! + +"What in thunder!" he began. "Wh-what is it?" + +"It is me." + +"I can see that much. But what brings you here?" + +Shivering with cold, she crouched close to the fire, dressed, as he +could see now, in her native clothes again, and it was her parki that +had scorched--was scorching still. + +"Me--I--" Smiling, she drew a stiff hand out of its mitten and held it +over the reviving blaze, glancing towards the Colonel. He seemed to be +sleeping very sound, powdered over already with soft wet snow; but she +whispered her next remark. + +"I think I come help you find that Onge Grove." + +"I think you'll do nothing of the kind." He also spoke with a +deliberate lowering of the note. His great desire not to wake the +Colonel gave an unintentional softness to his tone. + +"You think winter bad time for squaws to travel?" She shook her head, +and showed her beautiful teeth an instant in the faint light. Then, +rising, half shy, but very firm, "I no wait till summer." + +He was so appalled for the moment, at the thought of having her on +their hands, all this way from Pymeut, on a snowy night, that words +failed him. As she watched him she, too, grew grave. + +"You say me nice girl." + +"When did I say that?" He clutched his head in despair. + +"When you first come. When Shaman make Ol' Chief all well." + +"I don't remember it." + +"Yes." + +"I think you misunderstood me, Muckluck." + +"Heh?" Her countenance fell, but more puzzled than wounded. + +"That is--oh, yes--of course--you're a nice girl." + +"I think--Anna, too--you like me best." She helped out the white man's +bashfulness. But as her interlocutor, appalled, laid no claim to the +sentiment, she lifted the mittened hand to her eyes, and from under it +scanned the white face through the lightly falling snow. The other +hand, still held out to the comfort of the smoke, was trembling a +little, perhaps not altogether with the cold. + +"The Colonel'll have to take over the breeches," said the Boy, with the +air of one wandering in his head. Then, desperately: "What _am_ I to +do? What am I to _say?_" + +"Say? You say you no like girl scream, no like her fight like Anna. +Heh? So, me--I come like your girls--quite, quite good.... Heh?" + +"You don't understand, Muckluck. I--you see, I could never find that +Orange Grove if you came along." + +"Why?" + +"Well--a--no woman ever goes to help to find an Orange Grove. +Th-there's a law against it." + +"Heh? Law?" + +Alas! she knew too little to be impressed by the Majesty invoked. + +"You see, women, they--they come by-and-by--when the Orange Grove's +all--all ready for 'em. No man _ever_ takes a woman on that kind of +hunt." + +Her saddened face was very grave. The Boy took heart. + +"Now, the Pymeuts are going in a week or two, Nicholas said, to hunt +caribou in the hills." + +"Yes." + +"But they won't take you to hunt caribou. No; they leave you at home. +It's exactly the same with Orange Groves. No nice girl _ever_ goes +hunting." + +Her lip trembled. + +"Me--I can fish." + +"Course you can." His spirits were reviving. "You can do +anything--except hunt." As she lifted her head with an air of sudden +protest he quashed her. "From the beginning there's been a law against +that. Squaws must stay at home and let the men do the huntin'." + +"Me ... I can cook"--she was crying now--"while you hunt. Good supper +all ready when you come home." + +He shook his head solemnly. + +"Perhaps you don't know"--she flashed a moment's hope through her +tears--"me learn sew up at Holy Cross. Sew up your socks for you when +they open their mouths." But she could see that not even this grand new +accomplishment availed. + +"Can help pull sled," she suggested, looking round a little wildly as +if instantly to illustrate. "Never tired," she added, sobbing, and +putting her hands up to her face. + +"Sh! sh! Don't wake the Colonel." He got up hastily and stood beside +her at the smouldering fire. He patted her on the shoulder. "Of course +you're a nice girl. The nicest girl in the Yukon"--he caught himself up +as she dropped her hands from her face--"that is, you will be, if you +go home quietly." + +Again she hid her eyes. + +Go home? How could he send her home all that way at this time of night? +It was a bothering business! + +Again her hands fell from the wet unhappy face. She shivered a little +when she met his frowning looks, and turned away. He stooped and picked +up her mitten. Why, you couldn't turn a dog away on a night like this-- + +Plague take the Pymeuts, root and branch! She had shuffled her feet +into her snow-shoe straps, and moved off in the dimness. But for the +sound of sobbing, he could not have told just where, in the +softly-falling snow, Muckluck's figure was fading into the dusk. He +hurried after her, conscience-stricken, but most unwilling. + +"Look here," he said, when he had caught up with her, "I'm sorry you +came all this way in the cold--very sorry." Her sobs burst out afresh, +and louder now, away from the Colonel's restraining presence. "But, see +here: I can't send you off like this. You might die on the trail." + +"Yes, I think me die," she agreed. + +"No, don't do that. Come back, and we'll tell the Colonel you're going +to stay by the fire till morning, and then go home." + +She walked steadily on. "No, I go now." + +"But you can't, Muckluck. You can't find the trail." + +"I tell you before, I not like your girls. I can go in winter as good +as summer. I _can_ hunt!" She turned on him fiercely. "Once I hunt a +owel. Ketch him, too!" She sniffed back her tears. "I can do all +kinds." + +"No, you can't hunt Orange Groves," he said, with a severity that might +seem excessive. "But I can't let you go off in this snowstorm--" + +"He soon stop. Goo'-bye." + +Never word of sweeter import in his ears than that. But he was far from +satisfied with his conduct all the same. It was quite possible that the +Pymeuts, discovering her absence, would think he had lured her away, +and there might be complications. So it was with small fervour that he +said: "Muckluck, I wish you'd come back and wait till morning." + +"No, I go now." She was in the act of darting forward on those +snow-shoes, that she used so skillfully, when some sudden thought cried +halt. She even stopped crying. "I no like go near blow-hole by night. I +keep to trail--" + +"But how the devil do you do it?" + +She paid no heed to the interruption, seeming busy in taking something +over her head from round her neck. + +"To-morrow," she said, lowering her tear-harshened voice, "you find +blow-hole. You give this to Yukon Inua--say I send it. He will not hate +you any more." She burst into a fresh flood of tears. In a moment the +dim sight of her, the faint trail of crying left in her wake, had so +wholly vanished that, but for the bit of string, as it seemed to be, +left in his half-frozen hands, he could almost have convinced himself +he had dreamt the unwelcome visit. + +The half-shut eye of the camp fire gleamed cheerfully, as he ran back, +and crouched down where poor little Muckluck had knelt, so sure of a +welcome. Muckluck, cogitated the Boy, will believe more firmly than +ever that, if a man doesn't beat a girl, he doesn't mean business. What +was it he had wound round one hand? What was it dangling in the acrid +smoke? _That_, then--her trinket, the crowning ornament of her Holy +Cross holiday attire, that was what she was offering the old ogre of +the Yukon--for his unworthy sake. He stirred up the dying fire to see +it better. A woman's face--some Catholic saint? He held the medal lower +to catch the fitful blaze. "_D. G. Autocratrix Russorum_." The Great +Katharine! Only a little crown on her high-rolled hair, and her +splendid chest all uncovered to the Arctic cold. + +Her Yukon subjects must have wondered that she wore no parki--this lady +who had claimed sole right to all the finest sables found in her new +American dominions. On the other side of the medal, Minerva, with a +Gorgon-furnished shield and a beautiful bone-tipped harpoon, as it +looked, with a throwing-stick and all complete. But she, too, would +strike the Yukon eye as lamentably chilly about the legs. How had these +ladies out of Russia and Olympus come to lodge in Ol' Chief's ighloo? +Had Glovotsky won this guerdon at Great Katharine's hands? Had he +brought it on that last long journey of his to Russian America, and +left it to his Pymeut children with his bones? Well, Yukon Inua should +not have it yet. The Boy thrust the medal into a pocket of his +chaparejos, and crawled into his snow-covered bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +HOLY CROSS + +"Raise the stone, and ye shall find me; cleave the wood, and there am +I." + + +The stars were shining frostily, in a clear sky, when the Boy crawled +out from under his snow-drift in the morning. He built up the fire, +quaking in the bitter air, and bustled the breakfast. + +"You seem to be in something of a hurry," said the Colonel, with a yawn +stifled in a shiver. + +"We haven't come on this trip to lie abed in the morning," his pardner +returned with some solemnity. "I don't care how soon I begin caperin' +ahead with that load again." + +"Well, it'll be warmin', anyway," returned the Colonel, "and I can't +say as much for your fire." + +It was luck that the first forty miles of the trail had already been +traversed by the Boy. He kept recognising this and that in the +landscape, with an effect of good cheer on both of them. It postponed a +little the realization of their daring in launching themselves upon the +Arctic waste, without a guide or even a map that was of the smallest +use. + +Half an hour after setting off, they struck into the portage. Even with +a snow-blurred trail, the Boy's vivid remembrance of the other journey +gave them the sustaining sense that they were going right. The Colonel +was working off the surprising stiffness with which he had wakened, and +they were both warm now; but the Colonel's footsoreness was +considerable, an affliction, besides, bound to be worse before it was +better. + +The Boy spoke with the old-timer's superiority, of his own experience, +and was so puffed up, at the bare thought of having hardened his feet, +that he concealed without a qualm the fact of a brand-new blister on +his heel. A mere nothing that, not worth mentioning to anyone who +remembered the state he was in at the end of that awful journey of +penitence. + +It was well on in the afternoon before it began to snow again, and they +had reached the frozen lake. The days were lengthening, and they still +had good light by which to find the well-beaten trail on the other +side. + +"Now in a minute we'll hear the mission dogs. What did I tell you?" Out +of the little wood, a couple of teams were coming, at a good round +pace. They were pulled up at the waterhole, and the mission natives ran +on to meet the new arrivals. They recognised the Boy, and insisted on +making the Colonel, who was walking very lame, ride to the mission in +the strongest sled, and they took turns helping the dogs by pushing +from behind. The snow was falling heavily again, and one of the +Indians, Henry, looking up with squinted eyes, said, "There'll be +nothing left of that walrus-tusk." + +"Hey?" inquired the Boy, straining at his sled-rope and bending before +the blast. "What's that?" + +"Don't you know what makes snow?" said Henry. + +"No. What does?" + +"Ivory whittlings. When they get to their carving up yonder then we +have snow." + +What was happening to the Colonel? + +The mere physical comfort of riding, instead of serving as packhorse, +great as it was, not even that could so instantly spirit away the +weariness, and light up the curious, solemn radiance that shone on the +Colonel's face. It struck the Boy that good old Kentucky would look +like that when he met his dearest at the Gate of Heaven--if there was +such a place. + +The Colonel was aware of the sidelong wonder of his comrade's glance, +for the sleds, abreast, had come to a momentary halt. But still he +stared in front of him, just as a sailor in a storm dares not look away +from the beacon-light an instant, knowing all the waste about him +abounds in rocks and eddies and in death, and all the world of hope and +safe returning is narrowed to that little point of light. + +After the moment's speculation the Boy turned his eyes to follow the +Colonel's gaze into space. + +"The Cross! the Cross!" said the man on the sled. "Don't you see it?" + +"Oh, that? Yes." + +At the Boy's tone the Colonel, for the first time, turned his eyes away +from the Great White Symbol. + +"Don't know what you're made of, if, seeing that... you needn't be a +Church member, but only a man, I should think, to--to--" He blew out +his breath in impotent clouds, and then went on. "We Americans think a +good deal o' the Stars and Stripes, but that up yonder--that's the +mightier symbol." + +"Huh!" says the Boy. "Stars and Stripes tell of an ideal of united +states. That up there tells of an ideal of United Mankind. It's the +great Brotherhood Mark. There isn't any other standard that men would +follow just to build a hospice in a place like this." + +At an upper window, in a building on the far side of the white symbol, +the travellers caught a glimpse, through the slanting snow, of one of +the Sisters of St. Ann shutting in the bright light with thick +curtains. + +_"Glass!"_ ejaculated the Colonel. + +One of the Indians had run on to announce them, and as they drew up at +the door--that the Boy remembered as a frame for Brother Paul, with his +lamp, to search out iniquity, and his face of denunciation--out came +Father Brachet, brisk, almost running, his two hands outstretched, his +face a network of welcoming wrinkles. No long waiting, this time, in +the reception-room. Straight upstairs to hot baths and mild, reviving +drinks, and then, refreshed and already rested, down to supper. + +With a shade of anxiety the Boy looked about for Brother Paul. But +Father Wills was here anyhow, and the Boy greeted him, joyfully, as a +tried friend and a man to be depended on. There was Brother Etienne, +and there were two strange faces. + +Father Brachet put the Colonel on his right and the Boy on his left, +introducing: "Fazzer Richmond, my predecessor as ze head of all ze +Alaskan missions," calmly eliminating Greek, Episcopalian, and other +heretic establishments. "Fazzer Richmond you must have heard much of. +He is ze great ausority up here. He is now ze Travelling Priest. You +can ask him all. He knows everysing." + +In no wise abashed by this flourish, Father Richmond shook hands with +the Big Chimney men, smiling, and with a pleasant ease that +communicated itself to the entire company. + +It was instantly manifest that the scene of this Jesuit's labours had +not been chiefly, or long, beyond the borders of civilization. In the +plain bare room where, for all its hospitality and good cheer, reigned +an air of rude simplicity and austerity of life--into this somewhat +rarefied atmosphere Father Richmond brought a whiff from another world. +As he greeted the two strangers, and said simply that he had just +arrived, himself, by way of the Anvik portage, the Colonel felt that he +must have meant from New York or from Paris instead of the words he +added, "from St. Michael's." + +He claimed instant kinship with the Colonel on the strength of their +both being Southerners. + +"I'm a Baltimore man," he said, with an accent no Marylander can purge +of pride. + +"How long since you've been home?" + +"Oh, I go back every year." + +"He goes all over ze world, to tell ze people--" + +"--something of the work being done here by Father Brachet--and all of +them." He included the other priests and lay-brothers in a slight +circular movement of the grizzled head. + +And to collect funds! the Colonel rightly divined, little guessing how +triumphantly he achieved that end. + +"Alaska is so remote," said the Travelling Priest, as if in apology for +popular ignorance, "and people think of it so... inadequately, shall we +say? In trying to explain the conditions up here, I have my chief +difficulty in making them realise the great distances we have to cover. +You tell them that in the Indian tongue Alaska means "the great +country," they smile, and think condescendingly of savage imagery. It +is vain to say we have an area of six hundred thousand square miles. We +talk much in these days of education; but few men and no women can +count! Our Eastern friends get some idea of what we mean, when we tell +them Alaska is bigger than all the Atlantic States from Maine to +Louisiana with half of great Texas thrown in. With a coast-line of +twenty six thousand miles, this Alaska of ours turns to the sea a +greater frontage than all the shores of all the United States combined. +It extends so far out towards Asia that it carries the dominions of the +Great Republic as far west of San Francisco as New York is east of it, +making California a central state. I try to give Europeans some idea of +it by saying that if you add England, Ireland, and Scotland together, +and to that add France, and to that add Italy, you still lack enough to +make a country the size of Alaska. I do not speak of our mountains, +seventeen, eighteen, nineteen thousand feet high, and our Yukon, +flowing for more than two thousand miles through a country almost +virgin still." + +"You travel about up here a good deal?" + +"He travels _all_ ze time. He will not rest," said Father Brachet as +one airing an ancient grievance. + +"Yes, I will rest now--a little. I have been eight hundred miles over +the ice, with dogs, since January 1." + +The Boy looked at him with something very like reverence. Here was a +man who could give you tips! + +"You have travelled abroad, too," the Colonel rather stated than asked. + +"I spent a good deal of my youth in France and Germany." + +"Educated over there?" + +"Well, I am a Johns Hopkins man, but I may say I found my education in +Rome. Speaking of education"--he turned to the other priests--"I have +greatly advanced my grammar since we parted." Father Brachet answered +with animation in French, and the conversation went forward for some +minutes in that tongue. The discussion was interrupted to introduce the +other new face, at the bottom of the table, to the Big Chimney men: +"Resident Fazzer Roget of ze Kuskoquim mission." + +"That is the best man on snow-shoes in Central Alaska," said Father +Richmond low to the Colonel, nodding at the Kuskoquim priest. + +"And he knows more of two of ze native dialects here zan anyone else," +added the Father Superior. + +"You must forgive our speaking much of the Indian tongues," said Father +Richmond. "We are all making dictionaries and grammars; we have still +to translate much of our religious instruction, and the great variety +in dialect of the scattered tribes keeps us busy with linguistic +studies." + +"Tomorrow you must see our schools," said Father Brachet. + +But the Boy answered quickly that they could not afford the time. He +was surprised at the Colonel's silence; but the Boy didn't know what +the Colonel's feet felt like. + +Kentucky ain't sorry, he said to himself, to have a back to his chair, +and to eat off china again. Kentucky's a voluptuary! I'll have to drag +him away by main force; and the Boy allowed Father Richmond to help him +yet more abundantly to the potatoes and cabbage grown last summer in +the mission garden! + +It was especially the vegetables that lent an element of luxury to the +simple meal. The warm room, the excellent food, better cooked than any +they had had for seven months, produced a gentle somnolence. The +thought of the inviting look of the white-covered bed upstairs lay like +a balm on the spirits of men not born to roughing it. As the travellers +said an early and grateful good-night, the Boy added sleepily something +about the start at dawn. + +Father Brachet answered, "Morning will bring counsel, my son. I sink ze +bleezzar-r will not let us lose you so soon." + +They overslept themselves, and they knew it, in that way the would-be +early riser does, before ever he looks into the accusing face of his +watch. The Boy leapt out of bed. + +"Hear that?" The wind was booming among the settlement buildings. +"Sounds as if there was weather outside." A glance between the curtains +showed the great gale at its height. The snow blew level in sheets and +darkened the air. + +"Well," said the Colonel, splashing mightily in the ice-cold water, "I +don't know as I mind giving my feet twenty-four hours' time to come to +their senses." + +A hurried toilet and they went downstairs, sharp-set for breakfast +after the long, refreshing sleep. + +Father Richmond was writing on his knee by the stove in the +reception-room. + +"Good-morning--good-morning." He rang the bell. + +"Well, what did we tell you? I don't think you'll get far today. Let +these gentlemen know when breakfast is ready," he said, as Christopher +put his head in. He looked at his watch. "I hope you will find +everything you need," he said; and, continuing to talk about the gale +and some damage it had done to one of the outbuildings, he went into +the entry, just beyond the reception-room door, and began to put on his +furs. + +"_You are_ not going out in such weather!" the Colonel called after him +incredulously. + +"Only as far as the church." + +"Oh, is there church today?" inquired the Boy more cheerfully than one +might expect. + +The Colonel started and made a signal for discretion. + +"Blest if it isn't Sunday!" he said under his breath. + +"He doesn't seem dead-set on our observing it," whispered the Boy. + +The Colonel warmed himself luxuriously at the stove, and seemed to +listen for that summons from the entry that never came. Was Father +Richmond out there still, or had he gone? + +"Do they think we are heathens because we are not Jesuits?" he said +under his breath, suddenly throwing out his great chest. + +"Perhaps we ought to... Hey? They've been awfully considerate of +_us--_" + +The Colonel went to the door. Father Richmond was struggling with his +snow-boots. + +"With your permission, sir," says the Colonel in his most magnificent +manner, "we will accompany you, or follow if you are in haste." + +"With all my heart. Come," said the priest, "if you will wait and +breakfast with us after Mass." + +It was agreed, and the immediate order was countermanded. The sound of +a bell came, muffled, through the storm. + +With thoughts turning reluctantly from breakfast, "What's that?" asked +the Boy. + +"That is our church bell." The Father had helped the Colonel to find +his parki. + +"Oh--a--of course--" + +"A fine tone, don't you think? But you can't tell so well in this +storm. We are fond of our bell. It is the first that ever rang out in +the Yukon valley. Listen!" + +They stood still a moment before opening the front door. The Boy, +seeing the very look of a certain high-shouldered gray stone "St. +Andrew's" far away, and himself trotting along beside that figure, +inseparable from first memories, was dimly aware again, as he stood at +the Jesuit's door, in these different days, of the old Sunday feeling +invading, permeating his consciousness, half reluctant, half amused. + +The Colonel sat in a rural church and looked at the averted face of a +woman. + +Only to the priest was the sound all music. + +"That language," he said, "speaks to men whatever tongue they call +their own. The natives hear it for miles up the river, and down the +river, and over the white hills, and far across the tundra. They come +many miles to Mass--" + +He opened the door, and the gale rushed in. + +"I do not mean on days like this," he wound up, smiling, and out they +went into the whirling snow. + +The church was a building of logs like the others, except that it was +of one story. Father Brachet was already there, with Father Wills and +Brother Etienne; and, after a moment, in came Brother Paul, looking +more waxen and aloof than ever, at the head of the school, the rear +brought up by Brother Vincent and Henry. + +In a moment the little Mother Superior appeared, followed by two nuns, +heading a procession of native women and girls. They took their places +on the other side of the church and bowed their heads. + +"Beautiful creature!" ejaculated the Colonel under his breath, glancing +back. + +His companion turned his head sharply just in time to see Sister +Winifred come last into the church, holding by either hand a little +child. Both men watched her as she knelt down. Between the children's +sallow, screwed-up, squinting little visages the calm, unconscious face +of the nun shone white like a flower. + +The strangers glanced discreetly about the rude little church, with its +pictures and its modest attempt at stained glass. + +"No wonder all this impresses the ignorant native," whispered the +Colonel, catching himself up suddenly from sharing in that weakness. + +Without, the wild March storm swept the white world; within another +climate reigned--something of summer and the far-off South, of Italy +herself, transplanted to this little island of civilisation anchored in +the Northern waste. + +"S'pose you've seen all the big cathedrals, eh?" + +"Good many." + +There was still a subdued rustling in the church, and outside, still +the clanging bell contended with the storm. + +"And this--makes you smile?" + +"N--no," returned the older man with a kind of reluctance. "I've seen +many a worse church; America's full of 'em." + +"Hey?" + +"So far as--dignity goes--" The Colonel was wrestling with some vague +impression difficult for him to formulate. "You see, you can't build +anything with wood that's better than a log-cabin. For looks--just +_looks_--it beats all your fancy gimcracks, even brick; beats +everything else hollow, except stone. Then they've got candles. We went +on last night about the luxury of oil-lamps. They don't bring 'em in +here!" + +"_We_ do in our prairie and Southern country churches." + +"I know. But look at those altar lights." The Boy was too busy looking +at Sister Winifred. "I tell you, sir, a man never made a finer thing +than a tall wax candle." + +"Sh! Mustn't talk in church." + +The Colonel stared a moment at the Boy's presumption, drew himself up a +little pompously, and crossed his arms over his huge chest. + +"Why, they've got an organ!" The Boy forgot his strict views on church +etiquette as the sudden sweetness swelled in the air. Brother Paul, +with head thrown back and white face lifted, was playing, slowly, +absently, like one who listens to some great choir invisible, and keeps +their time with a few obedient but unnecessary chords. And yet-- + +"The fella can play," the Colonel admitted. + +The native choir, composed entirely of little dark-faced boys, sang +their way truly through the service, Father Brachet celebrating Mass. + +"Brother Paul's ill, isn't he? Look!" The lay-brother had swayed, and +drooped forward over the keyboard, but his choir sang steadily on. He +recovered himself, and beckoned one of the boys to his side. When he +rose, the child nodded and took the organist's place, playing quite +creditably to the end. Brother Paul sat in the corner with bowed head. + +Coming out, they were in time to confront Sister Winifred, holding back +the youngest children, eager to anticipate their proper places in the +procession. + +The Boy looked fixedly at her, wondering. Suddenly meeting The clear +eyes, he smiled, and then shrank inwardly at his forwardness. He could +not tell if she remembered him. + +The Colonel, finding himself next her at the door, bowed, and stood +back for her to pass. + +"No," she said gently; "my little children must wait for the older +ones." + +"You have them under good discipline, madam." He laid his hand on the +furry shoulder of the smallest. + +The Boy stood behind the Colonel, unaccountably shy in the presence of +the only white woman he had seen in nearly seven months. She couldn't +be any older than he, and yet she was a nun. What a gulf opened at the +word! Sister Winifred and her charges fell into rank at the tail of the +little procession, and vanished in the falling snow. At breakfast the +Colonel would not sit down till he was presented to Brother Paul. + +"Sir," he said in his florid but entirely sincere fashion, "I should +like to thank you for the pleasure of hearing that music to-day. We +were much impressed, sir, by the singing. How old is the boy who played +the organ?" + +"Ten," said Brother Paul, and for the first time the Boy saw him smile. +"Yes, I think he has music in him, our little Jerome." + +"And how well _all_ your choir has the service by heart! Their unison +is perfect." + +"Yes," said Father Brachet from the head of the table, "our music has +never been so good as since Paul came among us." He lifted his hand, +and every one bowed his head. + +After grace Father Richmond took the floor, conversationally, as seemed +to be his wont, and breakfast went on, as supper had the night before, +to the accompaniment of his shrewd observations and lively anecdotes. +In the midst of all the laughter and good cheer Brother Paul sat at the +end of the board, eating absently, saying nothing, and no one speaking +to him. + +Father Richmond especially, but, indeed, all of them, seemed arrant +worldlings beside the youngest of the lay-brethren. The Colonel could +more easily imagine Father Richmond walking the streets of Paris or of +Rome, than "hitting the Yukon trail." He marvelled afresh at the +devotion that brought such a man to wear out his fine attainments, his +scholarship, his energy, his wide and Catholic knowledge, in travelling +winter after winter, hundreds of miles over the ice from one Indian +village to another. You could not divorce Father Richmond in your mind +from the larger world outside; he spoke with its accent, he looked with +his humourous, experienced eyes. You found it natural to think of him +in very human relations. You wondered about his people, and what +brought him to this. + +Not so with Brother Paul. He was one of those who suggest no country +upon any printed map. You have to be reminded that you do not know his +birthplace or his history. It was this same Brother Paul who, after +breakfast and despite the Pymeut incident, offered to show the +gold-seekers over the school. The big recitation-room was full of +natives and decidedly stuffy. They did not stay long. Upstairs, "I +sleep here in the dormitory," said the Brother, "and I live with the +pupils--as much as I can. I often eat with them," he added as one who +mounts a climax. "They have to be taught _everything_, and they have to +be taught it over again every day." + +"Except music, apparently." + +"Except music--and games. Brother Vincent teaches them football and +baseball, and plays with them and works with them. Part of each day is +devoted to manual training and to sport." + +He led the way to the workshop. + +"One of our brothers is a carpenter and master mechanic." + +He called to a pupil passing the door, and told him the strangers would +like to inspect the school work. Very proudly the lad obeyed. He +himself was a carpenter, and showed his half-finished table. The Boy's +eye fell on a sled. + +"Yes," said the lad, "that kind better. Your kind no good." He had +evidently made intimate acquaintance with the Boy's masterpiece. + +"Yours is splendid," admitted the unskilled workman. + +"Will you sell it?" the Colonel asked Brother Paul. + +"They make them to sell," was the answer, and the transaction was soon +effected. + + * * * * * + +"It has stopped snowing and ze wind is fallen," said Father Brachet, +going to the reception-room window an hour or so after they had come in +from dinner. + +The Colonel exchanged looks with the Boy, and drew out his watch. + +"Later than I thought." + +"Much," the Colonel agreed, and sat considering, watch in hand. + +"I sink our friends must see now ze girls' school, and ze laundry, +hein?" + +"To be sure," agreed Father Richmond. "I will take you over and give +you into the hands of our Mother Superior." + +"Why, it's much warmer," said the Boy as they went by the cross; and +Father Richmond greeted the half-dozen native boys, who were packing +down the fresh snow under their broad shoes, laughing and shouting to +one another as they made anew the familiar mission trails. + +The door of the two-story house, on the opposite side of the +settlement, was opened by Sister Winifred. + +"Friends of ours from the White Camp below." + +She acknowledged the nameless introduction, smiling; but at the request +that followed, "Ah, it is too bad that just to-day--the Mother +Superior--she is too faint and weak to go about. Will you see her, +Father?" + +"Yes, if you will show these strangers the school and laundry and--" + +"Oh, yes, I will show them." + +She led the way into the cheerful schoolroom, where big girls and +little girls were sitting about, amusing themselves in the quiet of a +long Sunday afternoon. Several of the younger children ran to her as +she came in, and stood holding fast to the folds of her black habit, +staring up at the strangers, while she explained the kind of +instruction given, the system, and the order reigning in each +department. Finally, she persuaded a little girl, only six years old, +to take her dusky face out of the long flowing veil of the nun, and +show how quickly she could read a sentence that Sister Winifred wrote +on the blackboard. Then others were called on, and gave examples of +their accomplishments in easy arithmetic and spelling. The children +must have been very much bored with themselves that stormy Sunday, for +they entered into the examination with a quite unnatural zest. + +Two of the elder girls recited, and some specimens of penmanship and +composition were shown. The delicate complexion of the little nun +flushed to a pretty wild-rose pink as these pupils of hers won the +Colonel's old fashioned compliments. + +"And they are taught most particularly of all," she hastened to say, +"cooking, housekeeping, and sewing." + +Whereupon specimens of needlework were brought out and cast like pearls +before the swine's eyes of the ignorant men. But they were impressed in +their benighted way, and said so. + +"And we teach them laundry-work." She led the way, with the children +trooping after, to the washhouse. "No, run back. You'll take cold. Run +back, and you shall sing for the strangers before they go." + +She smiled them away--a happy-faced, clean little throng, striking +contrast to the neglected, filthy children seen in the native villages. +As they were going into the laundry, Father Richmond came out of the +house, and stopped to point out to the Colonel a snow-covered +enclosure--"the Sisters' garden"--and he told how marvellously, in the +brief summer, some of the hardier vegetables flourished there. + +"They spring up like magic at the edge of the snow-drifts, and they do +not rest from their growing all night. If the time is short, they have +twice as much sunlight as with you. They drink it in the whole summer +night as well as all the day. And over here is the Fathers' garden." +Talking still, he led the way towards a larger enclosure on the other +side of the Cross. + +Sister Winifred paused a moment, and then, as they did not turn back, +and the Boy stood waiting, she took him into the drying-room and into +the ironing-room, and then returned to the betubbed apartment first +invaded. There was only one blot on the fairness of that model +laundry--a heap of torn and dirty canvas in the middle of the floor. + +The Boy vaguely thought it looked familiar, before the Sister, blushing +faintly, said: "We hope you won't go before we have time to repair it." + +"Why, it's our old sled-cover!" + +"Yes; it is very much cut and torn. But you do not go at once?" + +"Yes, to-morrow." + +"Oh! Father Brachet thought you would stay for a few days, at least." + +"We have no time." + +"You go, like the rest, for gold?" + +"Like the rest." + +"But you came before to help poor Nicholas out of his trouble." + +"He was quite able to help himself, as it turned out." + +"Why will you go so far, and at such risk?" she said, with a suddenness +that startled them both. + +"I--I--well, I think I go chiefly because I want to get my home back. I +lost my home when I was a little chap. Where is your home?" + +"Here." + +"How long have you been here?" + +"Nearly two years." + +"Then how can you call it home?" + +"I do that only that I may--speak your language. Of course, it is not +my real home." + +"Where is the real home?" + +"I hope it is in heaven," she said, with a simplicity that took away +all taint of cant or mere phrase-making. + +"But where do you come from?" + +"I come from Montreal." + +"Oh! and don't you ever go back to visit your people?" + +"No, I never go back." + +"But you will some time?" + +"No; I shall never go back." + +"Don't you _want_ to?" + +She dropped her eyes, but very steadfastly she said: + +"My work is here." + +"But you are young, and you may live a great, great many years." + +She nodded, and looked out of the open door. The Colonel and the +Travelling Priest were walking in Indian file the new-made, hard-packed +path. + +"Yes," she said in a level voice, "I shall grow old here, and here I +shall be buried." + +"I shall never understand it. I have such a longing for my home. I came +here ready to bear anything that I might be able to get it back." + +She looked at him steadily and gravely. + +"I may be wrong, but I doubt if you would be satisfied even if you got +it back--now." + +"What makes you think that?" he said sharply. + +"Because"--and she checked herself as if on the verge of something too +personal--"you can never get back a thing you've lost. When the old +thing is there again, you are not as you were when you lost it, and the +change in you makes the old thing new--and strange." + +"Oh, it's plain I am very different from you," but he said it with a +kind of uneasy defiance. "Besides, in any case, I shall do it for my +sister's sake." + +"Oh, you have a sister?" + +He nodded. + +"How long since you left her?" + +"It's a good while now." + +"Perhaps your sister won't want that particular home any more than you +when you two meet again." Then, seeming not to notice the shade on her +companion's face: "I promised my children they should sing for you. Do +you mind? Will your friend come in, too?" And, looking from the door +after the Colonel and the Father as they turned to rejoin them: "He is +odd, that big friend of yours," she said--quite like a human being, as +the Boy thought instantly. + +"He's not odd, I assure you." + +"He called me 'madam.'" She spoke with a charming piqued childishness. + +"You see, he didn't know your name. What is your name?" + +"Sister Winifred." + +"But your real name?" he said, with the American's insistence on his +own point of view. + +"That is my only name," she answered with dignity, and led the way back +into the schoolroom. Another, older, nun was there, and when the others +rejoined them they made the girls sing. + +"Now we have shown you enough," said Father Richmond, rising; "boasted +to you enough of the very little we are able to accomplish here. We +must save something for to-morrow." + +"Ah, to-morrow we take to the trail again," said the Colonel, and added +his "Good-bye, madam." + +Sister Winifred, seeing he expected it, gave him her hand. + +"Good-bye, and thank you for coming." + +"For your poor," he said shyly, as he turned away and left a gift in +her palm. + +"Thank you for showing us all this," the Boy said, lingering, but not +daring to shake hands. "It--it seems very wonderful. I had no idea a +mission meant all this." + +"Oh, it means more--more than anything you can _see_." + +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye." + +In the early evening the reception-room was invaded by the lads' school +for their usual Sunday night entertainment. Very proudly these boys and +young men sang their glees and choruses, played the fiddle, recited, +even danced. + +"Pity Mac isn't here!" + +"Awful pity. Sunday, too." + +Brother Etienne sang some French military songs, and it came out that +he had served in the French army. Father Roget sang, also in French, +explaining himself with a humourous skill in pantomime that set the +room in a roar. + +"Well," said the Colonel when he stood up to say good-night, "I haven't +enjoyed an evening so much for years." + +"It is very early still," said Father Brachet, wrinkling up his face in +a smile. + +"Ah, but we have to make such an early start." + +The Colonel went up to bed, leaving the Boy to go to Father Richmond's +room to look at his Grammar of the Indian language. + +The instant the door was shut, the priest set down the lamp, and laid +his hands on the young man's shoulders. + +"My son, you must not go on this mad journey." + +"I must, you know." + +"You must _not_. Sit there." He pushed him into a chair. "Let me tell +you. I do not speak as the ignorant. I have in my day travelled many +hundreds of miles on the ice; but I've done it in the season when the +trail's at its best, with dogs, my son, and with tried native +servants." + +"I know it is pleasanter that way, but--" + +"Pleasanter? It is the way to keep alive." + +"But the Indians travel with hand-sleds." + +"For short distances, yes, and they are inured to the climate. You? You +know nothing of what lies before you." + +"But we'll find out as other people have." The Boy smiled confidently. + +"I assure you, my son, it is madness, this thing you are trying to do. +The chances of either of you coming out alive, are one in fifty. In +fifty, did I say? In five hundred." + +"I don't think so, Father. We don't mean to travel when--" + +"But you'll have to travel. To stay in such places as you'll find +yourself in will be to starve. Or if by any miracle you escape the +worst effects of cold and hunger, you'll get caught in the ice in the +spring break-up, and go down to destruction on a floe. You've no +conception what it's like. If you were six weeks earlier, or six weeks +later, I would hold my peace." + +The Boy looked at the priest and then away. _Was_ it going to be so +bad? Would they leave their bones on the ice? Would they go washing by +the mission in the great spring flood, that all men spoke of with the +same grave look? He had a sudden vision of the torrent as it would be +in June. Among the whirling ice-masses that swept by--two bodies, +swollen, unrecognisable. One gigantic, one dressed gaily in chaparejos. +And neither would lift his head, but, like men bent grimly upon some +great errand, they would hurry on, past the tall white cross with never +a sign--on, on to the sea. + +"Be persuaded, my son." + +Dimly the Boy knew he was even now borne along upon a current equally +irresistible, this one setting northward, as that other back to the +south. He found himself shaking his head under the Jesuit's remonstrant +eyes. + +"We've lost so much time already. We couldn't possibly turn back--now." + +"Then here's my Grammar." With an almost comic change of tone and +manner the priest turned to the table where the lamp stood, among piles +of neatly tied-up and docketed papers. + +He undid one of the packets, with an ear on the sudden sounds outside +in the passage. + +"Brother Paul's got it in the schoolhouse." + +Brother Paul! He hadn't been at the entertainment, and no one seemed to +have missed him. + +"How did Sister Winifred know?" asked another voice. + +"Old Maria told her." + +Father Richmond got up and opened the door. + +"What is it?" + +"It's a new-born Indian baby." The Father looked down as if it might be +on the threshold. "Brother Paul found it below at the village all done +up ready to be abandoned." + +"Tell Sister Winifred I'll see about it in the morning." + +"She says--pardon me, Father--she says that is like a man. If I do not +bring the little Indian in twenty minutes she will come herself and get +it." + +Father Richmond laughed. + +"Good-night, my son"; and he went downstairs with the others. + + * * * * * + +"Colonel, you asleep?" the Boy asked softly. + +"No." + +He struggled in silence with his mucklucks. Presently, "Isn't it +frightfully strange," he mused aloud. "Doesn't it pull a fella up by +the roots, somehow, to see Americans on this old track?" + +The Colonel had the bedclothes drawn up to his eyes. Under the white +quilt he made some undistinguishable sound, but he kept his eyes +fastened on his pardner. + +"Everything that we Americans have done, everything that we are, is +achieved by the grace of goin' bang the other way." The Boy pulled off +a muckluck and threw it half across the room. "And yet, and yet--" + +He sat with one stocking-foot in his hand and stared at the candle. + +"I wonder, Colonel, if it _satisfies_ anybody to be a hustler and a +millionaire." + +"Satisfies?" echoed the Colonel, pushing his chin over the bed-clothes. +"Who expects to be satisfied?" + +"Why, every man, woman and child on the top o' the earth; and it just +strikes me I've never, personally, known anybody get there but these +fellas at Holy Cross." + +The Colonel pushed back the bedclothes a little farther with his chin. + +"Haven't you got the gumption to see why it is this place and these men +take such a hold on you? It's because you've eaten, slept, and lived +for half a year in a space the size of this bedroom. We've got so used +to narrowing life down, that the first result of a little larger +outlook is to make us dizzy. Now, you hurry up and get to bed. You'll +sleep it off." + + * * * * * + +The Boy woke at four o'clock, and after the match-light, by which he +consulted his watch, had flickered out, he lay a long time staring at +the dark. + +Silence still reigned supreme, when at last he got up, washed and +dressed, and went downstairs. An irresistible restlessness had seized +hold of him. + +He pulled on his furs, cautiously opened the door, and went out--down, +over the crisp new crust, to the river and back in the dimness, past +the Fathers' House to the settlement behind, then to the right towards +the hillside. As he stumbled up the slope he came to a little +burial-ground. Half hidden in the snow, white wooden crosses marked the +graves. "And here I shall be buried," she had said--"here." He came +down the hill and round by the Sisters' House. + +That window! That was where a light had shone the evening they arrived, +and a nun--Sister Winifred--had stood drawing the thick curtains, +shutting out the world. + +He thought, in the intense stillness, that he heard sounds from that +upper room. Yes, surely an infant's cry. + +A curious, heavy-hearted feeling came upon him, as he turned away, and +went slowly back towards the other house. + +He halted a moment under the Cross, and stared up at it. The door of +the Fathers' House opened, and the Travelling Priest stood on the +threshold. The Boy went over to him, nodding good-morning. + +"So you are all ready--eager to go from us?" + +"No; but, you see--" + +"I see." + +He held the door open, and the Boy went in. + +"I don't believe the Colonel's awake yet," he said, as he took off his +furs. "I'll just run up and rouse him." + +"It is very early"--the priest laid his hand on the young man's +arm--"and he will not sleep so well for many a night to come. It is an +hour till breakfast." + +Henry had lit the fire, and now left it roaring. The priest took a +chair, and pushed one forward for his guest. + +The Boy sat down, stretched his legs out straight towards the fire, and +lifting his hands, clasped them behind his head. The priest read the +homesick face like a book. + +"Why are you up here?" Before there was time for reply he added: +"Surely a young man like you could find, nearer home, many a gate ajar. +And you must have had glimpses through of--things many and fair." + +"Oh, yes, I've had glimpses of those things." + +"Well----" + +"What I wanted most I never saw." + +"You wanted----" + +"To be--_sure_." + +"Ah! it is one of the results of agnosticism." + +The Boy never saw the smile. + +"I've said--and I was not lying--that I came away to shorten the +business of fortune-making--to buy back an old place we love, my sister +and I; but----" + +"Which does she love best, the old place or the young brother?" + +"Oh, she cares about me--no doubt o' that." He smiled the smile of +faith. + +"Has she ... an understanding heart?" + +"The most I know." + +"Then she would be glad to know you had found a home for the spirit. A +home for the body, what does it matter?" + +In the pause, Father Brachet opened the door, but seemed suddenly to +remember some imperative call elsewhere. The Boy jumped up, but the +Superior had vanished without even "Good-morning." The Boy sat down +again. + +"Of course," he went on, with that touch of pedantry so common in +American youth, "the difficulty in my case is an intellectual one. I +think I appreciate the splendid work you do, and I see as I never saw +before----" He stopped. + +"You strike your foot against the same stone of stumbling over which +the Pharisees fell, when the man whom Jesus healed by the way replied +to their questioning: 'Whether He be a sinner or no, I know not. One +thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.'" + +"I don't deny that the life here has been a revelation to me. I'm not +talkin' about creeds (for I don't know much about them, and I don't +think it's in me to care much); but so far as the work here is +concerned--" He paused. + +"We can take little credit for that; it is the outcome of our Order." + +The Boy failed to catch the effect of the capital letter. + +"Yes, it's just that--the order, the good government! A fella would be +a bigot if he couldn't see that the system is as nearly perfect as a +human institution can be." + +"That has been said before of the Society of Jesus." But he spoke with +the wise man's tolerance for the discoveries of the young. Still, it +was not to discuss the merits of his Order that he had got up an hour +before his time. "I understand, maybe better than yourself, something +of the restlessness that drove you here." + +"You understand?" + +The priest nodded. + +"You had the excuse of the old plantation and the sister--" + +The Boy sat up suddenly, a little annoyed. + +The priest kept on: "But you felt a great longing to make a breach in +the high walls that shut you in. You wanted to fare away on some voyage +of discovery. Wasn't that it?". He paused now in his turn, but the Boy +looked straight before him, saying nothing. The priest leaned forward +with a deeper gravity. + +"It will be a fortunate expedition, this, my son, _if thou discover +thyself_--and in time!" Still the Boy said nothing. The other resumed +more lightly: "In America we combine our travels with business. But it +is no new idea in the world that a young man should have his Wanderjahr +before he finds what he wants, or even finds acquiescence. It did not +need Wilhelm Meister to set the feet of youth on that trail; it did not +need the Crusades. It's as old as the idea of a Golden Fleece or a +Promised Land. It was the first man's first inkling of heaven." + +The Boy pricked his ears. Wasn't this heresy? + +"The old idea of the strenuous, to leave home and comfort and security, +and go out to search for wisdom, or holiness, or happiness--whether it +is gold or the San Grael, the instinct of Search is deep planted in the +race. It is this that the handful of men who live in what they call +'the world'--it is this they forget. Every hour in the greater world +outside, someone, somewhere, is starting out upon this journey. He may +go only as far as Germany to study philosophy, or to the nearest +mountain-top, and find there the thing he seeks; or he may go to the +ends of the earth, and still not find it. He may travel in a Hindu gown +or a Mongolian tunic, or he comes, like Father Brachet, out of his +vineyards in 'the pleasant land of France,' or, like you, out of a +country where all problems are to be solved by machinery. But my point +is, _they come_! When all the other armies of the world are disbanded, +that army, my son, will be still upon the march." + +They were silent awhile, and still the young face gave no sign. + +"To many," the Travelling Priest went on, "the impulse is a blind one +or a shy one, shrinking from calling itself by the old names. But none +the less this instinct for the Quest is still the gallant way of youth, +confronted by a sense of the homelessness they cannot think will last." + +"That's it, Father! That's it!" the Boy burst out. "Homelessness! To +feel that is to feel something urging you----" He stopped, frowning. + +"----urging you to take up your staff," said the priest. + +They were silent a moment, and then the same musical voice tolled out +the words like a low bell: "But with all your journeying, my son, you +will come to no Continuing City." + +"It's no use to say this to me. You see, I am----" + +"I'll tell you why I say it." The priest laid a hand on his arm. "I see +men going up and down all their lives upon this Quest. Once in a great +while I see one for whom I think the journey may be shortened." + +"How shortened?" + +A heavy step on the stair, and the Boy seemed to wake from a dream. + +"Good-morning," said the Colonel, coming in cheerily, rubbing his +hands. + +"I am very jealous!" He glanced at the Boy's furs on the floor. "You +have been out, seeing the rest of the mission without me." + +"No--no, we will show you the rest--as much as you care for, after +breakfast." + +"I'm afraid we oughtn't to delay--" + +But they did--"for a few minutes while zey are putting a little fresh +meat on your sled," as Father Brachet said. They went first to see the +dogs fed. For they got breakfast when they were at home, those pampered +mission dogs. + +"And now we will show you our store-house, our caches--" + +While Father Brachet looked in the bunch for the key he wanted, a +native came by with a pail. He entered the low building on the left, +leaving wide the door. + +"What? No! Is it really? No, not _really!_" The Colonel was more +excited than the Boy had ever seen him. Without the smallest ceremony +he left the side of his obliging host, strode to the open door, and +disappeared inside. + +"What on earth's the matter?" + +"I cannot tell. It is but our cow-house." + +They followed, and, looking in at the door, the Boy saw a picture that +for many a day painted itself on his memory. For inside the dim, +straw-strewn place stood the big Kentuckian, with one arm round the +cow, talking to her and rubbing her nose, while down his own a tear +trickled. + +"Hey? Well, yes! Just my view, Sukey. Yes, old girl, Alaska's a funny +kind o' place for you and me to be in, isn't it? Hey? Ye-e-yes." And he +stroked the cow and sniffed back the salt water, and called out, seeing +the Boy, "Look! They've got a thoroughbred bull, too, an' a heifer. +Lord, I haven't been in any place so like home for a coon's age! You go +and look at the caches. I'll stay here while Sambo milks her." + +"My name is Sebastian." + +"Oh, all right; reckon you can milk her under that name, too." + +When they came back, the Colonel was still there exchanging views about +Alaska with Sukey, and with Sebastian about the bull. Sister Winifred +came hurrying over the snow to the cow-house with a little tin pail in +her hand. + +"Ah, but you are slow, Sebastian!" she called out almost petulantly. +"Good-morning," she said to the others, and with a quick clutch at a +respectful and submissive demeanour, she added, half aside: "What do +you think, Father Brachet? They forgot that baby because he is good and +sleeps late. They drink up all the milk." + +"Ah, there is very little now." + +"Very little, Father," said Sebastian, returning to the task from which +the Colonel's conversation had diverted him. + +"I put aside some last night, and they used it. I send you to bring me +only a little drop"--she was by Sebastian now, holding out the small +pail, unmindful of the others, who were talking stock--"and you stay, +and stay--" + +"Give me your can." The Boy took it from her, and held it inside the +big milk-pail, so that the thin stream struck it sharply. + +"There; it is enough." + +Her shawl had fallen. The Colonel gathered it up. + +"I will carry the milk back for you," said the Boy, noticing how red +and cold the slim hands were. "Your fingers will be frostbitten if you +don't wrap them up." She pulled the old shawl closely round her, and +set a brisk pace back to the Sisters' House. + +"I must go carefully or I might slip, and if I spilt the milk--" + +"Oh, you mustn't do that!" + +She paused suddenly, and then went on, but more slowly than before. A +glaze had formed on the hard-trodden path, and one must needs walk +warily. Once she looked back with anxiety, and, seeing that the +precious milk was being carried with due caution, her glance went +gratefully to the Boy's face. He felt her eyes. + +"I'm being careful," he laughed, a little embarrassed and not at first +lifting his bent head. When, after an instant, he did so, he found the +beautiful calm eyes full upon him. But no self-consciousness there. She +turned away, gentle and reflective, and was walking on when some quick +summons seemed to reach her. She stopped quite still again, as if +seized suddenly by a detaining hand. Her own hands dropped straight at +her sides, and the rusty shawl hung free. A second time she turned, the +Boy thought to him again; but as he glanced up, wondering, he saw that +the fixed yet serene look went past him like a homing-dove. A +neglected, slighted feeling came over him. She wasn't thinking of him +the least in the world, nor even of the milk he was at such pains to +carry for her. What was she staring at? He turned his head over his +right shoulder. Nothing. No one. As he came slowly on, he kept glancing +at her. She, still with upturned face, stood there in the attitude of +an obedient child receiving admonition. One cold little hand fluttered +up to her silver cross. Ah! He turned again, understanding now the +drift, if not the inner meaning, of that summons that had come. + +"Your friend said something--" She nodded faintly, riverwards, towards +the mission sign. "Did you feel like that about it--when you saw it +first?" + +"Oh--a--I'm not religious like the Colonel." + +She smiled, and walked on. + +At the door, as she took the milk, instead of "Thank you," "Wait a +moment." + +She was back again directly. + +"You are going far beyond the mission ... so carry this with you. I +hope it will guide you as it guides us." + +On his way back to the Fathers' House, he kept looking at what Sister +Winifred had given him--a Latin cross of silver scarce three inches +long. At the intersection of the arms it bore a chased lozenge on which +was a mitre; above it, the word "Alaska," and beneath, the crossed keys +of St. Peter and the letters, "P.T.R." + +As he came near to where the Colonel and his hosts were, he slipped the +cross into his pocket. His fingers encountered Muckluck's medal. Upon +some wholly involuntary impulse, he withdrew Sister Winifred's gift, +and transferred it to another pocket. But he laughed to himself. "Both +sort o' charms, after all." And again he looked at the big cross and +the heaven above it, and down at the domain of the Inua, the jealous +god of the Yukon. + +Twenty minutes later the two travellers were saying good-bye to the men +of Holy Cross, and making their surprised and delighted acknowledgments +for the brand-new canvas cover they found upon the Colonel's new sled. + +"Oh, it is not we," said Father Brachet; "it is made by ze Sisters. Zey +shall know zat you were pleased." + +Father Richmond held the Boy's hand a moment. + +"I see you go, my son, but I shall see you return." + +"No, Father, I shall hardly come this way again." + +Father Brachet, smiling, watched them start up the long trail. + +"I sink we shall meet again," were his last words. + +"What does he mean?" asked the Colonel, a little high and mightily. +"What plan has he got for a meeting?" + +"Same plan as you've got, I s'pose. I believe you both call it +'Heaven.'" + +The Holy Cross thermometer had registered twenty degrees below zero, +but the keen wind blowing down the river made it seem more like forty +below. When they stopped to lunch, they had to crouch down behind the +sled to stand the cold, and the Boy found that his face and ears were +badly frost-bitten. The Colonel discovered that the same thing had +befallen the toes of his left foot. They rubbed the afflicted members, +and tried not to let their thoughts stray backwards. The Jesuits had +told them of an inhabited cabin twenty-three miles up the river, and +they tried to fix their minds on that. In a desultory way, when the +wind allowed it, they spoke of Minook, and of odds and ends they'd +heard about the trail. They spoke of the Big Chimney Cabin, and of how +at Anvik they would have their last shave. The one subject neither +seemed anxious to mention was Holy Cross. It was a little "marked," the +Colonel felt; but he wasn't going to say the first word, since he meant +to say the last. + +About five o'clock the gale went down, but it came on to snow. At seven +the Colonel said decidedly: "We can't make that cabin to-night." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I'm not going any further, with this foot--" He threw down the +sled-rope, and limped after wood for the fire. + +The Boy tilted the sled up by an ice-hummock, and spread the new canvas +so that it gave some scant shelter from the snow. Luckily, for once, +the wind how grown quite lamb-like--for the Yukon. It would be thought +a good stiff breeze almost anywhere else. + +Directly they had swallowed supper the Colonel remarked: "I feel as +ready for my bed as I did Saturday night." + +Ah! Saturday night--that was different. They looked at each other with +the same thought. + +"Well, that bed at Holy Cross isn't any whiter than this," laughed the +Boy. + +But the Colonel was not to be deceived by this light and airy +reference. His own unwilling sentiments were a guide to the Boy's, and +he felt it incumbent upon him to restore the Holy Cross incident to its +proper proportions. Those last words of Father Brachet's bothered him. +Had they been "gettin' at" the Boy? + +"You think all that mission business mighty wonderful--just because you +run across it in Alaska." + +"And isn't it wonderful at all?" + +The Boy spoke dreamily, and, from force of old habit, held out his +mittened hands to the unavailing fire. + +The Colonel gave a prefatory grunt of depreciation, but he was pulling +his blankets out from under the stuff on the sled. + +The Boy turned his head, and watched him with a little smile. "I'll +admit that I always _used_ to think the Jesuits were a shady lot--" + +"So they are--most of 'em." + +"Well, I don't know about 'most of 'em.' You and Mac used to talk a lot +about the 'motives' of the few I do know. But as far as I can see, +every creature who comes up to this country comes to take something out +of it--except those Holy Cross fellas. They came to bring something." + +The Colonel had got the blankets out now, but where was the rubber +sheet? He wouldn't sleep on it in this weather, again, for a kingdom, +but when the thaws came, if those explorer fellas were right-- + +In his sense of irritation at a conscientious duty to perform and no +clear notion of how to discharge it, he made believe it was the +difficulty in finding the rubber sheet he didn't want that made him out +of sorts. + +"It's bitter work, anyhow, this making beds with your fingers stiff and +raw," he said. + +"Is it?" + +Dignity looked at Impudence sitting in the shelter, smiling. + +"Humph! Just try it," growled the Colonel. + +"I s'pose the man over the fire cookin' supper does _look_ better off +than the 'pore pardner' cuttin' down trees and makin' beds in the snow. +But he isn't." + +"Oh, isn't he?" It was all right, but the Big Chimney boss felt he had +chosen the lion's share of the work in electing to be woodman; still, +it wasn't _that_ that troubled him. Now, what was it he had been going +to say about the Jesuits? Something very telling. + +"If you mean that you'd rather go back to the cookin'," the Boy was +saying, "_I'm_ agreeable." + +"Well, you start in to-morrow, and see if you're so agreeable." + +"All right. I think I dote on one job just about as much as I do on +t'other." + +But still the Colonel frowned. He couldn't remember that excellent +thing he had been going to say about Romanists. But he sniffed +derisively, and flung over his shoulder: + +"To hear you goin' on, anybody'd think the Jesuits were the only +Christians. As if there weren't others, who--" + +"Oh, yes, Christians with gold shovels and Winchester rifles. I know +'em. But if gold hadn't been found, how many of the army that's invaded +the North--how many would be here, if it hadn't been for the gold? But +all this Holy Cross business would be goin' on just the same, as it has +done for years and years." + +With a mighty tug the Colonel dragged out the rubber blanket, flung it +down on the snow, and squared himself, back to the fire, to make short +work of such views. + +"I'd no notion you were such a sucker. You can bet," he said darkly, +"those fellas aren't making a bad thing out of that 'Holy Cross +business,' as you call it." + +"I didn't mean business in that sense." + +"What else could they do if they didn't do this?" + +"Ask the same of any parson." + +But the Colonel didn't care to. + +"I suppose," he said severely, "you could even make a hero out of that +hang-dog Brother Etienne." + +"No, but he _could_ do something else, for he's served in the French +army." + +"Then there's that mad Brother Paul. What good would he be at anything +else?" + +"Well, I don't know." + +"Brachet and Wills are decent enough men, but where else would they +have the power and the freedom they have at Holy Cross? Why, they live +there like feudal barons." + +"Father Richmond could have done anything he chose." + +"Ah, Father Richmond--" The Colonel shut his mouth suddenly, turned +about, and proceeded to crawl under his blankets, feet to the fire. + +"Well?" + +No answer. + +"Well?" insisted the Boy. + +"Oh, Father Richmond must have seen a ghost." + +"_What!_" + +"Take my word for it. _He_ got frightened somehow. A man like Father +Richmond has to be scared into a cassock." + +The Boy's sudden laughter deepened the Colonel's own impression that +the instance chosen had not been fortunate. One man of courage knows +another man of courage when he sees him, and the Colonel knew he had +damned his own argument. + +"Wouldn't care for the job myself," the Boy was saying. + +"What job?" + +"Scarin' Father Richmond." + +The Boy sat watching the slow wet snow-flakes fall and die in the fire. +His clothes were pretty damp, but he was warm after a chilly fashion, +as warmth goes on the trail. + +The Colonel suddenly put his head out from under the marmot-skin to say +discontentedly, "What you sittin' up for?" + +"Oh ... for instance!" But aside from the pertness of the answer, +already it was dimly recognised as an offence for one to stay up longer +than the other. + +"Can't think how it is," the Colonel growled, "that you don't see that +their principle is wrong. Through and through mediaeval, through and +through despotic. They make a virtue of weakness, a fetich of vested +authority. And it isn't American authority, either." + +The Boy waited for him to quiet down. "What's the first rule," demanded +the Colonel, half sitting up, "of the most powerful Catholic Order? +Blind obedience to an old gentleman over in Italy." + +"I said last night, you know," the Boy put in quite meekly, "that it +all seemed very un-American." + +"Huh! Glad you can see that much." The Colonel drove his huge fist at +the provision-bag, as though to beat the stiffnecked beans into a +feathery yielding. "Blind submission don't come easy to most Americans. +The Great Republic was built upon revolt;" and he pulled the covers +over his head. + +"I know, I know. We jaw an awful lot about freedom and about what's +American. There's plenty o' free speech in America and plenty o' +machinery, but there's a great deal o' human nature, too, I guess." The +Boy looked out of the corner of his eye at the blanketed back of his +big friend. "And maybe there'll always be some people who--who think +there's something in the New Testament notion o' sacrifice and +service." + +The Colonel rolled like an angry leviathan, and came to the surface to +blow. But the Boy dashed on, with a fearful joy in his own temerity. +"The difference between us, Colonel, is that I'm an unbeliever, and I +know it, and you're a cantankerous old heathen, and you _don't_ know +it." The Colonel sat suddenly bolt upright. "Needn't look at me like +that. You're as bad as anybody--rather worse. Why are you _here?_ +Dazzled and lured by the great gold craze. An' you're not even poor. +You want _more_ gold. You've got a home to stay in; but you weren't +satisfied, not even in the fat lands down below." + +"Well," said the Colonel solemnly, blinking at the fire, "I hope I'm a +Christian, but as to bein' satisfied--" + +"Church of England can't manage it, hey?" + +"Church of England's got nothing to do with it. It's a question o' +character. Satisfied! We're little enough, God knows, but we're too big +for that." + +The Boy stood up, back to the fire, eyes on the hilltops whitening in +the starlight. + +"Perhaps--not--all of us." + +"Yes, sah, all of us." The Colonel lifted his head with a fierce look +of most un-Christian pride. Behind him the hills, leaving the +struggling little wood far down the slope, went up and up into dimness, +reaching to the near-by stars, and looking down to the far-off camp +fire by the great ice-river's edge. + +"Yes, sah," the Colonel thundered again, "all that have got good +fightin' blood in 'em, like you and me. 'Tisn't as if we came of any +worn-out, frightened, servile old stock. You and I belong to the +free-livin', hard-ridin', straight-shootin' Southerners. The people +before us fought bears, and fought Indians, and beat the British, and +when there wasn't anything else left to beat, turned round and began to +beat one another. It was the one battle we found didn't pay. We +finished that job up in '65, and since then we've been lookin' round +for something else to beat. We've got down now to beatin' records, and +foreign markets, and breedin' prize bulls; but we don't breed +cowards--yet; and we ain't lookin' round for any asylums. The Catholic +Church is an asylum. It's for people who never had any nerve, or who +have lost it." + +The Colonel turned about, wagged his head defiantly at the icy hills +and the night, and in the after-stillness fell sound asleep in the +snow. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE + + "--paa dit Firmament + Den klare Nordlyslampe taendt...." + + +Innocently thinking that they had seen Arctic travelling at its worst, +and secretly looking upon themselves as highly accomplished trailmen, +they had covered the forty-one miles from Holy Cross to Anvik in less +than three days. + +The Colonel made much of the pleasant and excellent man at the head of +the Episcopal mission there, and the Boy haunted Benham's store, +picking up a little Ingalik and the A. C. method of trading with the +Indians, who, day and night, with a number of stranded Klondykers, +congregated about the grateful warmth of the big iron stove. + +The travellers themselves did some business with the A. C. agent, +laying in supplies of fresh meat, and even augmenting their hitherto +carefully restricted outfit, for they were going far beyond the reach +of stores, or even of missions. Anvik was the last white settlement +below Nulato; Nulato was said to be over two hundred miles to the +northward. + +And yet after all their further preparation and expense, each man kept +saying in his heart, during those first days out from Anvik, that the +journey would be easy enough but for their "comforts"--the burden on +the sled. By all the rules of arithmetic, the daily subtraction of +three meals from the store should have lightened the load. It seemed to +have the opposite effect. By some process of evil enchantment every +ounce grew to weigh a pound, every pound a hundredweight. The sled +itself was bewitched. Recall how lightsomely it ran down the snowy +slope, from the Big Chimney Cabin to the river trail, that morning they +set forth. The Boy took its pretty impetuosity for a happy augury--the +very sled was eager for the mighty undertaking. + +But never in all that weary march did it manifest again any such modest +alacrity. If, thereafter, in the long going "up river" there came an +interval of downhill, the sled turned summersaults in the air, wound +its forward or backward rope round willow scrub or alder, or else +advanced precipitately with an evil, low-comedy air, bottom side up, to +attack its master in the shins. It either held back with a power +superhuman, or it lunged forward with a momentum that capsized its +weary conductor. Its manners grew steadily worse as the travellers +pushed farther and farther into the wilderness, beyond the exorcising +power of Holy Cross, beyond the softening influences of Christian +hospitality at Episcopal Anvik, even beyond Tischsocket, the last of +the Indian villages for a hundred miles. + +The two who had been scornful of the frailty of temper they had seen +common in men's dealings up here in the North, began to realize that +all other trials of brotherhood pale before the strain of life on the +Arctic trail. Beyond any question, after a while something goes wrong +with the nerves. The huge drafts on muscular endurance have, no doubt, +something to do with it. They worked hard for fourteen, sometimes +seventeen, hours at a stretch; they were ill-fed, suffering from +exposure, intense cold, and a haunting uncertainty of the end of the +undertaking. They were reasonable fellows as men go, with a respect for +each other, but when hardship has got on the nerves, when you are +suffering the agonies of snow-blindness, sore feet, and the pangs of +hunger, you are not, to put it mildly, at your best as a member of the +social order. They sometimes said things they were ashamed to remember, +but both men grew carefuller at crucial moments, and the talkative one +more silent as time went on. + +By the rule of the day the hard shift before dinner usually fell to the +Boy. It was the worst time in the twenty-four hours, and equally +dreaded by both men. It was only the first night out from Anvik, after +an unusually trying day, the Boy was tramping heavily ahead, bent like +an old man before the cutting sleet, fettered like a criminal, hands +behind back, rope-wound, stiff, straining at the burden of the slow and +sullen sled. On a sudden he stopped, straightened his back, and +remonstrated with the Colonel in unprintable terms, for putting off the +halt later than ever they had yet, "after such a day." + +"Can't make fire with green cotton-wood," was the Colonel's rejoiner. + +"Then let's stop and rest, anyhow." + +"Nuh! We know where that would land us. Men who stop to rest, go to +sleep in the snow, and men who go to sleep in the snow on empty +stomachs don't wake up." + +They pushed on another mile. When the Colonel at last called the halt, +the Boy sank down on the sled too exhausted to speak. But it had grown +to be a practice with them not to trust themselves to talk at this +hour. The Colonel would give the signal to stop, simply by ceasing to +push the sled that the boy was wearily dragging. The Boy had invariably +been feeling (just as the Colonel had before, during his shift in +front) that the man behind wasn't helping all he might, whereupon +followed a vague, consciously unreasonable, but wholly irresistible +rage against the partner of his toil. But however much the man at the +back was supposed to spare himself, the man in front had never yet +failed to know when the impetus from behind was really removed. + +The Boy sat now on the sled, silent, motionless, while the Colonel +felled and chopped and brought the wood. Then the Boy dragged himself +up, made the fire and the beef-tea. But still no word even after that +reviving cup--the usual signal for a few remarks and more social +relations to be established. Tonight no sound out of either. The +Colonel changed his footgear and the melted snow in the pot began to +boil noisily. But the Boy, who had again betaken himself to the sled, +didn't budge. No man who really knows the trail would have dared, under +the circumstances, to remind his pardner that it was now his business +to get up and fry the bacon. But presently, without looking up, the +hungry Colonel ventured: + +"Get your dry things!" + +"Feet aren't wet." + +"Don't talk foolishness; here are your things." The Colonel flung in +the Boy's direction the usual change, two pairs of heavy socks, the +"German knitted" and "the felt." + +"Not wet," repeated the Boy. + +"You know you are." + +"Could go through water in these mucklucks." + +"I'm not saying the wet has come in from outside; but you know as well +as I do a man sweats like a horse on the trail." + +Still the Boy sat there, with his head sunk between his shoulders. + +"First rule o' this country is to keep your feet dry, or else +pneumonia, rheumatism--God knows what!" + +"First rule o' this country is mind your own business, or else--God +knows what!" + +The Colonel looked at the Boy a moment, and then turned his back. The +Boy glanced up conscience-stricken, but still only half alive, dulled +by the weight of a crushing weariness. The Colonel presently bent over +the fire and was about to lift off the turbulently boiling pot. The Boy +sprang to his feet, ready to shout, "You do your work, and keep your +hands off mine," but the Colonel turned just in time to say with +unusual gentleness: + +"If you _like_, I'll make supper to-night;" and the Boy, catching his +breath, ran forward, swaying a little, half blind, but with a different +look in his tired eyes. + +"No, no, old man. It isn't as bad as that." + +And again it was two friends who slept side by side in the snow. + +The next morning the Colonel, who had been kept awake half the night by +what he had been thinking was neuralgia in his eyes, woke late, hearing +the Boy calling: + +"I say, Kentucky, aren't you _ever_ goin' to get up?" + +"Get up?" said the Colonel. "Why should I, when it's pitch-dark?" + +"_What?_" + +"Fire clean out, eh?" But he smelt the tea and bacon, and sat up +bewildered, with a hand over his smarting eyes. The Boy went over and +knelt down by him, looking at him curiously. + +"Guess you're a little snow-blind, Colonel; but it won't last, you +know." + +"Blind!" + +"No, no, only _snow_-blind. Big difference;" and he took out his rag of +a handkerchief, got some water in a tin cup, and the eyes were bathed +and bandaged. + +"It won't last, you know. You'll just have to take it easy for a few +days." + +The Colonel groaned. + +For the first time he seemed to lose heart. He sat during breakfast +with bandaged eyes, and a droop of the shoulders, that seemed to say +old age had come upon him in a single night. The day that followed was +pretty dark to both men. The Boy had to do all the work, except the +monotonous, blind, pushing from behind, in whatever direction the Boy +dragged the sled. + +Now, snow-blindness is not usually dangerous, but it is horribly +painful while it lasts. Your eyes swell up and are stabbed continually +by cutting pains; your head seems full of acute neuralgia, and often +there is fever and other complications. The Colonel's was a bad case. +But he was a giant for strength and "sound as a dollar," as the Boy +reminded him, "except for this little bother with your eyes, and you're +a whole heap better already." + +At a very slow rate they plodded along. + +They had got into a region where there was no timber; but, as they +couldn't camp without a fire, they took an extra rest that day at four +o'clock, and regaled themselves on some cold grub. Then they took up +the line of march again. But they had been going only about half an +hour when the Colonel suddenly, without warning, stopped pushing the +sled, and stood stock-still on the trail. The Boy, feeling the removal +of the pressure, looked round, went back to him, and found nothing in +particular was the matter, but he just thought he wouldn't go any +further. + +"We can camp here." + +"No, we can't," says the Boy; "there isn't a tree in sight." + +But the Colonel seemed dazed. He thought he'd stop anyhow--"right where +he was." + +"Oh, no," says the Boy, a little frightened; "we'll camp the minute we +come to wood." But the Colonel stood as if rooted. The Boy took his arm +and led him on a few paces to the sled. "You needn't push hard, you +know. Just keep your hand there so, without looking, you'll know where +I'm going." This was very subtle of the Boy. For he knew the Colonel +was blind as a bat and as sensitive as a woman. "We'll get through all +right yet," he called back, as he stooped to take up the sledrope. "I +bet on Kentucky." + +Like a man walking in his sleep, the Colonel followed, now holding on +to the sled and unconsciously pulling a little, and when the Boy, very +nearly on his last legs, remonstrated, leaning against it, and so +urging it a little forward. + +Oh, but the wood was far to seek that night! + +Concentrated on the two main things--to carry forward his almost +intolerable load, and to go the shortest way to the nearest wood--the +Boy, by-and-by, forgot to tell his tired nerves to take account of the +unequal pressure from behind. If he felt it--well, the Colonel was a +corker; if he didn't feel it--well, the Colonel was just about tuckered +out. It was very late when at last the Boy raised a shout. Behind the +cliff overhanging the river-bed that they were just rounding, there, +spread out in the sparkling starlight, as far as he could see, a vast +primeval forest. The Boy bettered his lagging pace. + +"Ha! you haven't seen a wood like this since we left 'Frisco. It's all +right now, Kentucky;" and he bent to his work with a will. + +When he got to the edge of the wood, he flung down the rope and +turned--to find himself alone. + +"Colonel! Colonel! Where are you? _Colonel!_" + +He stood in the silence, shivering with a sudden sense of desolation. +He took his bearings, propped a fallen fir sapling aslant by the sled, +and, forgetting he was ready to drop, he ran swiftly hack along the way +he came. They had travelled all that afternoon and evening on the river +ice, hard as iron, retaining no trace of footprint or of runner +possible to verify even in daylight. The Yukon here was fully three +miles wide. They had meant to hug the right bank, but snow and ice +refashion the world and laugh at the trustful geography of men. A +traveller on this trail is not always sure whether he is following the +mighty Yukon or some slough equally mighty for a few miles, or whether, +in the protracted twilight, he has not wandered off upon some frozen +swamp. + +On the Boy went in the ghostly starlight, running, stumbling, calling +at regular intervals, his voice falling into a melancholy monotony that +sounded foreign to himself. It occurred to him that were he the Colonel +he wouldn't recognise it, and he began instead to call "Kentucky! +Ken-tuck-kee!" sounding those fine barbaric syllables for the first +time, most like, in that world of ice and silence. + +He stood an instant after his voice died, and listened to the quiet. +Yes, the people were right who said nothing was so hard to bear in this +country of hardship--nothing ends by being so ghastly--as the silence. +No bird stirs. The swift-flashing fish are sealed under ice, the wood +creatures gone to their underground sleep. No whispering of the pointed +firs, stiff, snowclotted; no swaying of the scant herbage sheathed in +ice or muffled under winter's wide white blanket. No greater hush can +reign in the interstellar spaces than in winter on the Yukon. + +"Colonel!" + +Silence--like a negation of all puny things, friendship, human life-- + +"Colonel!" + +Silence. No wonder men went mad up here, when they didn't drown this +silence in strong drink. + +On and on he ran, till he felt sure he must have passed the Colonel, +unless--yes, there were those air-holes in the river ice ... He felt +choked and stopped to breathe. Should he go back? It was horrible to +turn. It was like admitting that the man was not to be found--that this +was the end. + +"Colonel!" + +He said to himself that he would go back, and build a fire for a +signal, and return; but he ran on farther and farther away from the +sled and from the forest. Was it growing faintly light? He looked up. +Oh, yes; presently it would be brighter still. Those streamers of pale +light dancing in the North; they would be green and scarlet and orange +and purple, and the terrible white world would be illumined as by +conflagration. He stopped again. That the Colonel should have dropped +so far back as this, and the man in front not know--it was incredible. +What was that? A shadow on the ice. A frozen hummock? No, a man. Was it +really....? Glory hallelujah--it _was!_ But the shadow lay there +ghastly still and the Boy's greeting died in his throat. He had found +the Colonel, but he had found him delivered over to that treacherous +sleep that seldom knows a waking. The Boy dropped down beside his +friend, and wasn't far off crying. But it was a tonic to young nerves +to see how, like one dead, the man lay there, for all the calling and +tugging by the arm. The Boy rolled the body over, pulled open the +things at the neck, and thrust his hand down, till he could feel the +heart beating. He jumped up, got a handful of snow, and rubbed the +man's face with it. At last a feeble protest--an effort to get away +from the Boy's rude succour. + +"Thank God! Colonel! Colonel! wake up!" + +He shook him hard. But the big man only growled sullenly, and let his +leaden weight drop back heavily on the ice. The Boy got hold of the +neck of the Colonel's parki and pulled him frantically along the ice a +few yards, and then realised that only the terror of the moment gave +him the strength to do that much. To drag a man of the Colonel's weight +all the way to the wood was stark impossibility. He couldn't get him +eighty yards. If he left him and went for the sled and fuel, the man +would be dead by the time he got back. If he stayed, they would both be +frozen in a few hours. It was pretty horrible. + +He felt faint and dizzy. It occurred to him that he would pray. He was +an agnostic all right, but the Colonel was past praying for himself; +and here was his friend--an agnostic--here he was on his knees. He +hadn't prayed since he was a little chap down in the South. How did the +prayers go? "Our Father"--he looked up at the reddening aurora--"Our +Father, who art in heaven--" His eyes fell again on his friend. He +leapt to his feet like a wild animal, and began to go at the Colonel +with his fists. The blows rained thick on the chest of the prostrate +man, but he was too well protected to feel more than the shock. But now +they came battering down, under the ear--right, left, as the man turned +blindly to avoid them--on the jaw, even on the suffering eyes, and that +at last stung the sleeper into something like consciousness. + +He struggled to his feet with a roar like a wounded bull, lunging +heavily forward as the Boy eluded him, and he would have pounded the +young fellow out of existence in no time had he stood his ground. That +was exactly what the Boy didn't mean to do--he was always just a little +way on in front; but as the Colonel's half-insane rage cooled, and he +slowed down a bit, the Boy was at him again like some imp of Satan. +Sound and lithe and quick-handed as he was, he was no match for the +Colonel at his best. But the Colonel couldn't see well, and his brain +was on fire. He'd kill that young devil, and then he'd lie down and +sleep again. + +Meanwhile Aurora mounted the high heavens; from a great corona in the +zenith all the sky was hung with banners, and the snow was stained as +if with blood. The Boy looked over his shoulder, and saw the huge +figure of his friend, bearing down upon him, with his discoloured face +rage-distorted, and murder in his tortured eyes. A moment's sense of +the monstrous spectacle fell so poignant upon the Boy, that he felt +dimly he must have been full half his life running this race with +death, followed by a maniac bent on murder, in a world whose winter was +strangely lit with the leaping fires of hell. + +At last, on there in front, the cliff! Below it, the sharp bend in the +river, and although he couldn't see it yet, behind the cliff the +forest, and a little hand-sled bearing the means of life. + +The Colonel was down again, but it wasn't safe to go near him just yet. +The Boy ran on, unpacked the sled, and went, axe in hand, along the +margin of the wood. Never before was a fire made so quickly. Then, with +the flask, back to the Colonel, almost as sound asleep as before. + +The Boy never could recall much about the hours that followed. There +was nobody to help, so it must have been he who somehow got the Colonel +to the fire, got him to swallow some food, plastered his wounded face +over with the carbolic ointment, and got him into bed, for in the +morning all this was seen to have been done. + +They stayed in camp that day to "rest up," and the Boy shot a rabbit. +The Colonel was coming round; the rest, or the ointment, or the +tea-leaf poultice, had been good for snowblindness. The generous +reserve of strength in his magnificent physique was quick to announce +itself. He was still "frightfully bunged up," but "I think we'll push +on to-morrow," he said that night, as he sat by the fire smoking before +turning in. + +"Right you are!" said the Boy, who was mending the sled-runner. Neither +had referred to that encounter on the river-ice, that had ended in +bringing the Colonel where there was succour. Nothing was said, then or +for long after, in the way of deliberate recognition that the Boy had +saved his life. It wasn't necessary; they understood each other. + +But in the evening, after the Boy had finished mending the sled, it +occurred to him he must also mend the Colonel before they went to bed. +He got out the box of ointment and bespread the strips of torn +handkerchief. + +"Don't know as I need that to-night," says the Colonel. "Musn't waste +ointment." But the Boy brought the bandages round to the Colonel's +side of the fire. For an instant they looked at each other by the +flickering light, and the Colonel laid his hand on the Boy's arm. His +eyes looked worse for the moment, and began to water. He turned away +brusquely, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe on a log. + +"What in hell made you think of it?" + +"Ask me an easy one," says the Boy. "But I know what the Jesuit Fathers +would say." + +"Jesuits and George Warren! Humph! precious little we'd agree about." + +"You would about this. It flashed over me when I looked back and saw +you peltin' after me." + +"Small wonder I made for you! I'm not findin' fault, but what on earth +put it into your head to go at me with your fists like that?" + +"You'll never prove it by me. But when I saw you comin' at me like a +mad bull, I thought to myself, thinks I, the Colonel and the Jesuits, +they'd both of 'em say this was a direct answer to prayer." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE PIT + +"L'humanite a commence tout entiere par le crime .... C'etait le vieux +nourricier des hommes des cavernes."--ANATOLE FRANCE. + + +An old story now, these days of silent plodding through the driving +snow. + +But if outward conditions lacked variety, not so their cumulative +effect upon poor human nature. A change was going on in the travellers +that will little commend them to the sentimentalist. + +"I've come to think a snow-storm's all right to travel in, all right to +sleep in," said the Colonel one morning; "but to cook in, eat in, make +or break camp in--it's the devil's champion invention." For three days +they had worked like galley-slaves, and yet covered less than ten miles +a day. "And you never get rested," the Colonel went on; "I get up as +tired as I go to bed." Again the Boy only nodded. His body, if not his +temper, had got broken into the trail, but for a talkative person he +had in these days strangely little to say. It became manifest that, in +the long run, the Colonel would suffer the most physically; but his +young companion, having less patience and more ambition, more sheer +untamed vitality in him, would suffer the most in spirit. Every sense +in him was becoming numbed, save the gnawing in his stomach, and that +other, even more acute ache, queer compound of fatigue and anger. These +two sensations swallowed up all else, and seemed to grow by what they +fed on. + +The loaded sled was a nightmare. It weighed a thousand tons. The very +first afternoon out from Anvik, when in the desperate hauling and +tugging that rescued it from a bottomless snow-drift, the lashing +slipped, the load loosened, tumbled off, and rolled open, the Colonel +stood quite still and swore till his half-frozen blood circulated +freely again. When it came to repacking, he considered in detail the +items that made up the intolerable weight, and fell to wondering which +of them they could do without. + +The second day out from Anvik they had decided that it was absurd, +after all, to lug about so much tinware. They left a little saucepan +and the extra kettle at that camp. The idea, so potent at Anvik, of +having a tea-kettle in reserve--well, the notion lost weight, and the +kettle seemed to gain. + +Two pairs of boots and some flannels marked the next stopping-place. + +On the following day, when the Boy's rifle kept slipping and making a +brake to hold back the sled, "I reckon you'll have to plant that rifle +o' yours in the next big drift," said the Colonel; "one's all we need, +anyway." + +"One's all you need, and one's all I need," answered the Boy stiffly. + +But it wasn't easy to see immediate need for either. Never was country +so bare of game, they thought, not considering how little they hunted, +and how more and more every faculty, every sense, was absorbed in the +bare going forward. + +The next time the Colonel said something about the uselessness of +carrying two guns, the Boy flared up: "If you object to guns, leave +yours." + +This was a new tone for the Boy to use to the Colonel. + +"Don't you think we'd better hold on to the best one?" + +Now the Boy couldn't deny that the Colonel's was the better, but none +the less he had a great affection for his own old 44 Marlin, and the +Colonel shouldn't assume that he had the right to dictate. This +attitude of the "wise elder" seemed out of place on the trail. + +"A gun's a necessity. I haven't brought along any whim-whams." + +"Who has?" + +"Well, it wasn't me that went loadin' up at Anvik with fool +thermometers and things." + +"Thermometer! Why, it doesn't weigh--" + +"Weighs something, and it's something to pack; frozen half the time, +too. And when it isn't, what's the good of havin' it hammered into us +how near we are to freezin' to death." But it annoyed him to think how +very little in argument a thermometer weighed against a rifle. + +They said no more that day about lightening the load, but with a double +motive they made enormous inroads upon their provisions. + +A morning came when the Colonel, packing hurriedly in the biting cold, +forgot to shove his pardner's gun into its accustomed place. + +The Boy, returning from trail-breaking to the river, kicked at the butt +to draw attention to the omission. The Colonel flung down the end of +the ice-coated rope he had lashed the load with, and, "Pack it +yourself," says he. + +The Boy let the rifle lie. But all day long he felt the loss of it +heavy on his heart, and no reconciling lightness in the sled. + +The Colonel began to have qualms about the double rations they were +using. It was only the seventeenth night after turning their backs on +the Big Chimney, as the Colonel tipped the pan, pouring out half the +boiled beans into his pardner's plate, "That's the last o' the +strawberries! Don't go expectin' any more," says he. + +"What!" ejaculated the Boy, aghast; then quickly, to keep a good face: +"You take my life when you do take the beans, whereby I live." + +When the Colonel had disposed of his strawberries, "Lord!" he sighed, +trying to rub the stiffness out of his hands over the smoke, "the +appetite a fella can raise up here is something terrible. You eat and +eat, and it doesn't seem to make any impression. You're just as hungry +as ever." + +_"And the stuff a fella can eat!"_ + +The Colonel recalled that speech of the Boy's the very next night, +when, after "a hell of a time" getting the fire alight, he was bending +forward in that attitude most trying to maintain, holding the +frying-pan at long range over the feebly-smoking sticks. He had to +cook, to live on snow-shoes nowadays, for the heavy Colonel had +illustrated oftener than the Boy, that going without meant breaking in, +floundering, and, finally, having to call for your pardner to haul you +out. This was one of the many uses of a pardner on the trail. The last +time the Colonel had trusted to the treacherous crust he had gone in +head foremost, and the Boy, happening to look round, saw only two +snow-shoes, bottom side up, moving spasmodically on the surface of the +drift. The Colonel was nearly suffocated by the time he was pulled out, +and after that object-lesson he stuck to snow-shoes every hour of the +twenty-four, except those spent in the sleeping-bag. + +But few things on earth are more exasperating than trying to work +mounted on clumsy, long web-feet that keep jarring against, yet holding +you off from, the tree you are felling, or the fire you are cooking +over. You are constrained to stand wholly out of natural relation to +the thing you are trying to do--the thing you've got to do, if you mean +to come out alive. + +The Colonel had been through all this time and time again. But as he +squatted on his heels to-night, cursing the foot and a half of +snow-shoe that held him away from the sullen fire, straining every +muscle to keep the outstretched frying-pan over the best of the blaze, +he said to himself that what had got him on the raw was that speech of +the Boy's yesterday about the stuff he had to eat. If the Boy objected +to having his rice parboiled in smoked water he was damned +unreasonable, that was all. + +The culprit reappeared at the edge of the darkening wood. He came up +eagerly, and flung down an armful of fuel for the morning, hoping to +find supper ready. Since it wasn't, he knew that he mustn't stand about +and watch the preparations. By this time he had learned a good deal of +the trail-man's unwritten law. On no account must you hint that the +cook is incompetent, or even slow, any more than he may find fault with +your moment for calling halt, or with your choice of timber. So the +woodman turned wearily away from the sole spot of brightness in the +waste, and went back up the hill in the dark and the cold, to busy +himself about his own work, even to spin it out, if necessary, till he +should hear the gruff "Grub's ready!" And when that dinner-gong sounds, +don't you dally! Don't you wait a second. You may feel uncomfortable if +you find yourself twenty minutes late for a dinner in London or New +York, but to be five minutes late for dinner on the Winter Trail is to +lay up lasting trouble. + +By the time the rice and bacon were done, and the flap-jack, still raw +in the middle, was burnt to charcoal on both sides, the Colonel's eyes +were smarting, in the acrid smoke, and the tears were running down his +cheeks. + +"Grub's ready!" + +The Boy came up and dropped on his heels in the usual attitude. The +Colonel tore a piece off the half-charred, half-raw pancake. + +"Maybe you'll think the fire isn't thoroughly distributed, but _that's +_got to do for bread," he remarked severely, as if in reply to some +objection. + +The Boy saw that something he had said or looked had been +misinterpreted. + +"Hey? Too much fire outside, and not enough in? Well, sir, I'll trust +_my_ stomach to strike a balance. Guess the heat'll get distributed all +right once I've swallowed it." + +When the Colonel, mollified, said something about cinders in the rice, +the Boy, with his mouth full of grit, answered: "I'm pretendin' it's +sugar." + +Not since the episode of the abandoned rifle had he shown himself so +genial. + +"Never in all my bohn life," says the Colonel after eating steadily for +some time--"never in a year, sah, have I thought as much about food as +I do in a day on this----trail." + +"Same here." + +"And it's quantity, not quality." + +"Ditto." + +The Boy turned his head sharply away from the fire. "Hear that?" + +No need to ask. The Colonel had risen upright on his cramped legs, red +eyes starting out of his head. The Boy got up, turned about in the +direction of the hollow sound, and made one step away from the fire. + +"You stay right where you are!" ordered the Colonel, quite in the old +way. + +"Hey?" + +"That's a bird-song." + +"Thought so." + +"Mr. Wolf smelt the cookin'; want's the rest of the pack to know +there's something queer up here on the hill." Then, as the Boy moved to +one side in the dark: "What you lookin' for?" + +"My gun." + +"Mine's here." + +Oh yes! His own old 44 Marlin was lying far down the river under +eight-and-fifty hours of snow. It angered him newly and more than ever +to remember that if he had a shot at anything now it must needs be by +favour of the Colonel. + +They listened for that sound again, the first since leaving Anvik not +made by themselves. + +"Seems a lot quieter than it did," observed the Colonel by-and-bye. + +The Boy nodded. + +Without preface the Colonel observed: "It's five days since I washed my +face and hands." + +"What's the good o' rememberin'?" returned the Boy sharply. Then more +mildly: "People talk about the bare necessaries o' life. Well, sir, +when they're really bare you find there ain't but three--food, warmth, +sleep." + +Again in the distance that hollow baying. + +"Food, warmth, sleep," repeated the Colonel. "We've about got down to +the wolf basis." + +He said it half in defiance of the trail's fierce lessoning; but it was +truer than he knew. + +They built up the fire to frighten off the wolves, but the Colonel had +his rifle along when they went over and crawled into their +sleeping-bag. Half in, half out, he laid the gun carefully along the +right on his snow-shoes. As the Boy buttoned the fur-lined flap down +over their heads he felt angrier with the Colonel than he had ever been +before. + +"Took good care to hang on to his own shootin'-iron. Suppose anything +should happen"; and he said it over and over. + +Exactly what could happen he did not make clear; the real danger was +not from wolves, but it was _something_. And he would need a rifle.... +And he wouldn't have one.... And it was the Colonel's fault. + + * * * * * + +Now, it had long been understood that the woodman is lord of the wood. +When it came to the Colonel's giving unasked advice about the lumber +business, the Boy turned a deaf ear, and thought well of himself for +not openly resenting the interference. + +"The Colonel talks an awful lot, anyway. He has more hot air to offer +than muscle." + +When they sighted timber that commended itself to the woodman, if _he_ +thought well of it, why, he just dropped the sled-rope without a word, +pulled the axe out of the lashing, trudged up the hillside, holding the +axe against his shirt underneath his parki, till he reached whatever +tree his eye had marked for his own. Off with the fur mitt, and bare +hand protected by the inner mitt of wool, he would feel the axe-head, +for there was always the danger of using it so cold that the steel +would chip and fly. As soon as he could be sure the proper molecular +change had been effected, he would take up his awkward attitude before +the selected spruce, leaning far forward on his snow-shoes, and seeming +to deliver the blows on tip-toe. + +But the real trouble came when, after felling the dead tree, splitting +an armful of fuel and carrying it to the Colonel, he returned to the +task of cutting down the tough green spruce for their bedding. Many +strained blows must be delivered before he could effect the chopping of +even a little notch. Then he would shift his position and cut a +corresponding notch further round, so making painful circuit of the +bole. To-night, what with being held off by his snow-shoes, what with +utter weariness and a dulled axe, he growled to himself that he was +"only gnawin' a ring round the tree like a beaver!" + +"Damn the whole--Wait!" Perhaps the cursed snow was packed enough now +to bear. He slipped off the web-feet, and standing gingerly, but +blessedly near, made effectual attack. Hooray! One more good 'un and +the thing was down. Hah! ugh! Woof-ff! The tree was down, but so was +he, floundering breast high, and at every effort to get out only +breaking down more of the crust and sinking deeper. + +This was not the first time such a thing had happened. Why did he feel +as if it was for him the end of the world? He lay still an instant. It +would be happiness just to rest here and go to sleep. The Colonel! Oh, +well, the Colonel had taken his rifle. Funny there should be +orange-trees up here. He could smell them. He shut his eyes. Something +shone red and glowing. Why, that was the sun making an effect of +stained glass as it shone through the fat pine weather-boarding of his +little bedroom on the old place down in Florida. Suddenly a face. _Ah, +that face!_ He must be up and doing. He knew perfectly well how to get +out of this damn hole. You lie on your side and roll. Gradually you +pack the softness tight till it bears--not if you stand up on your +feet, but bears the length of your body, while you worm your way +obliquely to the top, and feel gingerly in the dimness after your +snow-shoes. + +But if it happens on a pitch-dark night, and your pardner has chosen +camp out of earshot, you feel that you have looked close at the end of +the Long Trail. + +On getting back to the fire, he found the Colonel annoyed at having +called "Grub!" three times--"yes, sah! three times, sah!" + +And they ate in silence. + +"Now I'm going to bed," said the Boy, rising stiffly. + +"You just wait a minute." + +"No." + +Now, the Colonel himself had enunciated the law that whenever one of +them was ready to sleep the other must come too. He didn't know it, but +it is one of the iron rules of the Winter Trail. In absence of its +enforcement, the later comer brings into the warmed up sleeping-bag not +only the chill of his own body, he lets in the bitter wind, and brings +along whatever snow and ice is clinging to his boots and clothes. The +melting and warming-up is all to be done again. + +But the Colonel was angry. + +"Most unreasonable," he muttered--"damned unreasonable!" + +Worse than the ice and the wet in the sleeping-bag, was this lying in +such close proximity to a young jackanapes who wouldn't come when you +called "Grub!" and wouldn't wait a second till you'd felt about in the +dimness for your gun. Hideous to lie so close to a man who snored, and +who'd deprived you of your 44 Marlin. Although it meant life, the Boy +grudged the mere animal heat that he gave and that he took. Full of +grudging, he dropped asleep. But the waking spirit followed him into +his dreams. An ugly picture painted itself upon the dark, and +struggling against the vision, he half awoke. With the first returning +consciousness came the oppression of the yoke, the impulse to match the +mental alienation with that of the body--strong need to move away. + +You can't move away in a sleeping-bag. + +In a city you may be alone, free. + +On the trail, you walk in bonds with your yoke-fellow, make your bed +with him, with him rise up, and with him face the lash the livelong +day. + + * * * * * + +"Well," sighed the Colonel, after toiling onward for a couple of hours +the next morning, "this is the worst yet." + +But by the middle of the afternoon, "What did I say? Why, this +morning--_everything_ up till now has been child's play." He kept +looking at the Boy to see if he could read any sign of halt in the +tense, scarred face. + +Certainly the wind was worse, the going was worse. The sled kept +breaking through and sinking to the level of the load. There it went! +in again. They tugged and hauled, and only dragged the lashing loose, +while the sled seemed soldered to the hard-packed middle of the drift. +As they reloaded, the thermometer came to light. The Colonel threw it +out, with never a word. They had no clothes now but what they stood in, +and only one thing on the sled they could have lived without--their +money, a packet of trading stores. But they had thrown away more than +they knew. Day by day, not flannels and boots alone, not merely extra +kettle, thermometer and gun went overboard, but some grace of courtesy, +some decency of life had been left behind. + +About three o'clock of this same day, dim with snow, and dizzy in a +hurricane of wind, "We can't go on like this," said the Boy suddenly. + +"Wish I knew the way we _could_ go on," returned the Colonel, stopping +with an air of utter helplessness, and forcing his rigid hands into his +pockets. The Boy looked at him. The man of dignity and resource, who +had been the boss of the Big Chimney Camp--what had become of him? Here +was only a big, slouching creature, with ragged beard, smoke-blackened +countenance, and eyes that wept continually. + +"Come on," said his equally ruffianly-looking pardner, "we'll both go +ahead." + +So they abandoned their sled for awhile, and when they had forged a +way, came back, and one pulling, the other pushing, lifting, guiding, +between them, with infinite pains they got their burden to the end of +the beaten track, left it, and went ahead again--travelling three miles +to make one. + +"What's the matter now?" + +The Boy was too tired to turn his head round and look back, but he knew +that the other man wasn't doing his share. He remembered that other +time when the Colonel had fallen behind. It seemed years ago, and even +further away was the vague recollection of how he'd cared. How horribly +frightened he'd been! Wasn't he frightened now? No. It was only a dull +curiosity that turned him round at last to see what it was that made +the Colonel peg out this time. He was always peggin' out. Yes, there he +was, stoppin' to stroke himself. Trail-man? An old woman! Fit only for +the chimney-corner. And even when they went on again he kept saying to +himself as he bent to the galling strain, "An old woman--just an old +woman!" till he made a refrain of the words, and in the level places +marched to the tune. After that, whatever else his vague thought went +off upon, it came back to "An old woman--just an old woman!" + +It was at a bad place towards the end of that forced march that the +Colonel, instead of lifting the back of the sled, bore hard on the +handle-bar. With a vicious sound it snapped. The Boy turned heavily at +the noise. When he saw the Colonel standing, dazed, with the splintered +bar in his hand, his dull eyes flashed. With sudden vigour he ran back +to see the extent of the damage. + +"Well, it's pretty discouragin'," says the Colonel very low. + +The Boy gritted his teeth with suppressed rage. It was only a chance +that it hadn't happened when he himself was behind, but he couldn't see +that. No; it was the Colonel's bungling--tryin' to spare himself; +leanin' on the bar instead o' liftin' the sled, as he, the Boy, would +have done. + +With stiff hands they tried to improvise a makeshift with a stick of +birch and some string. + +"Don't know what you think," says the Colonel presently, "but I call +this a desperate business we've undertaken." + +The Boy didn't trust himself to call it anything. With a bungled job +they went lamely on. The loose snow was whirling about so, it was +impossible to say whether it was still falling, or only +hurricane-driven. + +To the Colonel's great indignation it was later than usual before they +camped. + +Not a word was spoken by either till they had finished their first +meal, and the Colonel had melted a frying-pan full of snow preparatory +to the second. He took up the rice-bag, held it by the top, and ran his +mittened hand down the gathered sack till he had outlined the contents +at the bottom. + +"Lord! That's all there is." + +The boy only blinked his half-shut eyes. The change in him, from +talkativeness to utter silence, had grown horribly oppressive to the +Colonel. He often felt he'd like to shake him till he shook some words +out. "I told you days ago," he went on, "that we ought to go on +rations." + +Silence. + +"But no! you knew so much better." + +The Boy shut his eyes, and suddenly, like one struggling against sleep +or swooning, he roused himself. + +"I thought I knew the more we took off the damn sled the lighter it'd +be. 'Tisn't so." + +"And we didn't either of us think we'd come down from eighteen miles a +day to six," returned the Colonel, a little mollified by any sort of +answer. "I don't believe we're going to put this job through." + +Now this was treason. + +Any trail-man may think that twenty times a day, but no one ought to +say it. The Boy set his teeth, and his eyes closed. The whole thing was +suddenly harder--doubt of the issue had been born into the world. But +he opened his eyes again. The Colonel had carefully poured some of the +rice into the smoky water of the pan. What was the fool doing? Such a +little left, and making a second supper? + +Only that morning the Boy had gone a long way when mentally he called +the boss of the Big Chimney Camp "an old woman." By night he was saying +in his heart, "The Colonel's a fool." His pardner caught the look that +matched the thought. + +"No more second helpin's," he said in self-defence; "this'll freeze +into cakes for luncheon." + +No answer. No implied apology for that look. In the tone his pardner +had come to dread the Colonel began: "If we don't strike a settlement +to-morrow----" + +"Don't _talk!"_ + +The Boy's tired arm fell on the handle of the frying-pan. Over it +went--rice, water, and all in the fire. The culprit sprang up +speechless with dismay, enraged at the loss of the food he was hungry +for--enraged at "the fool fry-pan"--enraged at the fool Colonel for +balancing it so badly. + +A column of steam and smoke rose into the frosty air between the two +men. As it cleared away a little the Boy could see the Colonel's +bloodshot eyes. The expression was ill to meet. + +When they crouched down again, with the damped-out fire between them, a +sense of utter loneliness fell upon each man's heart. + + * * * * * + +The next morning, when they came to digging the sled out of the last +night's snow-drift, the Boy found to his horror that he was +weaker--yes, a good deal. As they went on he kept stumbling. The +Colonel fell every now and then. Sometimes he would lie still before he +could pull himself on his legs again. + +In these hours they saw nothing of the grim and splendid waste; nothing +of the ranks of snow-laden trees; nothing of sun course or of stars, +only the half-yard of dazzling trail in front of them, and +--clairvoyant--the little store of flour and bacon that seemed to +shrink in the pack while they dragged it on. + +Apart from partial snow-blindness, which fell at intervals upon the +Colonel, the tiredness of the eyes was like a special sickness upon +them both. For many hours together they never raised their lids, +looking out through slits, cat-like, on the world. + +They had not spoken to each other for many days--or was it only +hours?--when the Colonel, looking at the Boy, said: + +"You've got to have a face-guard. Those frostbites are eating in." + +"'Xpect so." + +"You ought to stop it. Make a guard." + +"Out of a snow-ball, or chunk o' ice?" + +"Cut a piece out o' the canvas o' the bag." But he didn't. + +The big sores seemed such small matters beside the vast overshadowing +doubt, Shall we come out of this alive?--doubt never to be openly +admitted by him, but always knocking, knocking---- + +"You can't see your own face," the Colonel persisted. + +"One piece o' luck, anyhow." + +The old habit of looking after the Boy died hard. The Colonel +hesitated. For the last time he would remonstrate. "I used to think +frost_bite_ was a figure o' speech," said he, "but the teeth were set +in _your_ face, sonny, and they've bitten deep; they'll leave awful +scars." + +"Battles do, I b'lieve." And it was with an effort that he remembered +there had been a time when they had been uncomfortable because they +hadn't washed their faces. Now, one man was content to let the very +skin go if he could keep the flesh on his face, and one was little +concerned even for that. Life--life! To push on and come out alive. + +The Colonel had come to that point where he resented the Boy's staying +power, terrified at the indomitable young life in him. Yes, the Colonel +began to feel old, and to think with vague wrath of the insolence of +youth. + +Each man fell to considering what he would do, how he would manage if +he were alone. And there ceased to be any terror in the thought. + +"If it wasn't for him"--so and so; till in the gradual deadening of +judgment all the hardship was somehow your pardner's fault. Your nerves +made him responsible even for the snow and the wind. By-and-by he was +The Enemy. Not but what each had occasional moments of lucidity, and +drew back from the pit they were bending over. But the realisation +would fade. No longer did even the wiser of the two remember that this +is that same abyss out of which slowly, painfully, the race has +climbed. With the lessened power to keep from falling in, the terror of +it lessened. Many strange things grew natural. It was no longer +difficult or even shocking to conceive one's partner giving out and +falling by the way. Although playing about the thought, the one thing +that not even the Colonel was able actually to realise, was the +imminent probability of death for himself. Imagination always pictured +the other fellow down, one's self somehow forging ahead. + +This obsession ended on the late afternoon when the Colonel broke +silence by saying suddenly: + +"We must camp; I'm done." He flung himself down under a bare birch, and +hid his face. + +The Boy remonstrated, grew angry; then, with a huge effort at +self-control, pointed out that since it had stopped snowing this was +the very moment to go on. + +"Why, you can see the sun. Three of 'em! Look, Colonel!" + +But Arctic meteorological phenomena had long since ceased to interest +the Kentuckian. Parhelia were less to him than covered eyes, and the +perilous peace of the snow. It seemed a long time before he sat up, and +began to beat the stiffness out of his hands against his breast. But +when he spoke, it was only to say: + +"I mean to camp." + +"For how long?" + +"Till a team comes by--or something." + +The Boy got up abruptly, slipped on his snow-shoes, and went round the +shoulder of the hill, and up on to the promontory, to get out of +earshot of that voice, and determine which of the two ice-roads, +stretching out before them, was main channel and which was tributary. + +He found on the height only a cutting wind, and little enlightenment as +to the true course. North and east all nimbus still. A brace of +sun-dogs following the pale God of Day across the narrow field of +primrose that bordered the dun-coloured west. There would be more snow +to-morrow, and meanwhile the wind was rising again. Yes, sir, it was a +mean outlook. + +As he took Mac's aneroid barometer out of his pocket, a sudden gust cut +across his raw and bleeding cheek. He turned abruptly; the barometer +slipped out of his numb fingers. He made a lunge to recover it, +clutched the air, and, sliding suddenly forward, over he went, flying +headlong down the steep escarpment. + +He struck a jutting rock, only half snowed under, that broke the sheer +face of the promontory, and he bounded once like a rubber ball, struck +a second time, caught desperately at a solitary clump of ice-sheathed +alders, crashed through the snow-crust just below them, and was held +there like a mudlark in its cliff nest, halfway between bluff and +river. + +His last clear thought had been an intense anxiety about his snow-shoes +as they sailed away, two liberated kites, but as he went on falling, +clutching at the air--falling--and felt the alder twigs snap under his +hands, he said to himself, "This is death," but calmly, as if it were a +small matter compared to losing one's snow-shoes. + +It was only when he landed in the snow, that he was conscious of any of +the supposed natural excitement of a man meeting a violent end. It was +then, before he even got his breath back, that he began to struggle +frantically to get a foothold; but he only broke down more of the thin +ice-wall that kept him from the sheer drop to the river, sixty or +seventy feet below. He lay quite still. Would the Colonel come after +him? If he did come, would he risk his life to----If he did risk his +life, was it any use to try to----He craned his neck and looked up, +blinked, shut his eyes, and lay back in the snow with a sound of +far-off singing in his head. "Any use?" No, sir; it just about wasn't. +That bluff face would be easier to climb up than to climb down, and +either was impossible. + +Then it was, that a great tide of longing swept over him--a flood of +passionate desire for more of this doubtful blessing, life. All the +bitter hardship--why, how sweet it was, after all, to battle and to +overcome! It was only this lying helpless, trapped, that was evil. The +endless Trail? Why, it was only the coming to the end that a man +minded. + +Suddenly the beauty that for days had been veiled shone out. Nothing in +all the earth was glorious with the glory of the terrible white North. +And he had only just been wakened to it. Here, now, lying in his grave, +had come this special revelation of the rapture of living, and the +splendour of the visible universe. + +The sky over his head--he had called it "a mean outlook," and turned +away. It was the same sky that bent over him now with a tenderness that +made him lift his cramped arms with tears, as a sick child might to its +mother. The haloed sun with his attendant dogs--how little the wonder +had touched him! Never had he seen them so dim and sad as to-night ... +saying good-bye to one who loved the sun. + +The great frozen road out of sight below, road that came winding, +winding down out of the Arctic Circle--what other highway so majestic, +mysterious?--shining and beckoning on. An earthly Milky Way, leading to +the golden paradise he had been travelling towards since summer. + +And he was to go no further?--not till the June rains and thaws and +winds and floods should carry him back, as he had foreseen, far below +there at Holy Cross. + +With a sharp contraction of the heart he shut his eyes again. When he +opened them they rested on the alder-twig, a couple of yards above, +holding out mocking finger-tips, and he turned his head in the snow +till again he could see the mock-suns looking down. + +"As well try to reach the sky as reach the alder-bush. What did that +mean? That he was really going to lie there till he died? _He_ die, and +the Colonel and everybody else go on living?" + +He half rose on his elbow at the monstrous absurdity of the idea. "I +won't die!" he said out loud. + +Crack, crack! warned the ice-crust between him and that long fall to +the river. With horror at his heart he shrank away and hugged the face +of the precipice. Presently he put out his hand and broke the ice-crust +above. With mittened fists and palms he pounded firm a little ledge of +snow. Reaching out further, he broke the crust obliquely just above, +and having packed the snow as well as he could immediately about, and +moving lengthwise with an infinite caution, he crawled up the few +inches to the narrow ledge, balancing his stiff body with a nicety +possible only to acrobat or sleep-walker. + +It was in no normal state of ordinary waking senses that the work went +on--with never a downward look, nor even up, eyes riveted to the patch +of snow on which the mittened hands fell as steady and untrembling as +steel hammers. In the seconds of actual consciousness of his situation +that twice visited him, he crouched on the ledge with closed eyes, in +the clutch of an overmastering horror, absolutely still, like a bird in +the talons of a hawk. Each time when he opened his eyes he would stare +at the snow-ledge till hypnotised into disregard of danger, balance his +slight body, lift one hand, and go on pounding firm another shallow +step. When he reached the alder-bush his heart gave a great leap of +triumph. Then, for the first time since starting, he looked up. His +heart fell down. It seemed farther than ever, and the light waning. + +But the twilight would be long, he told himself, and in that other, +beneficent inner twilight he worked on, packing the snow, and crawling +gingerly up the perilous stair a half-inch at a time. + +At last he was on the jutting rock, and could stand secure. But here he +could see that the top of the bluff really did shelve over. To think so +is so common an illusion to the climber that the Boy had heartened +himself by saying, when he got there he would find it like the rest, +horribly steep, but not impossible. Well, it _was_ impossible. After +all his labour, he was no better off on the rock than in the snow-hole +below the alder, down there where he dared not look. The sun and his +dogs had travelled down, down. They touched the horizon while he sat +there; they slipped below the world's wide rim. He said in his heart, +"I'm freezing to death." Unexpectedly to himself his despair found +voice: + +"Colonel!" + +"Hello!" + +He started violently. + +Had he really heard that, or was imagination playing tricks with echo? + +"Colonel!" + +"Where the devil----" + +A man's head appeared out of the sky. + +"Got the rope?" + +Words indistinguishable floated down--the head withdrawn--silence. The +Boy waited a very long time, but he stamped his feet, and kept his +blood in motion. The light was very grey when the head showed again at +the sky-line. He couldn't hear what was shouted down, and it occurred +to him, even in his huge predicament, that the Colonel was "giving him +hot air" as usual, instead of a life-line. Down the rope came, nearer, +and stopped about fifteen feet over his head. + +"Got the axe? Let her down." + + * * * * * + +The night was bright with moonlight when the Boy stood again on the top +of the bluff. + +"Humph!" says the Colonel, with agreeable anticipation; "you'll be glad +to camp for a few days after this, I reckon." + +"Reckon I won't." + + * * * * * + +In their colossal fatigue they slept the clock round; their watches run +down, their sense of the very date blurred. Since the Colonel had made +the last laconic entry in the journal--was it three days or two--or +twenty? + +In spite of a sensation as of many broken bones, the Boy put on the +Colonel's snow-shoes, and went off looking along the foot of the cliff +for his own. No luck, but he brought back some birch-bark and a handful +of willow-withes, and set about making a rude substitute. + +Before they had despatched breakfast the great red moon arose, so it +was not morning, but evening. So much the better. The crust would be +firmer. The moon was full; it was bright enough to travel, and travel +they must. + +"No!" said the Colonel, with a touch of his old pompous authority, +"we'll wait awhile." + +The Boy simply pointed to the flour-bag. There wasn't a good handful +left. + +They ate supper, studiously avoiding each other's eyes. In the +background of the Boy's mind: "He saved my life, but he ran no risk.... +And I saved his. We're quits." In the Colonel's, vague, insistent, +stirred the thought, "I might have left him there to rot, half-way up +the precipice. Oh, he'd go! _And he'd take the sled_! No!" His vanished +strength flowed back upon a tide of rage. Only one sleeping-bag, one +kettle, one axe, one pair of snow-shoes ... _one gun_! No, by the +living Lord! not while I have a gun. Where's my gun? He looked about +guiltily, under his lowered lids. What? No! Yes! It was gone! Who +packed at the last camp? Why, he--himself, and he'd left it behind. +"Then it was because I didn't see it; the Boy took care I shouldn't see +it! Very likely he buried it so that I shouldn't see it! He--yes--if I +refuse to go on, he----" + +And the Boy, seeing without looking, taking in every move, every shade +in the mood of the broken-spirited man, ready to die here, like a dog, +in the snow, instead of pressing on as long as he could crawl--the Boy, +in a fever of silent rage, called him that "meanest word in the +language--a quitter." And as, surreptitiously, he took in the vast +discouragement of the older man, there was nothing in the Boy's changed +heart to say, "Poor fellow! if he can't go on, I'll stay and die with +him"; but only, "He's _got_ to go on! ... and if he refuses ... +well----" He felt about in his deadened brain, and the best he could +bring forth was: "I won't leave him--_yet_." + + * * * * * + +A mighty river-jam had forced them up on the low range of hills. It was +about midnight to judge by the moon--clear of snow and the wind down. +The Boy straightened up at a curious sight just below them. Something +black in the moonlight. The Colonel paused, looked down, and passed his +hand over his eyes. + +The Boy had seen the thing first, and had said to himself, "Looks like +a sled, but it's a vision. It's come to seeing things now." + +When he saw the Colonel stop and stare, he threw down his rope and +began to laugh, for there below were the blackened remains of a big +fire, silhouetted sharply on the snow. + +"Looks like we've come to a camp, Boss!" + +He hadn't called the Colonel by the old nickname for many a day. He +stood there laughing in an idiotic kind of way, wrapping his stiff +hands in his parki, Indian fashion, and looking down to the level of +the ancient river terrace, where the weather-stained old Indian sled +was sharply etched on the moonlit whiteness. + +Just a sled lying in the moonlight. But the change that can be wrought +in a man's heart upon sight of a human sign! it may be idle to speak of +that to any but those who have travelled the desolate ways of the +North. + +Side by side the two went down the slope, slid and slipped and couldn't +stop themselves, till they were below the landmark. Looking up, they +saw that a piece of soiled canvas or a skin, held down with a +drift-log, fell from under the sled, portiere-wise from the top of the +terrace, straight down to the sheltered level, where the camp fire had +been. Coming closer, they saw the curtain was not canvas, but dressed +deerskin. + +"Indians!" said the Colonel. + +But with the rubbing out of other distinctions this, too, was curiously +faint. Just so there were human beings it seemed enough. Within four +feet of the deerskin door the Colonel stopped, shot through by a sharp +misgiving. What was behind? A living man's camp, or a dead man's tomb? +Succour, or some stark picture of defeat, and of their own oncoming +doom? + +The Colonel stood stock-still waiting for the Boy. For the first time +in many days even he hung back. He seemed to lack the courage to be the +one to extinguish hope by the mere drawing of a curtain from a +snow-drift's face. The Kentuckian pulled himself together and went +forward. He lifted his hand to the deerskin, but his fingers shook so +he couldn't take hold: + +"Hello!" he called. No sound. Again: "Hello!" + +"Who's there?" + +The two outside turned and looked into each other's faces--but if you +want to know all the moment meant, you must travel the Winter Trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +KURILLA + +"And I swear to you Athenians--by the dog I swear!--for I must tell you +the truth----."--SOCRATES. + + +The voice that had asked the question belonged to one of two stranded +Klondykers, as it turned out, who had burrowed a hole in the snow and +faced it with drift-wood. They had plenty of provisions, enough to +spare, and meant to stay here till the steamers ran, for the younger of +the pair had frosted his feet and was crippled. + +The last of their dogs had been frozen to death a few miles back on the +trail, and they had no idea, apparently, how near they were to that +"first Indian settlement this side of Kaltag" reached by the Colonel +and the Boy after two days of rest and one day of travel. + +No one ever sailed more joyfully into the Bay of Naples, or saw with +keener rapture Constantinople's mosques and minarets arise, than did +these ice-armoured travellers, rounding the sharp bend in the river, +sight the huts and hear the dogs howl on the farther shore. + +"First thing I do, sah, is to speculate in a dog-team," said the +Colonel. + +Most of the bucks were gone off hunting, and most of the dogs were with +them. Only three left in the village--but they were wonderful fellows +those three! Where were they? Well, the old man you see before you, +"_me_--got two." + +He led the way behind a little shack, a troop of children following, +and there were two wolf-dogs, not in the best condition, one reddish, +with a white face and white forelegs, the other grey with a black +splotch on his chest and a white one on his back. + +"How much?" + +"Fiftee dolla." + +"And this one?" + +"Fiftee dolla." As the Colonel hesitated, the old fellow added: "Bohf +eightee dolla." + +"Oh, eightee for the two?" + +He nodded. + +"Well, where's the other?" + +"Hein?" + +"The other--the third dog. Two are no good." + +"Yes. Yes," he said angrily, "heap good dog." + +"Well, I'll give you eighty dollars for these" (the Ingalik, taking a +pipe out of his parki, held out one empty hand); "but who's got the +other?" + +For answer, a head-shake, the outstretched hand, and the words, +"Eightee dolla--tabak--tea." + +"Wait," interrupted the Boy, turning to the group of children; "where's +the other dog?" + +Nobody answered. The Boy pantomimed. "We want _three_ dogs." He held up +as many fingers. "We got two--see?--must have one more." A lad of about +thirteen turned and began pointing with animation towards a slowly +approaching figure. + +"Peetka--him got." + +The old man began to chatter angrily, and abuse the lad for introducing +a rival on the scene. The strangers hailed the new-comer. + +"How much is your dog?" + +Peetka stopped, considered, studied the scene immediately before him, +and then the distant prospect. + +"You got dog?" + +He nodded. + +"Well, how much?" + +"Sixty dolla." + +"_One_ dog, sixty?" + +He nodded. + +"But this man says the price is eighty for two." + +"My dog--him Leader." + +After some further conversation, "Where is your dog?" demanded the +Colonel. + +The new-comer whistled and called. After some waiting, and +well-simulated anger on the part of the owner, along comes a dusky +Siwash, thin, but keen-looking, and none too mild-tempered. + +The children all brightened and craned, as if a friend, or at least a +highly interesting member of the community, had appeared on the scene. + +"The Nigger's the best!" whispered the Boy. + +"Him bully," said the lad, and seemed about to pat him, but the Siwash +snarled softly, raising his lip and showing his Gleaming fangs. The lad +stepped back respectfully, but grinned, reiterating, "Bully dog." + +"Well, I'll give you fifty for him," said the Colonel. + +"Sixty." + +"Well, all right, since he's a leader. Sixty." + +The owner watched the dog as it walked round its master smelling the +snow, then turning up its pointed nose interrogatively and waving its +magnificent feathery tail. The oblique eyes, acute angle of his short +ears, the thick neck, broad chest, and heavy forelegs, gave an +impression of mingled alertness and strength you will not see surpassed +in any animal that walks the world. Jet-black, except for his grey +muzzle and broad chest, he looks at you with the face of his near +ancestor, the grizzled wolf. If on short acquaintance you offer any +familiarity, as the Colonel ventured to do, and he shows his double row +of murderous-looking fangs, the reminder of his fierce forefathers is +even more insistent. Indeed, to this day your Siwash of this sort will +have his moments of nostalgia, in which he turns back to his wild +kinsfolk, and mates again with the wolf. + +When the Leader looked at the Colonel with that indescribably horrid +smile, the owner's approval of the proud beast seemed to overcome his +avarice. + +"Me no sell," he decided abruptly, and walked off in lordly fashion +with his dusky companion at his side, the Leader curling his feathery +tail arc-like over his back, and walking with an air princes might +envy. + +The Colonel stood staring. Vainly the Boy called, "Come back. Look +here! Hi!" Neither Siwash nor Ingalik took the smallest notice. The Boy +went after them, eliciting only airs of surly indifference and repeated +"Me no sell." It was a bitter disappointment, especially to the Boy. He +liked the looks of that Nigger dog. When, plunged in gloom, he returned +to the group about the Colonel, he found his pardner asking about +"feed." No, the old man hadn't enough fish to spare even a few days' +supply. Would anybody here sell fish? No, he didn't think so. All the +men who had teams were gone to the hills for caribou; there was nobody +to send to the Summer Caches. He held out his hand again for the first +instalment of the "eightee dolla," in kind, that he might put it in his +pipe. + +"But dogs are no good to us without something to feed 'em." + +The Ingalik looked round as one seeking counsel. + +"Get fish tomalla." + +"No, sir. To-day's the only day in my calendar. No buy dogs till we get +fish." + +When the negotiations fell through the Indian took the failure far more +philosophically than the white men, as was natural. The old fellow +could quite well get on without "eightee dolla"--could even get on +without the tobacco, tea, sugar, and matches represented by that sum, +but the travellers could not without dogs get to Minook. It had been +very well to feel set up because they had done the thing that everybody +said was impossible. It had been a costly victory. Yes, it had come +high. "And, after all, if we don't get dogs we're beaten." + +"Oh, beaten be blowed! We'll toddle along somehow." + +"Yes, we'll toddle along _if_ we get dogs." + +And the Boy knew the Colonel was right. + +They inquired about Kaltag. + +"I reckon we'd better push ahead while we can," said the Colonel. So +they left the camp that same evening intending to "travel with the +moon." The settlement was barely out of sight when they met a squaw +dragging a sled-load of salmon. Here was luck! "And now we'll go back +and get those two dogs." + +As it was late, and trading with the natives, even for a fish, was a +matter of much time and patience, they decided not to hurry the dog +deal. It was bound to take a good part of the evening, at any rate. +Well, another night's resting up was welcome enough. + +While the Colonel was re-establishing himself in the best cabin, the +Boy cached the sled and then went prowling about. As he fully intended, +he fell in with the Leader--that "bully Nigger dog." His master not in +sight--nobody but some dirty children and the stranger there to see how +the Red Dog, in a moment of aberration, dared offer insolence to the +Leader. It all happened through the Boy's producing a fish, and +presenting it on bended knee at a respectful distance. The Leader +bestowed a contemptuous stare upon the stranger and pointedly turned +his back. The Red Dog came "loping" across the snow. As he made for the +fish the Leader quietly headed him off, pointed his sharp ears, and +just looked the other fellow out of countenance. Red said things under +his breath as he turned away. The more he thought the situation over +the more he felt himself outraged. He looked round over his shoulder. +There they still were, the stranger holding out the fish, the Leader +turning his back on it, but telegraphing Red at the same time _not to +dare!_ It was more than dog-flesh could bear; Red bounded back, +exploding in snarls. No sound out of the Leader. Whether this unnatural +calm misled Red, he came up closer, braced his forelegs, and thrust his +tawny muzzle almost into the other dog's face, drew back his lips from +all those shining wicked teeth, and uttered a muffled hiss. + +Well, it was magnificently done, and it certainly looked as if the +Leader was going to have a troubled evening. But he didn't seem to +think so. He "fixed" the Red Dog as one knowing the power of the +master's eye to quell. Red's reply, unimaginably bold, was, as the Boy +described it to the Colonel, "to give the other fella the curse." The +Boy was proud of Red's pluck--already looking upon him as his own--but +he jumped up from his ingratiating attitude, still grasping the dried +fish. It would be a shame if that Leader got chewed up! And there was +Red, every tooth bared, gasping for gore, and with each passing second +seeming to throw a deeper damnation into his threat, and to brace +himself more firmly for the hurling of the final doom. + +At that instant, the stranger breathing quick and hard, the elder +children leaning forward, some of the younger drawing back in +terror--if you'll believe it, the Leader blinked in a bored way, and +sat down on the snow. A question only of last moments now, poor brute! +and the bystanders held their breath. But no! Red, to be sure, broke +into the most awful demonstrations, and nearly burst himself with fury; +but he backed away, as though the spectacle offered by the Leader were +too disgusting for a decent dog to look at. He went behind the shack +and told the Spotty One. In no time they were back, approaching the Boy +and the fish discreetly from behind. Such mean tactics roused the +Leader's ire. He got up and flew at them. They made it hot for him, but +still the Leader seemed to be doing pretty well for himself, when the +old Ingalik (whom the Boy had sent a child to summon) hobbled up with a +raw-hide whip, and laid it on with a practised hand, separating the +combatants, kicking them impartially all round, and speaking injurious +words. + +"Are your two hurt?" inquired the future owner anxiously. + +The old fellow shook his head. + +"Fur thick," was the reassuring answer; and once more the Boy realised +that these canine encounters, though frequently ending in death, often +look and sound much more awful than they are. + +As the Leader feigned to be going home, he made a dash in passing at +the stranger's fish. It was held tight, and the pirate got off with +only a fragment. Leader gave one swallow and looked back to see how the +theft was being taken. That surprising stranger simply stood there +laughing, and holding out the rest of a fine fat fish! Leader +considered a moment, looked the alien up and down, came back, all on +guard for sudden rushes, sly kicks, and thwackings, to pay him out. But +nothing of the kind. The Nigger dog said as plain as speech could make +it: + +"You cheechalko person, you look as if you're actually offering me that +fish in good faith. But I'd be a fool to think so." + +The stranger spoke low and quietly. + +They talked for some time. + +The owner of the two had shuffled off home again, with Spotty and Red +at his heels. + +The Leader came quite near, looking almost docile; but he snapped +suddenly at the fish with an ugly gleam of eye and fang. The Boy nearly +made the fatal mistake of jumping, but he controlled the impulse, and +merely held tight to what was left of the salmon. He stood quite still, +offering it with fair words. The Leader walked all round him, and +seemed with difficulty to recover from his surprise. The Boy felt that +they were just coming to an understanding, when up hurries Peetka, +suspicious and out of sorts. + +_"My dog!"_ he shouted. "No sell white man my dog. Huh! ho--_oh_ no!" +He kicked the Leader viciously, and drove him home, abusing him all the +way. The wonder was that the wolfish creature didn't fly at his +master's throat and finish him. + +Certainly the stranger's sympathies were all with the four-legged one +of the two brutes. + +"--something about the Leader--" the Boy said sadly, telling the +Colonel what had happened. "Well, sir, I'd give a hundred dollars to +own that dog." + +"So would I," was the dry rejoinder, "if I were a millionaire like +you." + + * * * * * + +After supper, their host, who had been sent out to bring in the owner +of Red and Spotty, came back saying, "He come. All come. Me tell--you +from below Holy Cross!" He laughed and shook his head in a +well-pantomimed incredulity, representing popular opinion outside. Some +of the bucks, he added, who had not gone far, had got back with small +game. + +"And dogs?" + +"No. Dogs in the mountains. Hunt moose--caribou." + +The old Ingalik came in, followed by others. "Some" of the bucks? There +seemed no end to the throng. + +Opposite the white men the Indians sat in a semicircle, with the sole +intent, you might think, of staring all night at the strangers. Yet +they had brought in Arctic hares and grouse, and even a haunch of +venison. But they laid these things on the floor beside them, and sat +with grave unbroken silence till the strangers should declare +themselves. They had also brought, or permitted to follow, not only +their wives and daughters, but their children, big and little. + +Behind the semicircle of men, three or four deep, were ranged the ranks +of youth--boys and girls from six to fourteen--standing as silent as +their elders, but eager, watchful, carrying king salmon, dried +deer-meat, boot-soles, thongs for snow-shoes, rabbits, grouse. A little +fellow of ten or eleven had brought in the Red Dog, and was trying to +reconcile him to his close quarters. The owner of Red and Spotty sat +with empty hands at the semicircle's farthest end. But he was the +capitalist of the village, and held himself worthily, yet not quite +with the high and mighty unconcern of the owner of the Leader. + +Peetka came in late, bringing in the Nigger dog against the Nigger +dog's will, just to tantalise the white men with the sight of something +they couldn't buy from the poor Indian. Everybody made way for Peetka +and his dog, except the other dog. Several people had to go to the +assistance of the little boy to help him to hold Red. + +"Just as well, perhaps," said the Colonel, "that we aren't likely to +get all three." + +"Oh, if they worked together they'd be all right," answered the Boy. +"I've noticed that before." But the Leader, meanwhile, was flatly +refusing to stay in the same room with Red. He howled and snapped and +raged. So poor Red was turned out, and the little boy mourned loudly. + +Behind the children, a row of squaws against the wall, with and without +babies strapped at their backs. Occasionally a young girl would push +aside those in front of her, craning and staring to take in the +astonishing spectacle of the two white men who had come so far without +dogs--pulling a hand-sled a greater distance than any Indian had ever +done--if they could be believed! + +Anyhow, these men with their sack of tea and magnificent bundle of +matches, above all with their tobacco--they could buy out the +town--everything except Peetka's dog. + +The Colonel and the Boy opened the ball by renewing their joint offer +of eighty dollars for Red and Spotty. Although this had been the old +Ingalik's own price, it was discussed fully an hour by all present +before the matter could be considered finally settled, even then the +Colonel knew it was safest not to pay till just upon leaving. But he +made a little present of tobacco in token of satisfactory arrangement. +The old man's hands trembled excitedly as he pulled out his pipe and +filled it. The bucks round him, and even a couple of the women at the +back, begged him for some. He seemed to say, "Do your own deal; the +strangers have plenty more." + +By-and-by, in spite of the limited English of the community, certain +facts stood out: that Peetka held the white man in avowed detestation, +that he was the leading spirit of the place, that they had all been +suffering from a tobacco famine, and that much might be done by a +judicious use of Black Jack and Long Green. The Colonel set forth the +magnificent generosity of which he would be capable, could he secure a +good Leader. But Peetka, although he looked at his empty pipe with +bitterness, shook his head. + +Everybody in the village would profit, the Colonel went on; everybody +should have a present if-- + +Peetka interrupted with a snarl, and flung out low words of +contemptuous refusal. + +The Leader waked from a brief nap cramped and uneasy, and began to howl +in sympathy. His master stood up, the better to deliver a brutal kick. +This seemed to help the Leader to put up with cramp and confinement, +just as one great discomfort will help his betters to forget several +little ones. But the Boy had risen with angry eyes. Very well, he said +impulsively; if he and his pardner couldn't get a third dog (two were +very little good) they would not stock fresh meat here. In vain the +Colonel whispered admonition. No, sir, they would wait till they got to +the next village. + +"Belly far," said a young hunter, placing ostentatiously in front his +brace of grouse. + +"We're used to going belly far. Take all your game away, and go home." + +A sorrowful silence fell upon the room. They sat for some time like +that, no one so much as moving, till a voice said, "We want tobacco," +and a general murmur of assent arose. Peetka roused himself, pulled out +of his shirt a concave stone and a little woody-looking knot. The Boy +leaned forward to see what it was. A piece of dried fungus--the kind +you sometimes see on the birches up here. Peetka was hammering a +fragment of it into powder, with his heavy clasp-knife, on the concave +stone. He swept the particles into his pipe and applied to one of the +fish-selling women for a match, lit up, and lounged back against the +Leader, smiling disagreeably at the strangers. A little laugh at their +expense went round the room. Oh, it wasn't easy to get ahead of Peetka! +But even if he chose to pretend that he didn't want cheechalko tobacco, +it was very serious--it was desperate--to see all that Black Jack going +on to the next village. Several of the hitherto silent bucks +remonstrated with Peetka--even one of the women dared raise her voice. +She had not been able to go for fish: where was _her_ tobacco and tea? + +Peetka burst into voluble defence of his position. Casting occasional +looks of disdain upon the strangers, he addressed most of his remarks +to the owner of Red and Spotty. Although the Colonel could not +understand a word, he saw the moment approaching when that person would +go back on his bargain. With uncommon pleasure he could have throttled +Peetka. + +The Boy, to create a diversion, had begun talking to a young hunter in +the front row about "the Long Trail," and, seeing that several others +craned and listened, he spoke louder, more slowly, dropping out all +unnecessary or unusual words. Very soon he had gained an audience and +Peetka had lost one. As the stranger went on describing their +experiences the whole room listened with an attentiveness that would +have been flattering had it been less strongly dashed with unbelief. +From beyond Anvik they had come? Like that--with no dogs? What! From +below Koserefsky? Not really? Peetka grunted and shook his head. Did +they think the Ingaliks were children? Without dogs that journey was +impossible. Low whispers and gruff exclamations filled the room. White +men were great liars. They pretended that in their country the bacon +had legs, and could run about, and one had been heard to say he had +travelled in a thing like a steamboat, only it could go without water +under it--ran over the dry land on strips of iron--ran quicker than any +steamer! Oh, they were awful liars. But these two, who pretended they'd +dragged a sled all the way from Holy Cross, they were the biggest liars +of all. Just let them tell that yarn to Unookuk. They all laughed at +this, and the name ran round the room. + +"Who is Unookuk?" + +"Him guide." + +"Him know." + +"Where is him?" asked the Boy. + +"Him sick." + +But there was whispering and consultation. This was evidently a case +for the expert. Two boys ran out, and the native talk went on, +unintelligible save for the fact that it centred round Unookuk. In a +few minutes the boys came back with a tall, fine-looking native, about +sixty years old, walking lame, and leaning on a stick. The semicircle +opened to admit him. He limped over to the strangers, and stood looking +at them gravely, modestly, but with careful scrutiny. + +The Boy held out his hand. + +"How do you do?" + +"How do you do?" echoed the new-comer, and he also shook hands with the +Colonel before he sat down. + +"Are you Unookuk?" + +"Yes. How far you come?" + +Peetka said something rude, before the strangers had time to answer, +and all the room went into titters. But Unookuk listened with dignity +while the Colonel repeated briefly the story already told. Plainly it +stumped Unookuk. + +"Come from Anvik?" he repeated. + +"Yes; stayed with Mr. Benham." + +"Oh, Benham!" The trader's familiar name ran round the room with +obvious effect. "It is good to have A. C. Agent for friend," said +Unookuk guardedly. "Everybody know Benham." + +"He is not A. C. Agent much longer," volunteered the Boy. + +"That so?" + +"No; he will go 'on his own' after the new agent gets in this spring." + +"It is true," answered Unookuk gravely, for the first time a little +impressed, for this news was not yet common property. Still, they could +have heard it from some passer with a dog-team. The Boy spoke of Holy +Cross, and Unookuk's grave unbelief was painted on every feature. + +"It was good you get to Holy Cross before the big storm," he said, with +a faint smile of tolerance for the white man's tall story. But Peetka +laughed aloud. + +"What good English you speak!" said the Boy, determined to make friends +with the most intelligent-appearing native he had seen. + +"Me; I am Kurilla!" said Unookuk, with a quiet magnificence. Then, +seeing no electric recognition of the name, he added: "You savvy +Kurilla!" + +The Colonel with much regret admitted that he did not. + +"But I am Dall's guide--Kurilla." + +"Oh, Dall's guide, are you," said the Boy, without a glimmer of who +Dall was, or for what, or to what, he was "guided." "Well, Kurilla, +we're pleased and proud to meet you," adding with some presence of +mind, "And how's Dall?" + +"It is long I have not hear. We both old now. I hurt my knee on the ice +when I come down from Nulato for caribou." + +"Why do you have two names?" + +"Unookuk, Nulato name. My father big Nulato Shaman. Him killed, mother +killed, everybody killed in Koyukuk massacre. They forget kill me. Me +kid. Russians find Unookuk in big wood. Russians give food. I stay with +Russians--them call Unookuk 'Kurilla.' Dall call Unookuk 'Kurilla.'" + +"Dall--Dall," said the Colonel to the Boy; "was that the name of the +explorer fella--" + +Fortunately the Boy was saved from need to answer. + +"First white man go down Yukon to the sea," said Kurilla with pride. +"Me Dall's guide." + +"Oh, wrote a book, didn't he? Name's familiar somehow," said the +Colonel. + +Kurilla bore him out. + +"Mr. Dall great man. Thirty year he first come up here with Survey +people. Make big overland tel-ee-grab." + +"Of course. I've heard about that." The Colonel turned to the Boy. "It +was just before the Russians sold out. And when a lot of exploring and +surveying and pole-planting was done here and in Siberia, the Atlantic +cable was laid and knocked the overland scheme sky-high." + +Kurilla gravely verified these facts. + +"And me, Dall's chief guide. Me with Dall when he make portage from +Unalaklik to Kaltag. He see the Yukon first time. He run down to be +first on the ice. Dall and the coast natives stare, like so"--Kurilla +made a wild-eyed, ludicrous face--"and they say: 'It is not a river--it +is another sea!'" + +"No wonder. I hear it's ten miles wide up by the flats, and even a +little below where we wintered, at Ikogimeut, it's four miles across +from bank to bank." + +Kurilla looked at the Colonel with dignified reproach. Why did he go on +lying about his journey like that to an expert? + +"Even at Holy Cross--" the Boy began, but Kurilla struck in: + +"When you there?" + +"Oh, about three weeks ago." + +Peetka made remarks in Ingalik. + +"Father MacManus, him all right?" asked Kurilla, politely cloaking his +cross-examination. + +"MacManus? Do you mean Wills, or the Superior, Father Brachet?" + +"Oh yes! MacManus at Tanana." He spoke as though inadvertently he had +confused the names. As the strangers gave him the winter's news from +Holy Cross, his wonder and astonishment grew. + +Presently, "Do you know my friend Nicholas of Pymeut?" asked the Boy. + +Kurilla took his empty pipe out of his mouth and smiled in broad +surprise. "Nicholas!" repeated several others. It was plain the Pymeut +pilot enjoyed a wide repute. + +The Boy spoke of the famine and Ol' Chief's illness. + +"It is true," said Unookuk gravely, and turning, he added something in +Ingalik to the company. Peetka answered back as surly as ever. But the +Boy went on, telling how the Shaman had cured Ol' Chief, and that +turned out to be a surprisingly popular story. Peetka wouldn't +interrupt it, even to curse the Leader for getting up and stretching +himself. When the dog--feeling that for some reason discipline was +relaxed--dared to leave his cramped quarters, and come out into the +little open space between the white men and the close-packed assembly, +the Boy forced himself to go straight on with his story as if he had +not observed the liberty the Leader was taking. When, after standing +there an instant, the dog came over and threw himself down at the +stranger's feet as if publicly adopting him, the white story-teller +dared not meet Peetka's eye. He was privately most uneasy at the Nigger +dog's tactless move, and he hurried on about how Brother Paul caught +the Shaman, and about the Penitential Journey--told how, long before +that, early in the Fall, Nicholas had got lost, making the portage from +St. Michael's, and how the white camp had saved him from starvation; +how in turn the Pymeuts had pulled the speaker out of a blow-hole; what +tremendous friends the Pymeuts were with these particular, very good +sort of white men. Here he seemed to allow by implication for Peetka's +prejudice--there were two kinds of pale-face strangers--and on an +impulse he drew out Muckluck's medal. He would have them to know, so +highly were these present specimens of the doubtful race regarded by +the Pymeuts--such friends were they, that Nicholas' sister had given +him this for an offering to Yukon Inua, that the Great Spirit might +help them on their way. He owned himself wrong to have delayed this +sacrifice. He must to-morrow throw it into the first blow-hole he came +to--unless indeed... his eye caught Kurilla's. With the help of his +stick the old Guide pulled his big body up on his one stout leg, +hobbled nearer and gravely eyed Muckluck's offering as it swung to and +fro on its walrus-string over the Leader's head. The Boy, quite +conscious of some subtle change in the hitherto immobile face of the +Indian, laid the token in his hand. Standing there in the centre of the +semicircle between the assembly and the dog, Kurilla turned the Great +Katharine's medal over, examining it closely, every eye in the room +upon him. + +When he lifted his head there was a rustle of expectation and a craning +forward. + +"It is the same." Kurilla spoke slowly like one half in a dream. "When +I go down river, thirty winter back, with the Great Dall, he try buy +this off Nicholas's mother. She wear it on string red Russian beads. +Oh, it is a thing to remember!" He nodded his grey head significantly, +but he went on with the bare evidence: "When _John J. Healy_ make last +trip down this fall--Nicholas pilot you savvy--they let him take his +sister, Holy Cross to Pymeut. I see she wear this round neck." + +The weight of the medal carried the raw-hide necklace slipping through +his fingers. Slowly now, with even impulse, the silver disc swung +right, swung left, like the pendulum of a clock. Even the Nigger dog +seemed hypnotised, following the dim shine of the tarnished token. + +"I say Nicholas's sister: 'It is thirty winters I see that silver +picture first; I give you two dolla for him.' She say 'No.' I say, 'Gi' +fi' dolla.' 'No.' I sit and think far back--thirty winters back. 'I gi' +ten dolla,' I say. She say, 'I no sell; no--not for a hunner'--but she +_give_ it him! for to make Yukon Inua to let him go safe. Hein? Savvy?" +And lapsing into Ingalik, he endorsed this credential not to be denied. + +"It is true," he wound up in English. The "Autocratrix Russorum" was +solemnly handed back. "You have make a brave journey. It is I who +unnerstan'--I, too, when I am young, I go with Dall on the Long Trail. +_We had dogs._" All the while, from all about the Leader's owner, and +out of every corner of the crowded room, had come a spirited +punctuation of Kurilla's speech--nods and grunts. "Yes, perhaps _these_ +white men deserved dogs--even Peetka's!" + +Kurilla limped back to his place, but turned to the Ingaliks before he +sat down, and bending painfully over his stick, "Not Kurilla," he said, +as though speaking of one absent--"not _Dall_ make so great journey, no +dogs. Kurilla? Best guide in Yukon forty year. Kurilla say: 'Must have +dogs--men like that!'" He limped back again and solemnly offered his +hand to each of the travellers in turn. "Shake!" says he. Then, as +though fascinated by the silver picture, he dropped down by the Boy, +staring absently at the Great Katharine's effigy. The general murmur +was arrested by a movement from Peetka--he took his pipe out of his +mouth and says he, handsomely: + +"No liars. Sell dog," adding, with regretful eye on the apostate +Leader, "Him bully dog!" + +And that was how the tobacco famine ended, and how the white men got +their team. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE ESQUIMAUX HORSE + + "Plus je connais les hommes, plus j'aime les chiens." + + +It doesn't look hard to drive a dog-team, but just you try it. In +moments of passion, the first few days after their acquisition, the +Colonel and the Boy wondered why they had complicated a sufficiently +difficult journey by adding to other cares a load of fish and three +fiends. + +"Think how well they went for Peetka." + +"Oh yes; part o' their cussedness. They know we're green hands, and +they mean to make it lively." + +Well, they did. They sat on their haunches in the snow, and grinned at +the whip-crackings and futile "Mush, mush!" of the Colonel. They +snapped at the Boy and made sharp turns, tying him up in the traces and +tumbling him into the snow. They howled all night long, except during a +blessed interval of quiet while they ate their seal-skin harness. But +man is the wiliest of the animals, and the one who profits by +experience. In the end, the Boy became a capital driver; the dogs came +to know he "meant business," and settled into submission. "Nig," as he +called the bully dog for short, turned out "the best leader in the +Yukon." + +They were much nearer Kaltag than they had realised, arriving after +only two hours' struggle with the dogs at the big Indian village on the +left bank of the river. But their first appearance here was clouded by +Nig's proposal to slay all the dogs in sight. He was no sooner +unharnessed than he undertook the congenial job. It looked for a few +minutes as if Peetka's bully dog would chew up the entire canine +population, and then lie down and die of his own wounds. But the +Kaltags understood the genus Siwash better than the white man, and took +the tumult calmly. + +It turned out that Nig was not so much bloodthirsty as +"bloody-proud"--one of those high souls for ever concerned about +supremacy. His first social act, on catching sight of his fellow, was +to howl defiance at him. And even after they have fought it out and +come to some sort of understanding, the first happy thought of your +born Leader on awakening is to proclaim himself boss of the camp. + +No sooner has he published this conviction of high calling than he is +set upon by the others, punishes them soundly, or is himself vanquished +and driven off. Whereupon he sits on his haunches in the snow, and, +with his pointed nose turned skyward, howls uninterruptedly for an hour +or two, when all is forgiven and forgotten--till the next time. + +Order being restored, the travellers got new harness for the dogs, new +boots for themselves, and set out for the white trading post, thirty +miles above. + +Here, having at last come into the region of settlements, they agreed +never again to overtax the dogs. They "travelled light" out of Nulato +towards the Koyukuk. + +The dogs simply flew over those last miles. It was glorious going on a +trail like glass. + +They had broken the back of the journey now, and could well afford, +they thought, to halt an hour or two on the island at the junction of +the two great rivers, stake out a trading post, and treat themselves to +town lots. Why town lots, in Heaven's name! when they were bound for +Minook, and after that the Klondyke, hundreds of miles away? Well, +partly out of mere gaiety of heart, and partly, the Colonel would have +told you gravely, that in this country you never know when you have a +good thing. They had left the one white layman at Nulato seething with +excitement over an Indian's report of still another rich strike up +yonder on the Koyukuk, and this point, where they were solemnly staking +out a new post, the Nulato Agent had said, was "dead sure to be a great +centre." That almost unknown region bordering the great tributary of +the Yukon, haunt of the fiercest of all the Indians of the North, was +to be finally conquered by the white man. It had been left practically +unexplored ever since the days when the bloodthirsty Koyukons came down +out of their fastnesses and perpetrated the great Nulato massacre, +doing to death with ghastly barbarity every man, woman, and child at +the post, Russian or Indian, except Kurilla, not sparing the unlucky +Captain Barnard or his English escort, newly arrived here in their +search for the lost Sir John Franklin. But the tables were turned now, +and the white man was on the trail of the Indian. + +While the Colonel and the Boy were staking out this future stronghold +of trade and civilisation it came on to snow; but "Can't last this time +o' year," the Colonel consoled himself, and thanked God "the big, +unending snows are over for this season." + +So they pushed on. But the Colonel seemed to have thanked God +prematurely. Down the snow drifted, soft, sticky, unending. The evening +was cloudy, and the snow increased the dimness overhead as well as the +heaviness under foot. They never knew just where it was in the hours +between dusk and dark that they lost the trail. The Boy believed it was +at a certain steep incline that Nig did his best to rush down. + +"I thought he was at his tricks," said the Boy ruefully some hours +after. "I believe I'm an ass, and Nig is a gentleman and a scholar. He +knew perfectly what he was about." + +"Reckon we'll camp, pardner." + +"Reckon we might as well." + +After unharnessing the dogs, the Boy stood an instant looking enviously +at them as he thawed out his stiff hands under his parki. Exhausted and +smoking hot, the dogs had curled down in the snow as contented-looking +as though on a hearth-rug before a fire, sheltering their sharp noses +with their tails. + +"Wish I had a tail to shelter my face," said the Boy, as if a tail were +the one thing lacking to complete his bliss. + +"You don't need any shelter _now_," answered the Colonel. + +"Your face is gettin' well--" And he stopped suddenly, carried back to +those black days when he had vainly urged a face-guard. He unpacked +their few possessions, and watched the Boy take the axe and go off for +wood, stopping on his way, tired as he was, to pull Nig's pointed ears. +The odd thing about the Boy was that it was only with these Indian +curs--Nig in particular, who wasn't the Boy's dog at all--only with +these brute-beasts had he seemed to recover something of that buoyancy +and ridiculous youngness that had first drawn the Colonel to him on the +voyage up from 'Frisco. It was also clear that if the Boy now drew away +from his pardner ever so little, by so much did he draw nearer to the +dogs. + +He might be too tired to answer the Colonel; he was seldom too tired to +talk nonsense to Nig, never too tired to say, "Well, old boy," or even +"Well, _pardner_," to the dumb brute. It was, perhaps, this that the +Colonel disliked most of all. + +Whether the U.S. Agent at Nulato was justified or not in saying all the +region hereabouts was populous in the summer with Indian camps, the +native winter settlements, the half-buried ighloo, or the rude log-hut, +where, for a little tea, tobacco, or sugar, you could get as much fish +as you could carry, these welcome, if malodorous, places seemed, since +they lost the trail, to have vanished off the face of the earth. No +question of the men sharing the dogs' fish, but of the dogs sharing the +men's bacon and meal. That night the meagre supper was more meagre +still that the "horses" might have something, too. The next afternoon +it stopped snowing and cleared, intensely cold, and that was the +evening the Boy nearly cried for joy when, lifting up his eyes, he saw, +a good way off, perched on the river bank, the huts and high caches of +an Indian village etched black against a wintry sunset--a fine picture +in any eye, but meaning more than beauty to the driver of hungry dogs. + +"Fish, Nig!" called out the Boy to his Leader. "You hear me, you Nig? +_Fish_, old fellow! Now, look at that, Colonel! you tell me that Indian +dog doesn't understand English. I tell you what: we had a mean time +with these dogs just at first, but that was only because we didn't +understand one another." + +The Colonel preserved a reticent air. + +"You'll come to my way of thinking yet. The Indian dog--he's a daisy." + +"Glad you think so." The Colonel, with some display of temper, had +given up trying to drive the team only half an hour before, and was +still rather sore about it. + +"When you get to _understand_ him," persisted the Boy, "he's the most +marvellous little horse ever hitched in harness. He pulls, pulls, pulls +all day long in any kind o' weather--" + +"Yes, pulls you off your legs or pulls you the way you don't want to +go." + +"Oh, that's when you rile him! He's just like any other American +gentleman: he's got his feelin's. Ain't you got feelin's, Nig? Huh! +rather. I tell you what, Colonel, many a time when I'm pretty well beat +and ready to snap at anybody, I've looked at Nig peggin' away like a +little man, on a rotten trail, with a blizzard in his eyes, and it's +just made me sick after that to hear myself grumblin'. Yes, sir, the +Indian dog is an example to any white man on the trail." The Boy seemed +not to relinquish the hope of stirring the tired Colonel to enthusiasm. +"Don't you like the way, after the worst sort of day, when you stop, he +just drops down in the snow and rolls about a little to rest his +muscles, and then lies there as patient as anything till you are ready +to unharness him and feed him?" + +"--and if you don't hurry up, he saves you the trouble of unharnessing +by eating the traces and things." + +"Humph! So would you if that village weren't in sight, if you were sure +the harness wouldn't stick in your gizzard. And think of what a dog +gets to reward him for his plucky day: one dried salmon or a little +meal-soup when he's off on a holiday like this. Works without a let-up, +and keeps in good flesh on one fish a day. Doesn't even get anything to +drink; eats a little snow after dinner, digs his bed, and sleeps in a +drift till morning." + +"When he doesn't howl all night." + +"Oh, that's when he meets his friends, and they talk about old times +before they came down in the world." + +"Hey?" + +"Yes; when they were wolves and made us run instead of our making them. +Make any fellow howl. Instead of carrying our food about we used to +carry theirs, and run hard to keep from giving it up, too." + +"Nig's at it again," said the Colonel. "Give us your whip." + +"No," said the Boy; "I begin to see now why he stops and goes for Red +like that. Hah! Spot's gettin it, too, this time. They haven't been +pullin' properly. You just notice: if they aren't doin' their share +Nig'll turn to every time and give 'em 'Hail, Columbia!' You'll see, +when he's freshened 'em up a bit we'll have 'em on a dead run." The Boy +laughed and cracked his whip. + +"They've got keen noses. _I_ don't smell the village this time. Come +on, Nig, Spot's had enough; he's sorry, good and plenty. Cheer up, +Spot! Fish, old man! You hear me talkin' to you, Red? _Fish!_ Caches +full of it. Whoop!" and down they rushed, pell-mell, men and dogs +tearing along like mad across the frozen river, and never slowing till +it came to the stiff pull up the opposite bank. + +"Funny I don't hear any dogs," panted the Boy. + +They came out upon a place silent as the dead--a big deserted village, +emptied by the plague, or, maybe, only by the winter; caches emptied, +too; not a salmon, not a pike, not a lusk, not even a whitefish left +behind. + +It was a bitter blow. They didn't say anything; it was too bad to talk +about. The Colonel made the fire, and fried a little bacon and made +some mush: that was their dinner. The bacon-rinds were boiled in the +mush-pot with a great deal of snow and a little meal, and the "soup" so +concocted was set out to cool for the dogs. They were afraid to sleep +in one of the cabins; it might be plague-infected. The Indians had cut +all the spruce for a wide radius round about--no boughs to make a bed. +They hoisted some tent-poles up into one of the empty caches, laid them +side by side, and on this bed, dry, if hard, they found oblivion. + +The next morning a thin, powdery snow was driving about. Had they lost +their way in the calendar as well as on the trail, and was it December +instead of the 29th of March? The Colonel sat on the packed sled, +undoing with stiff fingers the twisted, frozen rope. He knew the axe +that he used the night before on the little end of bacon was lying, +pressed into the snow, under one runner. But that was the last thing to +go on the pack before the lashing, and it wouldn't get lost pinned down +under the sled. Nig caught sight of it, and came over with a cheerful +air of interest, sniffed bacon on the steel, and it occurred to him it +would be a good plan to lick it. + +A bitter howling broke the stillness. The Boy came tearing up with a +look that lifted the Colonel off the sled, and there was Nig trying to +get away from the axe-head, his tongue frozen fast to the steel, and +pulled horribly long out of his mouth like a little pink rope. The Boy +had fallen upon the agonized beast, and forced him down close to the +steel. Holding him there between his knees, he pulled off his outer +mits and with hands and breath warmed the surface of the axe, speaking +now and then to the dog, who howled wretchedly, but seemed to +understand something was being done for him, since he gave up +struggling. When at last the Boy got him free, the little horse pressed +against his friend's legs with a strange new shuddering noise very +pitiful to hear. + +The Boy, blinking hard, said: "Yes, old man, I know, that was a mean +breakfast; and he patted the shaggy chest. Nig bent his proud head and +licked the rescuing hand with his bleeding tongue. + +"An' you say that dog hasn't got feelin's!" + +They hitched the team and pushed on. In the absence of a trail, the +best they could do was to keep to the river ice. By-and-bye: + +"Can you see the river bank?" + +"I'm not sure," said the Boy. + +"I thought you were going it blind." + +"I believe I'd better let Nig have his head," said the Boy, stopping; +"he's the dandy trail-finder. Nig, old man, I takes off my hat to you!" + +They pushed ahead till the half-famished dogs gave out. They camped +under the lee of the propped sled, and slept the sleep of exhaustion. + +The next morning dawned clear and warm. The Colonel managed to get a +little wood and started a fire. There were a few spoonfuls of meal in +the bottom of the bag and a little end of bacon, mostly rind. The sort +of soup the dogs had had yesterday was good enough for men to-day. The +hot and watery brew gave them strength enough to strike camp and move +on. The elder man began to say to himself that he would sell his life +dearly. He looked at the dogs a good deal, and then would look at the +Boy, but he could never catch his eye. At last: "They say, you know, +that men in our fix have sometimes had to sacrifice a dog." + +"Ugh!" The Boy's face expressed nausea at the thought. + +"Yes, it is pretty revolting." + +"We could never do it." + +"N-no," said the Colonel. + +The three little Esquimaux horses were not only very hungry, their feet +were in a bad condition, and were bleeding. The Boy had shut his eyes +at first at the sight of their red tracks in the snow. He hardly +noticed them now. + +An hour or so later: "Better men than we," says the Colonel +significantly, "have had to put their feelings in their pockets." As if +he found the observation distinctly discouraging, Nig at this moment +sat down in the melting snow, and no amount of "mushing" moved him. + +"Let's give him half an hour's rest, Colonel. Valuable beast, you +know--altogether best team on the river," said the Boy, as if to show +that his suggestion was not inspired by mere pity for the bleeding +dogs. "And you look rather faded yourself, Colonel. Sit down and rest." + +Nothing more was said for a full half-hour, till the Colonel, taking +off his fur hat, and wiping his beaded forehead on the back of his +hand, remarked: "Think of the Siege of Paris." + +"Eh? What?" The Boy stared as if afraid his partner's brain had given +way. + +"When the horses gave out they had to eat dogs, cats, rats even. Think +of it--rats!" + +"The French are a dirty lot. Let's mush, Colonel. I'm as fit as a +fiddle." The Boy got up and called the dogs. In ten minutes they were +following the blind trail again. But the sled kept clogging, sticking +fast and breaking down. After a desperate bout of ineffectual pulling, +the dogs with one mind stopped again, and lay down in their bloody +tracks. + +The men stood silent for a moment; then the Colonel remarked: + +"Red is the least valuable"--a long pause--"but Nig's feet are in the +worst condition. That dog won't travel a mile further. Well," added the +Colonel after a bit, as the Boy stood speechless studying the team, +"what do you say?" + +"Me?" He looked up like a man who has been dreaming and is just awake. +"Oh, I should say our friend Nig here has had to stand more than his +share of the racket." + +"Poor old Nig!" said the Colonel, with a somewhat guilty air. "Look +here: what do you say to seeing whether they can go if we help 'em with +that load?" + +"Good for you, Colonel!" said the Boy, with confidence wonderfully +restored. "I was just thinking the same." + +They unlashed the pack, and the Colonel wanted to make two bundles of +the bedding and things; but whether the Boy really thought the Colonel +was giving out, or whether down in some corner of his mind he +recognised the fact that if the Colonel were not galled by this extra +burden he might feel his hunger less, and so be less prone to thoughts +of poor Nig in the pot--however it was, he said the bundle was his +business for the first hour. So the Colonel did the driving, and the +Boy tramped on ahead, breaking trail with thirty-five pounds on his +back. And he didn't give it up, either, though he admitted long after +it was the toughest time he had ever put in in all his life. + +"Haven't you had about enough of this?" the Colonel sang out at dusk. + +"Pretty nearly," said the Boy in a rather weak voice. He flung off the +pack, and sat on it. + +"Get up," says the Colonel; "give us the sleepin'-bag." When it was +undone, the Norfolk jacket dropped out. He rolled it up against the +sled, flung himself down, and heavily dropped his head on the rough +pillow. But he sprang up. + +"What? Yes. By the Lord!" He thrust his hand into the capacious pocket +of the jacket, and pulled out some broken ship's biscuit. "Hard tack, +by the living Jingo!" He was up, had a few sticks alight, and the +kettle on, and was melting snow to pour on the broken biscuit. "It +swells, you know, like thunder!" + +The Boy was still sitting on the bundle of "trade" tea and tobacco. He +seemed not to hear; he seemed not to see the Colonel, shakily hovering +about the fire, pushing aside the green wood and adding a few sticks of +dry. + +There was a mist before the Colonel's eyes. Reaching after a bit of +seasoned spruce, he stumbled, and unconsciously set his foot on Nig's +bleeding paw. The dog let out a yell and flew at him. The Colonel fell +back with an oath, picked up a stick, and laid it on. The Boy was on +his feet in a flash. + +"Here! stop that!" He jumped in between the infuriated man and the +infuriated dog. + +"Stand back!" roared the Colonel. + +"It was your fault; you trod--" + +"Stand back, damn you! or you'll get hurt." + +The stick would have fallen on the Boy; he dodged it, calling +excitedly, "Come here, Nig! Here!" + +"He's my dog, and I'll lamm him if I like. You--" The Colonel couldn't +see just where the Boy and the culprit were. Stumbling a few paces away +from the glare of the fire, he called out, "I'll kill that brute if he +snaps at me again!" + +"Oh yes," the Boy's voice rang passionately out of the gloom, "I know +you want him killed." + +The Colonel sat down heavily on the rolled-up bag. Presently the +bubbling of boiling snow-water roused him. He got up, divided the +biscuit, and poured the hot water over the fragments. Then he sat down +again, and waited for them to "swell like thunder." He couldn't see +where, a little way up the hillside, the Boy sat on a fallen tree with +Nig's head under his arm. The Boy felt pretty low in his mind. He sat +crouched together, with his head sunk almost to his knees. It was a +lonely kind of a world after all. Doing your level best didn't seem to +get you any forrader. What was the use? He started. Something warm, +caressing, touched his cold face just under one eye. Nig's tongue. + +"Good old Nig! You feel lonesome, too?" He gathered the rough beast up +closer to him. + +Just then the Colonel called, "Nig!" + +"Sh! sh! Lie quiet!" whispered the Boy. + +"Nig! Nig!" + +"Good old boy! Stay here! He doesn't mean well by you. _Sh!_ quiet! +_Quiet_, I say!" + +"Nig!" and the treacherous Colonel gave the peculiar whistle both men +used to call the dogs to supper. The dog struggled to get away, the +Boy's stiff fingers lost their grip, and "the best leader in the Yukon" +was running down the bank as hard as he could pelt, to the camp +fire--to the cooking-pot. + +The Boy got up and floundered away in the opposite direction. He must +get out of hearing. He toiled on, listening for the expected +gunshot--hearing it, too, and the yawp of a wounded dog, in spite of a +mitten clapped at each ear. + +"That's the kind of world it is! Do your level best, drag other fellas' +packs hundreds o' miles over the ice with a hungry belly and bloody +feet, and then--Poor old Nig!--'cause you're lame--poor old Nig!" With +a tightened throat and hot water in his eyes, he kept on repeating the +dog's name as he stumbled forward in the snow. "Nev' mind, old boy; +it's a lonely kind o' world, and the right trail's hard to find." +Suddenly he stood still. His stumbling feet were on a track. He had +reached the dip in the saddle-back of the hill, and--yes! this was the +_right_ trail; for down on the other side below him were faint +lights--huts--an Indian village! with fish and food for everybody. And +Nig--Nig was being-- + +The Boy turned as if a hurricane had struck him, and tore back down the +incline--stumbling, floundering in the snow, calling hoarsely: +"Colonel, Colonel! don't do it! There's a village here, Colonel! Nig! +Colonel, don't do it!" + +He dashed into the circle of firelight, and beheld Nig standing with a +bandaged paw, placidly eating softened biscuit out of the family +frying-pan. + +It was short work getting down to the village. They had one king salmon +and two white fish from the first Indian they saw, who wanted hootch +for them, and got only tabak. + +In the biggest of the huts, nearly full of men, women, and children, +coughing, sickly-looking, dejected, the natives made room for the +strangers. When the white men had supped they handed over the remains +of their meal (as is expected) to the head of the house. This and a few +matches or a little tobacco on parting, is all he looks for in return +for shelter, room for beds on the floor, snow-water laboriously melted, +use of the fire, and as much wood as they like to burn, even if it is a +barren place, and fuel is the precious far-travelled "drift." + +It is curious to see how soon travellers get past that first cheeckalko +feeling that it is a little "nervy," as the Boy had said, to walk into +another man's house uninvited, an absolute stranger, and take +possession of everything you want without so much as "by your leave." +You soon learn it is the Siwash[*] custom. + +[Footnote: Siwash, corruption of French-Canadian _sauvage_, applied all +over the North to the natives, their possessions and their customs.] + +Nothing would have seemed stranger now, or more inhuman, than the +civilized point of view. + +The Indians trailed out one by one, all except the old buck to whom the +hut belonged. He hung about for a bit till he was satisfied the +travellers had no hootch, not even a little for the head of the house, +and yet they seemed to be fairly decent fellows. Then he rolls up his +blankets, for there is a premium on sleeping-space, and goes out, with +never a notion that he is doing more than any man would, anywhere in +the world, to find a place in some neighbour's hut to pass the night. + +He leaves the two strangers, as Indian hospitality ordains, to the +warmest places in the best hut, with two young squaws, one old one, and +five children, all sleeping together on the floor, as a matter of +course. + +The Colonel and the Boy had flung themselves down on top of their +sleeping-bag, fed and warmed and comforted. Only the old squaw was +still up. She had been looking over the travellers' boots and "mitts," +and now, without a word or even a look being exchanged upon the +subject, she sat there in the corner, by the dim, seal-oil light, +sewing on new thongs, patching up holes, and making the strange men +tidy--men she had never seen before and would never see again. And +this, no tribute to the Colonel's generosity or the youth and friendly +manners of the Boy. They knew the old squaw would have done just the +same had the mucklucks and the mitts belonged to "the tramp of the +Yukon," with nothing to barter and not a cent in his pocket. This, +again, is a Siwash custom. + +The old squaw coughed and wiped her eyes. The children coughed in their +sleep. + +The dogs outside were howling like human beings put to torture. But the +sound no longer had power to freeze the blood of the trail-men. + +The Colonel merely damned them. The Boy lifted his head, and listened +for Nig's note. The battle raged nearer; a great scampering went by the +tent. + +"Nig!" + +A scuffling and snuffing round the bottom of the tent. The Boy, on a +sudden impulse, reached out and lifted the flap. + +"Got your bandage on? Come here." + +Nig brisked in with the air of one having very little time to waste. + +"Lord! I should think you'd be glad to lie down. _I_ am. Let's see your +paw. Here, come over to the light." He stepped very carefully over the +feet of the other inhabitants till he reached the old woman's corner. +Nig, following calmly, walked on prostrate bodies till he reached his +friend. + +"Now, your paw, pardner. F-ith! Bad, ain't it?" he appealed to the +toothless squaw. Her best friend could not have said her wizened regard +was exactly sympathetic, but it was attentive. She seemed intelligent +as well as kind. + +"Look here," whispered the Boy, "let that muckluck string o' mine +alone." He drew it away, and dropped it between his knees. "Haven't you +got something or other to make some shoes for Nig? Hein?" He +pantomimed, but she only stared. "Like this." He pulled out his knife, +and cut off the end of one leg of his "shaps," and gathered it gently +round Nig's nearest foot. "Little dog-boots. See? Give you some bully +tabak if you'll do that for Nig. Hein?" + +She nodded at last, and made a queer wheezy sound, whether friendly +laughing or pure scorn, the Boy wasn't sure. But she set about the +task. + +"Come 'long, Nig," he whispered. "You just see if I don't shoe my +little horse." And he sneaked back to bed, comfortable in the assurance +that the Colonel was asleep. Nig came walking after his friend straight +over people's heads. + +One of the children sat up and whimpered. The Colonel growled sleepily. + +"You black devil!" admonished the Boy under his breath. "Look what +you're about. Come here, sir." He pushed the devil down between the +sleeping-bag and the nearest baby. + +The Colonel gave a distinct grunt of disapproval, and then, "Keepin' +that brute in here?" + +"He's a lot cleaner than our two-legged friends," said the Boy sharply, +as if answering an insult. + +"Right," said the Colonel with conviction. + +His pardner was instantly mollified. "If you wake another baby, you'll +get a lickin'," he said genially to the dog; and then he stretched out +his feet till they reached Nig's back, and a feeling of great comfort +came over the Boy. + +"Say, Colonel," he yawned luxuriously, "did you know +that--a--to-night--when Nig flared up, did you know you'd trodden on +his paw?" + +"Didn't know it till you told me," growled the Colonel. + +"I thought you didn't. Makes a difference, doesn't it?" + +"You needn't think," says the Colonel a little defiantly, "that I've +weakened on the main point just because I choose to give Nig a few +cracker crumbs. If it's a question between a man's life and a dog's +life, only a sentimental fool would hesitate." + +"I'm not talking about that; we can get fish now. What I'm pointin' out +is that Nig didn't fly at you for nothin'." + +"He's got a devil of a temper, that dog." + +"It's just like Nicholas of Pymeut said." The Boy sat up, eager in his +advocacy and earnest as a judge. "Nicholas of Pymeut said: 'You treat a +Siwash like a heathen, and he'll show you what a hell of a heathen he +can be.'" + +"Oh, go to sleep." + +"I'm goin', Colonel." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MINOOK + +"For whatever... may come to pass, it lies with me to have it serve +me."--EPICTETUS. + + +The Indians guided them back to the trail. The Colonel and the Boy made +good speed to Novikakat, laid in supplies at Korkorines, heard the +first doubtful account of Minook at Tanana, and pushed on. Past camps +Stoneman and Woodworth, where the great Klondyke Expeditions lay fast +in the ice; along the white strip of the narrowing river, pent in now +between mountains black with scant, subarctic timber, or gray with +fantastic weather-worn rock--on and on, till they reached the bluffs of +the Lower Ramparts. + +Here, at last, between the ranks of the many-gabled heights, Big Minook +Creek meets Father Yukon. Just below the junction, perched jauntily on +a long terrace, up above the frozen riverbed, high and dry, and out of +the coming trouble when river and creek should wake--here was the long, +log-built mining town, Minook, or Rampart, for the name was still +undetermined in the spring of 1898. + +It was a great moment. + +"Shake, pardner," said the Boy. The Colonel and he grasped hands. Only +towering good spirits prevented their being haughty, for they felt like +conquerors, and cared not a jot that they looked like gaol-birds. + +It was two o'clock in the morning. The Gold Nugget Saloon was flaring +with light, and a pianola was perforating a tune. The travellers pushed +open a frosted door, and looked into a long, low, smoke-veiled room, +hung with many kerosene lamps, and heated by a great red-hot iron +stove. + +"Hello!" said a middle-aged man in mackinaws, smoking near the door-end +of the bar. + +"Hello! Is Blandford Keith here? There are some letters for him." + +"Say, boys!" the man in mackinaws shouted above the pianola, "Windy +Jim's got in with the mail." + +The miners lounging at the bar and sitting at the faro-tables looked up +laughing, and seeing the strangers through the smoke-haze, stopped +laughing to stare. + +"Down from Dawson?" asked the bartender hurrying forward, a magnificent +creature in a check waistcoat, shirt-sleeves, four-in-hand tie, and a +diamond pin. + +"No, t'other way about. Up from the Lower River." + +"Oh! May West or Muckluck crew? Anyhow, I guess you got a thirst on +you," said the man in the mackinaws. "Come and licker up." + +The bartender mixed the drinks in style, shooting the liquor from a +height into the small gin-sling glasses with the dexterity that had +made him famous. + +When their tired eyes had got accustomed to the mingled smoke and +glare, the travellers could see that in the space beyond the card +tables, in those back regions where the pianola reigned, there were +several couples twirling about--the clumsily-dressed miners pirouetting +with an astonishing lightness on their moccasined feet. And women! +White women! + +They stopped dancing and came forward to see the new arrivals. + +The mackinaw man was congratulating the Colonel on "gettin' back to +civilization." + +"See that plate-glass mirror?" He pointed behind the bar, below the +moose antlers. "See them ladies? You've got to a place where you can +rake in the dust all day, and dance all night, and go buckin' the tiger +between whiles. Great place, Minook. Here's luck!" He took up the last +of the gin slings set in a row before the party. + +"Have you got some property here?" asked the Boy. + +The man, without putting down his glass, simply closed one eye over the +rim. + +"We've heard some bad accounts of these diggin's," said the Colonel. + +"I ain't sayin' there's millions for _every_body. You've got to get the +inside track. See that feller talkin' to the girl? Billy Nebrasky +tipped him the wink in time to git the inside track, just before the +Fall Stampede up the gulch." + +"Which gulch?" + +He only motioned with his head. "Through havin' that tip, he got there +in time to stake number three Below Discovery. He's had to hang up +drinks all winter, but he's a millionaire all right. He's got a hundred +thousand dollars _in sight,_ only waitin' for runnin' water to wash it +out." + +"Then there _is_ gold about here?" + +"There is gold? Say, Maudie," he remarked in a humourous half-aside to +the young woman who was passing with No--thumb-Jack, "this fellow wants +to know if there is gold here." + +She laughed. "Guess he ain't been here long." + +Now it is not to be denied that this rejoinder was susceptible of more +than one interpretation, but the mackinaw man seemed satisfied, so much +so that he offered Maudie the second gin-sling which the Colonel had +ordered "all round." She eyed the strangers over the glass. On the hand +that held it a fine diamond sparkled. You would say she was twenty-six, +but you wouldn't have been sure. She had seemed at least that at a +distance. Now she looked rather younger. The face wore an impudent +look, yet it was delicate, too. Her skin showed very white and fine +under the dabs of rouge. The blueness was not yet faded out of her +restless eyes. + +"Minook's all right. No josh about that," she said, setting down her +glass. Then to the Boy, "Have a dance?" + +"Not much," he replied rather roughly, and turned away to talk about +the diggin's to two men on the other side. + +Maudie laid her hand on the Colonel's arm, and the diamond twitched the +light. "_You_ will," she said. + +"Well, you see, ma'am"--the Colonel's smile was charming in spite of +his wild beard--"we've done such a lot o' dancin' lately--done nothin' +else for forty days; and after seven hundred miles of it we're just a +trifle tired, ma'am." + +She laughed good-naturedly. + +"Pity you're tired," said the mackinaw man. "There's a pretty good +thing goin' just now, but it won't be goin' long." + +The Boy turned his head round again with reviving interest in his own +group. + +"Look here, Si," Maudie was saying: "if you want to let a lay on your +new claim to _anybody_, mind it's got to be me." + +But the mackinaw man was glancing speculatively over at another group. +In haste to forestall desertion, the Boy inquired: + +"Do you know of anything good that isn't staked yet?" + +"Well, mebbe I don't--and mebbe I do." Then, as if to prove that he +wasn't overanxious to pursue the subject: "Say, Maudie, ain't that +French Charlie over there?" Maudie put her small nose in the air. +"Ain't you made it up with Charlie yet?'" + +"No, I ain't." + +"Then we'll have another drink all round." + +While he was untying the drawstring of his gold sack, Maudie said, +half-aside, but whether to the Colonel or the Boy neither could tell: +"Might do worse than keep your eye on Si McGinty." She nodded briskly +at the violet checks on the mackinaw back. "Si's got a cinch up there +on Glory Hallelujah, and nobody's on to it yet." + +The pianola picked out a polka. The man Si McGinty had called French +Charlie came up behind the girl and said something. She shook her head, +turned on her heel, and began circling about in the narrow space till +she found another partner, French Charlie scowling after them, as they +whirled away between the faro-tables back into the smoke and music at +the rear. McGinty was watching Jimmie, the man at the gold scales, +pinch up some of the excess dust in the scale-pan and toss it back into +the brass blower. + +"Where did that gold come from?" asked the Colonel. + +"Off a claim o' mine"; and he lapsed into silence. + +You are always told these fellows are so anxious to rope in strangers. +This man didn't seem to be. It made him very interesting. The Boy acted +strictly on the woman's hint, and kept an eye on the person who had a +sure thing up on Glory Hallelujah. But when the lucky man next opened +his mouth it was to say: + +"Why, there's Butts down from Circle City." + +"Butts?" repeated the Boy, with little affectation of interest. + +"Yep. Wonder what the son of a gun is after here." But he spoke +genially, even with respect. + +"Who's Butts?" + +"Butts? Ah--well--a--Butts is the smartest fellow with his fingers in +all 'laska"; and McGinty showed his big yellow teeth in an appreciative +smile. + +"Smart at washin' gold out?" + +"Smarter at pickin' it out." The bartender joined in Si's laugh as that +gentleman repeated, "Yes, sir! handiest feller with his fingers I ever +seen." + +"What does he do with his fingers?" asked the Boy, with impatient +suspicion. + +"Well, he don't dare do much with 'em up here. 'Tain't popular." + +"What ain't?" + +"Butts's little game. But Lord! he is good at it." Butts had been +introduced as a stalking-horse, but there was no doubt about Si's +admiration of his "handiness." "Butts is wasted up here," he sighed. +"There's some chance for a murderer in Alaska, but a thief's a goner." + +"Oh, well; you were sayin' that gold o' yours came from--" + +"Poor old Butts! Bright feller, too." + +"How far off is your--" + +"I tell you, sir, Butts is brains to his boots. Course you know Jack +McQuestion?" + +"No, but I'd like to hear a little about your--" + +"Y' don' know Jack McQuestion? Well, sir, Jack's the biggest man in the +Yukon. Why, he built Fort Reliance six miles below the mouth of the +Klondyke in '73; he discovered gold on the Stewart in '85, and +established a post there. _Everybody_ knows Jack McQuestion; +an"--quickly, as he saw he was about to be interrupted--"you heard +about that swell watch we all clubbed together and give him? No? Well, +sir, there ain't an eleganter watch in the world. Is there?" + +"Guess not," said the bartender. + +"Repeater, you know. Got twenty-seven di'mon's in the case. One of +'em's this size." He presented the end of a gnarled and muscular thumb. +"And inside, the case is all wrote in--a lot of soft sawder; but Jack +ain't got _any_thing he cares for so much. You can see he's always +tickled to death when anybody asks him the time. But do you think he +ever lets that watch out'n his own hands? Not _much_. Let's anybody +_look_ at it, and keeps a holt o' the stem-winder. Well, sir, we was +all in a saloon up at Circle, and that feller over there--Butts--he bet +me fifty dollars that he'd git McQuestion's watch away from him before +he left the saloon. An' it was late. McQuestion was thinkin' a'ready +about goin' home to that squaw wife that keeps him so straight. Well, +sir, Butts went over and began to gas about outfittin', and McQuestion +answers and figures up the estimates on the counter, and, by Gawd! in +less 'n quarter of an hour Butts, just standin' there and listenin', as +you'd think--he'd got that di'mon' watch off'n the chain an' had it in +his pocket. I knew he done it, though I ain't exactly seen _how_ he +done it. The others who were in the game, they swore he hadn't got it +yet, but, by Gawd, Butts says he'll think over McQuestion's terms, and +wonders what time it is. He takes that di'mon' watch out of his pocket, +glances at it, and goes off smooth as cream, sayin' 'Good-night.' Then +he come a grinnin' over to us. 'Jest you go an' ask the Father o' the +Yukon Pioneers what time it is, will yer?' An' I done it. Well, sir, +when he put his hand in his pocket, by Gawd! I wish y' could a' saw +McQuestion's face. Yes, sir, Butts is brains to his boots." + +"How far out are the diggin's?" + +"What diggin's?" + +"Yours." + +"Oh--a--my gulch ain't fur." + +There was a noise about the door. Someone bustled in with a torrent of +talk, and the pianola was drowned in a pandemonium of shouts and +laughter. + +"Windy Jim's reely got back!" + +Everybody crowded forward. Maudie was at the Colonel's elbow explaining +that the little yellow-bearded man with the red nose was the +letter-carrier. He had made a contract early in the winter to go to +Dawson and bring down the mail for Minook. His agreement was to make +the round trip and be back by the middle of February. Since early March +the standing gag in the camp had been: "Well, Windy Jim got in last +night." + +The mild jest had grown stale, and the denizens of Minook had given up +the hope of ever laying eyes on Windy again, when lo! here he was with +twenty-two hundred letters in his sack. The patrons of the Gold Nugget +crowded round him like flies round a lump of sugar, glad to pay a +dollar apiece on each letter he handed out. "And you take _all_ that's +addressed to yer at that price or you get none." Every letter there had +come over the terrible Pass. Every one had travelled twelve hundred +miles by dog-team, and some had been on the trail seven months. + +"Here, Maudie, me dear." The postman handed her two letters. "See how +he dotes on yer." + +"Got anything fur--what's yer names?" says the mackinaw man, who seemed +to have adopted the Colonel and the Boy. + +He presented them without embarrassment to "Windy Jim Wilson, of Hog'em +Junction, the best trail mail-carrier in the 'nited States." + +Those who had already got letters were gathered in groups under the +bracket-lights reading eagerly. In the midst of the lull of +satisfaction or expectancy someone cried out in disgust, and another +threw down a letter with a shower of objurgation. + +"Guess you got the mate to mine, Bonsor," said a bystander with a +laugh, slowly tearing up the communication he had opened with fingers +so eager that they shook. + +"You pay a dollar apiece for letters from folks you never heard of, +asking you what you think of the country, and whether you'd advise 'em +to come out." + +"Huh! don't I wish they would!" + +"It's all right. _They will._" + +"And then trust Bonsor to git even." + +Salaman, "the luckiest man in camp," who had come in from his valuable +Little Minook property for the night only, had to pay fifteen dollars +for his mail. When he opened it, he found he had one home letter, +written seven months before, eight notes of inquiry, and six +advertisements. + +Maudie had put her letters unopened in her pocket, and told the man at +the scales to weigh out two dollars to Windy, and charge to her. Then +she began to talk to the Colonel. + +The Boy observed with scant patience that his pardner treated Maudie +with a consideration he could hardly have bettered had she been the +first lady in the land. "Must be because she's little and cute-lookin'. +The Colonel's a sentimental ol' goslin'." + +"What makes you so polite to that dance-hall girl?" muttered the Boy +aside. "She's no good." + +"Reckon it won't make her any better for me to be impolite to her," +returned the Colonel calmly. + +But finding she could not detach the Kentuckian from his pardner, +Maudie bestowed her attention elsewhere. French Charlie was leaning +back against the wall, his hands jammed in his pockets, and his big +slouch-hat pulled over his brows. Under the shadow of the wide brim +furtively he watched the girl. Another woman came up and asked him to +dance. He shook his head. + +"Reckon we'd better go and knock up Blandford Keith and get a bed," +suggested the Boy regretfully, looking round for the man who had a +cinch up on Glory Hallelujah, and wouldn't tell you how to get there. + +"Reckon we'd better," agreed the Colonel. + +But they halted near Windy Jim, who was refreshing himself, and at the +same time telling Dawson news, or Dawson lies, as the company evidently +thought. And still the men crowded round, listening greedily, just as +everybody devours certain public prints without ceasing to impeach +their veracity. Lacking newspapers at which to pish! and pshaw! they +listened to Windy Jim, disbelieving the only unvarnished tale that +gentleman had ever told. For Windy, with the story-teller's instinct, +knew marvellous enough would sound the bare recital of those awful +Dawson days when the unprecedented early winter stopped the provision +boats at Circle, and starvation stared the over-populated Klondyke in +the face. + +Having disposed of their letters, the miners crowded round the courier +to hear how the black business ended--matter of special interest to +Minook, for the population here was composed chiefly of men who, by the +Canadian route, had managed to get to Dawson in the autumn, in the +early days of the famine scare, and who, after someone's panic-proposal +to raid the great Stores, were given free passage down the river on the +last two steamers to run. + +When the ice stopped them (one party at Circle, the other at Fort +Yukon), they had held up the supply boats and helped themselves under +the noses of Captain Ray and Lieutenant Richardson, U. S. A. + +"Yes, sir," McGinty had explained, "we Minook boys was all in that +picnic. But we give our bond to pay up at mid-summer, and after the fun +was over we dropped down here." + +He pushed nearer to Windy to hear how it had fared with the men who had +stayed behind in the Klondyke--how the excitement flamed and menaced; +how Agent Hansen of the Alaska Commercial Company, greatest of the +importers of provisions and Arctic equipment, rushed about, half crazy, +making speeches all along the Dawson River front, urging the men to fly +for their lives, back to the States or up to Circle, before the ice +stopped moving! + +But too many of these men had put everything they had on earth into +getting here; too many had abandoned costly outfits on the awful Pass, +or in the boiling eddies of the White Horse Rapids, paying any price in +money or in pain to get to the goldfields before navigation closed. And +now! here was Hansen, with all the authority of the A. C., shouting +wildly: "Quick, quick! go up or down. It's a race for life!" + +Windy went on to tell how the horror of the thing dulled the men, how +they stood about the Dawson streets helpless as cattle, paralysed by +the misery that had overtaken them. All very well for Hansen to try to +relieve the congestion at the Klondyke--the poor devils knew that to go +either way, up or down, as late as this meant death. Then it was +whispered how Captain Constantine of the Mounted Police was getting +ready to drive every man out of the Klondyke, at the point of the +bayonet, who couldn't show a thousand pounds of provisions. Yet most of +the Klondykers still stood about dazed, silent, waiting for the final +stroke. + +A few went up, over the way they had come, to die after all on the +Pass, and some went down, their white, despairing faces disappearing +round the Klondyke bend as they drifted with the grinding ice towards +the Arctic Circle, where the food was caught in the floes. And how one +came back, going by without ever turning his head, caring not a jot for +Golden Dawson, serene as a king in his capital, solitary, stark on a +little island of ice. + +"Lord! it was better, after all, at the Big Chimney." + +"Oh, it wasn't so bad," said Windy cheerfully. "About the time one o' +the big companies announced they was sold out o' everything but sugar +and axe-handles, a couple o' steamers pushed their way in through the +ice. After all, just as old J. J. Healy said, it was only a question of +rations and proper distribution. Why, flour's fell from one hundred and +twenty dollars a sack to fifty! And there's a big new strike on the +island opposite Ensley Creek. They call it Monte Cristo; pay runs eight +dollars to the pan. Lord! Dawson's the greatest gold camp on the +globe." + +But no matter what befell at Dawson, business must be kept brisk at +Minook. The pianola started up, and Buckin' Billy, who called the +dances, began to bawl invitations to the company to come and waltz. + +Windy interrupted his own music for further refreshment, pausing an +instant, with his mouth full of dried-apple pie to say: + +"Congress has sent out a relief expedition to Dawson." + +"No!" + +"Fact! Reindeer." + +"Ye mean peacocks." + +"Mean reindeer! It's all in the last paper come over the Pass. A +Reindeer Relief Expedition to save them poor starvin' Klondykers." + +"Haw, haw! Good old Congress!" + +"Well, did you find any o' them reindeer doin' any relievin' round +Dawson?" + +"Naw! What do _you_ think? Takes more'n Congress to git over the Dalton +Trail"; and Windy returned to his pie. + +Talking earnestly with Mr. Butts, French Charlie pushed heavily past +the Boy on his way to the bar. From his gait it was clear that he had +made many similar visits that evening. In his thick Canadian accent +Charlie was saying: + +"I blowed out a lot o' dust for dat girl. She's wearin' my di'mon' now, +and won't look at me. Say, Butts, I'll give you twenty dollars if you +sneak dat ring." + +"Done with you," says Butts, as calm as a summer's day. In two minutes +Maudie was twirling about with the handy gentleman, who seemed as +accomplished with his toes as he was reputed to be with his fingers. + +He came up with her presently and ordered some wine. + +"Wine, b-gosh!" muttered Charlie in drunken appreciation, propping +himself against the wall again, and always slipping sideways. "Y' tink +he's d' fines' sor' fella, don't you? Hein? Wai' 'n see!" + +The wine disappears and the two go off for another dance. Inside of ten +minutes up comes Butts and passes something to French Charlie. That +gentleman laughs tipsily, and, leaning on Butts's arm, makes his way to +the scales. + +"Weigh out twen' dollars dis gen'man," he ordered. + +Butts pulled up the string of his poke and slipped to one side, as +noise reached the group at the bar of a commotion at the other end of +the saloon. + +"My ring! it's gone! My diamond ring! Now, you've got it"; and Maudie +came running out from the dancers after one of the Woodworth gentlemen. + +Charlie straightened up and grinned, almost sobered in excess of joy +and satisfied revenge. The Woodworth gentleman is searched and +presently exonerated. Everybody is told of the loss, every nook and +corner investigated. Maudie goes down on hands and knees, even creeping +behind the bar. + +"I know'd she go on somethin' awful," said Charlie, so gleefully that +Bonsor, the proprietor of the Gold Nugget, began to look upon him with +suspicion. + +When Maudie reappeared, flushed, and with disordered hair, after her +excursion under the counter, French Charlie confronted her. + +"Looky here. You treated me blame mean, Maudie; but wha'd' you say if +I's to off' a rewar' for dat ring?" + +"Reward! A healthy lot o' good that would do." + +"Oh, very well; 'f you don' wan' de ring back--" + +"I _do,_ Charlie." + +He hammered on the bar. + +"Ev'body gottah look fur ring. I give a hunner 'n fifty dollah rewar'." + +Maudie stared at the princely offer. But instantly the commotion was +greater than ever. "Ev'body" did what was expected of them, especially +Mr. Butts. They flew about, looking in possible and impossible places, +laughing, screaming, tumbling over one another. In the midst of the +uproar French Charlie lurches up to Maudie. + +"Dat look anyt'in' like it?" + +"Oh, _Charlie!"_ + +She looked the gratitude she could not on the instant speak. + +In the midst of the noise and movement the mackinaw man said to the +Boy: + +"Don't know as you'd care to see my new prospect hole?" + +"Course I'd like to see it." + +"Well, come along tomorrow afternoon. Meet me here 'bout two. Don't +_say_ nothin' to nobody," he added still lower. "We don't want to get +overrun before we've recorded." + +The Boy could have hugged that mackinaw man. + +Outside it was broad day, but still the Gold Nugget lights were flaring +and the pianola played. + +They had learned from the bartender where to find Blandford Keith--"In +the worst-looking shack in the camp." But "It looks good to me," said +the Boy, as they went in and startled Keith out of his first sleep. The +man that brings you letters before the ice goes out is your friend. +Keith helped them to bring in their stuff, and was distinctly troubled +because the travellers wouldn't take his bunk. They borrowed some dry +blankets and went to sleep on the floor. + +It was after two when they woke in a panic, lest the mackinaw man +should have gone without them. While the Colonel got breakfast the Boy +dashed round to the Gold Nugget, found Si McGinty playing craps, and +would have brought him back in triumph to breakfast--but no, he would +"wait down yonder below the Gold Nugget, and don't you say nothin' yit +about where we're goin', or we'll have the hull town at our heels." + +About twelve miles "back in the mountains" is a little gulch that makes +into a big one at right angles. + +"That's the pup where my claim is." + +"The what?" + +"Little creek; call 'em pups here." + +Down in the desolate hollow a ragged A tent, sagged away from the +prevailing wind. Inside, they found that the canvas was a mere shelter +over a prospect hole. A rusty stove was almost buried by the heap of +earth and gravel thrown up from a pit several feet deep. + +"This is a winter diggins y' see," observed the mackinaw man with +pride. "It's only while the ground is froze solid you can do this kind +o' minin'. I've had to burn the ground clean down to bed-rock. Yes, +sir, thawed my way inch by inch to the old channel." + +"Well, and what have you found?" + +"S'pose we pan some o' this dirt and see." + +His slow caution impressed his hearers. They made up a fire, melted +snow, and half filled a rusty pan with gravel and soil from the bottom +of the pit. + +"Know how to pan?" + +The Colonel and the Boy took turns. They were much longer at it than +they ever were again, but the mackinaw man seemed not in the least +hurry. The impatience was all theirs. When they had got down to fine +sand, "Look!" screamed the Boy. + +"By the Lord!" said the Colonel softly. + +"Is that--" + +"Looks like you got some colours there. Gosh! Then I ain't been +dreamin' after all." + +"Hey? Dreamin'? What? Look! Look!" + +"That's why I brought you gen'l'men out," says the mackinaw man. "I was +afraid to trust my senses--thought I was gettin' wheels in my head." + +"Lord! look at the gold!" + +They took about a dollar and twenty cents out of that pan. + +"Now see here, you gen'l'men jest lay low about this strike." His +anxiety seemed intense. They reassured him. "I don't suppose you mind +our taking up a claim apiece next you," pleaded the Boy, "since the law +don't allow you to stake more'n one." + +"Oh, that's all right," said the mackinaw man, with an air of princely +generosity. "And I don't mind if you like to let in a few of your +particular pals, if you'll agree to help me organise a district. An' +I'll do the recordin' fur ye." + +Really, this mackinaw man was a trump. The Colonel took twenty-five +dollars out of a roll of bills and handed it to him. + +"What's this fur?" + +"For bringing us out--for giving us the tip. I'd make it more, but till +I get to Dawson--" + +"Oh!" laughed the mackinaw man, "_that's_ all right," and indifferently +he tucked the bills into his baggy trousers. + +The Colonel felt keenly the inadequacy of giving a man twenty-five +dollars who had just introduced him to hundreds of thousands--and who +sat on the edge of his own gold-mine--but it was only "on account." + +The Colonel staked No. 1 Above the Discovery, and the Boy was in the +act of staking No. 1 Below when-- + +"No, no," says that kind mackinaw man, "the heavier gold will be found +further up the gulch--stake No. 2 Above"; and he told them natural +facts about placer-mining that no after expert knowledge could ever +better. But he was not as happy as a man should be who has just struck +pay. + +"Fact is, it's kind of upsettin' to find it so rich here." + +"Give you leave to upset me that way all day." + +"Y' see, I bought another claim over yonder where I done a lot o' work +last summer and fall. Built a cabin and put up a sluice. I _got_ to be +up there soon as the ice goes out. Don't see how I got time to do my +assessment here too. Wish I was twins." + +"Why don't you sell this?" + +"Guess I'll have to part with a share in it." He sighed and looked +lovingly into the hole. "Minin's an awful gamble," he said, as though +admonishing Si McGinty; "but we _know_ there's gold just there." + +The Colonel and the Boy looked at their claims and felt the pinch of +uncertainty. "What do you want for a share in your claim, Mr. +McGinty?" + +"Oh, well, as I say, I'll let it go reasonable to a feller who'd do the +assessment, on account o' my having that other property. Say three +thousand dollars." + +The Colonel shook his head. "Why, it's dirt-cheap! Two men can take a +hundred and fifty dollars a day out of that claim without outside help. +And properly worked, the summer ought to show forty thousand dollars." + +On the way home McGinty found he could let the thing go for "two +thousand spot cash." + +"Make it quarter shares," suggested the Boy, thrilled at such a chance, +"and the Colonel and I together'll raise five hundred and do the rest +of the assessment work for you." + +But they were nearly back at Minook before McGinty said, "Well, I ain't +twins, and I can't personally work two gold-mines, so we'll call it a +deal." And the money passed that night. + +And the word passed, too, to an ex-Governor of a Western State and his +satellites, newly arrived from Woodworth, and to a party of men just +down from Circle City. McGinty seemed more inclined to share his luck +with strangers than with the men he had wintered amongst. "Mean lot, +these Minook fellers." But the return of the ex-Governor and so large a +party from quietly staking their claims, roused Minook to a sense that +"somethin' was goin' on." + +By McGinty's advice, the strangers called a secret meeting, and elected +McGinty recorder. All the claim-holders registered their properties and +the dates of location. The Recorder gave everybody his receipt, and +everybody felt it was cheap at five dollars. Then the meeting proceeded +to frame a code of Laws for the new district, stipulating the number of +feet permitted each claim (being rigidly kept by McGinty within the +limits provided by the United States Laws on the subject), and +decreeing the amount of work necessary to hold a claim a year, settling +questions of water rights, etc., etc. + +Not until Glory Hallelujah Gulch was a full-fledged mining district did +Minook in general know what was in the wind. The next day the news was +all over camp. + +If McGinty's name inspired suspicion, the Colonel's and the +ex-Governor's reassured, the Colonel in particular (he had already +established that credit that came so easy to him) being triumphantly +quoted as saying, "Glory Hallelujah Gulch was the richest placer he'd +ever struck." Nobody added that it was also the only one. But this +matter of a stampede is not controlled by reason; it is a thing of the +nerves; while you are ridiculing someone else your legs are carrying +you off on the same errand. + +In a mining-camp the saloon is the community's heart. However little a +man cares to drink, or to dance, or to play cards, he goes to the +saloon as to the one place where he may meet his fellows, do business, +and hear the news. The saloon is the Market Place. It is also the Cafe, +the Theatre, the Club, the Stock Exchange, the Barber's Shop, the +Bank--in short, you might as well be dead as not be a patron of the +Gold Nugget. + +Yet neither the Colonel nor the Boy had been there since the night of +their arrival. On returning from that first triumphant inspection of +McGinty's diggings, the Colonel had been handed a sealed envelope +without address. + +"How do you know it's for me?" + +"She said it was for the Big Chap," answered Blandford Keith. + +The Colonel read: + +"_Come to the Gold Nugget as soon as you get this, and hear something +to your advantage_.--MAUDIE." + +So he had stayed away, having plenty to occupy him in helping to +organise the new district. He was strolling past the saloon the morning +after the Secret Meeting, when down into the street, like a kingfisher +into a stream, Maudie darted, and held up the Colonel. + +"Ain't you had my letter?" + +"Oh--a--yes--but I've been busy." + +"Guess so!" she said with undisguised scorn. "Where's Si McGinty?" + +"Reckon he's out at the gulch. I've got to go down to the A. C. now and +buy some grub to take out." He was moving on. + +"Take where?" She followed him up. + +"To McGinty's gulch." + +"What for?" + +"Why, to live on, while my pardner and I do the assessment work." + +"Then it's true! McGinty's been fillin' you full o' guff." The Colonel +looked at her a little haughtily. + +"See here: I ain't busy, as a rule, about other folks' funerals, but--" +She looked at him curiously. "It's cold here; come in a minute." There +was no hint of vulgar nonsense, but something very earnest in the pert +little face that had been so pretty. They went in. "Order drinks," she +said aside, "and don't talk before Jimmie." + +She chaffed the bartender, and leaned idly against the counter. When a +group of returned stampeders came in, she sat down at a rough little +faro-table, leaned her elbows on it, sipped the rest of the stuff in +her tumbler through a straw, and in the shelter of her arms set the +straw in a knot-hole near the table-leg, and spirited the bad liquor +down under the board. "Don't give me away," she said. + +The Colonel knew she got a commission on the drinks, and was there to +bring custom. He nodded. + +"I hoped I'd see you in time," she went on hurriedly--"in time to warn +you that McGinty was givin' you a song and dance." + +"Hey?" + +"Tellin" you a ghost story." + +"You mean--" + +"Can't you understand plain English?" she said, irritated at such +obtuseness. "I got worried thinkin' it over, for it was me told that +pardner o' yours--" She smiled wickedly. "I expected McGinty'd have +some fun with the young feller, but I didn't expect you'd be such a +Hatter." She wound up with the popular reference to lunacy. + +The Colonel pulled up his great figure with some pomposity. "I don't +understand." + +"Any feller can see that. You're just the kind the McGintys are layin' +for." She looked round to see that nobody was within earshot. "Si's +been layin' round all winter waitin' for the spring crop o' suckers." + +"If you mean there isn't gold out at McGinty's gulch, you're wrong; +I've seen it." + +"Course you have." + +He paused. She, sweeping the Gold Nugget with vigilant eye, went on in +a voice of indulgent contempt. + +"Some of 'em load up an old shot-gun with a little charge o' powder and +a quarter of an ounce of gold-dust on top, fire that into the prospect +hole a dozen times or so, and then take a sucker out to pan the stuff. +But I bet Si didn't take any more trouble with you than to have some +colours in his mouth, to spit in the shovel or the pan, when you wasn't +lookin'--just enough to drive you crazy, and get you to boost him into +a Recordership. Why, he's cleaned up a tub o' money in fees since you +struck the town." + +The Colonel moved uneasily, but faith with him died hard. + +"McGinty strikes me as a very decent sort of man, with a knowledge of +practical mining and of mining law--" + +Maudie made a low sound of impatience, and pushed her empty glass +aside. + +"Oh, very well, go your own way! Waste the whole spring doin' Si's +assessment for him. And when the bottom drops out o' recordin', you'll +see Si gettin' some cheechalko to buy an interest in that rottin' hole +o' his--" + +Her jaw fell as she saw the Colonel's expression. + +"He's got you too!" she exclaimed. + +"Well, didn't you say yourself that night you'd be glad if McGinty'd +let you a lay?" + +"Pshaw! I was only givin' you a song and dance. Not you neither, but +that pardner o' yours. I thought I'd learn that young man a lesson. But +I didn't know you'd get flim-flammed out o' your boots. Thought you +looked like you got some sense." + +Unmoved by the Colonel's aspect of offended dignity, faintly dashed +with doubt, she hurried on: + +"Before you go shellin' out any more cash, or haulin' stuff to Glory +Hallelujah, just you go down that prospect hole o' McGinty's when +McGinty ain't there, and see how many colours you can ketch." + +The Colonel looked at her. + +"Well, I'll do it," he said slowly, "and if you're right--" + +"Oh, I'm all right," she laughed; "an' I know my McGinty backwards. +But"--she frowned with sudden anger--"it ain't Maudie's pretty way to +interfere with cheechalkos gettin' fooled. I ain't proud o' the trouble +I've taken, and I'll thank you not to mention it. Not to that pardner +o' yours--not to nobody." + +She stuck her nose in the air, and waved her hand to French Charlie, +who had just then opened the door and put his head in. He came straight +over to her, and she made room for him on the bench. + +The Colonel went out full of thought. He listened attentively when the +ex-Governor, that evening at Keith's, said something about the woman up +at the Gold Nugget--"Maudie--what's the rest of her name?" + +"Don't believe anybody knows. Oh, yes, they must, too; it'll be on her +deeds. She's got the best hundred by fifty foot lot in the place. Held +it down last fall herself with a six-shooter, and she owns that cabin +on the corner. Isn't a better business head in Minook than Maudie's. +She got a lay on a good property o' Salaman's last fall, and I guess +she's got more ready dust even now, before the washin' begins, than +anybody here except Salaman and the A.C. There ain't a man in Minook +who wouldn't listen respectfully to Maudie's views on any business +proposition--once he was sure she wasn't fooling." + +And Keith told a string of stories to show how the Minook miners +admired her astuteness, and helped her unblushingly to get the better +of one another. + +The Colonel stayed in Minook till the recording was all done, and +McGinty got tired of living on flap-jacks at the gulch. + +The night McGinty arrived in town the Colonel, not even taking the Boy +into his confidence, hitched up and departed for the new district. + +He came back the next day a sadder and a wiser man. They had been sold. + +McGinty was quick to gather that someone must have given him away. It +had only been a question of time, after all. He had lined his pockets, +and could take the new turn in his affairs with equanimity. + +"Wait till the steamers begin to run," Maudie said; "McGinty'll play +that game with every new boat-load. Oh, McGinty'll make another +fortune. Then he'll go to Dawson and blow it in. Well, Colonel, sorry +you ain't cultivatin' rheumatism in a damp hole up at Glory +Hallelujah?" + +"I--I am very much obliged to you for saving me from--" + +She cut him short. "You see you've got time now to look about you for +something really good, if there _is_ anything outside of Little +Minook." + +"It was very kind of you to--" + +"No it wasn't," she said shortly. + +The Colonel took out a roll of bank bills and selected one, folded it +small, and passed it towards her under the ledge of the table. She +glanced down. + +"Oh, I don't want that." + +"Yes, please." + +"Tell you I don't." + +"You've done me a very good turn; saved me a lot of time and expense." + +Slowly she took the money, as one thinking out something. + +"Where do you come from?" he asked suddenly. + +"'Frisco. I was in the chorus at the Alcazar." + +"What made you go into the chorus?" + +"Got tired o' life on a sheep-ranch. All work and no play. Never saw a +soul. Seen plenty since." + +"Got any people belonging to you?" + +"Got a kind of a husband." + +"A kind of a husband?" + +"Yes--the kind you'd give away with a pound o' tea." + +The little face, full of humourous contempt and shrewd scorn, sobered; +she flung a black look round the saloon, and her eyes came back to the +Colonel's face. + +"I've got a girl," she said, and a sudden light flashed across her +frowning as swiftly as a meteor cuts down along a darkened sky. "Four +years old in June. _She_ ain't goin' into no chorus, bet your life! +_She's_ going to have money, and scads o' things I ain't never had." + +That night the Colonel and the Boy agreed that, although they had +wasted some valuable time and five hundred and twenty-five dollars on +McGinty, they still had a chance of making their fortunes before the +spring rush. + +The next day they went eight miles out in slush and in alternate rain +and sunshine, to Little Minook Creek, where the biggest paying claims +were universally agreed to be. They found a place even more ragged and +desolate than McGinty's, where smoke was rising sullenly from +underground fires and the smell of burning wood filled the air, the +ground turned up and dotted at intervals with piles of frozen gravel +that had been hoisted from the shafts by windlass, forlorn little +cabins and tents scattered indiscriminately, a vast number of empty +bottles and cans sown broadcast, and, early as it was, a line of +sluices upon Salaman's claim. + +They had heard a great deal about the dark, keen-looking young Oregon +lawyer, for Salaman was the most envied man in Minook. "Come over to my +dump and get some nuggets," says Mr. Salaman, as in other parts of the +world a man will say, "Come into the smoking-room and have a cigar." + +The snow was melted from the top of Salaman's dump, and his guests had +no difficulty in picking several rough little bits of gold out of the +thawing gravel. It was an exhilarating occupation. + +"Come down my shaft and see my cross-cuts"; and they followed him. + +He pointed out how the frozen gravel made solid wall, or pillar, and no +curbing was necessary. With the aid of a candle and their host's +urging, they picked out several dollars' worth of coarse gold from the +gravel "in place" at the edge of the bed-rock. When he had got his +guests thoroughly warmed up: + +"Yes, I took out several thousand last fall, and I'll have twenty +thousand more out of my first summer clean-up." + +"And after that?" + +"After that I'm going home. I wouldn't stay here and work this way and +live this way another winter, not for twenty millions." + +"I'm surprised to hear _you_ talking like that, sah." + +"Well, you won't be once you have tried it yourself. Mining up here's +an awful gamble. Colours pretty well everywhere, and a few flakes of +flour gold, just enough to send the average cheechalko crazy, but no +real 'pay' outside of this little gulch. And even here, every inch has +been scrambled for--and staked, too--and lots of it fought over. Men +died here in the fall defending their ground from the jumpers--ground +that hadn't a dollar in it." + +"Well, your ground was worth looking after, and John Dillon's. Which is +his claim?" + +Salaman led the way over the heaps of gravel and round a windlass to +No. 6, admitting: + +"Oh, yes, Dillon and I, and a few others, have come out of it all +right, but Lord! it's a gamble." + +Dillon's pardner, Kennedy, did the honours, showing the Big Chimney men +the very shaft out of which their Christmas heap of gold had been +hoisted. It was true after all. For the favoured there _was_ "plenty o' +gold--plenty o' gold." + +"But," said Salaman, "there are few things more mysterious than its +whereabouts or why it should be where it is. Don't talk to me about +mining experts--we've had 'em here. But who can explain the mystery of +Minook? There are six claims in all this country that pay to work. The +pay begins in No. 5; before that, nothing. Just up yonder, above No. +10, the pay-streak pinches out. No mortal knows why. A whole winter's +toiling and moiling, and thousands of dollars put into the ground, +haven't produced an ounce of gold above that claim or below No. 5. I +tell you it's an awful gamble. Hunter Creek, Hoosier, Bear, Big Minook, +I You, Quail, Alder, Mike Hess, Little Nell--the whole blessed country, +rivers, creeks, pups, and all, staked for a radius of forty miles just +because there's gold here, where we're standing." + +"You don't mean there's _nothing_ left!" + +"Nothing within forty miles that somebody hasn't either staked or made +money by abandoning." + +"Made money?" + +Salaman laughed. + +"It's money in your pocket pretty nearly every time you don't take up a +claim. Why, on Hunter alone they've spent twenty thousand dollars this +winter." + +"And how much have they taken out?" + +With index-finger and thumb Salaman made an "O," and looked shrewdly +through it. + +"It's an awful gamble," he repeated solemnly. + +"It doesn't seem possible there's _nothing_ left," reiterated the Boy, +incredulous of such evil luck. + +"Oh, I'm not saying you may not make something by getting on some other +fellow's property, if you've a mind to pay for it. But you'd better not +take anything on trust. I wouldn't trust my own mother in Alaska. +Something in the air here that breeds lies. You can't believe anybody, +yourself included." He laughed, stooped, and picked a little nugget out +of the dump. "You'll have the same man tell you an entirely different +story about the same matter within an hour. Exaggeration is in the air. +The best man becomes infected. You lie, he lies, they all lie. Lots of +people go crazy in Alaska every year--various causes, but it's chiefly +from believing their own lies." + +They returned to Rampart. + +It was decidedly inconvenient, considering the state of their finances, +to have thrown away that five hundred dollars on McGinty. They messed +with Keith, and paid their two-thirds of the household expenses; but +Dawson prices reigned, and it was plain there were no Dawson prizes. + +"Well," said the Colonel in the morning, "we've got to live somehow +till the ice goes out." The Boy sat thinking. The Colonel went on: "And +we can't go to Dawson cleaned out. No tellin' whether there are any +proper banks there or whether my Louisville instructions got through. +Of course, we've got the dogs yet." + +"Don't care how soon we sell Red and Spot." + +After breakfast the Boy tied Nig up securely behind Keith's shack, and +followed the Colonel about with a harassed and watchful air. + +"No market for dogs now," seemed to be the general opinion, and one +person bore up well under the news. + +But the next day a man, very splashed and muddy, and obviously just in +from the gulches, stopped, in going by Keith's, and looked at Nig. + +"Dog market's down," quoted the Boy internally to hearten himself. + +"That mahlemeut's for sale," observed the Colonel to the stranger. + +"These are." The Boy hastily dragged Red and Spot upon the scene. + +"How much?" + +"Seventy-five dollars apiece." + +The man laughed. "Ain't you heard the dog season's over?" + +"Well, don't you count on livin' to the next?" + +The man pushed his slouch over his eyes and scratched the back of his +head. + +"Unless I can git 'em reasonable, dogs ain't worth feedin' till next +winter." + +"I suppose not," said the Boy sympathetically; "and you can't get fish +here." + +"Right. Feedin' yourn on bacon, I s'pose, at forty cents a pound?' + +"Bacon and meal." + +"Guess you'll get tired o' that." + +"Well, we'd sell you the red dog for sixty dollars," admitted the Boy. + +The man stared. "Give you thirty for that black brute over there." + +"Thirty dollars for Nig!" + +"And not a--cent more. Dogs is down." He could get a dozen as good for +twenty-five dollars. + +"Just you try." But the Colonel, grumbling, said thirty dollars was +thirty dollars, and he reckoned he'd call it a deal. The Boy stared, +opened his mouth to protest, and shut it without a sound. + +The Colonel had untied Nig, and the Leader, unmindful of the impending +change in his fortunes, dashed past the muddy man from the gulch with +such impetuosity that he knocked that gentleman off his legs. He picked +himself up scowling, and was feeling for his gold sack. + +"Got scales here?" + +"No need of scales." The Boy whipped out a little roll of money, +counted out thirty dollars, and held it towards the Colonel. "I can +afford to keep Nig awhile if that's his figure." + +The stranger was very angry at this new turn in the dog deal. He had +seen that Siwash out at the gulch, heard he was for sale, and came in +"a purpose to git him." + +"The dog season's over," said the Boy, pulling Nig's ears and smiling. + +"Oh, _is_ it? Well, the season for eatin' meals ain't over. How'm I to +git grub out to my claim without a dog?" + +"We are offerin' you a couple o' capital draught dogs." + +"I bought that there Siwash, and I'd a paid fur him if he hadn't a +knocked me down." He advanced threateningly. "An' if you ain't huntin' +trouble--" + +The big Colonel stepped in and tried to soothe the stranger, as well as +to convince him that this was not the party to try bullying on. + +"I'll give you forty dollars for the dog," said the muddy man sulkily +to the Boy. + +"No." + +"Give you fifty, and that's my last word." + +"I ain't sellin' dogs." + +He cursed, and offered five dollars more. + +"Can't you see I _mean_ it? I'm goin' to keep that dog--awhile." + +"S'pose you think you'll make a good thing o' hirin' him out?" + +He hadn't thought of it, but he said: "Why not? Best dog in the Yukon." + +"Well, how much?" + +"How much'll you give?" + +"Dollar a day." + +"Done." + +So Nig was hired out, Spot was sold for twenty dollars, and Red later +for fifteen. + +"Well," said the Colonel when they went in, "I didn't know you were so +smart. But you can't live _here_ on Nig's seven dollars a week." + +The Boy shook his head. Their miserable canned and salted fare cost +about four dollars a day per man. + +"I'm goin' to take Nig's tip," he said--"goin' to work." + +Easier said than done. In their high rubber boots they splashed about +Rampart in the mild, thawing weather, "tryin' to scare up a job," as +one of them stopped to explain to every likely person: "Yes, sah, +lookin' for any sort of honourable employment till the ice goes out." + +"Nothin' doin'." + +"Everything's at a standstill." + +"Just keepin' body and soul together myself till the boats come in." + +They splashed out to the gulch on the same errand. + +Yes, wages were fifteen dollars a day when they were busy. Just now +they were waiting for the thorough thaw. + +"Should think it was pretty thorough without any waitin'." + +Salaman shook his head. "Only in the town and tundra. The frost holds +on to the deep gulch gravel like grim death. And the diggin's were +already full of men ready to work for their keep-at least, they say +so," Salaman added. + +Not only in the great cities is human flesh and blood held cheaper than +that of the brutes. Even in the off season, when dogs was down, Nig +could get his dollar a day, but his masters couldn't get fifty cents. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE GREAT STAMPEDE + +"Die Menchen suchen und suchen, wollen immer was Besseres finden.... +Gott geb' ihnen nur Geduld!" + + +Men in the Gold Nugget were talking about some claims, staked and +recorded in due form, but on which the statutory work had not been +done. + +"What about 'em?" + +"They're jumpable at midnight." + +French Charlie invited the Boy to go along, but neither he nor the +Colonel felt enthusiastic. + +"They're no good, those claims, except to sell to some sucker, and +we're not in that business _yet_, sah." + +They had just done twenty miles in slush and mire, and their hearts +were heavier than their heels. No, they would go to bed while the +others did the jumpin', and next day they would fill Keith's wood-bin. + +"So if work does turn up we won't have to worry about usin' up his +firin'." In the chill of the next evening they were cording the results +of the day's chopping, when Maudie, in fur coat, skirts to the knee, +and high rubber boots, appeared behind Keith's shack. Without deigning +to notice the Boy, "Ain't seen you all day," says she to the Colonel. + +"Busy," he replied, scarcely looking up. + +"Did you do any jumpin' last night?" + +"No." + +"_That's_ all right." + +She seated herself with satisfaction on a log. She looked at the Boy +impudently, as much as to say, "When that blot on the landscape is +removed, I'll tell you something." The Boy had not the smallest +intention of removing the blot. + +Grudgingly he admitted to himself that, away from the unsavory +atmosphere of the Gold Nugget, there was nothing in Maudie positively +offensive. At this moment, with her shrewd little face peering pertly +out from her parki-hood, she looked more than ever like an audacious +child, or like some strange, new little Arctic animal with a whimsical +human air. + +"Look here, Colonel," she said presently, either despairing of getting +rid of the Boy or ceasing to care about it: "you got to get a wiggle on +to-morrow." + +"What for?" + +She looked round, first over one shoulder, then over the other. "Well, +it's on the quiet." + +The Kentuckian nodded. But she winked her blue eyes suspiciously at the +Boy. + +"Oh, _he's_ all right." + +"Well, you been down to Little Minook, ain't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And you seen how the pay pinches out above No. 10?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, now, if it ain't above No. 10, where is it?" No answer. "Where +does it _go_?" she repeated severely, like a schoolmarm to a class of +backward boys. + +"That's what everybody'd like to know." + +"Then let 'em ask Pitcairn." + +"What's Pitcairn say?" + +She got up briskly, moved to another log almost at the Colonel's feet, +and sat looking at him a moment as if making up her mind about +something serious. The Colonel stood, fists at his sides, arrested by +that name Pitcairn. + +"You know Pitcairn's the best all-round man we got here," she asserted +rather than asked. + +The Colonel nodded. + +"He's an Idaho miner, Pitcairn is!" + +"I know." + +"Well, he's been out lookin' at the place where the gold gives out on +Little Minook. There's a pup just there above No. 10--remember?" + +"Perfectly." + +"And above the pup, on the right, there's a bed of gravel." + +"Couldn't see much of that for the snow." + +"Well, sir, that bed o' gravel's an old channel." + +"No!" + +She nodded. "Pitcairn's sunk a prospect, and found colours in his first +pan." + +"Oh, colours!" + +"But the deeper he went, the better prospects he got." She stood up +now, close to the Colonel. The Boy stopped work and leaned on the wood +pile, listening. "Pitcairn told Charlie and me (on the strict q. t.) +that the gold channel crossed the divide at No. 10, and the only gold +on Little Minookust what spilt down on those six claims as the gold +went crossin' the gulch. The real placer is that old channel above the +pup, and boys"--in her enthusiasm she even included the Colonel's +objectionable pardner--"boys, it's rich as blazes!" + +"I wonder----" drawled the Colonel, recovering a little from his first +thrill. + +"I wouldn't advise you to waste much time wonderin'," she said with +fire. "What I'm tellin' you is scientific. Pitcairn is straight as a +string. You won't get any hymns out o' Pitcairn, but you'll get fair +and square. His news is worth a lot. If you got any natchral gumption +anywhere about you, you can have a claim worth anything from ten to +fifty thousand dollars this time to-morrow." + +"Well, well! Good Lord! Hey, Boy, what we goin' to do?" + +"Well, you don't want to get excited," admonished the queer little +Arctic animal, jumping up suddenly; "but you can bunk early and get a +four a.m. wiggle on. Charlie and me'll meet you on the Minookl. Ta-ta!" +tad she whisked away as suddenly as a chipmunk. + +They couldn't sleep. Some minutes before the time named they were +quietly leaving Keith's shack. Out on the trail there were two or three +men already disappearing towards Little Minook here was Maudie, all by +herself, sprinting along like a good fellow, on the thin surface of the +last night's frost. She walked in native water-boots, but her +snow-shoes stuck out above the small pack neatly lashed on her straight +little shoulders. They waited for her. + +She came up very brisk and businesslike. To their good-mornings she +only nodded in a funny, preoccupied way, never opening her lips. + +"Charlie gone on?" inquired the Colonel presently. + +She shook her head. "Knocked out." + +"Been fightin'?" + +"No; ran a race to Hunter." + +"To jump that claim?" + +She nodded. + +"Did he beat?" + +She laughed. "Butts had the start. They got there together at nine +o'clock!" + +"Three hours before jumpin' time?" + +Again she nodded. "And found four more waitin' on the same fool +errand." + +"What did they do?" + +"Called a meetin'. Couldn't agree. It looked like there'd be a fight, +and a fast race to the Recorder among the survivors. But before the +meetin' was adjourned, those four that had got there first (they were +pretty gay a'ready), they opened some hootch, so Butts and Charlie knew +they'd nothing to fear except from one another." + +On the top of the divide that gave them their last glimpse of Rampart +she stopped an instant and looked back. The quick flash of anxiety +deepening to defiance made the others turn. The bit they could see of +the water-front thoroughfare was alive. The inhabitants were rushing +about like a swarm of agitated ants. + +"What's happening?" + +"It's got out," she exploded indignantly. "They're comin', too!" + +She turned, flew down the steep incline, and then settled into a +steady, determined gait, that made her gain on the men who had got so +long a start. Her late companions stood looking back in sheer +amazement, for the town end of the trail was black with figures. The +Boy began to laugh. + +"Look! if there isn't old Jansen and his squaw wife." + +The rheumatic cripple, huddled on a sled, was drawn by a native man and +pushed by a native woman. They could hear him swearing at both +impartially in broken English and Chinook. + +The Colonel and the Boy hurried after Maudie. It was some minutes +before they caught up. The Boy, feeling that he couldn't be +stand-offish in the very act of profiting by her acquaintance, began to +tell her about the crippled but undaunted Swede. She made no answer, +just trotted steadily on. The Boy hazarded another remark--an opinion +that she was making uncommon good time for a woman. + +"You'll want all the wind you got before you get back," she said +shortly, and silence fell on the stampeders. + +Some of the young men behind were catching up. Maudie set +her mouth very firm and quickened her pace. This spectacle touched +up those that followed; they broke into a canter, floundered in a +drift, recovered, and passed on. Maudie pulled up. + +"That's all right! Let 'em get good and tired, half-way. We got to save +all the run we got in us for the last lap." + +The sun was hotter, the surface less good. + +She loosened her shoulder-straps, released her snow-shoes, and put them +on. As she tightened her little pack the ex-Governor came puffing up +with apoplectic face. + +"Why, she can throw the diamond hitch!" he gasped with admiration. + +"S'pose you thought the squaw hitch would be good enough for me." + +"Well, it is for me," he laughed breathlessly. + +"That's 'cause you're an ex-Governor"; and steadily she tramped along. + +In twenty minutes Maudie's party came upon those same young men who had +passed running. They sat in a row on a fallen spruce. One had no rubber +boots, the other had come off in such a hurry he had forgotten his +snow-shoes. Already they were wet to the waist. + +"Step out, Maudie," said one with short-breathed hilarity; "we'll be +treadin' on your heels in a minute;" but they were badly blown. + +Maudie wasted not a syllable. Her mouth began to look drawn. There were +violet shadows under the straight-looking eyes. + +The Colonel glanced at her now and then. Is she thinking about that +four-year-old? Is Maudie stampedin' through the snow so that other +little woman need never dance at the Alcazar? No, the Colonel knew well +enough that Maudie rather liked this stampedin' business. + +She had passed one of those men who had got the long start of her. He +carried a pack. Once in a while she would turn her strained-looking +face over her shoulder, glancing back, with the frank eyes of an enemy, +at her fellow-citizens labouring along the trail. + +"Come on, Colonel!" she commanded, with a new sharpness. "Keep up your +lick." + +But the Colonel had had about enough of this gait. From now on he fell +more and more behind. But the Boy was with her neck and neck. + +"Guess you're goin' to get there." + +"Guess I am." + +Some men behind them began to run. They passed. They had pulled off +their parkis, and left them where they fell. They threw off their caps +now, and the sweat rolled down their faces. Not a countenance but wore +that immobile look, the fixed, unseeing eye of the spent runner, who is +overtaxing heart and lungs. Not only Maudie now, but everyone was +silent. Occasionally a man would rouse himself out of a walk, as if out +of sleep, and run a few yards, going the more weakly after. Several of +the men who had been behind caught up. + +Where was Kentucky? + +If Maudie wondered, she wasted no time over the speculation. For his +own good she had admonished him to keep up his lick, but of course the +main thing was that Maudie should keep up hers. + +"What if this is the great day of my life!" thought the Boy. "Shall I +always look back to this? Why, it's Sunday. Wonder if Kentucky +remembers?" Never pausing, the Boy glanced back, vaguely amused, and +saw the Colonel plunging heavily along in front of half a dozen, who +were obviously out of condition for such an expedition--eyes bloodshot, +lumbering on with nervous "whisky gait," now whipped into a breathless +gallop, now half falling by the way. Another of the Gold Nugget women +with two groggy-looking men, and somewhere down the trail, the crippled +Swede swearing at his squaw. A dreamy feeling came over the Boy. Where +in the gold basins of the North was this kind of thing not +happening--finished yesterday, or planned for to-morrow? Yes, it was +typical. Between patches of ragged black spruce, wide stretches of +snow-covered moss, under a lowering sky, and a mob of men floundering +through the drifts to find a fortune. "See how they run!"--mad mice. +They'd been going on stampedes all winter, and would go year in, year +out, until they died. The prizes were not for such as they. As for +himself--ah, it was a great day for him! He was going at last to claim +that gold-mine he had come so far to find. This was the decisive moment +of his life. At the thought he straightened up, and passed Maudie. She +gave him a single sidelong look, unfriendly, even fierce. That was +because he could run like sixty, and keep it up. "When I'm a +millionaire I shall always remember that I'm rich because I won the +race." A dizzy feeling came over him. He seemed to be running through +some softly resisting medium like water--no, like wine jelly. His heart +was pounding up in his throat. "What if something's wrong, and I drop +dead on the way to my mine? Well, Kentucky'll look after things." + +Maudie had caught up again, and here was Little Minook at last! A +couple of men, who from the beginning had been well in advance of +everyone else, and often out of sight, had seemed for the last five +minutes to be losing ground. But now they put on steam, Maudie too. She +stepped out of her snowshoes, and flung them up on the low roof of the +first cabin. Then she ducked her head, crooked her arms at the elbow, +and, with fists uplifted, she broke into a run, jumping from pile to +pile of frozen pay, gliding under sluice-boxes, scrambling up the bank, +slipping on the rotting ice, recovering, dashing on over fallen timber +and through waist-deep drifts, on beyond No. 10 up to the bench above. + +When the Boy got to Pitcairn's prospect hole, there were already six +claims gone. He proceeded to stake the seventh, next to Maudie's. That +person, with flaming cheeks, was driving her last location-post into a +snow-drift with a piece of water-worn obsidian. + +The Colonel came along in time to stake No. 14 Below, under Maudie's +personal supervision. + +Not much use, in her opinion, "except that with gold, it's where you +find it, and that's all any man can tell you." + +As she was returning alone to her own claim, behold two brawny Circle +City miners pulling out her stakes and putting in their own. She flew +at them with remarks unprintable. + +"You keep your head shut," advised one of the men, a big, evil-looking +fellow. "This was our claim first. We was here with Pitcairn yesterday. +Somebody's took away our location-posts." + +"You take me for a cheechalko?" she screamed, and her blue eyes flashed +like smitten steel. She pulled up her sweater and felt in her belt. +"You--take your stakes out! Put mine back, unless you want----" A +murderous-looking revolver gleamed in her hand. + +"Hold on!" said the spokesman hurriedly. "Can't you take a joke?" + +"No; this ain't my day for jokin'. You want to put them stakes o' mine +back." She stood on guard till it was done. "And now I'd advise you, +like a mother, to back-track home. You'll find this climate very tryin' +to your health." + +They went farther up the slope and marked out a claim on the incline +above the bench. + +In a few hours the mountain-side was staked to the very top, and still +the stream of people struggled out from Rampart to the scene of the new +strike. All day long, and all the night, the trail was alive with the +coming or the going of the five hundred and odd souls that made up the +population. In the town itself the excitement grew rather than waned. +Men talked themselves into a fever, others took fire, and the epidemic +spread like some obscure nervous disease. Nobody slept, everybody drank +and hurrahed, and said it was the greatest night in the history of +Minook. In the Gold Nugget saloon, crowded to suffocation, Pitcairn +organized the new mining district, and named it the Idaho Bar. French +Charlie and Keith had gone out late in the day. On their return, Keith +sold his stake to a woman for twenty-five dollars, and Charlie +advertised a half-interest in his for five thousand. Between these two +extremes you could hear Idaho Bar quoted at any figure you liked. + +Maudie was in towering spirits. She drank several cocktails, and in her +knee-length "stampedin' skirt" and her scarlet sweater she danced the +most audacious jig even Maudie had ever presented to the Gold Nugget +patrons. The miners yelled with delight. One of them caught her up and +put her on the counter of the bar, where, no whit at a loss, she +curveted and spun among the bottles and the glasses as lightly as a +dragonfly dips and whirls along a summer brook. The enthusiasm grew +delirious. The men began to throw nuggets at her, and Maudie, never +pausing in the dance, caught them on the fly. + +Suddenly she saw the Big Chap turn away, and, with his back to her, +pretend to read the notice on the wall, written in charcoal on a great +sheet of brown wrapping-paper: + +"MINOOK, April 30. + +"To who it may concern: + +"Know all men by these presents that I, James McGinty, now of Minook +(or Rampart City), Alaska, do hereby give notice of my intention to +hold and claim a lien by virtue of the statue in such case----" + +He had read so far when Maudie, having jumped down off the bar with her +fists full of nuggets, and dodging her admirers, wormed her way to the +Colonel. She thrust her small person in between the notice and the +reader, and scrutinised the tanned face, on which the Rochester burners +shed a flood of light. "You lookin' mighty serious," she said. + +"Am I?" + +"M-hm! Thinkin' 'bout home sweet home?" + +"N-no--not just then." + +"Say, I told you 'bout--a--'bout me. You ain't never told me nothin'." + +He seemed not to know the answer to that, and pulled at his ragged +beard. She leaned back against McGinty's notice, and blurred still more +the smudged intention "by virtue of the statue." + +"Married, o' course," she said. + +"No." + +"Widder?" + +"No." + +"Never hitched up yet?" + +He shook his head. + +"Never goin' to, I s'pose." + +"Oh, I don't know," he laughed, and turned his head over his shoulder +to the curious scene between them and the bar. It was suddenly as if he +had never seen it before; then, while Maudie waited, a little scornful, +a little kind, his eyes went through the window to the pink and orange +sunrise. As some change came over the Colonel's face, "She died!" said +Maudie. + +"No--no--she didn't die;" then half to himself, half to forestall +Maudie's crude probing, "but I lost her," he finished. + +"Oh, you lost her!" + +He stood, looking past the ugliness within to the morning majesty +without. But it was not either that he saw. Maudie studied him. + +"Guess you ain't give up expectin' to find her some day?" + +"No--no, not quite." + +"Humph! Did you guess you'd find her here?" + +"No," and his absent smile seemed to remove him leagues away. "No, not +here." + +"I could a' told you----" she began savagely. "I don't know for certain +whether any--what you call good women come up here, but I'm dead sure +none stay." + +"When do you leave for home, Maudie?" he said gently. + +But at the flattering implication the oddest thing happened. As she +stood there, with her fists full of gold, Maudie's eyes filled. She +turned abruptly and went out. The crowd began to melt away. In half an +hour only those remained who had more hootch than they could carry off +the premises. They made themselves comfortable on the floor, near the +stove, and the greatest night Minook had known was ended. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A MINERS' MEETING + +"Leiden oder triumphiren Hammer oder Amboss sein."--Goethe. + + +In a good-sized cabin, owned by Bonsor, down near the A. C., Judge +Corey was administering Miners' Law. The chief magistrate was already a +familiar figure, standing on his dump at Little Minook, speculatively +chewing and discussing "glayshal action," but most of the time at the +Gold Nugget, chewing still, and discussing more guardedly the action +some Minook man was threatening to bring against another. You may treat +a glacier cavalierly, but Miners' Law is a serious matter. Corey was +sitting before a deal table, littered with papers strewn round a +central bottle of ink, in which a steel pen stuck upright. The Judge +wore his usual dilapidated business suit of brown cheviot that had once +been snuff-coloured and was now a streaky drab. On his feet, stretched +out under the magisterial table till they joined the jury, a pair of +moccasins; on his grizzled head a cowboy hat, set well back. He could +spit farther than any man in Minook, and by the same token was a better +shot. They had unanimously elected him Judge. + +The first-comers had taken possession of the chairs and wooden stools +round the stove. All the later arrivals, including Keith and his +friends, sat on the floor. + +"There's a good many here." + +"They'll keep comin' as long as a lean man can scrouge in." + +"Yes," said Keith, "everybody's got to come, even if it's only the +usual row between pardners, who want to part and can't agree about +dividing the outfit." + +"Got to come?" + +Keith laughed. "That's the way everybody feels. There'll be a debate +and a chance to cast a vote. Isn't your true-born American always +itching to hold a meeting about something?" + +"Don't know about that," said McGinty, "but I do know there's more +things happens in a minute to make a man mad in Alaska, than happens in +a year anywhere else." And his sentiment was loudly applauded. The +plaintiff had scored a hit. + +"I don't know but two partnerships," the ex-Governor was saying, "of +all those on my ship and on the Muckluck and the May West--just two, +that have stood the Alaska strain. Everyone that didn't break on the +boats, or in camp, went to smash on the trail." + +They all admitted that the trail was the final test. While they smoked +and spat into or at the stove, and told trail yarns, the chief +magistrate arranged papers, conferred with the clerk and another man, +wrinkled deeply his leathery forehead, consulted his Waterbury, and +shot tobacco-juice under the table. + +"Another reason everybody comes," whispered Keith, "is because the side +that wins always takes the town up to the Nugget and treats to hootch. +Whenever you see eighty or ninety more drunks than usual, you know +there's either been a stampede or else justice has been administered." + +"Ain't Bonsor late?" asked someone. + +"No, it's a quarter of." + +"Why do they want Bonsor?" + +"His case on the docket--McGinty v. Burt Bonsor, proprietor of the Gold +Nugget." + +"If they got a row on----" + +"If they got a row? Course they got a row. Weren't they pardners?" + +"But McGinty spends all his time at the Gold Nugget." + +"Well, where would he spend it?" + +"A Miners' Meetin's a pretty poor machine," McGinty was saying to the +ex-Governor, "but it's the best we got." + +"----in a country bigger than several of the nations of Europe put +together," responded that gentleman, with much public spirit. + +"A Great Country!" + +"Right!" + +"You bet!" + +"----a country that's paid for its purchase over and over again, even +before we discovered gold here." + +"Did she? Good old 'laska." + +"----and the worst treated part o' the Union." + +"That's so." + +"After this, when I read about Russian corruption and Chinese cruelty, +I'll remember the way Uncle Sam treats the natives up----" + +"----and us, b'gosh! White men that are openin' up this great, rich +country fur Uncle Sam----" + +"----with no proper courts--no Government protection--no help--no +justice--no nothin'." + +"Yer forgittin' them reindeer!" And the court-room rang with derisive +laughter. + +"Congress started that there Relief Expedition all right," the josher +went on, "only them blamed reindeer had got the feed habit, and when +they'd et up everything in sight they set down on the Dalton Trail--and +there they're settin' yit, just like they was Congress. But I don't +like to hear no feller talkin' agin' the Gover'ment." + +"Yes, it's all very funny," said McGinty gloomily, "but think o' the +fix a feller's in wot's had a wrong done him in the fall, and knows +justice is thousands o' miles away, and he can't even go after her for +eight months; and in them eight months the feller wot robbed him has et +up the money, or worked out the claim, and gone dead-broke." + +"No, sir! we don't wait, and we don't go trav'lin'. We stay at home and +call a meetin'." + +The door opened, and Bonsor and the bar-tender, with great difficulty, +forced their way in. They stood flattened against the wall. During the +diversion McGinty was growling disdainfully, "Rubbidge!" + +"Rubbidge? Reckon it's pretty serious rubbidge." + +"Did you ever know a Miners' Meetin' to make a decision that didn't +become law, with the whole community ready to enforce it if necessary? +Rubbidge! + +"Oh, we'll hang a man if we don't like his looks," grumbled McGinty; +but he was overborne. There were a dozen ready to uphold the majesty of +the Miners' Meetin'. + +"No, sir! No funny business about our law! This tribunal's final." + +"I ain't disputin' that it's final. I ain't talkin' about law. I was +mentionin' Justice." + +"The feller that loses is always gassin' 'bout Justice. When you win +you don't think there's any flies on the Justice." + +"Ain't had much experience with winnin'. We all knows who wins in these +yere Meetin's." + +"Who?" But they turned their eyes on Mr. Bonsor, over by the door. + +"Who wins?" repeated a Circle City man. + +"The feller that's got the most friends." + +"It's so," whispered Keith. + +"----same at Circle," returned the up-river man. + +McGinty looked at him. Was this a possible adherent? + +"You got a Push at Circle?" he inquired, but without genuine interest +in the civil administration up the river. "Why, 'fore this yere town +was organised, when we hadn't got no Court of Arbitration to fix a +boundary, or even to hang a thief, we had our 'main Push,' just like we +was 'Frisco." He lowered his voice, and leaned towards his Circle +friend. "With Bonsor's help they 'lected Corey Judge o' the P'lice +Court, and Bonsor ain't never let Corey forgit it." + +"What about the other?" inquired a Bonsorite, "the shifty Push that got +you in for City Marshal?" + +"What's the row on to-night?" inquired the Circle City man. + +"Oh, Bonsor, over there, he lit out on a stampede 'bout Christmas, and +while he was gone a feller by the name o' Lawrence quit the game. +Fanned out one night at the Gold Nugget. I seen for days he was wantin' +to be a angil, and I kep' a eye on 'im. Well, when he went to the +boneyard, course it was my business, bein' City Marshal, to take +possession of his property fur his heirs!" + +There was unseemly laughter behind the stove-pipe. + +"Among his deeds and traps," McGinty went on, unheeding, "there was +fifteen hundred dollars in money. Well, sir, when Bonsor gits back he +decides he'd like to be the custodian o' that cash. Mentions his idee +to me. I jest natchrally tell him to go to hell. No, sir, he goes to +Corey over there, and gits an order o' the Court makin' Bonsor +administrator o' the estate o' James Lawrence o' Noo Orleens, lately +deceased. Then Bonsor comes to me, shows me the order, and demands that +fifteen hundred." + +"Didn't he tell you you could keep all the rest o' Lawrence's stuff?" +asked the Bonsorite. + +McGinty disdained to answer this thrust. + +"But I knows my dooty as City Marshal, and I says, 'No,' and Bonsor +says, says he, 'If you can't git the idee o' that fifteen hundred +dollars out o' your head, I'll git it out fur ye with a bullet,' an' he +draws on me." + +"An' McGinty weakens," laughed the mocker behind the stove-pipe. + +"Bonsor jest pockets the pore dead man's cash," says McGinty, with +righteous indignation, "and I've called this yer meetin' t' arbitrate +the matter." + +"Minook doesn't mind arbitrating," says Keith low to the Colonel, "but +there isn't a man in camp that would give five cents for the interest +of the heirs of Lawrence in that fifteen hundred dollars." + +A hammering on the clerk's little table announced that it was seven +p.m. + +The Court then called for the complaint filed by McGinty v. Bonsor, the +first case on the docket. The clerk had just risen when the door was +flung open, and hatless, coatless, face aflame, Maudie stood among the +miners. + +"Boys!" said she, on the top of a scream, "I been robbed." + +"Hey?" + +"Robbed?" + +"Golly!" + +"Maudie robbed?" They spoke all together. Everybody had jumped up. + +"While we was on that stampede yesterday, somebody found my--all +my----" She choked, and her eyes filled. "Boys! my nuggets, my dust, my +dollars--they're gone!" + +"Where did you have 'em?" + +"In a little place under--in a hole." Her face twitched, and she put +her hand up to hide it. + +"Mean shame." + +"Dirt mean." + +"We'll find him, Maudie." + +"An' when we do, we'll hang him on the cottonwood." + +"Did anybody know where you kept your----" + +"I didn't think so, unless it was----No!" she screamed hysterically, +and then fell into weak crying. "Can't think who could have been such a +skunk." + +"But who do you suspect?" persisted the Judge. + +"How do I know?" she retorted angrily. "I suspect everybody till--till +I know." She clenched her hands. + +That a thief should be "operating" in Minook on somebody who wasn't +dead yet, was a matter that came home to the business and the bosoms of +all the men in the camp. In the midst of the babel of speculation and +excitement, Maudie, still crying and talking incoherently about skunks, +opened the door. The men crowded after her. Nobody suggested it, but +the entire Miners' Meeting with one accord adjourned to the scene of +the crime. Only a portion could be accommodated under Maudie's roof, +but the rest crowded in front of her door or went and examined the +window. Maudie's log-cabin was a cheerful place, its one room, neatly +kept, lined throughout with red and white drill, hung with marten and +fox, carpeted with wolf and caribou. The single sign of disorder was +that the bed was pulled out a little from its place in the angle of the +wall above the patent condenser stove. Behind the oil-tank, where the +patent condensation of oil into gas went on, tiers of shelves, +enamelled pots and pans ranged below, dishes and glasses above. On the +very top, like a frieze, gaily labelled ranks of "tinned goods." On the +table under the window a pair of gold scales. A fire burned in the +stove. The long-lingering sunlight poured through the "turkey-red" that +she had tacked up for a half-curtain, and over this, one saw the +slouch-hats and fur caps of the outside crowd. + +Clutching Judge Corey by the arm, Maudie pulled him after her into the +narrow space behind the head-board and the wall. + +"It was here--see?" She stooped down. + +Some of the men pulled the bed farther out, so that they, too, could +pass round and see. + +"This piece o' board goes down so slick you'd never know it lifted +out." She fitted it in with shaking hands, and then with her nails and +a hairpin got it out. "And way in, underneath, I had this box. I always +set it on a flat stone." She spoke as if this oversight were the +thief's chief crime. "See? Like that." + +She fitted the cigar-box into unseen depths of space and then brought +it out again, wet and muddy. The ground was full of springs hereabouts, +and the thaw had loosed them. + +"Boys!" She stood up and held out the box. "Boys! it was full." + +Eloquently she turned it upside down. + +"How much do you reckon you had?" She handed the muddy box to the +nearest sympathiser, sat down on the fur-covered bed, and wiped her +eyes. + +"Any idea?" + +"I weighed it all over again after I got in from the Gold Nugget the +night we went on the stampede." + +As she sobbed out the list of her former possessions, Judge Corey took +it down on the back of a dirty envelope. So many ounces of dust, so +many in nuggets, so much in bills and coin, gold and silver. Each item +was a stab. + +"Yes, all that--all that!" she jumped up wildly, "and it's gone! But we +got to find it. What you hangin' round here for? Why, if you boys had +any natchral spunk you'd have the thief strung up by now." + +"We got to find him fust." + +"You won't find him standin' here." + +They conferred afresh. + +"It must have been somebody who knowed where you kept the stuff." + +"N-no." Her red eyes wandered miserably, restlessly, to the window. +Over the red half-curtain French Charlie and Butts looked in. They had +not been to the meeting. + +Maudie's face darkened as she caught sight of the Canadian. + +"Oh, yes, you can crow over me now," she shouted shrilly above the buzz +of comment and suggestion. The Canadian led the way round to the door, +and the two men crowded in. + +"You just get out," Maudie cried in a fury. "Didn't I turn you out o' +this and tell you never----" + +"Hol' on," said French Charlie in a conciliatory tone. "This true 'bout +your losin'----" + +"Yes, it's true; but I ain't askin' your sympathy!" + +He stopped short and frowned. + +"Course not, when you can get his." Under his slouch-hat he glowered at +the Colonel. + +Maudie broke into a volley of abuse. The very air smelt of brimstone. +When finally, through sheer exhaustion, she dropped on the side of the +bed, the devil prompted French Charlie to respond in kind. She jumped +up and turned suddenly round upon Corey, speaking in a voice quite +different, low and hoarse: "You asked me, Judge, if anybody knew where +I kept my stuff. Charlie did." + +The Canadian stopped in the middle of a lurid remark and stared +stupidly. The buzz died away. The cabin was strangely still. + +"Wasn't you along with the rest up to Idaho Bar?" inquired the Judge in +a friendly voice. + +"Y-yes." + +"Not when we all were! No!" Maudie's tear-washed eyes were regaining a +dangerous brightness. "I wanted him to come with me. He wouldn't, and +we quarrelled." + +"We didn't." + +"You didn't quarrel?" put in the Judge. + +"We did," said Maudie, breathless. + +"Not about that. It was because she wanted another feller to come, +too." Again he shot an angry glance at the Kentuckian. + +"And Charlie said if I gave the other feller the tip, he wouldn't come. +And he'd get even with me, if it took a leg!" + +"Well, it looks like he done it." + +"Can't you prove an alibi? Thought you said you was along with the rest +to Idaho Bar?" suggested Windy Jim. + +"So I was." + +"I didn't see you," Maudie flashed. + +"When were you there?" asked the Judge. + +"Last night." + +"Oh, yes! When everybody else was comin' home. You all know if that's +the time Charlie usually goes on a stampede!" + +"You----" + +If words could slay, Maudie would have dropped dead, riddled with a +dozen mortal wounds. But she lived to reply in kind. Charlie's +abandonment of coherent defence was against him. While he wallowed +blindly in a mire of offensive epithet, his fellow-citizens came to +dark conclusions. He had an old score to pay off against Maudie, they +all knew that. Had he chosen this way? What other so effectual? He +might even say most of that dust was his, anyway. But it was an +alarming precedent. The fire of Maudie's excitement had caught and +spread. Eve the less inflammable muttered darkly that it was all up +with Minook, if a person couldn't go on a stampede without havin' his +dust took out of his cabin. The crowd was pressing Charlie, and twenty +cross-questions were asked him in a minute. He, beside himself with +rage, or fear, or both, lost all power except to curse. + +The Judge seemed to be taking down damning evidence on the dirty +envelope. Some were suggesting: + +"Bring him over to the court." + +"Yes, try him straight away." + +No-Thumb-Jack was heard above the din, saying it was all gammon wasting +time over a trial, or even--in a plain case like this--for the Judge to +require the usual complaint made in writing and signed by three +citizens. + +Two men laid hold of the Canadian, and he turned ghastly white under +his tan. + +"Me? Me tief? You--let me alone!" He began to struggle. His terrified +eyes rolling round the little cabin, fell on Butts. + +"I don' know but one tief in Minook," he said wildly, like a man +wandering in a fever, and unconscious of having spoken, till he noticed +there was a diversion of some sort. People were looking at Butts. A +sudden inspiration pierced the Canadian's fog of terror. + +"You know what Butts done to Jack McQuestion. You ain't forgot how he +sneaked Jack's watch!" The incident was historic. + +Every eye on Butts. Charlie caught up breath and courage. + +"An' t'odder night w'en Maudie treat me like she done"--he shot a +blazing glance at the double-dyed traitor--"I fixed it up with Butts. +Got him to go soft on 'er and nab 'er ring." + +"You didn't!" shouted Maudie. + +With a shaking finger Charlie pointed out Jimmie, the cashier. + +"Didn't I tell you to weigh me out twenty dollars for Butts that +night?" + +"Right," says Jimmie. + +"It was to square Butts fur gittin' that ring away from Maudie." + +"You put up a job like that on me?" To be fooled publicly was worse +than being robbed. + +Charlie paid no heed to her quivering wrath. The menace of the +cotton-wood gallows outrivalled even Maudie and her moods. + +"Why should I pay Butts twenty dollars if I could work dat racket +m'self? If I want expert work, I go to a man like Butts, who knows his +business. I'm a miner--like the rest o' yer!" + +The centre of gravity had shifted. It was very grave indeed in the +neighbourhood of Mr. Butts. + +"Hold on," said the Judge, forcing his way nearer to the man whose +fingers had a renown so perilous. "'Cause a man plays a trick about a +girl's ring don't prove he stole her money. This thing happened while +the town was emptied out on the Little Minook trail. Didn't you go off +with the rest yesterday morning?" + +"No." + +"Ha!" gasped Maudie, as though this were conclusive--"had business in +town, did you?" + +Mr. Butts declined to answer. + +"You thought the gold-mine out on the gulch could wait--and the +gold-mine in my cabin couldn't." + +"You lie!" remarked Mr. Butts. + +"What time did you get to Idaho Bar?" asked Corey. + +"Didn't get there at all." + +"Where were you?" + +"Here in Rampart." + +"What?" + +"Wait! Wait!" commanded the Judge, as the crowd rocked towards Butts: +"P'raps you'll tell us what kept you at home?" + +Butts shut his mouth angrily, but a glance at the faces nearest him +made him think an answer prudent. + +"I was tired." + +The men, many of them ailing, who had nearly killed themselves to get +to Idaho Bar, sneered openly. + +"I'd been jumpin' a claim up at Hunter." + +"So had Charlie. But he joined the new stampede in the afternoon." + +"Well, I didn't." + +"Why, even the old cripple Jansen went on this stampede." + +"Can't help that." + +"Mr. Butts, you're the only able-bodied white man in the district that +stayed at home." Corey spoke in his, most judicial style. + +Mr. Butts must have felt the full significance of so suspicious a fact, +but all he said was: + +"Y' ought to fix up a notice. Anybody that don't join a stampede will +be held guilty o' grand larceny." Saying this Butts had backed a step +behind the stove-pipe, and with incredible quickness had pulled out a +revolver. But before he had brought it into range, No-Thumb-Jack had +struck his arm down, and two or three had sprung at the weapon and +wrested it away. + +"Search him!" + +"No tellin' what else he's got!" + +"----and he's so damned handy!" + +"Search him!" + +Maudie pressed forward as the pinioned man's pockets were turned out. +Only tobacco, a small buckskin bag with less than four ounces of dust, +a pipe, and a knife. + +"Likely he'd be carrying my stuff about on him!" said she, contemptuous +of her own keen interest. + +"Get out a warrant to search Butts' premises," said a voice in the +crowd. + +"McGinty and Johnson are down there now!" + +"Think he'd leave anything layin' round?" + +Maudie pressed still closer to the beleaguered Butts. + +"Say, if I make the boys let you go back to Circle, will you tell me +where you've hid my money?" + +"Ain't got your money!" + +"Look at 'im," whispered Charlie, still so terrified he could hardly +stand. + +"Butts ain't borrowin' no trouble." + +And this formulating of the general impression did Butts no good. As +they had watched the calm demeanour of the man, under suspicion of what +was worse, in their eyes, than murder, there had come over the +bystanders a wave of that primitive cruelty that to this hour will wake +in modern men and cry as loud as in Judean days, or in the Saga times +of Iceland, "Retribution! Let him suffer! Let him pay in blood!" And +here again, on the Yukon, that need of visible atonement to right the +crazy injustice of the earth. + +Even the women--the others had crowded in--were eager for Butts' +instant expiation of the worst crime such a community knows. They told +one another excitedly how they'd realised all along it was only a +question of time before Butts would be tryin' his game up here. Nobody +was safe. Luckily they were on to him. But look! He didn't care a +curse. It would be a good night's job to make him care. + +Three men had hold of him, and everybody talked at once. Minnie Bryan +was sure she had seen him skulking round Maudie's after that lady had +gone up the trail, but everybody had been too excited about the +stampede to notice particularly. + +The Judge and Bonsor were shouting and gesticulating, Butts answering +bitterly but quietly still. His face was pretty grim, but it looked as +if he were the one person in the place who hadn't lost his head. Maudie +was still crying at intervals, and advertising to the newcomers that +wealth she had hitherto kept so dark, and between whiles she stared +fixedly at Butts, as conviction of his guilt deepened to a rage to see +him suffer for his crime. + +She would rather have her nuggets back, but, failing that--let Butts +pay! He owed her six thousand dollars. Let him pay! + +The miners were hustling him to the door--to the Court House or to the +cotton-wood--a toss-up which. + +"Look here!" cried out the Colonel; "McGinty and Johnson haven't got +back!" + +Nobody listened. Justice had been sufficiently served in sending them. +They had forced Butts out across the threshold, the crowd packed close +behind. The only men who had not pressed forward were Keith, the +Colonel, and the Boy, and No-Thumb-Jack, still standing by the +oil-tank. + +"What are they going to do with him?" The Colonel turned to Keith with +horror in his face. + +Keith's eyes were on the Boy, who had stooped and picked up the block +of wood that had fitted over the treasure-hole. He was staring at it +with dilated eyes. Sharply he turned his head in the direction where +No-Thumb-Jack had stood. Jack was just making for the door on the heels +of the last of those pressing to get out. + +The Boy's low cry was drowned in the din. He lunged forward, but the +Colonel gripped him. Looking up, he saw that Kentucky understood, and +meant somehow to manage the business quietly. + +Jack was trying, now right, now left, to force his way through the +congestion at the door, like a harried rabbit at a wattled fence. A +touch on the shoulder simultaneously with the click of a trigger at his +ear brought his face round over his shoulder. He made the instinctive +pioneer motion to his hip, looked into the bore of the Colonel's +pistol, and under Keith's grip dropped his "gun-hand" with a smothered +oath. + +Or was it that other weapon in the Colonel's left that bleached the +ruddy face? Simply the block of wood. On the under side, dried in, like +a faint stain, four muddy finger-prints, index joint lacking. Without a +word the Colonel turned the upper side out. A smudge?--no--the grain of +human skin clean printed--a distorted palm without a thumb. Only one +man in Minook could make that sign manual! + +The last of the crowd were over the threshold now, and still no word +was spoken by those who stayed behind, till the Colonel said to the +Boy: + +"Go with 'em, and look after Butts. Give us five minutes; more if you +can!" + +He laid the block on a cracker-box, and, keeping pistol and eye still +on the thief, took his watch in his left hand, as the Boy shot through +the door. + +Butts was making a good fight for his life, but he was becoming +exhausted. The leading spirits were running him down the bank to where +a crooked cotton-wood leaned cautiously over the Never-Know-What, as if +to spy out the river's secret. + +But after arriving there, they were a little delayed for lack of what +they called tackle. They sent a man off for it, and then sent another +to hurry up the man. The Boy stood at the edge of the crowd, a little +above them, watching Maudie's door, and with feverish anxiety turning +every few seconds to see how it was with Butts. + +Up in the cabin No-Thumb-Jack had pulled out of the usual capacious +pockets of the miner's brown-duck-pockets that fasten with a patent +snap--a tattered pocket-book, fat with bills. He plunged deeper and +brought up Pacific Coast eagles and five-dollar pieces, Canadian and +American gold that went rolling out of his maimed and nervous hand +across the tablet to the scales and set the brass pans sawing up and +down. + +Keith, his revolver still at full cock, had picked up a trampled bit of +paper near the stove. Corey's list. Left-handedly he piled up the +money, counting, comparing. + +"Quick! the dust!" ordered the Colonel. Out of a left hip-pocket a +long, tight-packed buckskin bag. Another from a side-pocket, half the +size and a quarter as full. + +"That's mine," said Jack, and made a motion to recover. + +"Let it alone. Turn out everything. Nuggets!" + +A miner's chamois belt unbuckled and flung heavily down. The scales +jingled and rocked; every pocket in the belt was stuffed. + +"Where's the rest?" + +"There ain't any rest. That's every damned pennyweight." + +"Maybe we ought to weigh it, and see if he's lying?" + +"'Fore God it's all! Let me go!" He had kept looking through the crack +of the door. + +"Reckon it's about right," said Keith. + +"'Tain't right! There's more there'n I took. My stuff's there too. For +Christ's sake, let me go!" + +"Look here, Jack, is the little bag yours?" + +Jack wet his dry lips and nodded "Yes." + +The Colonel snatched up the smaller bag and thrust it into the man's +hands. Jack made for the door. The Colonel stopped him. + +"Better take to the woods," he said, with a motion back towards the +window. The Colonel opened the half-closed door and looked out, as Jack +pushed aside the table, tore away the red curtain, hammered at the +sash, then, desperate, set his shoulder at it and forced the whole +thing out. He put his maimed hand on the sill and vaulted after the +shattered glass. + +They could see him going like the wind up towards his own shack at the +edge of the wood, looking back once or twice, doubling and tacking to +keep himself screened by the haphazard, hillside cabins, out of sight +of the lynchers down at the river. + +"Will you stay with this?" the Colonel had asked Keith hurriedly, +nodding at the treasure-covered table, and catching up the +finger-marked block before Jack was a yard from the window. + +"Yes," Keith had said, revolver still in hand and eyes on the man +Minook was to see no more. The Colonel met the Boy running breathless +up the bank. + +"Can't hold 'em any longer," he shouted; "you're takin' it pretty easy +while a man's gettin' killed down here." + +"Stop! Wait!" The Colonel floundered madly through the slush and mud, +calling and gesticulating, "I've got the thief!" + +Presto all the backs of heads became faces. + +"Got the money?" screamed Maudie, uncovering her eyes. She had gone to +the execution, but after the rope was brought, her nerve failed her, +and she was sobbing hysterically into her two palms held right over her +eyes. + +"Oh, you had it, did you?" called out McGinty with easy insolence. + +"Look here!" The Colonel held up the bit of flooring with rapid +explanation. + +"Where is he?" + +"Got him locked up?" + +Everybody talked at once. The Colonel managed to keep them going for +some moments before he admitted. + +"Reckon he's lit out." And then the Colonel got it hot and strong for +his clumsiness. + +"Which way'd he go?" + +The Colonel turned his back to the North Pole, and made a fine large +gesture in the general direction of the Equator. + +"Where's my money?" + +"Up in your cabin. Better go and count it." + +A good many were willing to help since they'd been cheated out of a +hanging, and even defrauded of a shot at a thief on the wing. Nobody +seemed to care to remain in the neighbourhood of the crooked +cotton-wood. The crowd was dispersing somewhat sheepishly. + +Nobody looked at Butts, and yet he was a sight to see. His face and his +clothes were badly mauled. He was covered with mud and blood. When the +men were interrupted in trying to get the noose over his head, he had +stood quite still in the midst of the crowd till it broke and melted +away from him. He looked round, passed his hand over his eyes, threw +open his torn coat, and felt in his pockets. + +"Who's got my tobacco?" says he. + +Several men turned back suddenly, and several pouches were held out, +but nobody met Butts' eyes. He filled his pipe, nor did his hand shake +any more than those that held the tobacco-bags. When he had lit up, +"Who's got my Smith and Wesson?" he called out to the backs of the +retiring citizens. Windy Jim stood and delivered. Butts walked away to +his cabin, swaying a little, as if he'd had more hootch than he could +carry. + +"What would you have said," demanded the Boy, "if you'd hung the wrong +man?" + +"Said?" echoed McGinty. "Why, we'd 'a' said that time the corpse had +the laugh on us." A couple of hours later Keith put an excited face +into his shack, where the Colonel and the Boy were just crawling under +their blankets. + +"Thought you might like to know, that Miners' Meeting that was +interrupted is having an extra session." + +They followed him down to the Court through a fine rain. The night was +heavy and thick. As they splashed along Keith explained: + +"Of course, Charlie knew there wasn't room enough in Alaska now for +Butts and him; and he thought he'd better send Butts home. So he took +his gun and went to call." + +"Don't tell me that poor devil's killed after all." + +"Not a bit. Butts is a little bunged up, but he's the handier man, even +so. He drew the first bead." + +"Charlie hurt?" + +"No, he isn't hurt. He's dead. Three or four fellows had just looked +in, on the quiet, to kind of apologise to Butts. They're down at +Corey's now givin' evidence against him." + +"So Butts'll have to swing after all. Is he in Court?" + +"Yes--been a busy day for Butts." + +A confused noise came suddenly out of the big cabin they were nearing. +They opened the door with difficulty, and forced their way into the +reeking, crowded room for the second time that night. Everybody seemed +to be talking--nobody listening. Dimly through dense clouds of +tobacco-smoke "the prisoner at the Bar" was seen to be--what--no! +Yes--shaking hands with the Judge. + +"Verdict already?" + +"Oh, that kind o' case don't take a feller like Corey long." + +"What's the decision?" + +"Prisoner discharged. Charlie Le Gros committed suicide." + +"Suicide!" + +"--by goin' with his gun to Butts' shack lookin' f trouble." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE ICE GOES OUT + +"I am apart of all that I have seen." + + +It had been thawing and freezing, freezing and thawing, for so long +that men lost account of the advance of a summer coming, with such +balked, uncertain steps. Indeed, the weather variations had for several +weeks been so great that no journey, not the smallest, could be +calculated with any assurance. The last men to reach Minook were two +who had made a hunting and prospecting trip to an outlying district. +They had gone there in six days, and were nineteen in returning. + +The slush was waist-deep in the gulches. On the benches, in the snow, +holes appeared, as though red-hot stones had been thrown upon the +surface. The little settlement by the mouth of the Minook sat +insecurely on the boggy hillside, and its inhabitants waded knee-deep +in soaking tundra moss and mire. + +And now, down on the Never-Know-What, water was beginning to run on the +marginal ice. Up on the mountains the drifted snow was honey-combed. +Whole fields of it gave way and sunk a foot under any adventurous shoe. +But although these changes had been wrought slowly, with backsets of +bitter nights, when everything was frozen hard as flint, the illusion +was general that summer came in with a bound. On the 9th of May, Minook +went to bed in winter, and woke to find the snow almost gone under the +last nineteen hours of hot, unwinking sunshine, and the first geese +winging their way up the valley--sight to stir men's hearts. Stranger +still, the eight months' Arctic silence broken suddenly by a thousand +voices. Under every snow-bank a summer murmur, very faint at first, but +hourly louder--the sound of falling water softly singing over all the +land. + +As silence had been the distinguishing feature of the winter, so was +noise the sign of the spring. No ear so dull but now was full of it. +All the brooks on all the hills, tinkling, tumbling, babbling of some +great and universal joy, all the streams of all the gulches joining +with every little rill to find the old way, or to carve a new, back to +the Father of Waters. + +And the strange thing had happened on the Yukon. The shore-edges of the +ice seemed sunken, and the water ran yet deeper there. But of a +certainty the middle part had risen! The cheechalkos thought it an +optical illusion. But old Brandt from Forty-Mile had seen the ice go +out for two-and-twenty years, and he said it went out always so--"humps +his back, an' gits up gits, and when he's a gitten', jest look out!" +Those who, in spite of warning, ventured in hip-boots down on the +Never-Know-What, found that, in places, the under side of the ice was +worn nearly through. If you bent your head and listened, you could +plainly hear that greater music of the river running underneath, low as +yet, but deep, and strangely stirring--dominating in the hearer's ears +all the clear, high clamour from gulch and hill. + +In some men's hearts the ice "went out" at the sound, and the melting +welled up in their eyes. Summer and liberty were very near. + +"Oh, hurry, Yukon Inua; let the ice go out and let the boats come in." + +But the next few days hung heavily. The river-ice humped its back still +higher, but showed no disposition to "git." The wonder was it did not +crack under the strain; but Northern ice ahs the air of being strangely +flexile. Several feet in depth, the water ran now along the margin. + +More geese and ducks appeared, and flocks of little birds--Canada jays, +robins, joined the swelling chorus of the waters. + +Oh, hurry, hurry Inua, and open the great highway! Not at Minook alone: +at every wood camp, mining town and mission, at every white post and +Indian village, all along the Yukon, groups were gathered waiting the +great moment of the year. No one had ever heard of the ice breaking up +before the 11th of May or later than the 28th. And yet men had begun to +keep a hopeful eye on the river from the 10th of April, when a white +ptarmigan was reported wearing a collar of dark-brown feathers, and his +wings tipped brown. That was a month ago, and the great moment could +not possibly be far now. + +The first thing everybody did on getting up, and the last thing +everybody did on going to bed, was to look at the river. It was not +easy to go to bed; and even if you got so far it was not easy to sleep. +The sun poured into the cabins by night as well as by day, and there +was nothing to divide one part of the twenty-four hours from another. +You slept when you were too tired to watch the river. You breakfasted, +like as not, at six in the evening; you dined at midnight. Through all +your waking hours you kept an eye on the window overlooking the river. +In your bed you listened for that ancient Yukon cry, "The ice is going +out!" + +For ages it had meant to the timid: Beware the fury of the shattered +ice-fields; beware the caprice of the flood. Watch! lest many lives go +out with the ice as aforetime. And for ages to the stout-hearted it had +meant: Make ready the kyaks and the birch canoes; see that tackle and +traps are strong--for plenty or famine wait upon the hour. As the white +men waited for boats to-day, the men of the older time had waited for +the salmon--for those first impatient adventurers that would force +their way under the very ice-jam, tenderest and best of the season's +catch, as eager to prosecute that journey from the ocean to the +Klondyke as if they had been men marching after the gold boom. + +No one could settle to anything. It was by fits and starts that the +steadier hands indulged even in target practice, with a feverish +subconsciousness that events were on the way that might make it +inconvenient to have lost the art of sending a bullet straight. After a +diminutive tin can, hung on a tree, had been made to jump at a hundred +paces, the marksman would glance at the river and forget to fire. It +was by fits and starts that they even drank deeper or played for higher +stakes. + +The Wheel of Fortune, in the Gold Nugget, was in special demand. It was +a means of trying your luck with satisfactory despatch "between drinks" +or between long bouts of staring at the river. Men stood in +shirt-sleeves at their cabin doors in the unwinking sunshine, looking +up the valley or down, betting that the "first boat in" would be one of +those nearest neighbours, May West or Muckluck, coming up from +Woodworth; others as ready to back heavily their opinion that the first +blast of the steam whistle would come down on the flood from Circle or +from Dawson. + +The Colonel had bought and donned a new suit of "store clothes," and +urged on his companion the necessity of at least a whole pair of +breeches in honour of his entrance into the Klondyke. But the Boy's +funds were low and his vanity chastened. Besides, he had other business +on his mind. + +After sending several requests for the immediate return of his dog, +requests that received no attention, the Boy went out to the gulch to +recover him. Nig's new master paid up all arrears of wages readily +enough, but declined to surrender the dog. "Oh, no, the ice wasn't +thinkin' o' goin' out yit." + +"I want my dog." + +"You'll git him sure." + +"I'm glad you understand that much." + +"I'll bring him up to Rampart in time for the first boat." + +"Where's my dog?" + +No answer. The Boy whistled. No Nig. Dread masked itself in choler. He +jumped on the fellow, forced him down, and hammered him till he cried +for mercy. + +"Where's my dog, then?" + +"He--he's up to Idyho Bar," whimpered the prostrate one. And there the +Boy found him, staggering under a pair of saddle-bags, hired out to +Mike O'Reilly for a dollar and a half a day. Together they returned to +Rampart to watch for the boat. + +Certainly the ice was very late breaking up this year. The men of +Rampart stood about in groups in the small hours of the morning of the +16th of May; as usual, smoking, yarning, speculating, inventing +elaborate joshes. Somebody remembered that certain cheechalkos had gone +to bed at midnight. Now this was unprecedented, even impertinent. If +the river is not open by the middle of May, your Sour-dough may go to +bed--only he doesn't. Still, he may do as he lists. But your +cheechalko--why, this is the hour of his initiation. It was as if a man +should yawn at his marriage or refuse to sleep at his funeral. The +offenders were some of those Woodworth fellows, who, with a dozen or so +others, had built shacks below "the street" yet well above the river. +At two in the morning Sour-dough Saunders knocked them up. + +"The ice is goin' out!" + +In a flash the sleepers stood at the door. + +"Only a josh." One showed fight. + +"Well, it's true what I'm tellin' yer," persisted Saunders seriously: +"the ice is goin' out, and it's goin' soon, and when you're washed out +o' yer bunks ye needn't blame me, fur I warned yer." + +"You don't mean the flood'll come up here?" + +"Mebbe you've arranged so she won't this year." + +The cheechalkos consulted. In the end, four of them occupied the next +two hours (to the infinite but masked amusement of the town) in +floundering about in the mud, setting up tents in the boggy wood above +the settlement, and with much pains transporting thither as many of +their possessions as they did not lose in the bottomless pit of the +mire. + +When the business was ended, Minook self-control gave way. The +cheechalkos found themselves the laughing-stock of the town. The +others, who had dared to build down on the bank, but who "hadn't scared +worth a cent," sauntered up to the Gold Nugget to enjoy the increased +esteem of the Sour-doughs, and the humiliation of the men who had +thought "the Yukon was goin' over the Ramparts this year--haw, haw!" + +It surprises the average mind to discover that one of civilization's +most delicate weapons is in such use and is so potently dreaded among +the roughest frontier spirits. No fine gentleman in a drawing-room, no +sensitive girl, shrinks more from what Meredith calls "the comic +laugh," none feels irony more keenly than your ordinary American +pioneer. The men who had moved up into the soaking wood saw they had +run a risk as great to them as the fabled danger of the river--the risk +of the josher's irony, the dire humiliation of the laugh. If a man up +here does you an injury, and you kill him, you haven't after all taken +the ultimate revenge. You might have "got the laugh on him," and let +him live to hear it. + +While all Minook was "jollying" the Woodworth men, Maudie made one of +her sudden raids out of the Gold Nugget. She stood nearly up to the +knees of her high rubber boots in the bog of "Main Street," talking +earnestly with the Colonel. Keith and the Boy, sitting on a store box +outside of the saloon, had looked on at the fun over the timid +cheechalkos, and looked on now at Maudie and the Colonel. It crossed +the Boy's mind that they'd be putting up a josh on his pardner pretty +soon, and at the thought he frowned. + +Keith had been saying that the old miners had nearly all got "squawed." +He had spoken almost superstitiously of the queer, lasting effect of +the supposedly temporary arrangement. + +"No, they don't leave their wives as often as you'd expect, but in most +cases it seems to kill the pride of the man. He gives up all idea of +ever going home, and even if he makes a fortune, they say, he stays on +here. And year by year he sinks lower and lower, till he's farther down +in the scale of things human than his savage wife." + +"Yes, it's awful to think how the life up here can take the stiffening +out of a fella." + +He looked darkly at the two out there in the mud. Keith nodded. + +"Strong men have lain down on the trail this winter and cried." But it +wasn't that sort of thing the other meant. Keith followed his new +friend's glowering looks. + +"Yes. That's just the kind of man that gets taken in." + +"What?" said the Boy brusquely. + +"Just the sort that goes and marries some flighty creature." + +"Well," said his pardner haughtily, "he could afford to marry 'a +flighty creature.' The Colonel's got both feet on the ground." And +Keith felt properly snubbed. But what Maudie was saying to the Colonel +was: + +"You're goin' up in the first boat, I s'pose?" + +"Yes." + +"Looks like I'll be the only person left in Minook." + +"I don't imagine you'll be quite alone." + +"No? Why, there's only between five and six hundred expectin' to board +a boat that'll be crowded before she gets here." + +"Does everybody want to go to Dawson?" + +"Everybody except a few boomers who mean to stay long enough to play +off their misery on someone else before they move on." + +The Colonel looked a trifle anxious. + +"I hadn't thought of that. I suppose there will be a race for the +boat." + +"There'll be a race all the way up the river for all the early boats. +Ain't half enough to carry the people. But you look to me like you'll +stand as good a chance as most, and anyhow, you're the one man I know, +I'll trust my dough to." + +The Colonel stared. + +"You see, I want to get some money to my kiddie, an' besides, I got +m'self kind o' scared about keepin' dust in my cabin. I want it in a +bank, so's if I should kick the bucket (there'll be some pretty high +rollin' here when there's been a few boats in, and my life's no better +than any other feller's), I'd feel a lot easier if I knew the kiddie'd +have six thousand clear, even if I did turn up my toes. See?" + +"A--yes--I see. But----" + +The door of the cabin next the saloon opened suddenly. A graybeard with +a young face came out rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stared +interrogatively at the river, and then to the world in general: + +"What time is it?" + +"Half-past four." + +"Mornin' or evenin'?" and no one thought the question strange. + +Maudie lowered her voice. + +"No need to mention it to pardners and people. You don't want every +feller to know you're goin' about loaded; but will you take my dust up +to Dawson and get it sent to 'Frisco on the first boat?" + +"The ice! the ice! It's moving!" + +"The ice is going out!" + +"Look! the ice!" + +From end to end of the settlement the cry was taken up. People darted +out of cabins like beavers out of their burrows. Three little +half-breed Indian boys, yelling with excitement, tore past the Gold +Nugget, crying now in their mother's Minook, now in their father's +English, "The ice is going out!" From the depths of the store-box +whereon his master had sat, Nig darted, howling excitedly and waving a +muddy tail like a draggled banner, saying in Mahlemeut: "The ice is +going out! The fish are coming in." All the other dogs waked and gave +tongue, running in and out among the huddled rows of people gathered on +the Ramparts. + +Every ear full of the rubbing, grinding noise that came up out of the +Yukon--noise not loud, but deep--an undercurrent of heavy sound. As +they stood there, wide-eyed, gaping, their solid winter world began to +move. A compact mass of ice, three-quarters of a mile wide and four +miles long, with a great grinding and crushing went down the valley. +Some distance below the town it jammed, building with incredible +quickness a barrier twenty feet high. + +The people waited breathless. Again the ice-mass trembled. But the +watchers lifted their eyes to the heights above. Was that thunder in +the hills? No, the ice again; again crushing, grinding, to the low +accompaniment of thunder that seemed to come from far away. + +Sections a mile long and half a mile wide were forced up, carried over +the first ice-pack, and summarily stopped below the barrier. Huge +pieces, broken off from the sides, came crunching their way angrily up +the bank, as if acting on some independent impulse. There they sat, +great fragments, glistening in the sunlight, as big as cabins. It was +something to see them come walking up the shelving bank! The +cheechalkos who laughed before are contented now with running, leaving +their goods behind. Sour-dough Saunders himself never dreamed the ice +would push its way so far. + +In mid-channel a still unbroken sheet is bent yet more in the centre. +Every now and then a wide crack opens near the margin, and the water +rushes out with a roar. Once more the mass is nearly still, and now +all's silent. Not till the water, dammed and thrown back by the ice, +not until it rises many feet and comes down with a volume and momentum +irresistible, will the final conflict come. + +Hour after hour the people stand there on the bank, waiting to see the +barrier go down. Unwillingly, as the time goes on, this one, that one, +hurries away for a few minutes to prepare and devour a meal, back +again, breathless, upon rumour of that preparatory trembling, that +strange thrilling of the ice. The grinding and the crushing had begun +again. + +The long tension, the mysterious sounds, the sense of some great +unbridled power at work, wrought on the steadiest nerves. People did +the oddest things. Down at the lower end of the town a couple of +miners, sick of the scurvy, had painfully clambered on their +roof--whether to see the sights or be out of harm's way, no one knew. +The stingiest man in Minook, who had refused to help them in their +cabin, carried them food on the roof. A woman made and took them the +Yukon remedy for their disease. They sat in state in sight of all men, +and drank spruce tea. + +By one o'clock in the afternoon the river had risen eight feet, but the +ice barrier still held. The people, worn out, went away to sleep. All +that night the barrier held, though more ice came down and still the +water rose. Twelve feet now. The ranks of shattered ice along the shore +are claimed again as the flood widens and licks them in. The +cheechalkos' cabins are flooded to the caves. Stout fellows in +hip-boots take a boat and rescue the scurvy-stricken from the roof. And +still the barrier held. + +People began to go about their usual avocations. The empty Gold Nugget +filled again. Men sat, as they had done all the winter, drinking, and +reading the news of eight months before, out of soiled and tattered +papers. + +Late the following day everyone started up at a new sound. Again +miners, Indians, and dogs lined the bank, saw the piled ice masses +tremble, heard a crashing and grinding as of mountains of glass hurled +together, saw the barrier give way, and the frozen wastes move down on +the bosom of the flood. Higher yet the water rose--the current ran +eight miles an hour. And now the ice masses were less enormous, more +broken. Somewhere far below another jam. Another long bout of waiting. + +Birds are singing everywhere. Between the white snowdrifts the Arctic +moss shows green and yellow, white flowers star the hills. + +Half the town is packed, ready to catch the boat at five minutes' +notice. With door barred and red curtain down, Maudie is doing up her +gold-dust for the Colonel to take to Dawson. The man who had washed it +out of a Birch Creek placer, and "blowed it in fur the girl"--up on the +hillside he sleeps sound. + +The two who had broken the record for winter travel on the Yukon, side +by side in the sunshine, on a plank laid across two mackerel firkins, +sit and watch the brimming flood. They speak of the Big Chimney men, +picture them, packed and waiting for the Oklahoma, wonder what they +have done with Kaviak, and what the three months have brought them. + +"When we started out that day from the Big Chimney, we thought we'd be +made if only we managed to reach Minook." + +"Well, we've got what we came for--each got a claim." + +"Oh, yes." + +"A good claim, too." + +"Guess so." + +"Don't you know the gold's there?" + +"Yes; but where are the miners? You and I don't propose to spend the +next ten years in gettin' that gold out." + +"No; but there are plenty who would if we gave 'em the chance. All we +have to do is to give the right ones the chance." + +The Colonel wore an air of reflection. + +"The district will be opened up," the Boy went on cheerfully, "and +we'll have people beggin' us to let 'em get out our gold, and givin' us +the lion's share for the privilege." + +"Do you altogether like the sound o' that?" + +"I expect, like other people, I'll like the result." + +"We ought to see some things clearer than other people. We had our +lesson on the trail," said the Colonel quietly. "Nobody ought ever to +be able to fool us about the power and the value of the individual +apart from society. Seems as if association did make value. In the +absence of men and markets a pit full of gold is worth no more than a +pit full of clay." + +"Oh, yes; I admit, till the boats come in, we're poor men." + +"Nobody will stop here this summer--they'll all be racing on to +Dawson." + +"Dawson's 'It,' beyond a doubt." + +The Colonel laughed a little ruefully. + +"We used to say Minook." + +"I said Minook, just to sound reasonable, but, of course, I meant +Dawson." + +And they sat there thinking, watching the ice-blocks meet, crash, go +down in foam, and come up again on the lower reaches, the Boy idly +swinging the great Katharine's medal to and fro. In his buckskin pocket +it has worn so bright it catches at the light like a coin fresh from +the mint. + +No doubt Muckluck is on the river-bank at Pymeut; the one-eyed Prince, +the story-teller Yagorsha, even Ol' Chief--no one will be indoors +to-day. + +Sitting there together, they saw the last stand made by the ice, and +shared that moment when the final barrier, somewhere far below, gave +way with boom and thunder. The mighty flood ran free, tearing up trees +by their roots as it ran, detaching masses of rock, dissolving islands +into swirling sand and drift, carving new channels, making and unmaking +the land. The water began to fall. It had been a great time: it was +ended. + +"Pardner," says the Colonel, "we've seen the ice go out." + +"No fella can call you and me cheechalkos after to-day." + +"No, sah. We've travelled the Long Trail, we've seen the ice go out, +and we're friends yet." + +The Kentuckian took his pardner's brown hand with a gentle solemnity, +seemed about to say something, but stopped, and turned his bronzed face +to the flood, carried back upon some sudden tide within himself to +those black days on the trail, that he wanted most in the world to +forget. But in his heart he knew that all dear things, all things kind +and precious--his home, a woman's face--all, all would fade before he +forgot those last days on the trail. The record of that journey was +burnt into the brain of the men who had made it. On that stretch of the +Long Trail the elder had grown old, and the younger had forever lost +his youth. Not only had the roundness gone out of his face, not only +was it scarred, but such lines were graven there as commonly takes the +antique pencil half a score of years to trace. + +"Something has happened," the Colonel said quite low. "We aren't the +same men who left the Big Chimney." + +"Right!" said the Boy, with a laugh, unwilling as yet to accept his own +personal revelation, preferring to put a superficial interpretation on +his companion's words. He glanced at the Colonel, and his face changed +a little. But still he would not understand. Looking down at the +chaparejos that he had been so proud of, sadly abbreviated to make +boots for Nig, jagged here and there, and with fringes now not all +intentional, it suited him to pretend that the "shaps" had suffered +most. + +"Yes, the ice takes the kinks out." + +"Whether the thing that's happened is good or evil, I don't pretend to +say," the other went on gravely, staring at the river. "I only know +something's happened. There were possibilities--in me, anyhow--that +have been frozen to death. Yes, we're different." + +The Boy roused himself, but only to persist in his misinterpretation. + +"You ain't different to hurt. If I started out again tomorrow----" + +"The Lord forbid!" + +"Amen. But if I had to, you're the only man in Alaska--in the +world--I'd want for my pardner." + +"Boy----!" he wrestled with a slight bronchial huskiness, cleared his +throat, tried again, and gave it up, contenting himself with, "Beg your +pardon for callin' you 'Boy.' You're a seasoned old-timer, sah." And +the Boy felt as if some Sovereign had dubbed him Knight. + +In a day or two now, from north or south, the first boat must appear. +The willows were unfolding their silver leaves. The alder-buds were +bursting; geese and teal and mallard swarmed about the river margin. +Especially where the equisetae showed the tips of their feathery green +tails above the mud, ducks flocked and feasted. People were too +excited, "too busy," they said, looking for the boats, to do much +shooting. The shy birds waxed daring. Keith, standing by his shack, +knocked over a mallard within forty paces of his door. + +It was eight days after that first cry, "The ice is going out!" four +since the final jam gave way and let the floes run free, that at one +o'clock in the afternoon the shout went up, "A boat! a boat!" + +Only a lumberman's bateau, but two men were poling her down the current +with a skill that matched the speed. They swung her in. A dozen hands +caught at the painter and made fast. A young man stepped ashore and +introduced himself as Van Alen, Benham's "Upper River pardner, on the +way to Anvik." + +His companion, Donovan, was from Circle City, and brought appalling +news. The boats depended on for the early summer traffic, Bella, and +three other N.A.T. and T. steamers, as well as the A.C.'s Victoria and +the St. Michael, had been lifted up by the ice "like so many feathers," +forced clean out of the channel, and left high and dry on a sandy +ridge, with an ice wall eighty feet wide and fifteen high between them +and open water. + +"All the crews hard at work with jackscrews," said Donovan; "and if +they can get skids under, and a channel blasted through the ice, they +may get the boats down here in fifteen or twenty days." + +A heavy blow. But instantly everyone began to talk of the May West and +the Muckluck as though all along they had looked for succour to come +up-stream rather than down. But as the precious hours passed, a deep +dejection fastened on the camp. There had been a year when, through one +disaster after another, no boats had got to the Upper River. Not even +the arrival from Dawson of the Montana Kid, pugilist and gambler, could +raise spirits so cast down, not even though he was said to bring +strange news from outside. + +There was war in the world down yonder--war had been formally declared +between America and Spain. + +Windy slapped his thigh in humourous despair. + +"Why hadn't he thought o' gettin' off a josh like that?" + +To those who listened to the Montana Kid, to the fretted spirits of men +eight months imprisoned, the States and her foreign affairs were far +away indeed, and as for the other party to the rumoured war--Spain? +They clutched at school memories of Columbus, Americans finding through +him the way to Spain, as through him Spaniards had found the way to +America. So Spain was not merely a State historic! She was still in the +active world. But what did these things matter? Boats mattered: the +place where the Klondykers were caught, this Minook, mattered. And so +did the place they wanted to reach--Dawson mattered most of all. By the +narrowed habit of long months, Dawson was the centre of the universe. + +More little boats going down, and still nothing going up. Men said +gloomily: + +"We're done for! The fellows who go by the Canadian route will get +everything. The Dawson season will be half over before we're in the +field--if we ever are!" + +The 28th of May! Still no steamer had come, but the mosquitoes +had--bloodthirsty beyond any the temperate climates know. It was clear +that some catastrophe had befallen the Woodworth boats. And Nig had +been lured away by his quondam master! No, they had not gone back to +the gulch--that was too easy. The man had a mind to keep the dog, and, +since he was not allowed to buy him, he would do the other thing. + +He had not been gone an hour, rumour said--had taken a scow and +provisions, and dropped down the river. Utterly desperate, the Boy +seized his new Nulato gun and somebody else's canoe. Without so much as +inquiring whose, he shot down the swift current after the dog-thief. He +roared back to the remonstrating Colonel that he didn't care if an +up-river steamer did come while he was gone--he was goin' gunnin'. + +At the same time he shared the now general opinion that a Lower River +boat would reach them first, and he was only going to meet her, meting +justice by the way. + +He had gone safely more than ten miles down, when suddenly, as he was +passing an island, he stood up in his boat, balanced himself, and +cocked his gun. + +Down there, on the left, a man was standing knee-deep in the water, +trying to free his boat from a fallen tree; a Siwash dog watched him +from the bank. + +The Boy whistled. The dog threw up his nose, yapped and whined. The man +had turned sharply, saw his enemy and the levelled gun. He jumped into +the boat, but she was filling while he bailed; the dog ran along the +island, howling fit to raise the dead. When he was a little above the +Boy's boat he plunged into the river. Nig was a good swimmer, but the +current here would tax the best. The Boy found himself so occupied with +saving Nig from a watery grave, while he kept the canoe from capsizing, +that he forgot all about the thief till a turn in the river shut him +out of sight. + +The canoe was moored, and while trying to restrain Nig's dripping +caresses, his master looked up, and saw something queer off there, +above the tops of the cottonwoods. As he looked he forgot the +dog--forgot everything in earth or heaven except that narrow cloud +wavering along the sky. He sat immovable in the round-shouldered +attitude learned in pulling a hand-sled against a gale from the Pole. +If you are moderately excited you may start, but there is an excitement +that "nails you." + +Nig shook his wolf's coat and sprayed the water far and wide, made +little joyful noises, and licked the face that was so still. But his +master, like a man of stone, stared at that long gray pennon in the +sky. If it isn't a steamer, what is it? Like an echo out of some lesson +he had learned and long forgot, "Up-bound boats don't run the channel: +they have to hunt for easy water." Suddenly he leaped up. The canoe +tipped, and Nig went a second time into the water. Well for him that +they were near the shore; he could jump in without help this time. No +hand held out, no eye for him. His master had dragged the painter free, +seized the oars, and, saying harshly, "Lie down, you black devil!" he +pulled back against the current with every ounce he had in him. For the +gray pennon was going round the other side of the island, and the Boy +was losing the boat to Dawson. + +Nig sat perkily in the bow, never budging till his master, running into +the head of the island, caught up a handful of tough root fringes, and, +holding fast by them, waved his cap, and shouted like one possessed, +let go the fringes, caught up his gun, and fired. Then Nig, realising +that for once in a way noise seemed to be popular, pointed his nose at +the big object hugging the farther shore, and howled with a right +goodwill. + +"They see! They see! Hooray!" + +The Boy waved his arms, embraced Nig, then snatched up the oars. The +steamer's engines were reversed; now she was still. The Boy pulled +lustily. A crowded ship. Crew and passengers pressed to the rails. The +steamer canted, and the Captain's orders rang out clear. Several +cheechalkos laid their hands on their guns as the wild fellow in the +ragged buckskins shot round the motionless wheel, and brought his canoe +'long-side, while his savage-looking dog still kept the echoes of the +Lower Ramparts calling. + +"Three cheers for the Oklahoma!" + +At the sound of the Boy's voice a red face hanging over the stern broke +into a broad grin. + +"Be the Siven! Air ye the little divvle himself, or air ye the divvle's +gran'fatherr?" + +The apparition in the canoe was making fast and preparing to board the +ship. + +"Can't take another passenger. Full up!" said the Captain. He couldn't +hear what was said in reply, but he shook his head. "Been refusin' 'em +right along." Then, as if reproached by the look in the wild young +face, "We thought you were in trouble." + +"So I am if you won't----" + +"I tell you we got every ounce we can carry." + +"Oh, take me back to Minook, anyway!" + +He said a few words about fare to the Captain's back. As that magnate +did not distinctly say "No"--indeed, walked off making conversation +with the engineer--twenty hands helped the new passenger to get Nig and +the canoe on board. + +"Well, got a gold-mine?" asked Potts. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where's the Colonel?" Mac rasped out, with his square jaw set for +judgment. + +"Colonel's all right--at Minook. We've got a gold-mine apiece." + +"Anny gowld in 'em?" + +"Yes, sir, and no salt, neither." + +"Sorry to see success has gone to your head," drawled Potts, eyeing the +Boy's long hair. "I don't see any undue signs of it elsewhere." + +"Faith! I do, thin. He's turned wan o' thim hungry, grabbin' +millionaires." + +"What makes you think that?" laughed the Boy, poking his brown fingers +through the knee-hole of his breeches. + +"Arre ye contint wid that gowld-mine at Minook? No, be the Siven! +What's wan gowld-mine to a millionaire? What forr wud ye be prospectin +that desert oiland, you and yer faithful man Froyday, if ye wasn't +rooned intoirely be riches?" + +The Boy tore himself away from his old friends, and followed the +arbiter of his fate. The engines had started up again, and they were +going on. + +"I'm told," said the Captain rather severely, "that Minook's a busted +camp." + +"Oh, is it?" returned the ragged one cheerfully. Then he remembered +that this Captain Rainey had grub-staked a man in the autumn--a man who +was reported to know where to look for the Mother Lode, the mighty +parent of the Yukon placers. "I can tell you the facts about Minook." +He followed the Captain up on the hurricane-deck, giving him details +about the new strike, and the wonderful richness of Idaho Bar. "Nobody +would know about it to-day, but that the right man went prospecting +there." (One in the eye for whoever said Minook was "busted," and +another for the prospector Rainey had sent to look for----) "You see, +men like Pitcairn have given up lookin' for the Mother Lode. They say +you might as well look for Mother Eve; you got to make out with her +descendants. Yukon gold, Pitcairn says, comes from an older rock series +than this"--he stood in the shower of sparks constantly spraying from +the smoke-stack to the fireproof deck, and he waved his hand airily at +the red rock of the Ramparts--"far older than any of these. The gold up +here has all come out o' rock that went out o' the rock business +millions o' years ago. Most o' that Mother Lode the miners are lookin' +for is sand now, thirteen hundred miles away in Norton Sound." + +"Just my luck," said the Captain gloomily, going a little for'ard, as +though definitely giving up mining and returning to his own proper +business. + +"But the rest o' the Mother Lode, the gold and magnetic iron, was too +heavy to travel. That's what's linin' the gold basins o' the +North--linin' Idaho Bar thick." + +The Captain sighed. + +"Twelve," a voice sang out on the lower deck. + +"Twelve," repeated the Captain. + +"Twelve," echoed the pilot at the wheel. + +"Twelve and a half," from the man below, a tall, lean fellow, casting +the sounding-pole. With a rhythmic nonchalance he plants the long black +and white staff at the ship's side, draws it up dripping, plunges it +down again, draws it up, and sends it down hour after hour. He never +seems to tire; he never seems to see anything but the water-mark, never +to say anything but what he is chanting now, "Twelve and a half," or +some variation merely numerical. You come to think him as little human +as the calendar, only that his numbers are told off with the +significance of sound, the suggested menace of a cry. If the "sounding" +comes too near the steamer's draught, or the pilot fails to hear the +reading, the Captain repeats it. He often does so when there is no +need; it is a form of conversation, noncommittal, yet smacking of +authority. + +"Ten." + +"Ten," echoed the pilot, while the Captain was admitting that he had +been mining vicariously "for twenty years, and never made a cent. +Always keep thinkin' I'll soon be able to give up steamboatin' and buy +a farm." + +He shook his head as one who sees his last hope fade. + +But his ragged companion turned suddenly, and while the sparks fell in +a fresh shower, "Well, Captain," says he, "you've got the chance of +your life right now." + +"Ten and a half." + +"Just what they've all said. Wish I had the money I've wasted on +grub-stakin'." + +The ragged one thrust his hands in the pockets of his chaparejos. + +"I grub-staked myself, and I'm very glad I did." + +"Nobody in with you?" + +"No." + +"Nine." + +Echo, "Nine." + +"Ten." + +"Pitcairn says, somehow or other, there's been gold-washin' goin' on up +here pretty well ever since the world began." + +"Indians?" + +"No; seems to have been a bigger job than even white men could manage. +Instead o' stamp-mills, glaciers grindin' up the Mother Lode; instead +o' little sluice-boxes, rivers; instead o' riffles, gravel bottoms. +Work, work, wash, wash, day and night, every summer for a million +years. Never a clean-up since the foundation of the world. No, sir, +waitin' for us to do that--waitin' now up on Idaho Bar." + +The Captain looked at him, trying to conceal the envy in his soul. They +were sounding low water, but he never heard. He looked round sharply as +the course changed. + +"I've done my assessment," the ragged man went on joyously, "and I'm +going to Dawson." + +This was bad navigation. He felt instantly he had struck a snag. The +Captain smiled, and passed on sounding: "Nine and a half." + +"But I've got a fortune on the Bar. I'm not a boomer, but I believe in +the Bar." + +"Six." + +"Six. Gettin' into low water." + +Again the steamer swung out, hunting a new channel. + +"Pitcairn's opinion is thought a lot of. The Geologic Survey men listen +to Pitcairn. He helped them one year. He's one of those extraordinary +old miners who can tell from the look of things, without even panning. +When he saw that pyrites on Idaho Bar he stopped dead. 'This looks good +to me!' he said, and, Jee-rusalem! it was good!" + +They stared at the Ramparts growing bolder, the river hurrying like a +mill-race, the steamer feeling its way slow and cautiously like a blind +man with a stick. + +"Seven." + +"Seven." + +"Seven." + +"Six and a half." + +"Pitcairn says gold is always thickest on the inside of an elbow or +turn in the stream. It's in a place like that my claim is." + +The steamer swerved still further out from the course indicated on the +chart. The pilot was still hunting a new channel, but still the Captain +stood and listened, and it was not to the sounding of the Yukon Bar. + +"They say there's no doubt about the whole country being glaciated." + +"Hey?" + +"Signs of glacial erosion everywhere." + +The Captain looked sharply about as if his ship might be in some new +danger. + +"No doubt the gold is all concentrates." + +"Oh, is that so?" He seemed relieved on the whole. + +"Eight and a half," from below. + +"Eight and a half," from the Captain. + +"Eight and a half," from the pilot-house. + +"Concentrates, eh?" + +Something arresting, rich-sounding, in the news--a triple essence of +the perfume of riches. + +With the incantation of technical phrase over the witch-brew of +adventure, gambling, and romance, that simmers in the mind when men +tell of finding gold in the ground, with the addition of this salt of +science comes a savour of homely virtue, an aroma promising sustenance +and strength. It confounds suspicion and sees unbelief, first weaken, +and at last do reverence. There is something hypnotic in the +terminology. Enthusiasm, even backed by fact, will scare off your +practical man, who yet will turn to listen to the theory of "the +mechanics of erosion" and one of its proofs--"up there before our eyes, +the striation of the Ramparts." + +But Rainey was what he called "an old bird." His squinted pilot-eye +came back from the glacier track and fell on the outlandish figure of +his passenger. And with an inward admiration of his quality of extreme +old-birdness, the Captain struggled against the trance. + +"Didn't I hear you say something about going to Dawson?" + +"Y-yes. I think Dawson'll be worth seeing." + +"Holy Moses, yes! There's never been anything like Dawson before." + +"And I want to talk to the big business men there. I'm not a miner +myself. I mean to put my property on the market." As he said the words +it occurred to him unpleasantly how very like McGinty they sounded. But +he went on: "I didn't dream of spending so much time up here as I've +put in already. I've got to get back to the States." + +"You had any proposition yet?" The Captain led the way to his private +room. + +"About my claim? Not yet; but once I get it on the market----" + +So full was he of a scheme of his own he failed to see that he had no +need to go to Dawson for a buyer. + +The Captain set out drinks, and still the talk was of the Bar. It had +come now to seem impossible, even to an old bird, that, given those +exact conditions, gold should not be gathered thick along that Bar. + +"I regard it as a sure thing. Anyhow, it's recorded, and the +assessment's done. All the district wants now is capital to develop +it." + +"Districts like that all over the map," said the old bird, with a final +flutter of caution. "Even if the capital's found--if everything's ready +for work, the summer's damn short. But if it's a question of goin' +huntin' for the means of workin'----" + +"There's time," returned the other quietly, "but there's none to waste. +You take me and my pardner----" + +"Thought you didn't have a pardner," snapped the other, hot over such +duplicity. + +"Not in ownership; he's got another claim. But you take my pardner and +me to Dawson----" + +The Captain stood on his legs and roared: + +"I can't, I tell you!" + +"You can if you will--you will if you want that farm!" + +Rainey gaped. + +"Take us to Dawson, and I'll get a deed drawn up in Minook turning over +one-third of my Idaho Bar property to John R. Rainey." + +John R. Rainey gaped the more, and then finding his tongue: + +"No, no. I'd just as soon come in on the Bar, but it's true what I'm +tellin' you. There simply ain't an unoccupied inch on the Oklahoma this +trip. It's been somethin' awful, the way I've been waylaid and prayed +at for a passage. People starvin' with bags o' money waitin' for 'em at +the Dawson Bank! Settlements under water--men up in trees callin' to us +to stop for the love of God--men in boats crossin' our channel, headin' +us off, thinkin' nothin' o' the risk o' bein' run down. 'Take us to +Dawson!' it's the cry for fifteen hundred miles." + +"Oh, come! you stopped for me." + +The Captain smiled shrewdly. + +"I didn't think it necessary at the time to explain. We'd struck bottom +just then--new channel, you know; it changes a lot every time the ice +goes out and the floods come down. I reversed our engines and went up +to talk to the pilot. We backed off just after you boarded us. I must +have been rattled to take you even to Minook." + +"No. It was the best turn you've done yourself in a long while." + +The Captain shook his head. It was true: the passengers of the Oklahoma +were crowded like cattle on a Kansas stock-car. He knew he ought to +unload and let a good portion wait at Minook for that unknown quantity +the next boat. He would issue the order, but that he knew it would mean +a mutiny. + +"I'll get into trouble for overloading as it is." + +"You probably won't; people are too busy up here. If you do, I'm +offerin' you a good many thousand dollars for the risk." + +"God bless my soul! where'd I put you? There ain't a bunk." + +"I've slept by the week on the ice." + +"There ain't room to lie down." + +"Then we'll stand up." + +Lord, Lord! what could you do with such a man? Owner of Idaho Bar, too. +"Mechanics of erosion," "Concentrates," "a third interest"--it all rang +in his head. "I've got nine fellers sleepin' in here," he said +helplessly, "in my room." + +"Can we come if we find our own place, and don't trouble you?" + +"Well, I won't have any pardner--but perhaps you----" + +"Oh, pardner's got to come too." + +Whatever the Captain said the nerve-tearing shriek of the whistle +drowned. It was promptly replied to by the most horrible howls. + +"Reckon that's Nig! He's got to come too," said this dreadful ragged +man. + +"God bless me, this must be Minook!" + +The harassed Captain hustled out. + +"You must wait long enough here to get that deed drawn, Captain!" +called out the other, as he flew down the companionway. + +Nearly six hundred people on the bank. Suddenly controlling his +eagerness, the Boy contented himself with standing back and staring +across strange shoulders at the place he knew so well. There was "the +worst-lookin' shack in the town," that had been his home, the A. C. +store looming importantly, the Gold Nugget, and hardly a face to which +he could not give a name and a history: Windy Jim and the crippled +Swede; Bonsor, cheek by jowl with his enemy, McGinty; Judge Corey +spitting straight and far; the gorgeous bartender, all checks and +diamonds, in front of a pitiful group of the scurvy-stricken (thirty of +them in the town waiting for rescue by the steamer); Butts, quite +bland, under the crooked cottonwood, with never a thought of how near +he had come, on that very spot, to missing the first boat of the year, +and all the boats of all the years to follow. + +Maudie, Keith and the Colonel stood with the A. C. agent at the end of +the baggage-bordered plank-walk that led to the landing. Behind them, +at least four hundred people packed and waiting with their possessions +at their feet, ready to be put aboard the instant the Oklahoma made +fast. The Captain had called out "Howdy" to the A. C. Agent, and +several greetings were shouted back and forth. Maudie mounted a huge +pile of baggage and sat there as on a throne, the Colonel and Keith +perching on a heap of gunny-sacks at her feet. That woman almost the +only person in sight who did not expect, by means of the Oklahoma, to +leave misery behind! The Boy stood thinking "How will they bear it when +they know?" + +The Oklahoma was late, but she was not only the first boat--she might +conceivably be the last. + +Potts and O'Flynn had spotted the man they were looking for, and called +out "Hello! Hello!" as the big fellow on the pile of gunnies got up and +waved his hat. + +Mac leaned over the rail, saying gruffly, "That you, Colonel?" trying, +as the Boss of the Big Chimney saw--"tryin' his darndest not to look +pleased," and all the while O'Flynn was waving his hat and howling with +excitement: + +"How's the gowld? How's yersilf?" + +The gangway began its slow swing round preparatory to lowering into +place. The mob on shore caught up boxes, bundles, bags, and pressed +forward. + +"No, no! Stand back!" ordered the Captain. + +"Take your time!" said people trembling with excitement. "There's no +rush." + +"There's no room!" called out the purser to a friend. + +"No room?" went from mouth to mouth, incredulous that the information +could concern the speaker. He was only one. There was certainly room +for him; and every man pushed the harder to be the sole exception to +the dreadful verdict. + +"Stand back there! Can't take even a pound of freight. Loaded to the +guards!" + +A whirlwind of protest and appeal died away in curses. Women wept, and +sick men turned away their faces. The dogs still howled, for nothing is +so lacerating to the feelings of your Siwash as a steam-whistle blast. +The memory of it troubles him long after the echo of it dies. Suddenly +above the din Maudie's shrill voice: + +"I thought that was Nig!" + +Before the gangway had dropped with a bang her sharp eyes had picked +out the Boy. + +"Well I'll be----See who that is behind Nig? Trust him to get in on the +ground-floor. He ain't worryin' for fear his pardner'll lose the boat," +she called to the Colonel, who was pressing forward as Rainey came down +the gangway. + +"How do you do, Captain?" + +The man addressed never turned his head. He was forcing his way through +the jam up to the A. C. Store. + +"You may recall me, sah; I am----" + +"If you are a man wantin' to go to Dawson, it doesn't matter who you +are. I can't take you." + +"But, sah----" It was no use. + +A dozen more were pushing their claims, every one in vain. The Oklahoma +passengers, bent on having a look at Minook, crowded after the Captain. +Among those who first left the ship, the Boy, talking to the purser, +hard upon Rainey's heels. The Colonel stood there as they passed, the +Captain turning back to say something to the Boy, and then they +disappeared together through the door of the A. C. + +Never a word for his pardner, not so much as a look. Bitterness fell +upon the Colonel's heart. Maudie called to him, and he went back to his +seat on the gunny-sacks. + +"He's in with the Captain now," she said; "he's got no more use for +us." + +But there was less disgust than triumph in her face. + +O'Flynn was walking over people in his frantic haste to reach the +Colonel. Before he could accomplish his design he had three separate +quarrels on his hands, and was threatening with fury to "settle the +hash" of several of his dearest new friends. + +Potts meanwhile was shaking the Big Chimney boss by the hand and +saying, "Awfully sorry we can't take you on with us;" adding lower: "We +had a mighty mean time after you lit out." + +Then Mac thrust his hand in between the two, and gave the Colonel a +monkey-wrench grip that made the Kentuckian's eyes water. + +"Kaviak? Well, I'll tell you." + +He shouldered Potts out of his way, and while the talk and movement +went on all round Maudie's throne, Mac, ignoring her, set forth grimly +how, after an awful row with Potts, he had adventured with Kaviak to +Holy Cross. "An awful row, indeed," thought the Colonel, "to bring Mac +to that;" but the circumstances had little interest for him, beside the +fact that his pardner would be off to Dawson in a few minutes, leaving +him behind and caring "not a sou markee." + +Mac was still at Holy Cross. He had seen a woman there--"calls herself +a nun--evidently swallows those priests whole. Kind of mad, believes it +all. Except for that, good sort of girl. The kind to keep her +word"--and she had promised to look after Kaviak, and never let him +away from her till Mac came back to fetch him. + +"Fetch him?" + +"Fetch him!" + +"Fetch him where?" + +"Home!" + +"When will that be?" + +"Just as soon as I've put through the job up yonder." He jerked his +head up the river, indicating the common goal. + +And now O'Flynn, roaring as usual, had broken away from those who had +obstructed his progress, and had flung himself upon the Colonel. When +the excitement had calmed down a little, "Well," said the Colonel to +the three ranged in front of him, Maudie looking on from above, "what +you been doin' all these three months?" + +"Doin'?" + +"Well--a----" + +"Oh, we done a lot." + +They looked at one another out of the corners of their eyes and then +they looked away. "Since the birds came," began Mac in the tone of one +who wishes to let bygones be bygones. + +"Och, yes; them burruds was foine!" + +Potts pulled something out of his trousers pocket----a strange +collapsed object. He took another of the same description out of +another pocket. Mac's hands and O'Flynn's performed the same action. +Each man seemed to have his pockets full of these---- + +"What are they?" + +"Money-bags, me bhoy! Made out o' the fut o' the 'Lasky swan, God bless +'em! Mac cahls 'em some haythen name, but everybuddy else cahls 'em +illegant money-bags!" + + * * * * * + +In less than twenty minutes the steamer whistle shrieked. Nig bounded +out of the A. C., frantic at the repetition of the insult; other dogs +took the quarrel up, and the Ramparts rang. + +The Boy followed the Captain out of the A. C. store. All the motley +crew that had swarmed off to inspect Minook, swarmed back upon the +Oklahoma. The Boy left the Captain this time, and came briskly over to +his friends, who were taking leave of the Colonel. + +"So you're all goin' on but me!" said the Colonel very sadly. + +The Colonel's pardner stopped short, and looked at the pile of baggage. + +"Got your stuff all ready!" he said. + +"Yes." The answer was not free from bitterness. "I'll have the pleasure +of packin' it back to the shack after you're gone." + +"So you were all ready to go off and leave me," said the Boy. + +The Colonel could not stoop to the obvious retort. His pardner came +round the pile and his eyes fell on their common sleeping-bag, the two +Nulato rifles, and other "traps," that meant more to him than any +objects inanimate in all the world. + +"What? you were goin' to carry off my things too?" exclaimed the Boy. + +"That's all you get," Maudie burst out indignantly--"all you get for +packin' his stuff down to the landin', to have it all ready for him, +and worryin' yourself into shoe-strings for fear he'd miss the boat." + +Mac, O'Flynn, and Potts condoled with the Colonel, while the fire of +the old feud flamed and died. + +"Yes," the Colonel admitted, "I'd give five hundred dollars for a +ticket on that steamer." + +He looked in each of the three faces, and knew the vague hope behind +his words was vain. But the Boy had only laughed, and caught up the +baggage as the last whistle set the Rampart echoes flying, piping, like +a lot of frightened birds. + +"Come along, then." + +"Look here!" the Colonel burst out. "That's my stuff." + +"It's all the same. You bring mine. I've got the tickets. You and me +and Nig's goin' to the Klondyke." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE KLONDYKE + +"Poverty is an odious calling."--Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. + + +On Monday morning, the 6th of June, they crossed the British line; but +it was not till Wednesday, the 8th, at four in the afternoon, just ten +months after leaving San Francisco, that the Oklahoma's passengers saw +between the volcanic hills on the right bank of the Yukon a stretch of +boggy tundra, whereon hundreds of tents gleamed, pink and saffron. Just +beyond the bold wooded height, wearing the deep scar of a landslide on +its breast, just round that bend, the Klondyke river joins the +Yukon--for this is Dawson, headquarters of the richest Placer Diggings +the world has seen, yet wearing more the air of a great army +encampment. + +For two miles the river-bank shines with sunlit canvas--tents, tents +everywhere, as far as eye can see, a mushroom growth masking the older +cabins. The water-front swarms with craft, scows and canoes, birch, +canvas, peterboro; the great bateaux of the northern lumberman, neat +little skiffs, clumsy rafts; heavy "double-enders," whip-sawed from +green timber, with capacity of two to five tons; lighters and barges +carrying as much as forty tons--all having come through the perils of +the upper lakes and shot the canon rapids. + +As the Oklahoma steams nearer, the town blossoms into flags; a great +murmur increases to a clamour; people come swarming down to the +water-front, waving Union Jacks and Stars and Stripes as well----What +does it all mean? A cannon booms, guns are fired, and as the Oklahoma +swings into the bank a band begins to play; a cheer goes up from +fifteen thousand throats: "Hurrah for the first steamer!" + +The Oklahoma has opened the Klondyke season of 1898! + +They got their effects off the boat, and pitched the old tent up on the +Moosehide; then followed days full to overflowing, breathless, fevered, +yet without result beyond a general stringing up of nerves. The special +spell of Dawson was upon them all--the surface aliveness, the inner +deadness, the sense of being cut off from all the rest of the world, as +isolated as a man is in a dream, with no past, no future, only a +fantastic, intensely vivid Now. This was the summer climate of the +Klondyke. The Colonel, the Boy, and Captain Rainey maintained the +illusion of prosecuting their affairs by frequenting the offices, +stores, and particularly saloons, where buyers and sellers most did +congregate. Frequent mention was made of a certain valuable piece of +property. + +Where was it? + +"Down yonder at Minook;" and then nobody cared a straw. + +It was true there was widespread dissatisfaction with the Klondyke. +Everyone agreed it had been overdone. It would support one-quarter of +the people already here, and tens of thousands on their way! "Say +Klondyke, and instantly your soberest man goes mad; say anything else, +and he goes deaf." + +Minook was a good camp, but it had the disadvantage of lying outside +the magic district. The madness would, of course, not last, but +meanwhile the time went by, and the people poured in day and night. Six +great steamers full came up from the Lower River, and still the small +craft kept on flocking like coveys of sea-fowl through the Upper Lakes, +each party saying, "The crowd is behind." + +On the 14th of June a toy whistle sounded shrill above the town, and in +puffed a Liliputian "steel-hull" steamer that had actually come "on her +own" through the canon and shot the White Horse Rapids. A steamer from +the Upper River! after that, others. Two were wrecked, but who minded? +And still the people pouring in, and still that cry, "The crowd's +behind!" and still the clamour for quicker, ampler means of transport +to the North, no matter what it cost. The one consideration "to get +there," and to get there "quickly," brought most of the horde by the +Canadian route; yet, as against the two ocean steamers--all-sufficient +the year before to meet the five river boats at St. Michael's--now, by +the All-American route alone, twenty ocean steamers and forty-seven +river boats, double-deckers, some two hundred and twenty-five feet +long, and every one crowded to the guards with people coming to the +Klondyke. + +Meanwhile, many of those already there were wondering why they came and +how they could get home. In the tons of "mail matter" for Dawson, +stranded at Skaguay, must be those "instructions" from the Colonel's +bank, at home, to the Canadian Bank of Commerce, Dawson City. He agreed +with the Boy that if--very soon now--they had not disposed of the +Minook property, they would go to the mines. + +"What's the good?" rasped Mac. "Every foot staked for seventy miles." + +"For my part," admitted the Boy, "I'm less grand than I was. I meant to +make some poor devil dig out my Minook gold for me. It'll be the other +way about: I'll dig gold for any man on Bonanza that'll pay me wages." + +They sat slapping at the mosquitoes till a whistle screamed on the +Lower River. The Boy called to Nig, and went down to the town to hear +the news. By-and-by Mac came out with a pack, and said he'd be back in +a day or two. After he had disappeared among the tents--a conquering +army that had forced its way far up the hill by now--the Colonel got up +and went to the spring for a drink. He stood there a long time looking +out wistfully, not towards the common magnet across the Klondyke, but +quite in the other direction towards the nearer gate of exit--towards +home. + +"What special brand of fool am I to be here?" + +Down below, Nig, with hot tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, +now followed, now led, his master, coming briskly up the slope. + +"That was the Weare we heard whistlin'," said the Boy, breathless. "And +who d'you think's aboard?" + +"Who?" + +"Nicholas a' Pymeut, pilot. An' he's got Princess Muckluck along." + +"No," laughed the Colonel, following the Boy to the tent. "What's the +Princess come for?" + +"How should I know?" + +"Didn't she say?" + +"Didn't stop to hear." + +"Reckon she was right glad to see you," chaffed the Colonel. "Hey? +Wasn't she?" + +"I--don't think she noticed I was there." + +"What! you bolted?" No reply. "See here, what you doin'?" + +"Packin' up." + +"Where you goin'?" + +"Been thinkin' for some time I ain't wealthy enough to live in this +metropolis. There may be a place for a poor man, but Dawson isn't It." + +"Well, I didn't think you were that much of a coward--turnin' tail like +this just because a poor little Esquimaux--Besides, she may have got +over it. Even the higher races do." And he went on poking his fun till +suddenly the Boy said: + +"You're in such high spirits, I suppose you must have heard Maudie's up +from Minook. + +"You're jokin'!" + +"It ain't my idea of a joke. She's comin' up here soon's she's landed +her stuff." + +"She's not comin' up here!" + +"Why not? Anybody can come up on the Moosehide, and everybody's doin' +it. I'm goin' to make way for some of 'em." + +"Did she see you?" + +"Well, she's seen Potts, anyhow." + +"You're right about Dawson," said the Colonel suddenly; "it's too rich +for my blood." + +They pinned a piece of paper on the tent-flap to say they were "Gone +prospecting: future movements uncertain." + +Each with a small pack, and sticking out above it the Klondyke shovel +that had come all the way from San Francisco, Nig behind with +provisions in his little saddle-bags, and tongue farther out than ever, +they turned their backs on Dawson, crossed the lower corner of Lot 6, +behind the Government Reserve, stared with fresh surprise at the young +market-garden flourishing there, down to the many-islanded Klondyke, +across in the scow-ferry, over the Corduroy, that cheers and deceives +the new-comer for that first mile of the Bonanza Trail, on through pool +and morass to the thicket of white birches, where the Colonel thought +it well to rest awhile. + +"Yes, he felt the heat," he said, as he passed the time of day with +other men going by with packs, pack-horses, or draught-dogs, cursing at +the trail and at the Government that taxed the miners so cruelly and +then did nothing for them, not even making a decent highway to the +Dominion's source of revenue. But out of the direct rays of the sun the +traveller found refreshment, and the mosquitoes were blown away by the +keen breeze that seemed to come from off some glacier. And the birds +sang loud, and the wild-flowers starred the birch-grove, and the +briar-roses wove a tangle on either side the swampy trail. + +On again, dipping to a little valley--Bonanza Creek! They stood and +looked. + +"Well, here we are." + +"Yes, this is what we came for." + +And it was because of "this" that so vast a machinery of ships, +engines, and complicated human lives had been set in motion. What was +it? A dip in the hills where a little stream was caught up into +sluices. On either side of every line of boxes, heaps and windrows of +gravel. Above, high on log-cabin staging, windlasses. Stretching away +on either side, gentle slopes, mossed and flower starred. Here and +there upon this ancient moose pasture, tents and cabins set at random. +In the bed of the creek, up and down in every direction, squads of men +sweating in the sun--here, where for untold centuries herds of +leisurely and majestic moose had come to quench their thirst. In the +older cabins their horns still lorded it. Their bones were bleaching in +the fire-weed. + +On from claim to claim the new-comers to these rich pastures went, till +they came to the junction of the El Dorado, where huddles the haphazard +settlement of the Grand Forks, only twelve miles from Dawson. And now +they were at the heart of "the richest Placer Mining District the world +has seen." But they knew well enough that every inch was owned, and +that the best they could look for was work as unskilled labourers, day +shift or night, on the claims of luckier men. + +They had brought a letter from Ryan, of the North-West Mounted Police, +to the Superintendent of No. 10, Above Discovery, a claim a little this +side of the Forks. Ryan had warned them to keep out of the way of the +part-owner, Scoville Austin, a surly person naturally, so exasperated +at the tax, and so enraged at the rumour of Government spies +masquerading as workmen, checking his reports, that he was "a +first-rate man to avoid." But Seymour, the Superintendent, was, in the +words of the soothing motto of the whole American people, "All right." + +They left their packs just inside the door of the log-cabin, indicated +as "Bunk House for the men on No. 6, Above"--a fearsome place, where, +on shelf above shelf, among long unwashed bedclothes, the unwashed +workmen of a prosperous company lay in the stupor of sore fatigue and +semi-asphyxiation. Someone stirred as the door opened, and out of the +fetid dusk of the unventilated, closely-shuttered cabin came a voice: + +"Night shift on?" + +"No." + +"Then, damn you! shut the door." + +As the never-resting sun "forced" the Dawson market-garden and the +wild-roses of the trail, so here on the creek men must follow the +strenuous example. No pause in the growing or the toiling of this +Northern world. The day-gang on No. 0 was hard at it down there where +lengthwise in the channel was propped a line of sluice-boxes, steadied +by regularly spaced poles laid from box to bank on gravel ridge. +Looking down from above, the whole was like a huge fish-bone lying +along the bed of the creek. A little group of men with picks, shovels, +and wheelbarrows were reducing the "dump" of winter pay, piled beside a +windlass, conveying it to the sluices. Other men in line, four or five +feet below the level of the boxes, were "stripping," picking, and +shovelling the gravel off the bed-rock--no easy business, for even this +summer temperature thawed but a few inches a day, and below, the frost +of ten thousand years cemented the rubble into iron. + +"Where is the Superintendent?" + +"That's Seymour in the straw hat." + +It was felt that even the broken and dilapidated article mentioned was +a distinction and a luxury. + +Yes, it was too hot up here in the Klondyke. + +They made their way to the man in authority, a dark, quiet-mannered +person, with big, gentle eyes, not the sort of Superintendent they had +expected to find representing such a man as the owner of No. 0. + +Having read Ryan's letter and slowly scanned the applicants: "What do +you know about it?" He nodded at the sluice. + +"All of nothing," said the Boy. + +"Does it call for any particular knowing?" asked the Colonel. + +"Calls for muscle and plenty of keep-at-it." His voice was soft, but as +the Colonel looked at him he realized why a hard fellow like Scoville +Austin had made this Southerner Superintendent. + +"Better just try us." + +"I can use one more man on the night shift, a dollar and a half an +hour." + +"All right," said the Boy. + +The Colonel looked at him. "Is this job yours or mine?" + +The Superintendent had gone up towards the dam. + +"Whichever you say." + +The Boy did not like to suggest that the Colonel seemed little fit for +this kind of exercise. They had been in the Klondyke long enough to +know that to be in work was to be in luck. + +"I'll tell you," the younger man said quickly, answering something +unspoken, but plain in the Colonel's face; "I'll go up the gulch and +see what else there is." + +It crossed his mind that there might be something less arduous than +this shovelling in the wet thaw or picking at frozen gravel in the hot +sun. If so, the Colonel might be induced to exchange. It was obvious +that, like so many Southerners, he stood the sun very ill. While they +were agreeing upon a rendezvous the Superintendent came back. + +"Our bunk-house is yonder," he said, pointing. A kind of sickness came +over the Kentuckian as he recalled the place. He turned to his pardner. + +"Wish we'd got a pack-mule and brought our tent out from Dawson." Then, +apologetically, to the Superintendent: "You see, sah, there are men who +take to bunk-houses just as there are women who want to live in hotels; +and there are others who want a place to call home, even if it's a +tent." + +The Superintendent smiled. "That's the way we feel about it in +Alabama." He reflected an instant. "There's that big new tent up there +on the hill, next to the Buckeyes' cabin. Good tent; belongs to a +couple o' rich Englishmen, third owners in No. 0. Gone to Atlin. Told +me to do what I liked with that tent. You might bunk there while +they're away." + +"Now, that's mighty good of you, sah. Next whose cabin did you say?" + +"Oh, I don't know their names. They have a lay on seventeen. Ohio men. +They're called Buck One and Buck Two. Anybody'll show you to the +Buckeyes';" and he turned away to shout "Gate!" for the head of water +was too strong, and he strode off towards the lock. + +As the Boy tramped about looking for work he met a great many on the +same quest. It seemed as if the Colonel had secured the sole job on the +creek. Still, vacancies might occur any hour. + +In the big new tent the Colonel lay asleep on a little camp-bed, +(mercifully left there by the rich Englishmen), "gettin' ready for the +night-shift." As he stood looking down upon him, a sudden wave of pity +came over the Boy. He knew the Colonel didn't "really and truly have to +do this kind of thing; he just didn't like givin' in." But behind all +that there was a sense in the younger mind that here was a life unlike +his own, which dimly he foresaw was to find its legitimate expression +in battle and in striving. Here, in the person of the Colonel, no +soldier fore-ordained, but a serene and equable soul wrenched out of +its proper sphere by a chance hurt to a woman, forsooth! an imagination +so stirred that, if it slept at all, it dreamed and moaned in its +sleep, as now; a conscience wounded and refusing to heal. Had he not +said himself that he had come up here to forget? It was best to let him +have the job that was too heavy for him--yes, it was best, after all. + +And so they lived for a few days, the Boy chafing and wanting to move +on, the Colonel very earnest to have him stay. + +"Something sure to turn up, and, anyhow, letters--my instruction----" +And he encouraged the acquaintance the Boy had struck up with the +Buckeyes, hoping against hope that to go over and smoke a pipe, and +exchange experiences with such mighty good fellows would lighten the +tedium of the long day spent looking for a job. + +"I call it a very pleasant cabin," the Colonel would say as he lit up +and looked about. Anything dismaller it would be hard to find. Not +clean and shipshape as the Boy kept the tent. But with double army +blankets nailed over the single window it was blessedly dark, if +stuffy, and in crying need of cleaning. Still, they were mighty good +fellows, and they had a right to be cheerful. Up there, on the rude +shelf above the stove, was a row of old tomato-cans brimful of Bonanza +gold. There they stood, not even covered. Dim as the light was, you +could see the little top nuggets peering out at you over the ragged +tin-rims, in a never locked shanty, never molested, never bothered +about. Nearly every cabin on the creek had similar chimney ornaments, +but not everyone boasted an old coat, kept under the bunk, full of the +bigger sort of nuggets. + +The Colonel was always ready with pretended admiration of such +bric-a-brac, but the truth was he cared very little about this gold he +had come so far to find. His own wages, paid in dust, were kept in a +jam-pot the Boy had found "lyin' round." + +The growing store shone cheerfully through the glass, but its value in +the Colonel's eyes seemed to be simply as an argument to prove that +they had enough, and "needn't worry." When the Boy said there was no +doubt this was the district in all the world the most overdone, the +Colonel looked at him with sun-tired, reproachful eyes. + +"You want to dissolve the pardnership--I see." + +"I don't." + +But the Colonel, after any such interchange, would go off and smoke by +himself, not even caring for Buckeyes'. The work was plainly overtaxing +him. He slept badly, was growing moody and quick to take offence. One +day when he had been distinctly uncivil he apologized for himself by +saying that, standing with feet always in the wet, head always in the +scorching sun, he had taken a hell of a cold. Certain it was that, +without sullenness, he would give in to long fits of silence; and his +wide, honest eyes were heavy again, as if the snow-blindness of the +winter had its analogue in a summer torment from the sun. And his +sometimes unusual gentleness to his companion was sharply alternated +with unusual choler, excited by a mere nothing. Enough if the Boy were +not in the tent when the Colonel came and went. Of course, the Boy did +the cooking. The Colonel ate almost nothing, but he made a great point +of his pardner's service in doing the cooking. He would starve, he +said, if he had to cook for himself as well as swing a shovel; and the +Boy, acting on pure instinct, pretended that he believed this was so. + +Then came the evening when the Boy was so late the Colonel got his own +breakfast; and when the recreant did get home, it was to announce that +a man over at the Buckeyes' had just offered him a job out on Indian +River. The Colonel set down his tea-cup and stared. His face took on +an odd, rigid look. But almost indifferently he said: + +"So you're goin'?" + +"Of course, you know I must. I started with an outfit and fifteen +hundred dollars, now I haven't a cent." + +The Kentuckian raised his heavy eyes to the jam-jar. "Oh, help +yourself." + +The Boy laughed, and shook his head. + +"I wish you wouldn't go," the other said very low. + +"You see, I've got to. Why, Nig and I owe you for a week's grub +already." + +Then the Colonel stood up and swore--swore till he was scarlet and +shaking with excitement. + +"If the life up here has brought us to 'Scowl' Austin's point of view, +we are poorly off." And he spoke of the way men lived in his part of +Kentucky, where the old fashion of keeping open house survived. And +didn't he know it was the same thing in Florida? "Wouldn't you do as +much for me?" + +"Yes, only I can't--and--I'm restless. The summer's half gone. Up here +that means the whole year's half gone." + +The Colonel had stumbled back into his seat, and now across the deal +table he put out his hand. + +"Don't go, Boy. I don't know how I'd get on without----" He stopped, +and his big hand was raised as if to brush away some cloud between him +and his pardner. "If you go, you won't come back." + +"Oh, yes, I will. You'll see." + +"I know the kind," the other went on, as if there had been no +interruption. "They never come back. I don't know as I ever cared quite +as much for my brother--little fella that died, you know." Then, seeing +that his companion did not instantly iterate his determination to go, +"That's right," he said, getting up suddenly, and leaving his breakfast +barely touched. "We've been through such a lot together, let's see it +out." + +Without waiting for an answer, he went off to his favourite seat under +the little birch-tree. But the incident had left him nervous. He would +come up from his work almost on the run, and if he failed to find his +pardner in the tent there was the devil to pay. The Boy would laugh to +himself to think what a lot he seemed able to stand from the Colonel; +and then he would grow grave, remembering what he had to make up for. +Still, his sense of obligation did not extend to giving up this +splendid chance down on Indian River. On Wednesday, when the fellow +over at the Buckeyes' was for going back, the Boy would go along. + +On Sunday morning he ran a crooked, rusty nail into his foot. Clumsily +extracted, it left an ugly wound. Walking became a torture, and the +pain a banisher of sleep. It was during the next few days that he found +out how much the Colonel lay awake. Who could sleep in this blazing +sun? Black tents were not invented then, so they lay awake and talked +of many things. + +The man from Indian River went back alone. The Boy would limp after the +Colonel down to the sluice, and sit on a dump heap with Nig. Few people +not there strictly on business were tolerated on No. 0, but Nig and his +master had been on good terms with Seymour from the first. Now they +struck up acquaintance with several of the night-gang, especially with +the men who worked on either side of the Colonel. An Irish gentleman, +who did the shovelling just below, said he had graduated from Dublin +University. He certainly had been educated somewhere, and if the +discussion were theologic, would take out of his linen-coat pocket a +little testament in the Vulgate to verify a bit of Gospel. He could +even pelt the man next but one in his native tongue, calling the +Silesian "Uebermensch." There existed some doubt whether this were the +gentleman's real name, but none at all as to his talking philosophy +with greater fervour than he bestowed on the puddling box. + +The others were men more accustomed to work with their hands, but, in +spite of the conscious superiority of your experienced miner, a very +good feeling prevailed in the gang--a general friendliness that +presently centred about the Colonel, for even in his present mood he +was far from disagreeable, except now and then, to the man he cared the +most for. + +Seymour admitted that he had placed the Southerner where he thought +he'd feel most at home. "Anyhow, the company is less mixed," he said, +"than it was all winter up at twenty-three, where they had a +Presbyterian missionary down the shaft, a Salvation Army captain +turnin' the windlass, a nigger thief dumpin' the becket, and a +dignitary of the Church of England doin' the cookin', with the help of +a Chinese chore-boy. They're all there now (except one) washin' out +gold for the couple of San Francisco card-sharpers that own the claim." + +"Vich von is gone?" asked the Silesian, who heard the end of the +conversation. + +"Oh, the Chinese chore-boy is the one who's bettered himself," said the +Superintendent--"makin' more than all the others put together ever made +in their lives; runnin' a laundry up at Dawson." + +The Boy, since this trouble with his foot, had fallen into the way of +turning night into day. The Colonel liked to have him down there at the +sluice, and when he thought about it, the Boy marvelled at the hours he +spent looking on while others worked. + +At first he said he came down only to make Scowl Austin mad. And it did +make him mad at first, but the odd thing was he got over it, and used +to stop and say something now and then. This attention on the part of +the owner was distinctly perilous to the Boy's good standing with the +gang. Not because Austin was the owner; there was the millionaire +Swede, Ole Olsen--any man might talk to him. He was on the square, +treated his workmen mighty fair, and when the other owners tried to +reduce wages, and did, Ole wouldn't join them--went right along paying +the highest rate on the creek. + +Various stories were afloat about Austin. Oh, yes, Scowl Austin was a +hard man--the only owner on the creek who wouldn't even pay the little +subscription every poor miner contributed to keep the Dawson Catholic +Hospital going. + +The women, too, had grievances against Austin, not only "the usual lot" +up at the Gold Belt, who sneered at his close fist, but some of the +other sort--those few hard-working wives or "women on their own," or +those who washed and cooked for this claim or that. They had stories +about Austin that shed a lurid light. And so by degrees the gathered +experience, good and ill, of "the greatest of all placer diggin's" +flowed by the idler on the bank. + +"You seem to have a lot to do," Seymour would now and then say with a +laugh. + +"So I have." + +"What do you call it?" + +"Takin' stock." + +"Of us?" + +"Of things in general." + +"What did you mean by that?" demanded the Colonel suspiciously when the +Superintendent had passed up the line. + +The shovelling in was done for the time being. The water was to be +regulated, and then the clean-up as soon as the owner came down. + +"Better not let Austin hear you say you're takin' stock. He'll run you +out o' the creek." + +The Boy only smiled, and went on fillipping little stones at Nig. + +"What did you mean?" the Colonel persisted, with a look as suspicious +as Scowl Austin's own. + +"Oh, nothin'. I'm only thinkin' out things." + +"Your future, I suppose?" he said testily. + +"Mine and other men's. The Klondyke's a great place to get things clear +in your head." + +"Don't find it so." The Colonel put up his hand with that now familiar +action as if to clear away a cloud. "It's days since I had anything +clear in my head, except the lesson we learned on the trail." + +The Boy stopped throwing stones, and fixed his eyes on his friend, as +the Colonel went on: + +"We had that hammered into us, didn't we?" + +"What?" + +"Oh, that--you know--that--I don't know quite how to put it so it'll +sound as orthodox as it might be, bein' true; but it looks pretty clear +even to me"--again the big hand brushing at the unmoted sunshine--"that +the only reason men got over bein' beasts was because they began to be +brothers." + +"Don't," said the Boy. + +"Don't what?" + +"I've always known I should have to tell you some time. I won't be able +to put it off if I stay ... and I hate tellin' you now. See here: I +b'lieve I'll get a pack-mule and go over to Indian River." + +The Colonel looked round angrily. Standing high against the sky, +Seymour, with the gateman up at the lock, was moderating the strong +head of water. It began to flow sluggishly over the gravel-clogged +riffles, and Scowl Austin was coming down the hill. + +"I don't know what you're drivin' at, about somethin' to tell. I know +one thing, though, and I learned it up here in the North: men were +meant to stick to one another." + +"Don't, I say." + +"Here's Austin," whispered the Colonel. + +The Silesian philosopher stood in his "gum-boots" in the puddling-box +as on a rostrum; but silent now, as ever, when Scowl Austin was in +sight. With the great sluice-fork, the philosopher took up, washed, and +threw out the few remaining big stones that they might not clog the +narrow boxes below. + +Seymour had so regulated the stream that, in place of the gush and foam +of a few minutes before, there was now only a scant and gently falling +veil of water playing over the bright gravel caught in the riffle-lined +bottoms of the boxes. + +As the Boy got up and reached for his stick, Austin stood there saying, +to nobody in particular, that he'd just been over to No. 29, where they +were trying a new-fangled riffle. + +"Don't your riffles do the trick all right?" asked the Boy. + +"If you're in any doubt, come and see," he said. + +They stood together, leaning over the sluice, looking in at one of the +things human industry has failed to disfigure, nearly as beautiful +to-day as long ago on Pactolus' banks when Lydian shepherds, with great +stones, fastened fleeces in the river that they might catch and gather +for King Croesus the golden sands of Tmolus. Improving, not in beauty, +but economy, quite in the modern spirit, the Greeks themselves +discovered that they lost less gold if they led the stream through +fleece-lined water-troughs--and beyond this device of those early +placer-miners we have not progressed so far but that, in every long, +narrow sluice-box in the world to-day, you may see a Lydian +water-trough with a riffle in the bottom for a golden fleece. + +The rich Klondyker and the poor one stood together looking in at the +water, still low, still slipping softly over polished pebbles, catching +at the sunlight, winking, dimpling, glorifying flint and jasper, agate +and obsidian, dazzling the uncommercial eye to blind forgetfulness of +the magic substance underneath. + +Austin gathered up, one by one, a handful of the shining stones, and +tossed them out. Then, bending down, "See?" + +There, under where the stones had been, neatly caught in the lattice of +the riffle, lying thick and packed by the water action, a heavy ridge +of black and yellow--magnetic sand and gold. + +"Riffles out!" called Seymour, and the men, who had been extracting the +rusty nails that held them firm, lifted out from the bottom of each box +a wooden lattice, soused it gently in the water, and laid it on the +bank. + +The Boy had turned away again, but stood an instant noticing how the +sun caught at the countless particles of gold still clinging to the +wood; for this was one of the old riffles, frayed by the action of much +water and the fret of many stones. Soon it would have to be burned, and +out of its ashes the careful Austin would gather up with mercury all +those million points of light. + +Meanwhile, Seymour had called to the gateman for more water, and +himself joining the gang, armed now with flat metal scoops, they all +began to turn over and throw back against the stream the debris in the +bottom of the boxes, giving the water another chance to wash out the +lighter stuff and clean the gold from all impurity. Away went the last +of the sand, and away went the pebbles, dark or bright, away went much +of the heavy magnetic iron. Scowl Austin, at the end of the line, had a +corn-whisk with which he swept the floor of the box, always upstream, +gathering the contents in a heap, now on this side, now on that, +letting the water play and sort and carry away, condensing, hastening +the process that for ages had been concentrating gold in the Arctic +placers. + +"Say, look here!" shouted Austin to the Boy, already limping up the +hill. + +When he had reached the sluice again he found that all Scowl Austin +wanted, apparently, was to show him how, when he held the water back +with the whisk, it eddied softly at each side of the broad little +broom, leaving exposed the swept-up pile. + +"See?" + +"What's all that?" + +"What do you think?" + +"Looks like a heap o' sawdust." + +Austin actually laughed. + +"See if it feels like sawdust. Take it up like this," he ordered. + +His visitor obeyed, lifting a double handful out of the water and +holding it over the box, dripping, gleaming, the most beautiful thing +that comes out of the earth, save only life, and the assertion may +stand, even if the distinction is without difference, if the crystal is +born, grows old, and dies as undeniably as the rose. + +The Boy held the double handful of well-washed gold up to the sunshine, +feeling to the full the immemorial spell cast by the King of Metals. +Nothing that men had ever made out of gold was so entirely beautiful as +this. + +Scowl Austin's grim gratification was openly heightened with the rich +man's sense of superiority, but his visitor seemed to have forgotten +him. + +"Colonel! here a minute. We thought it looked wonderful enough on the +Big Chimney table--but Lord! to see it like this, out o' doors, mixed +with sunshine and water!" + +Still he stood there fascinated, leaning heavily against the +sluice-box, still with his dripping hands full, when, after a hurried +glance, the Colonel returned to his own box. None of the gang ever +talked in the presence of the owner. + +"Guess that looks good to you." Austin slightly stressed the pronoun. +He had taken a reasonless liking for the young man, who from the first +had smiled into his frowning face, and treated him as he treated +others. Or perhaps Austin liked him because, although the Boy did a +good deal of "gassin' with the gang," he had never hung about at +clean-ups. At all events, he should stay to-night, partly because when +the blue devils were down on Scowl Austin nothing cheered him like +showing his "luck" off to someone. And it was so seldom safe in these +days. People talked. The authorities conceived unjust suspicions of a +man's returns. And then, far back in his head, that vague need men +feel, when a good thing has lost its early zest, to see its dimmed +value shine again in an envious eye. Here was a young fellow, who, +before he went lame, had been all up and down the creek for days +looking for a job--probably hadn't a penny--livin' off his friend, who +himself would starve but for the privilege Austin gave him of washing +out Austin's gold. Let the young man stop and see the richest clean-up +at the Forks. + +And so it was with the acrid pleasure he had promised himself that he +said to the visitor, bending over the double handful of gold, "Guess it +looks good to you." + +"Yes, it looks good!" But he had lifted his eyes, and seemed to be +studying the man more than the metal. + +A couple of newcomers, going by, halted. + +"Christ!" said the younger, "look at that!" + +The Boy remembered them; they had been to Seymour only a couple of +hours before asking for work. One was old for that country--nearly +sixty--and looked, as one of the gang had said, "as if, instid o' +findin' the pot o' gold, he had got the end of the rainbow slam in his +face--kind o' blinded." + +At sound of the strange voice Austin had wheeled about with a fierce +look, and heavily the strangers plodded by. The owner turned again to +the gold. "Yes," he said curtly, "there's something about that that +looks good to most men." + +"What I was thinkin'," replied the Boy slowly, "was that it was the +only clean gold I'd ever seen--but it isn't so clean as it was." + +"What do you mean?" Austin bent and looked sharply into the full hands. + +"I was thinkin' it was good to look at because it hadn't got into dirty +pockets yet." Austin stared at him an instant. "Never been passed +round--never bought anybody. No one had ever envied it, or refused it +to help someone out of a hole. That was why I thought it looked +good--because it was clean gold ... a little while ago." And he plunged +his hands in the water and washed the clinging particles off his +fingers. + +Austin had stared, and then turned his back with a blacker look than +even "Scowl" had ever worn before. + +"Gosh! guess there's goin' to be trouble," said one of the gang. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +PARDNERS + +"He saw, and first of brotherhood had sight...." + + +It was morning, and the night-shift might go to bed; but in the absent +Englishmen's tent there was little sleep and less talk that day. The +Boy, in an agony, with a foot on fire, heard the Colonel turning, +tossing, growling incoherently about "the light." + +It seemed unreasonable, for a frame had been built round his bed, and +on it thick gray army blankets were nailed--a rectangular tent. Had he +cursed the heat now? But no: "light," "God! the light, the light!" just +as if he were lying as the Boy was, in the strong white glare of the +tent. But hour after hour within the stifling fortress the giant tossed +and muttered at the swords of sunshine that pierced his semi-dusk +through little spark-burnt hole or nail-tear, torturing sensitive eyes. + +Near three hours before he needed, the Colonel got up and splashed his +way through a toilet at the tin basin. The Boy made breakfast without +waiting for the usual hour. They had nearly finished when it occurred +to the Colonel that neither had spoken since they went to bed. He +glanced across at the absorbed face of his friend. + +"You'll come down to the sluice to-night, won't you?" + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"No reason on earth, only I was afraid you were broodin' over what you +said to Austin." + +"Austin? Oh, I'm not thinkin' about Austin." + +"What, then? What makes you so quiet?" + +"Well, I'm thinkin' I'd be better satisfied to stay here a little +longer if----" + +"If what?" + +"If there was truth between us two." + +"I thought there was." + +"No. What's the reason you want me to stay here?" + +"Reason? Why"--he laughed in his old way--"I don't defend my taste, but +I kind o' like to have you round." + +His companion's grave face showed no lightening. "Why do you want me +round more than someone else?" + +"Haven't got anyone else." + +"Oh, yes, you have! Every man on Bonanza's a friend o' yours, or would +be." + +"It isn't just that; we understand each other." + +"No, we don't." + +"What's wrong?" + +No answer. The Boy looked through the door across Bonanza to the hills. + +"I thought we understood each other if two men ever did. Haven't we +travelled the Long Trail together and seen the ice go out?" + +"That's just it, Colonel. We know such a lot more than men do who +haven't travelled the Trail, and some of the knowledge isn't +oversweet." + +A shadow crossed the kind face opposite. + +"You're thinkin' about the times I pegged out--didn't do my share." + +"Lord, no!" The tears sprang up in the young eyes. "I'm thinkin' o' the +times--I--" He laid his head down on the rude table, and sat so for an +instant with hidden face; then he straightened up. "Seems as if it's +only lately there's been time to think it out. And before, as long as I +could work I could get on with myself.... Seemed as if I stood a chance +to ... a little to make up." + +"Make up?" + +"But it's always just as it was that day on the Oklahoma, when the +captain swore he wouldn't take on another pound. I was awfully happy +thinkin' if I made him bring you it might kind o' make up, but it +didn't." + +"Made a big difference to me," the Colonel said, still not able to see +the drift, but patiently brushing now and then at the dazzling mist and +waiting for enlightenment. + +"It's always the same," the other went on. "Whenever I've come up +against something I'd hoped was goin' to make up, it's turned out to be +a thing I'd have to do anyway, and there was no make up about it. For +all that, I shouldn't mind stayin' on awhile since you want me to----" + +The Colonel interrupted him, "That's right!" + +"Only if I do, you've got to know--what I'd never have guessed myself, +but for the Trail. After I've told you, if you can bear to see me +round----" He hesitated and suddenly stood up, his eyes still wet, but +his head so high an onlooker who did not understand English would have +called the governing impulse pride, defiance even. "It seems I'm the +kind of man, Colonel--the kind of man who could leave his pardner to +die like a dog in the snow." + +"If any other fella said so, I'd knock him down." + +"That night before we got to Snow Camp, when you wouldn't--couldn't go +any farther, I meant to go and leave you--take the sled, and take--I +guess I meant to take everything and leave you to starve." + +They looked into each other's faces, and years seemed to go by. The +Colonel was the first to drop his eyes; but the other, pitilessly, like +a judge arraigning a felon, his steady scrutiny never flinching: "Do +you want that kind of a man round, Colonel?" + +The Kentuckian turned quickly as if to avoid the stab of the other's +eye, and sat hunched together, elbows on knees, head in hands. + +"I knew you didn't." The Boy answered his own question. He limped over +to his side of the tent, picked up some clothes, his blanket and few +belongings, and made a pack. Not a word, not a sound, but some birds +twittering outside in the sun and a locust making that frying sound in +the fire-weed. The pack was slung on the Boy's back, and he was +throwing the diamond hitch to fasten it when the Colonel at last looked +round. + +"Lord, what you doin'?" + +"Guess I'm goin' on." + +"Where?" + +"I'll write you when I know; maybe I'll even send you what I owe you, +but I don't feel like boastin' at the moment. Nig!" + +"You can't walk." + +"Did you never happen to notice that one-legged fella pluggin' about +Dawson?" + +He had gone down on his hands and knees to see if Nig was asleep under +the camp-bed. The Colonel got up, went to the door, and let down the +flap. When he turned, the traveller and the dog were at his elbow. He +squared his big frame at the entrance, looking down at the two, tried +to speak, but the Boy broke in: "Don't let's get sentimental, Colonel; +just stand aside." + +Never stirring, he found a voice to say, "I'm not askin' you to +stay"--the other turned and whistled, for Nig had retired again to the +seclusion of the gray blanket screen--"I only want to tell you +something before you go." + +The Boy frowned a little, but rested his pack against the table in that +way in which the Klondyker learns to make a chair-back of his burden. + +"You seem to think you've been tellin' me news," said the Colonel. +"When you said that about goin' on, the night before we got to Snow +Camp, I knew you simply meant you still intended to come out alive. I +had thrown up my hands--at least, I thought I had. The only difference +between us--I had given in and you hadn't." + +The other shook his head. "There was a lot more in it than that." + +"You meant to take the only means there were--to carry off the sled +that I couldn't pull any farther----" The Boy looked up quickly. +Something stern and truth-compelling in the dark face forced the +Colonel to add: "And along with the sled you meant to carry +off--the--the things that meant life to us." + +"Just that----" The Boy knotted his brown fingers in Nig's hair as if +to keep tight hold of one friend in the wreck. + +"We couldn't divide," the Colonel hurried on. "It was a case of +crawlin' on together, and, maybe, come out alive, or part and one die +sure." + +The Boy nodded, tightening his lips. + +"I knew well enough you'd fight for the off-chance. But"--the Colonel +came away from the door and stood in front of his companion--"so would +I. I hadn't really given up the struggle." + +"You were past strugglin', and I would have left you sick----" + +"You wouldn't have left me--if I'd had my gun." + +The Boy remembered that he had more than suspected that at the time, +but the impression had by-and-by waxed dim. It was too utterly unlike +the Colonel--a thing dreamed. He had grown as ashamed of the dream as +of the thing he knew was true. The egotism of memory absorbed itself in +the part he himself had played--that other, an evil fancy born of an +evil time. And here was the Colonel saying it was true. The Boy dropped +his eyes. It had all happened in the night. There was something in the +naked truth too ghastly for the day. But the Colonel went on in a harsh +whisper: + +"I looked round for my gun; if I'd found it I'd have left you behind." + +And the Boy kept looking down at Nig, and the birds sang, and the +locust whirred, and the hot sun filled the tent as high-tide flushes a +sea-cave. + +"You've been a little hard on me, Boy, bringin' it up like +this--remindin' me--I wouldn't have gone on myself, and makin' me +admit----" + +"No, no, Colonel." + +"Makin' me admit that before I would have let you go on I'd have shot +you!" + +"Colonel!" He loosed his hold of Nig. + +"I rather reckon I owe you my life--and something else besides"--the +Colonel laid one hand on the thin shoulder where the pack-strap +pressed, and closed the other hand tight over his pardner's right--"and +I hadn't meant even to thank you neither." + +"Don't, for the Lord's sake, don't!" said the younger, and neither +dared look at the other. + +A scratching on the canvas, the Northern knock at the door. + +"You fellers sound awake?" + +A woman's voice. Under his breath, "Who the devil's that?" inquired the +Colonel, brushing his hand over his eyes. Before he got across the tent +Maudie had pushed the flap aside and put in her head. + +"Hello!" + +"Hell-o! How d'e do?" + +He shook hands, and the younger man nodded, "Hello." + +"When did you come to town?" asked the Colonel mendaciously. + +"Why, nearly three weeks ago, on the Weare. Heard you had skipped out +to Sulphur with MacCann. I had some business out that way, so that's +where I been." + +"Have some breakfast, won't you--dinner, I mean?" + +"I put that job through at the Road House. Got to rustle around now and +get my tent up. Where's a good place?" + +"Well, I--I hardly know. Goin' to stay some time?" + +"Depends." + +The Boy slipped off his pack. + +"They've got rooms at the Gold Belt," he said. + +"You mean that Dance Hall up at the Forks?" + +"Oh, it ain't so far. I remember you can walk." + +"I can do one or two other things. Take care you don't hurt yourself +worryin' about me." + +"Hurt myself?" + +"Yes. Bein' so hospittable. The way you're pressin' me to settle right +down here, near's possible--why, it's real touchin'." + +He laughed, and went to the entrance to tic back the door-flap, which +was whipping and snapping in the breeze. Heaven be praised! the night +was cooler. Nig had been perplexed when he saw the pack pushed under +the table. He followed his master to the door, and stood looking at the +flap-tying, ears very pointed, critical eye cocked, asking as plain as +could be, "You wake me up and drag me out here into the heat and +mosquitoes just to watch you doin' that? Well, I've my opinion of you." + +"Colonel gone down?" inquired the Silesian, passing by. + +"Not yet." + +"Anything I can do?" the gentleman inside was saying with a sound of +effort in his voice. The lady was not even at the pains to notice the +perfunctory civility. + +"Well, Colonel, now you're here, what do you think o' the Klondyke?" + +"Think? Well, there's no doubt they've taken a lot o' gold out o' +here." + +"Reg'lar old Has Been, hey?" + +"Oh, I don't say it hasn't got a future." + +"What! Don't you know the boom's busted?" + +"Well, no." + +"Has. Tax begun it. Too many cheechalkos are finishing it. Klondyke?" +She laughed. "The Klondyke's goin' to hell down-grade in a hand-car." + +Scowl Austin was up, ready, as usual, to relieve Seymour of half the +superintending, but never letting him off duty till he had seen the new +shift at work. As the Boy limped by with the German, Austin turned his +scowl significantly towards the Colonel's tent. + +"Good-mornin'--good-night, I mean," laughed the lame man, just as if +his tongue had not run away with him the last time the two had met. It +was not often that anyone spoke so pleasantly to the owner of No. 0. +Perhaps the circumstance weighed with him; at all events, he stopped +short. When the German had gone on, "Foot's better," Austin asserted. + +"Perhaps it is a little," though the lame man had no reason to think +so. + +"Lucky you heal quick. Most people don't up here--livin' on the stale +stuff we get in this----country. Seymour said anything to you about a +job?" + +"No." + +"Well, since you're on time, you better come on the night shift, +instead o' that lazy friend o' yours." + +"Oh, he ain't lazy--been up hours. An old acquaintance dropped in; +he'll be down in a minute." + +"'Tisn't only his bein' late. You better come on the shift." + +"Don't think I could do that. What's the matter?" + +"Don't say there's anything very much the matter yet. But he's sick, +ain't he?" + +"Sick? No, except as we all are--sick o' the eternal glare." + +The Colonel was coming slowly down the hill. Of course, a man doesn't +look his best if he hasn't slept. The Boy limped a little way back to +meet him. + +"Anything the matter with you, Colonel?" + +"Well, my Bonanza headache ain't improved." + +"I suppose you wouldn' like me to take over the job for two or three +days?" + +"You? Crippled! Look here--" The Colonel flushed suddenly. "Austin been +sayin' anything?" + +"Oh, I was just thinkin' about the sun." + +"Well, when I want to go in out of the sun, I'll say so." And, walking +more quickly than he had done for long, he left his companion, marched +down to the creek, and took his place near the puddling-box. + +By the time the Boy got to the little patch of shade, offered by the +staging, Austin had turned his back on the gang, and was going to speak +to the gateman at the locks. He had evidently left the Colonel very +much enraged at some curt comment. + +"He meant it for us all," the Dublin gentleman was saying soothingly. +By-and-by, as they worked undisturbed, serenity returned. Oh, the +Colonel was all right--even more chipper than usual. What a +good-looking fella he was, with that clear skin and splendid colour! + +A couple of hours later the Colonel set his long shovel against the +nearest of the poles steadying the sluice, and went over to the staging +for a drink. He lifted the can of weak tea to his lips and took a long +draught, handed the can back to the Boy, and leant against the staging. +They talked a minute or two in undertones. + +A curt voice behind said: "Looks like you've got a deal to attend to +to-day, beside your work." + +They looked round, and there was Austin. As the Colonel saw who it was +had spoken, the clear colour in the tan deepened; he threw back his +shoulders, hesitated, and then, without a word, went and took up his +shovel. + +Austin walked on. The Boy kept looking at his friend. What was the +matter with the Colonel? It was not only that his eyes were queer--most +of the men complained of their eyes, unless they slept in cabins. But +whether through sun-blindness or shaken by anger, the Colonel was +handling his shovel uncertainly, fumbling at the gravel, content with +half a shovelful, and sometimes gauging the distance to the box so +badly that some of the pay fell down again in the creek. As Austin came +back on the other side of the line, he stopped opposite to where the +Colonel worked, and suddenly called: "Seymour!" + +Like so many on Bonanza, the Superintendent could not always sleep when +the time came. He was walking about "showing things" to a stranger, "a +newspaper woman," it was whispered--at all events, a lady who, armed +with letters from the highest British officials, had come to "write up +the Klondyke." + +Seymour had left her at his employer's call. The lady, thin, neat, +alert, with crisply curling iron-gray hair, and pleasant but +unmistakably dignified expression, stood waiting for him a moment on +the heap of tailings, then innocently followed her guide. + +Although Austin lowered his voice, she drew nearer, prepared to take an +intelligent interest in the "new riffles up on Skookum." + +When Austin had first called Seymour, the Colonel started, looked up, +and watched the little scene with suspicion and growing anger. Seeing +Seymour's eyes turn his way, the Kentuckian stopped shovelling, and, on +a sudden impulse, called out: + +"See here, Austin: if you've any complaints to make, sah, you'd better +make them to my face, sah." + +The conversation about riffles thus further interrupted, a little +silence fell. The Superintendent stood in evident fear of his employer, +but he hastened to speak conciliatory words. + +"No complaint at all--one of the best hands." + +"May be so when he ain't sick," said Austin contemptuously. + +"Sick!" the Boy called out. "Why, you're dreamin'. He's our strong +man--able to knock spots out of anyone on the creek, ain't he?" +appealing to the gang. + +"I shall be able to spare him from my part of the creek after +to-night." + +"Do I understand you are dismissing me?" + +"Oh, go to hell!" + +The Colonel dropped his shovel and clenched his hands. + +"Get the woman out o' the way," said the owner; "there's goin' to be +trouble with this fire-eating Southerner." + +The woman turned quickly. The Colonel, diving under the sluice-box for +a plunge at Austin, came up face to face with her. + +"The lady," said the Colonel, catching his breath, shaking with rage, +but pulling off his hat--"the lady is quite safe, but I'm not so sure +about you." He swerved as if to get by. + +"Safe? I should think so!" she said steadily, comprehending all at +once, and not unwilling to create a diversion. + +"This is no place for a woman, not if she's got twenty letters from the +Gold Commissioner." + +Misunderstanding Austin's jibe at the official, the lady stood her +ground, smiling into the face of the excited Kentuckian. + +"Several people have asked me if I was not afraid to be alone here, and +I've said no. It's quite true. I've travelled so much that I came to +know years ago, it's not among men like you a woman has anything to +fear." + +It was funny and pathetic to see the infuriate Colonel clutching at his +grand manner, bowing one instant to the lady, shooting death and +damnation the next out of heavy eyes at Austin. But the wiry little +woman had the floor, and meant, for peace sake, to keep it a few +moments. + +"At home, in the streets of London, I have been rudely spoken to; I +have been greatly annoyed in Paris; in New York I have been subject to +humorous impertinence; but in the great North-West every man has seemed +to be my friend. In fact, wherever our English tongue is spoken," she +wound up calmly, putting the great Austin in his place, "a woman may go +alone." + +Austin seemed absorbed in filling his pipe. The lady tripped on to the +next claim with a sedate "Good-night" to the men on No. 0. She thought +the momentary trouble past, and never turned to see how the Kentuckian, +waiting till she should be out of earshot, came round in front of +Austin with a low question. + +The gang watched the Boy dodge under the sluice and hobble hurriedly +over the chaos of stones towards the owner. Before he reached him he +called breathless, but trying to laugh: + +"You think the Colonel's played out, but, take my word for it, he ain't +a man to fool with." + +The gang knew from Austin's sneering look as he turned to strike a +match on a boulder--they knew as well as if they'd been within a yard +of him that Scowl had said something "pretty mean." They saw the +Colonel make a plunge, and they saw him reel and fall among the stones. + +The owner stood there smoking while the night gang knocked off work +under his nose and helped the Boy to get the Colonel on his feet. It +was no use. Either he had struck his head or he was dazed--unable, at +all events, to stand. They lifted him up and started for the big tent. + +Three Indians accosted the cripple leading the procession. He started, +and raised his eyes. "Nicholas! Muckluck!" They shook hands, and all +went on together, the Boy saying the Colonel had a little sunstroke. + + * * * * * + +The next day Scowl Austin was found lying face down among the +cotton-woods above the benches on Skookum, a bullet-wound in his back. +He had fainted from loss of blood, when he was picked up by the two +Vermonters, the men who had twice gone by No. 0 the night before the +quarrel, and who had enraged Austin by stopping an instant during the +clean-up to look at his gold. They carried him back to Bonanza. + +The Superintendent and several of the day gang got the wounded man into +bed. He revived sufficiently to say he had not seen the man that shot +him, but he guessed he knew him all the same. Then he turned on his +side, swore feebly at the lawlessness of the South, and gave up the +ghost. + +Not a man on the creek but understood who Scowl Austin meant. + +"Them hot-headed Kentuckians, y' know, they'd dowse a feller's glim for +less 'n that." + +"Little doubt the Colonel done it all right. Why, his own pardner says +to Austin's face, says he, 'The Colonel's a bad man to fool with,' and +just then the big chap plunged at Austin like a mad bull." + +But they were sorry to a man, and said among themselves that they'd see +he was defended proper even if he hadn't nothin' but a little dust in a +jam-pot. + +The Grand Forks constable had put a watch on the big tent, despatched a +man to inform the Dawson Chief of Police, and set himself to learn the +details of the quarrel. Meanwhile the utter absence of life in the +guarded tent roused suspicion. It was recalled now that since the +Indians had left a little while after the Colonel was carried home, +sixteen hours ago, no one had seen either of the Southerners. The +constable, taking alarm at this, left the crowd at Scowl Austin's, and +went hurriedly across the meadow to the new centre of interest. Just as +he reached the tent the flap was turned back, and Maudie put her head +out. + +"Hah!" said the constable, with some relief, "they both in there?" + +"The Colonel is." + +Now, it was the Colonel he had wanted till he heard he was there. As +the woman came out he looked in to make certain. Yes, there he was, +calmly sleeping, with the gray blanket of the screen thrown up for air. +It didn't look much like---- + +"Where's the other feller?" + +"Gone to Dawson." + +"With that lame leg?" + +"Went on horseback." + +It had as grand a sound as it would have in the States to say a man had +departed in a glass coach drawn by six cream-coloured horses. But he +had been "in a hell of a hurry," evidently. Men were exchanging +glances. + +"Funny nobody saw him." + +"When'd he light out?" + +"About five this morning." + +Oh, that explained it. The people who were up at five were abed now. +And the group round the tent whispered that Austin had done the unheard +of--had gone off and left the night gang at three o'clock in the +morning. They had said so as the day shift turned out. + +"But how'd the young feller get such a thing as a horse?" + +"Hired it off a stranger out from Dawson yesterday," Maudie answered +shortly. + +"Oh, that Frenchman--Count--a--Whirligig?" + +But Maudie was tired of giving information and getting none. The answer +came from one in the group. + +"Yes, that French feller came in with a couple o' fusst-class horses. +He's camped away over there beyond Muskeeter." He pointed down Bonanza. + +"P'raps you won't mind just mentionin'," said Maudie with growing +irritation, "why you're makin' yourself so busy about my friends?" +(Only strong resentment could have induced the plural.) + +When she heard what had happened and what was suspected she uttered a +contemptuous "Tschah!" and made for the tent. The constable followed. +She wheeled fiercely round. + +"The man in there hasn't been out o' this tent since he was carried up +from the creek last night. I can swear to it." + +"Can you swear the other was here all the time?" + +No answer. + +"Did he say what he went to Dawson for?" + +"The doctor." + +One or two laughed. "Who's sick enough to send for a Dawson doctor?" + +"So you think he's gone for a----" + +"I know he is." + +"And do you know what it costs to have a doctor come all the way out +here?" + +"Yes, beasts! won't budge till you've handed over five hundred dollars. +Skunks!" + +"Did your friend mention how he meant to raise the dust?" + +"He's got it," she said curtly. + +"Why, he was livin' off his pardner. Hadn't a red cent." + +"She's shieldin' him," the men about the door agreed. + +"Lord! he done it well--got away with five hundred and a horse!" + +"He had words with Austin, himself, the night o' the clean-up. Sassed +Scowl Austin! Right quiet, but, oh my! Told him to his face his gold +was dirty, and washed it off his hands with a look----Gawd! you could +see Austin was mad clear through, from his shirt-buttons to his spine. +You bet Scowl said something back that got the young feller's monkey +up." + +They all agreed that the only wonder was that Austin had lived as +long--"On the other side o' the line--Gee!" + + * * * * * + +That evening the Boy, riding hard, came into camp with a doctor, +followed discreetly in the rear by an N. W. M. P., really mounted this +time. It had occurred to the Boy that people looked at him hard, and +when he saw the groups gathered about the tent his heart contracted +sharply. Had the Colonel died? He flung himself off the horse, winced +as his foot cried out, told Joey Bludsoe to look after both beasts a +minute, and led the Dawson doctor towards the tent. + +The constable followed. + +Maudie, at the door, looked at her old enemy queerly, and just as, +without greeting, he pushed by, "S'pose you've heard Scowl Austin's +dead?" she said in a low voice. + +"No! Dead, eh? Well, there's one rattlesnake less in the woods." + +The constable stopped him with a touch on the shoulder: "We have a +warrant for you." + +The Colonel lifted his head and stared about, in a dazed way, as the +Boy stopped short and stammered, "Warr--what for?" + +"For the murder of Scoville----" + +"Look here," he whispered: "I--I don't know what you mean, but I'll go +along with you, of course, only don't talk before this man. He's +sick----" He beckoned the doctor. "This is the man I brought you to +see." Then he turned his back on the wide, horrified eyes of his +friend, saying, "Back in a minute, Kentucky." Outside: "Give me a +second, boys, will you?" he said to the N. W. M. P.'s, "just till I +hear what that doctor fella says about my pardner." + +He stood there with the Buckeyes, the police, and the various day gangs +that were too excited to go to bed. And he asked them where Austin was +found, and other details of the murder, wearily conscious that the +friendliest there felt sure that the man who questioned could best fill +in the gaps in the story. When the doctor came out, Maudie at his heels +firing off quick questions, the Boy hobbled forward. + +"Well?" + +"Temperature a hundred and four," said the Dawson doctor. + +"Oh, is--is that much or little?" + +"Well, it's more than most of us go in for." + +"Can you tell what's the matter with him?" + +"Oh, typhoid, of course." + +The Boy pulled his hat over his eyes. + +"Guess you won't mind my stayin' now?" said Maudie at his elbow, +speaking low. + +He looked up. "You goin' to take care of him? Good care?" he asked +harshly. + +But Maudie seemed not to mind. The tears went down her cheeks, as, with +never a word, she nodded, and turned towards the tent. + +"Say," he hobbled after her, "that doctor's all right--only wanted +fifty." He laid four hundred-dollar bills in her hand. She seemed about +to speak, when he interrupted hoarsely, "And look here: pull the +Colonel through, Maudie--pull him through!" + +"I'll do my darnedest." + +He held out his hand. He had never given it to her before, and he +forgot that few people would care now to take it. But she gave him hers +with no grudging. Then, on a sudden, impulse, "You ain't takin' him to +Dawson to-night?" she said to the constable. + +He nodded. + +"Why, he's done the trip twice already." + +"I can do it again well enough." + +"Then you got to wait a minute." She spoke to the constable as if she +had been Captain Constantine himself. "Better just go in and see the +Colonel," she said to the Boy. "He's been askin' for you." + +"N-no, Maudie; I can go to Dawson all right, but I don't feel up to +goin' in there again." + +"You'll be sorry if you don't." And then he knew what a temperature at a +hundred and four foreboded. + +He went back into the tent, dreading to face the Colonel more than he +had ever dreaded anything in his life. + +But the sick man lay, looking out drowsily, peacefully, through +half-shut eyes, not greatly concerned, one would say, about anything. +The Boy went over and stood under the gray blanket canopy, looking down +with a choking sensation that delayed his question: "How you feelin' +now, Kentucky?" + +"All right." + +"Why, that's good news. Then you--you won't mind my goin' off to--to do +a little prospectin'?" + +The sick man frowned: "You stay right where you are. There's plenty in +that jampot." + +"Yes, yes! jampot's fillin' up fine." + +"Besides," the low voice wavered on, "didn't we agree we'd learned the +lesson o' the North?" + +"The lesson o' the North?" repeated the other with filling eyes. + +"Yes, sah. A man alone's a man lost. We got to stick together, Boy." +The eyelids fell heavily. + +"Yes, yes, Colonel." He pressed the big hand. His mouth made the +motion, not the sound, "Good-bye, pardner." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE GOING HOME + + "Despair lies down and grovels, grapples not + With evil, casts the burden of its lot. + This Age climbs earth. + --To challenge heaven. + --Not less The lower deeps. + It laughs at Happiness." + --George Meredith + + +Everybody on Bonanza knew that the Colonel had left off struggling to +get out of his bed to go to work, had left off calling for his pardner. +Quite in his right senses again, he could take in Maudie's explanation +that the Boy was gone to Dawson, probably to get something for the +Colonel to eat. For the Doctor was a crank and wouldn't let the sick +man have his beans and bacon, forbade him even such a delicacy as fresh +pork, though the Buckeyes nobly offered to slaughter one of their +newly-acquired pigs, the first that ever rooted in Bonanza refuse, and +more a terror to the passing Indian than any bear or wolf. + +"But the Boy's a long time," the Colonel would say wistfully. + +Before this quieter phase set in, Maudie had sent into Dawson for +Potts, O'Flynn and Mac, that they might distract the Colonel's mind +from the pardner she knew could not return. But O'Flynn, having married +the girl at the Moosehorn Cafe, had excuse of ancient validity for not +coming; Potts was busy breaking the faro bank, and Mac was waiting till +an overdue Lower River steamer should arrive. + +Nicholas of Pymeut had gone back as pilot of the Weare, but Princess +Muckluck was still about, now with Skookum Bill, son of the local +chief, now alone, trudging up and down Bonanza like one looking for +something lost. The Colonel heard her voice outside the tent and had +her in. + +"You goin' to marry Skookum Bill, as they say?" + +Muckluck only laughed, but the Indian hung about waiting the Princess's +pleasure. + +"When your pardner come back?" she would indiscreetly ask the Colonel. +"Why he goes to Dawson?" And every few hours she would return: "Why he +stay so long?" + +At last Maudie took her outside and told her. + +Muckluck gaped, sat down a minute, and rocked her body back and forth +with hidden face, got up and called sharply: "Skookum!" + +They took the trail for town. Potts said, when he passed them, they +were going as if the devil were at their heels--wouldn't even stop to +say how the Colonel was. So Potts had come to see for himself--and to +bring the Colonel some letters just arrived. + +Mac was close behind ... but the Boy? No-no. They wouldn't let anybody +see him; and Potts shook his head. + +"Well, you can come in," said Maudie, "if you keep your head shut about +the Boy." + +The Colonel was lying flat, with that unfaltering ceiling-gaze of the +sick. Now his vision dropped to the level of faces at the door. +"Hello!" But as they advanced he looked behind them anxiously. Only +Mac--no, Kaviak at his heels! and the sick man's disappointment +lightened to a smile. He would have held out a hand, but Maudie stopped +him. She took the little fellow's fingers and laid them on the +Colonel's. + +"Now sit down and be quiet," she said nervously. + +Potts and Mac obeyed, but Kaviak had fastened his fine little hand on +the weak one, and anchored so, stared about taking his bearings. + +"How did you get to the Klondyke, Kaviak?" said the Colonel in a thin, +breathy voice. + +"Came up with Sister Winifred," Farva answered for him. "She was sent +for to help with the epidemic. Dyin' like flies in Dawson--h'm--ahem!" +(Apologetic glance at Maudie.) "Sister Winifred promised to keep Kaviak +with her. Woman of her word." + +"Well, what you think o' Dawson?" the low voice asked. + +Kaviak understood the look at least, and smiled back, grew suddenly +grave, intent, looked sharply round, loosed his hold of the Colonel, +bent down, and retired behind the bed. That was where Nig was. Their +foregathering added nothing to the tranquility of the occasion, and +both were driven forth by Maudie. + +Potts read the Colonel his letters, and helped him to sign a couple of +cheques. The "Louisville instructions" had come through at last. + +After that the Colonel slept, and when he woke it was only to wander +away into that world where Maudie was lost utterly, and where the +Colonel was at home. There was chastening in such hours for Maudie of +Minook. "Now he's found the Other One," she would say to herself--"the +One he was looking for." + +That same evening, as they sat in the tent in an interval of relief +from the Colonel's muttering monotone, they heard Nig making some sort +of unusual manifestation outside; heard the grunting of those pioneer +pigs; heard sounds of a whispered "Sh! Kaviak. Shut up, Nig!" Then a +low, tuneless crooning: + + "Wen yo' see a pig a-goin' along + Widder straw in de sider 'is mouf, + It'll be er tuhble wintuh, + En yo' bettah move down Souf." + +"Why, the Boy's back!" said the Colonel suddenly in a clear, collected +voice. + +Maudie had jumped up, but the Boy put his head in the tent, smiling, +and calling out: + +"They told me he was getting on all right, but I just thought maybe he +was asleep." He came in and bent over his pardner. "Hello, everybody! +Why, you got it so fine and dark in here, I can hardly see how well +you're lookin', Colonel!" And he dropped into the nurse's place by the +bedside. + +"Maudie's lined the tent with black drill," said the Colonel. "You +brought home anything to eat?" + +"Well, no----" (Maudie telegraphed); "found it all I could do to bring +myself back." + +"Oh, well, that's the main thing," said the Colonel, battling with +disappointment. Pricked by some quickened memory of the Boy's last +home-coming: "I've had pretty queer dreams about you: been givin' +Maudie the meanest kind of a time." + +"Don't go gassin', Colonel," admonished the nurse. + +"It's pretty tough, I can tell you," he said irritably, "to be as weak +as a day-old baby, and to have to let other people----" + +"Mustn't talk!" ordered Mac. The Colonel raised his head with sudden +anger. It did not mend matters that Maudie was there to hold him down +before a lot of men. + +"You go to Halifax," said the Boy to Mac, blustering a trifle. "The +Colonel may stand a little orderin' about from Maudie--don't blame him +m'self. But Kentucky ain't going to be bossed by any of us." + +The Colonel lay quite still again, and when he spoke it was quietly +enough. + +"Reckon I'm in the kind of a fix when a man's got to take orders." + +"Foolishness! Don't let him jolly you, boys. The Colonel's always +sayin' he ain't a soldier, but I reckon you better look out how you +rile Kentucky!" + +The sick man ignored the trifling. "The worst of it is bein' so +useless." + +"Useless! You just wait till you see what a lot o' use we mean to make +of you. No crawlin' out of it like that." + +"It's quite true," said Mac harshly; "we all kind of look to you +still." + +"Course we do!" The Boy turned to the others. "The O'Flynns comin' all +the way out from Dawson to-morrow to get Kentucky's opinion on a big +scheme o' theirs. Did you ever hear what that long-headed Lincoln said +when the Civil War broke out? 'I would like to have God on my side, but +I must have Kentucky.'" + +"I've been so out o' my head, I thought you were arrested." + +"No 'out of your head' about it--was arrested. They thought I'd cleared +Scowl Austin off the earth." + +"Do they know who did?" Potts and Maudie asked in a breath. + +"That Klondyke Indian that's sweet on Princess Muckluck." + +"What had Austin done to him?" + +"Nothin'. Reckon Skookum Bill was about the only man on Bonanza who had +no objection to the owner of o. Said so in Court." + +"What did he kill him for?" + +"Well," said the Boy, "it's just one o' those topsy-turvy things that +happen up here. You saw that Indian that came in with Nicholas? Some +years ago he killed a drunken white man who was after him with a knife. +There was no means of tryin' the Indian where the thing happened, so he +was taken outside. + +"The Court found he'd done the killin' in self-defence, and sent him +back. Well, sir, that native had the time of his life bein' tried for +murder. He'd travelled on a railroad, seen a white man's city, lived +like a lord, and came home to be the most famous man of his tribe. Got +a taste for travel, too. Comes to the Klondyke, and his fame fires +Skookum Bill. All you got to do is to kill one o' these white men, and +they take you and show you all the wonders o' the earth. So he puts a +bullet into Austin." + +"Why didn't he own up, then, and get his reward?" + +"Muckluck knew better--made him hold his tongue about it." + +"And then made him own up when she saw----" + +The boy nodded. + +"What's goin' to happen?" + +"Oh, he'll swing to-morrow instead o' me. By the way, Colonel, a fella +hunted me up this mornin' who'd been to Minook. Looked good to him. +I've sold out Idaho Bar." + +"'Nough to buy back your Orange Grove?" + +He shook his head. "'Nough to pay my debts and start over again." + +When the Dawson doctor left that night Maudie, as usual, followed him +out. They waited a long time for her to come back. + +"Perhaps she's gone to her own tent;" and the Boy went to see. He +found her where the Colonel used to go to smoke, sitting, staring out +to nowhere. + +As the boy looked closer he saw she had been crying, for even in the +midst of honest service Maudie, like many a fine lady before her, could +not forego the use of cosmetic. Her cheeks were streaked and stained. + +"Five dollars a box here, too," she said mechanically, as she wiped +some of the rouge off with a handkerchief. Her hand shook. + +"What's the matter?" + +"It's all up," she answered. + +"Not with him?" He motioned towards the tent. + +She nodded. + +"Doctor says so?" + +"----and I knew it before, only I wouldn't believe it." + +She had spoken with little agitation, but now she flung her arms out +with a sudden anguish that oddly took the air of tossing into space +Bonanza and its treasure. It was the motion of one who renounces the +thing that means the most--a final fling in the face of the gods. The +Boy stood quite still, submitting his heart to that first quick rending +and tearing asunder which is only the initial agony of parting. + +"How soon?" he said, without raising his eyes. + +"Oh, he holds on--it may be a day or two." + +The Boy walked slowly away towards the ridge of the low hill. Maudie +turned and watched him. On the top of the divide he stopped, looking +over. Whatever it was he saw off there, he could not meet it yet. He +flung himself down with his face in the fire-weed, and lay there all +night long. + +Kaviak was sent after him in the morning, but only to say, "Breakfast, +Maudie's tent." + +The Boy saw that Mac and Potts knew. For the first time the Big Chimney +men felt a barrier between them and that one who had been the common +bond, keeping the incongruous allied and friendly. Only Nig ran in and +out, unchilled by the imminence of the Colonel's withdrawal from his +kind. + +Towards noon the O'Flynns came up the creek, and were stopped near the +tent by the others. They all stood talking low till a noise of +scuffling broke the silence within. They drew nearer, and heard the +Colonel telling Maudie not to turn out Nig and Kaviak. + +"I like seein' my friends. Where's the Boy?" + +So they went in. + +Did he know? He must know, or he would have asked O'Flynn what the +devil made him look like that! All he said was: "Hello! How do you do, +madam?" and he made a weak motion of one hand towards Mrs. O'Flynn to +do duty for that splendid bow of his. Then, as no one spoke, "You're +too late, O'Flynn." + +"Too late?" + +"Had a job in your line...." Then suddenly: "Maudie's worth the whole +lot of you." + +They knew it was his way of saying "She's told me." They all sat and +looked at the floor. Nothing happened for a long time. At last: "Well, +you all know what my next move is; what's yours?" + +There was another silence, but not nearly so long. + +"What prospects, pardners?" he repeated. + +The Boy looked at Maudie. She made a little gesture of "I've done all +the fightin' I'm good for." The Colonel's eyes, clear again and +tranquil, travelled from face to face. + +O'Flynn cleared his throat, but it was Mac who spoke. + +"Yes--a--we would like to hold a last--hold a counsel o' war. We've +always kind o' followed your notions--at least"--veracity pared down +the compliment--"at least, you can't say but what we've always listened +to you." + +"Yes, you might just--a--start us as well as you can," says Potts. + +The Colonel smiled a little. Each man still "starting"--forever +starting for somewhere or something, until he should come to this place +where the Colonel was. Even he, why, he was "starting" too. For him +this was no end other than a chapter's ending. But these men he had +lived and suffered with, they all wanted to talk the next move +over--not his, theirs--all except the Boy, it seemed. + +Mac was in the act of changing his place to be nearer the Colonel, when +Potts adroitly forestalled him. The others drew off a little and made +desultory talk, while Potts in an undertone told how he'd had a run of +bad luck. No doubt it would turn, but if ever he got enough again to +pay his passage home, he'd put it in the bank and never risk it. + +"I swear I wouldn't! I've got to go out in the fall--goin' to get +myself married Christmas; and, if she's willing, we'll come up here on +the first boat in the spring--with backing this time." + +He showed a picture. The Colonel studied it. + +"I believe she'll come," he said. + +And Potts was so far from clairvoyance that he laughed, awkwardly +flattered; then anxiously: "Wish I was sure o' my passage money." + +When Potts, before he meant to, had yielded place to O'Flynn, the +Colonel was sworn to secrecy, and listened to excited whispers of gold +in the sand off yonder on the coast of the Behring Sea. The world in +general wouldn't know the authenticity of the new strike till next +season. He and Mrs. O'Flynn would take the first boat sailing out of +San Francisco in the spring. + +"Oh, you're going outside too?" + +"In the fahll--yes, yes. Ye see, I ain't like the rest. I've got Mrs. +O'Flynn to consider. Dawson's great, but it ain't the place to start a +famully." + +"Where you goin', Mac?" said the Colonel to the irate one, who was +making for the door. "I want a little talk with you." + +Mac turned back, and consented to express his opinion of the money +there was to be made out of tailings by means of a new hydraulic +process. He was going to lend Kaviak to Sister Winifred again on the +old terms. She'd take him along when she returned to Holy Cross, and +Mac would go outside, raise a little capital, return, and make a +fortune. For the moment he was broke--hadn't even passage money. Did +the Colonel think he could---- + +The Colonel seemed absorbed in that eternal interrogation of the +tent-top. + +"Mine, you know"--Mac drew nearer still, and went on in the lowered +voice--"mine's a special case. A man's bound to do all he can for his +boys." + +"I didn't know you had boys." + +Mac jerked "Yes" with his square head. "Bobbie's goin' on six now." + +"The others older?" + +"Others?" Mac stared an instant. "Oh, there's only one more." He +grinned with embarrassment, and hitched his head towards Kaviak. + +"I guess you've jawed enough," said Maudie, leaving the others and +coming to the foot of the bed. + +"And Maudie's goin' back, too," said the sick man. + +She nodded. + +"And you're never goin' to leave her again?" + +"No." + +"Maudie's a little bit of All Right," said the patient. The Big Chimney +men assented, but with sudden misgiving. + +"What was that job ye said ye were wantin' me forr?" + +"Oh, Maudie's got a friend of hers to fix it up." + +"Fix what up?" demanded Potts. + +"Little postscript to my will." + +Mac jerked his head at the nurse. With that clear sight of dying eyes +the Colonel understood. A meaner spirit would have been galled at the +part those "Louisville Instructions" had been playing, but cheap +cynicism was not in the Colonel's line. He knew the awful pinch of life +up here, and he thought no less of his comrades for asking that last +service of getting them home. But it was the day of the final +"clean-up" for the Colonel; he must not leave misapprehension behind. + +"I wanted Maudie to have my Minook claim----" + +"Got a Minook claim o' my own." + +"So I've left it to be divided----" + +They all looked up. + +"One-half to go to a little girl in 'Frisco, and the other half--well, +I've left the other half to Kaviak. Strikes me he ought to have a +little piece o' the North." + +"Y-yes!" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Good idea!" + +"Mac thought he'd go over to the other tent and cook some dinner. There +was a general movement. As they were going out: + +"Boy!" + +"Yes?" He came back, Nig followed, and the two stood by the camp-bed +waiting their Colonel's orders. + +"Don't you go wastin' any more time huntin' gold-mines." + +"I don't mean to." + +"Go back to your own work; go back to your own people." + +The Boy listened and looked away. + +"It's good to go pioneering, but it's good to go home. Oh-h--!" the +face on the pillow was convulsed for that swift passing moment--"best +of all to go home. And if you leave your home too long, your home +leaves you." + +"Home doesn't seem so important as it did when I came up here." + +The Colonel fastened one hand feverishly on his pardner's arm. + +"I've been afraid of that. It's magic; break away. Promise me you'll go +back and stay. Lord, Lord!" he laughed feebly, "to think a fella should +have to be urged to leave the North alone. Wonderful place, but there's +Black Magic in it. Or who'd ever come--who'd ever stay?" + +He looked anxiously into the Boy's set face. + +"I'm not saying the time was wasted," he went on; "I reckon it was a +good thing you came." + +"Yes, it was a good thing I came." + +"You've learned a thing or two." + +"Several." + +"Specially on the Long Trail." + +"Most of all on the Long Trail." + +The Colonel shut his eyes. Maudie came and held a cup to his lips. + +"Thank you. I begin to feel a little foggy. What was it we learned on +the Trail, pardner?" But the Boy had turned away. "Wasn't it--didn't we +learn how near a tolerable decent man is to bein' a villain?" + +"We learned that a man can't be quite a brute as long as he sticks to +another man." + +"Oh, was that it?" + + * * * * * + +In the night Maudie went away to sleep. The Boy watched. + +"Do you know what I'm thinking about?" the sick man said suddenly. + +"About--that lady down at home?" + +"Guess again." + +"About--those fellas at Holy Cross?" + +"No, I never was as taken up with the Jesuits as you were. No, Sah, I'm +thinkin' about the Czar." (Poor old Colonel! he was wandering again.) +"Did I ever tell you I saw him once?" + +"No." + +"Did--had a good look at him. Knew a fella in Petersburg, too, that--" +He rested a moment. "That Czar's all right. Only he sends the wrong +people to Siberia. Ought to go himself, and take his Ministers, for a +winter on the Trail." On his face suddenly the old half-smiling, +half-shrewd look. "But, Lord bless you! 'tisn't only the Czar. We all +have times o' thinkin' we're some punkins. Specially Kentuckians. I +reckon most men have their days when they're twelve feet high, and +wouldn't stoop to say 'Thank ye' to a King. Let 'em go on the Winter +Trail." + +"Yes," agreed the Boy, "they'd find out--" And he stopped. + +"Plenty o' use for Head Men, though." The faint voice rang with an echo +of the old authority. "No foolishness, but just plain: 'I'm the one +that's doin' the leadin'--like Nig here--and it's my business to lick +the hind dog if he shirks.'" He held out his hand and closed it over +his friend's. "I was Boss o' the Big Chimney, Boy, but you were Boss o' +the Trail." + + * * * * * + +The Colonel was buried in the old moose pasture, with people standing +by who knew that the world had worn a friendlier face because he had +been in it. That much was clear, even before it was found that he had +left to each of the Big Chimney men five hundred dollars, not to be +drawn except for the purpose of going home. + +They thought it was the sense of that security that made them put off +the day. They would "play the game up to the last moment, and see--" + +September's end brought no great change in fortune, but a change withal +of deep significance. The ice had begun to run in the Yukon. No man +needed telling it would "be a tuhble wintah, and dey'd better move down +Souf." All the late boats by both routes had been packed. Those men who +had failed, and yet, most tenacious, were hanging on for some last +lucky turn of the wheel, knew the risk they ran. And now to-day the +final boat of the year was going down the long way to the Behring Sea, +and by the Canadian route, open a little longer, the Big Chimney men, +by grace of that one left behind, would be on the last ship to shoot +the rapids in '98. + +Not only to the thousands who were going, to those who stayed behind +there was something in the leaving of the last boat--something that +knocked upon the heart. They, too, could still go home. They gathered +at the docks and told one another they wouldn't leave Dawson for fifty +thousand dollars, then looked at the "failures" with home-sick eyes, +remembering those months before the luckiest Klondyker could hear from +the world outside. Between now and then, what would have come to pass +up here, and what down there below! + +The Boy had got a place for Muckluck in the A. C. Store. She was handy +at repairing and working in fur, and said she was "all right" on this +bright autumn morning when the Boy went in to say good-bye. With a +white woman and an Indian boy, in a little room overlooking the +water-front, Muckluck was working in the intervals of watching the +crowds on the wharf. Eyes more experienced than hers might well stare. +Probably in no other place upon the globe was gathered as motley a +crew: English, Indian, Scandinavian, French, German, Negroes, Chinese, +Poles, Japs, Finns. All the fine gentlemen had escaped by earlier +boats. All the smart young women with their gold-nugget buttons as big +as your thumb, lucky miners from the creeks with heavy consignments of +dust to take home, had been too wary to run any risk of the +Never-Know-What closing inopportunely. The great majority here, on the +wharf, dazed or excited, lugging miscellaneous possessions--things they +had clung to in straits so desperate they knew no more how to relax +their hold than dead fingers do--these were men whose last chance had +been the Klondyke, and who here, as elsewhere, had failed. Many who +came in young were going out old; but the odd thing was that those +worst off went out game--no whining, none of the ostentatious pathos of +those broken on the wheel of a great city. + +A man under Muckluck's window, dressed in a moose-skin shirt, straw +hat, broadcloth trousers, and carpet slippers, in one hand a tin pail, +in the other something tied in a handkerchief, called out lustily to a +ragged individual, cleaving a way through the throng, "Got your stuff +aboard?" + +"Yes, goin' to get it off. I ain't goin' home till next year." + +And the face above the moose-skin shirt was stricken with a sudden +envy. Without any telling, he knew just how his pardner's heart had +failed him, when it came to turning his tattered back on the +possibilities of the Klondyke. + +"Oh, I'm comin' back soon's I get a grub-stake." + +"I ain't," said another with a dazed expression--a Klondyker carrying +home his frying-pan, the one thing, apparently, saved out of the wreck. + +"You think you ain't comin' back? Just wait! Once you've lived up here, +the Outside ain't good enough fur yer." + +"Right!" said an old Forty-miler, "you can try it; but Lord! how you'll +miss this goll-darn Yukon." + +Among the hundreds running about, talking, bustling, hauling +heterogeneous luggage, sending last letters, doing last deals, a score +of women either going by this boat or saying good-bye to those who +were; and Potts, the O'Flynns, and Mac waiting to hand over Kaviak to +Sister Winifred. + +The Boy at the open window above, staring down on the tatterdemalion +throng, remembered his first meeting with the Big Chimney men as the +Washington City steamed out of San Francisco's Golden Gate a year and a +month before. + +Of course, even in default of finding millions, something stirring +might have happened, something heroic, rewarding to the spirit, if no +other how; but (his own special revelation blurred, swamped for the +moment in the common wreck) he said to himself that nothing of the sort +had befallen the Big Chimney men any more than to the whipped and +bankrupt crew struggling down there on the wharf. They simply had +failed--all alike. And yet there was between them and the common +failures of the world one abiding difference: these had greatly dared. +As long as the meanest in that crowd drew breath and held to memory, so +long might he remember the brave and terrible days of the Klondyke +Rush, and that he had borne in it his heavy share. No share in any mine +save that--the knowledge that he was not among the vast majority who +sit dully to the end beside what things they were born to--the earnings +of other men, the savings of other women, afraid to go seeking after +better lest they lose the good they have. They had failed, but it could +never be said of a Klondyker that he had not tried. He might, in truth, +look down upon the smug majority that smiles at unusual endeavour, +unless success excuses, crowns it. No one there, after all, so poor but +he had one possession treasured among kings. And he had risked it. What +could a man do more? + +"Good-bye, Muckluck." + +"Goo'-bye? Boat Canada way no go till Thursday." + +"Thursday, yes," he said absently, eyes still on the American ship. + +"Then why you say goo'-bye to-day?" + +"Lot to do. I just wanted to make sure you were all right." + +Her creamy face was suddenly alight, but not with gratitude. + +"Oh, yes, all right here," she said haughtily. "I not like much the +Boston men--King George men best." It was so her sore heart abjured her +country. For among the natives of the Klondyke white history stops +where it began when George the Third was King. "I think"--she shot +sideways a shrewd look--"I think I marry a King George man." + +And at the prospect her head drooped heavily. + +"Then you'll want to wear this at your wedding." + +The Boy drew his hand out of his pocket, threw a walrus-string over her +bent head, and when she could see clear again, her Katharine medal was +swinging below her waist, and "the Boston man" was gone. + +She stared with blinded eyes out of the window, till suddenly in the +mist one face was clear. The Boy! Standing still down there in the +hurly-burly, hands in pockets, staring at the ship. + +Suddenly Sister Winifred, her black veil swirling in the wind. An +orderly from St. Mary's Hospital following with a little trunk. At the +gangway she is stopped by the purser, asked some questions, smiles at +first and shakes her head, and then in dismay clasps her hands, seeming +to plead, while the whistle shrieks. + +Muckluck turned and flew down the dark little stair, threaded her way +in and out among the bystanders on the wharf till she reached the +Sister's side. The nun was saying that she not only had no money, but +that a Yukon purser must surely know the Sisters were forbidden to +carry it. He could not doubt but the passage money would be made good +when they got to Holy Cross. But the purser was a new man, and when Mac +and others who knew the Yukon custom expostulated, he hustled them +aside and told Sister Winifred to stand back, the gangway was going up. +It was then the Boy came and spoke to the man, finally drew out some +money and paid the fare. The nun, not recognising him, too bewildered +by this rough passage with the world even to thank the stranger, stood +motionless, grasping Kaviak's hand--two children, you would say--her +long veil blowing, hurrying on before her to that haven in the waste, +the mission at Holy Cross. + +Again the Boy was delaying the upward swing of the gangway: the nun's +trunk must come on board. Two men rushed for it while he held down the +gang. + +"Mustn't cry," he said to Muckluck. "You'll see Sister Winifred again." + +"Not for that I cry. Ah, I never shall have happiness!" + +"Yes, that trunk!" he called. + +In the babel of voices shouting from ship and shore, the Boy heard +Princess Muckluck saying, with catches in her breath: + +"I always knew I would get no luck!" + +"Why?" + +"Ah! I was a bad child. The baddest of all the Pymeut children." + +"Yes, yes, they've got it now!" the Boy shouted up to the Captain. Then +low, and smiling absently: "What did you do that was so bad. Princess?" + +"Me? I--I mocked at the geese. It was the summer they were so late; and +as they flew past Pymeut I--yes, I mocked at them." + +A swaying and breaking of the crowd, the little trunk flung on board, +the men rushing back to the wharf, the gang lifted, and the last Lower +River boat swung out into the ice-flecked stream. + +Keen to piercing a cry rang out--Muckluck's: + +"Stop! They carry him off! It is meestake! Oh! Oh!" + +The Boy was standing for'ard, Nig beside him. + +O'Flynn rushed to the wharf's edge and screamed at the Captain to +"Stop, be the Siven!" Mac issued orders most peremptory. Muckluck wept +as excitedly as though there had never been question of the Boy's going +away. But while the noise rose and fell, Potts drawled a "Guess he +means to go that way!" + +"No, he don't!" + +"Stop, you--------, Captain!" + +"Stop your----boat!" + +"Well," said a bystander, "I never seen any feller as calm as that who +was bein' took the way he didn't want to go." + +"D'ye mean there's a new strike?" + +The suggestion flashed electric through the crowd. It was the only +possible explanation. + +"He knows what he's about." + +"Lord! I wish I'd 'a' froze to him!" + +"Yep," said Buck One, "never seen that young feller when he looked more +like he wouldn't give a whoop in hell to change places with anybody." + +As O'Flynn, back from his chase, hoarse and puffing, stopped suddenly: + +"Be the Siven! Father Brachet said the little divil 'd be coming back +to Howly Cross!" + +"Where's that?" + +"Lower River camp." + +"Gold there?" + +"No." + +"Then you're talking through your hat!" + +"Say, Potts, where in hell is he goin'?" + +"Damfino!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magnetic North +by Elizabeth Robins (C. E. 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