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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c875deb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67421 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67421) diff --git a/old/67421-0.txt b/old/67421-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e11db73..0000000 --- a/old/67421-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1087 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Grist, by Murray Leinster - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Grist - -Author: Murray Leinster - -Release Date: February 16, 2022 [eBook #67421] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRIST *** - - - Grist - - By Murray Leinster - - Author of “A Wireless for the Fangless One,” - “The Captain of the Quiberon,” etc. - - THE MILLS OF THE GODS SET UP IN THE NORTHERN FASTNESS - GRIND OUT PERIL AND LOYALTY, FEAR AND COURAGE—AND THE - TESTS THAT ARE TO TRY THE SOULS OF THOSE WHOSE DESTINY - CALLS THEM TO THE LAND OF FROST AND GOLD. - - - I - -He threw back his head and howled eerily. His muzzle lifted to the -stars and the most mournful sound known to man poured from his throat -and was echoed and reëchoed by the hooded cedars and the rocks about -him. He could not have told you why he howled. Dogs are not prone to -introspection. But he knew that his master, who should be in the cabin -yonder, would never come out again. He knew that the dying wisps of -smoke from the chimney would never billow out in thick gray clouds -again. And he knew that the other man—who had come out so hastily and -gone swinging down the river trail—would never, never return. - -Cheechako was chained. It had originally been a mark of disgrace, an -unbearable humiliation to a malamute pup, but he did not mind it any -longer. His master had made sleeping quarters for him that were vastly -warmer than a snow-bed even in the coldest weather, and Cheechako -wholeheartedly approved. He was comfortable, he was fed, and Carson -released him now and then to stretch his legs and swore at him -affectionately from time to time, and no reasonable dog will demand -any more. Or so Cheechako viewed it, anyhow. - -But now his muzzle tilted up. His eyes half-closed, and from his -throat those desolate and despairing howls poured forth. -_A-a-o-oooo-e-e! A-a-o-oooo-e-e!_ They were a dirge and a lament. They -were sounds of grief and they were noises of despair. Cheechako could -not explain their meaning at all, but when a man dies they spring -full-bodied from that man’s dog’s throat. - -The hooded cedars watched, and echoed back the sound. The rocks about -him watched, and gave tongue stilly in a faint reflection of his -sorrow. The river listened, and babbled absently of sympathy and -rippled on. The river has seen too many men die to be disturbed. The -wilds listened. For many miles around the despairing, grief-stricken -howling reached. To tree and forest, and hill and valley, the thin and -muted wailing bore its message. Only the cabin seemed indifferent, -though the tragedy was within it. Somewhere within the four log walls -Carson lay sprawled out. Cheechako knew that he was dead without -knowing how he knew. There had been a shot. Later, the other man had -come out hastily with a pack on his back. He had taken the river trail -and disappeared. - -And long into the night, until the pale moonlight faded and died, -Cheechako howled his sorrow for a thing he did not understand. Of his -own predicament, the dog had yet no knowledge. It was natural to be -chained. Food was brought when one was chained. That there was now no -one to bring him food, that no one was likely to come, and that the -most pertinacious of puppy teeth could not work through the chain that -bound him; these things did not disturb him. His head thrown back, his -eyes half-closed, he howled in an ecstasy of grief. - -And while he gave vent to his sorrow in the immemorable tradition of -his race, a faint rumbling set up afar off in the wilds. It was hardly -more than a murmur, and maybe it was the wind among the trees. Maybe -it was a minor landslide in the hills not so many miles away—a few -hundred tons of earth and stone that plunged downward when the thaw of -spring released its keystone. Maybe it was any one of any number of -things, even a giant spruce tree crashing thunderously to the ground. -But it lasted a little too long for any such simple explanation. If -one were inclined to be fanciful, one would say it was the mill of one -of the forest gods, grinding the grist of men’s destinies, and set -going now by the murder of which Cheechako howled. - -Certainly many unrelated things began to happen which bore obscurely -upon that killing. The man who had fled down-river reflected on his -cleverness and grinned to himself. He opened thick sausage-like bags -and ran his fingers through shining yellow dust. Remembering his -security against detection or punishment, he laughed cacklingly. - -And very far away—away down in Seattle—Bob Holliday found courage to -ask a girl to marry him, and promised to go back to Alaska only long -enough to gather together what capital he had accumulated, when they -would be married. Most of what he owned, he told her, was in a placer -claim that he and Sam Carson worked together. He would sell out to Sam -and return. But he would not take her back to the hardships he had -endured. He was filled with a fierce desire to shield and protect her. -That meant money, Outside, of course. And he started north eagerly for -the results of many years’ suffering and work, which Sam Carson was -guarding for him. - -And again, in a dingy small building a sleepy mail clerk discovered a -letter that had slipped behind account-books and been hidden for -months on end. He canceled its stamp and dropped it into a mail bag to -go to its proper destination. - -Then, the rumbling murmur which might have been the mill of a forest -god off in the wilds stopped abruptly. The grist had had its first -grinding. - -But the mill was not put away. Oh, no. Cheechako howled on until the -moonlight paled and day came again. And the letter that had lain so -long was dropped into a canoe and floated down to the coast in charge -of a half-breed paddleman. And Bob Holliday sped north for Alaska and -his partner, Sam Carson, who guarded a small fortune that Holliday had -earned in sweat and agony and fierce battle with the wilds and winter -snows. Holliday was very happy. The money his partner held for him -would mean comforts and even luxuries for the girl he loved. - -The mill of the forest god was simply laid aside for a little while. -They grind, not slowly—these mills of the gods—but very swiftly, more -swiftly than the grist can come to their grinding stones. Now and then -they are forced to wait for more. But everything upon the earth comes -to them some time. High ambitions and most base desires, and women’s -laughter and red blood gushing, and all hopes and fears and lusts and -terrors together disappear between the millstones and come out -transformed into the product that the gods desire. - -The mill was merely waiting. - - - II - -The place had that indefinable air of desertion that comes upon a -wilderness cabin in such an amazingly short time. The wood-pile, huge, -yet clearly but the remnant of a winter’s supply, had not yet sprouted -any of the mosses and lichens that multiply on dead wood in the short -Alaskan summer. The axe, even, was leaned against the door. Chips -still rested on blades of the quickly-growing grass that comes before -the snow has vanished. A pipe rested on a bench before the house. But -the place was deserted. The feel of emptiness was in the air. - -Holliday had drawn in his breath for a shout to announce his coming -when the curious desolation all about struck home. It was almost like -a blow. Every sign and symbol of occupancy. Every possible indication -that the place was what it seemed to be—the winter quarters of an -old-timer thriftily remaining near his claim. And then, suddenly, the -feeling of emptiness that was like death. - -He disembarked in silence, his forehead creased in a quick and puzzled -frown. He was walking swiftly when he climbed the bluff, glancing -sharply here and there. A sudden cold apprehension made him hesitate. -Then he shook himself impatiently and moved more quickly still. - -Within ten yards of the door he stopped stock-still. And then he -fairly rushed for the cabin and plunged within. - -It was a long time later that he came out. He was very pale, and -looked like a man who has been shaken to the core. He was swearing -brokenly. Then he made himself stop and sit down. With shaking fingers -he filled his pipe and lighted it. - -“In his bunk,” he said evenly to the universe. “A bullet through his -head. No sign of a fight. It isn’t credible—but there isn’t a sign of -any dust or any supplies, and somebody else had been bunking in there -with him. Murder, of course.” - -He smoked. Presently he got up and found a path which he followed. At -its end he saw what he was looking for. He poked about the cradle -there, and expertly fingered the heap of gravel that had been thawed -and dug out to be washed when summer came again. - -“He’d cleaned up,” he said evenly. “He must have had a lot of dust, -and the man with him knew it. I’ve got to find that man.” - -His hands clenched and unclenched as he went back toward the cabin. -Then he calmed himself again. His eyes searched for a suitable spot -for the thing he had to do. - -And then, quite suddenly, “My God!” said Holliday. - -It was Cheechako, who had dragged himself to the limit of his chain -and with his last atom of strength managed to whimper faintly. -Cheechako was not pretty to look at. It had been a very long time -since the night that he howled to the stars of his grief for the man -who was dead. And he had been chained fast. Cheechako was alive, and -that was all. - -He lay on the ground, looking up with agonized, pitiful eyes. Holliday -stared down at him and reached for his gun in sheer mercy. Then his -eyes hardened. - -“No-o-o. I guess not. You’ll be Sam’s dog. You’ll have to stay alive a -while yet. Maybe you can pick out his murderer for me.” - -He unbuckled the collar that Cheechako’s most frenzied efforts had not -enabled him to reach, and took the mass of skin and boniness beneath -down toward his canoe. With a face like stone he tended Cheechako with -infinite gentleness. - -And that night he left Cheechako wrapped up in his own blankets while -he carved deeply upon a crudely fashioned wooden cross. His expression -frightened Cheechako a little, but the dog lay huddled in the blankets -and gazed at him hungrily. Cheechako hoped desperately that this man -would be his master hereafter. Only, he also hoped desperately that he -would never, never use a chain. - - - III - -Cheechako learned much and forgot a little in the weeks that followed. -When he could stand on his wabbling paws, Holliday took him off -invalid’s diet and fed him more naturally canine dishes—the perpetual -dried or frozen fish of the dog-teams, for instance. Cheechako wolfed -it as he wolfed everything else, and in that connection learned a -lesson. Once in his eagerness he leaped up to snatch it from -Holliday’s hand. His snapping teeth closed on empty air, and he was -soundly thrashed for the effort. Later, he learned not to snarl or -snap if his food was taken squarely from between his teeth. When he -had mastered that, he was tamed. He understood that he was not to try -to bite Holliday under any circumstances whatever. And when he had -mastered the idea he was almost pitifully anxious to prove his loyalty -to Holliday. The only thing was that in learning that he got it into -his head that he was not to snarl at or try to sink his teeth in any -man. - -That was possibly why Holliday was disappointed when he took the dog -grimly downstream and made his inquiries as to who had come down in -the two weeks after Carson’s murder. He found the names of every -arrival, and he grimly pursued every one who might have been the man -he was looking for. Each one had a plausible tale to tell. Most of -them were known and could prove their whereabouts at the time of -Carson’s death. But enough had trapped or wintered inland near their -claims to make the absence of any explanation at all no proof of -guilt. That was where Cheechako was to come in. - -Always, before his grim interrogation was over, Holliday unobtrusively -allowed Cheechako to draw near. Cheechako had known the man who had -been with Carson when he was murdered. Holliday watched him closely. -He would sniff at the man, glance up at his master, and wag his tail -placatingly. Holliday watched for some sign of recognition. Cheechako -grew to consider it a part of the greeting of every man his master -met. That was the difference between them. Cheechako simply did not -understand. He had already forgotten a great deal of what had happened -to him, and Holliday was his master now. Carson was a dim and misty -figure of the past. - -By the time Holliday actually came upon the man of whom he was in -search, Cheechako considered the little ceremony a part of the scheme -of things, not to be deviated from. - -They found him camping alone, after trailing him for two days. - -“Howdy,” said he, looking up from his fire with its sizzling pan of -beans and bacon. - -“Howdy,” said Holliday curtly. “You came down-river about a month -ago?” - -The man bent forward over his fire. Cheechako, watching patiently, saw -his whole figure stiffen. - -“I come down, yes,” said the camper, stirring his beans. Sweat came -out on his forehead, but he made no movement toward a weapon. He was -not the sort to fight anything out. - -“Know Sam Carson?” demanded Holliday. - -“Hm—” said the camper. “Seems like I knew him once in Nome.” - -His eyes rested on Cheechako, and flicked away. Cheechako knew that he -was recognized and he wagged his tail tentatively, but he had changed -allegiance now. He waited to see what Holliday would do. - -“Stop at his cabin?” demanded Holliday grimly. - -“Nope,” said the camper. “What’s up?” - -“Pup!” said Holliday. - -This was Cheechako’s cue. Holliday did not know what Carson had called -him, and “Pup” had been a substitute. Knowing, then, what Holliday -expected of him and anxious to do nothing of which his master would -not approve, Cheechako went forward and sniffed politely at the man’s -legs. He rather expected some sign of recognition. When it came, -Cheechako would respond as cordially as was consonant in a dog who -belonged to someone else. But the man who had stayed with Carson made -no move whatever, though his smell to Cheechako was the smell of a -thing in deadly fear. - -Cheechako glanced up at Holliday, and wagged his tail placatingly. - -“He don’t seem to know you,” said Holliday grimly. “I guess you -didn’t.” - -They camped with the stranger, then, and he told Holliday that his -name was Dugan and that he was a placer man, and told stories at which -Holliday unbent enough to smile faintly. - -Holliday was grim and silent, these days, because he had a man-hunt on -his hands, and the gold dust that was to have made a certain girl -happy had been stolen by the murderer of his friend. He listened -abstractedly to Dugan’s jests, but mostly he brooded over the death of -his friend and his own hopes in the same instant. - -Cheechako lay at the edge of the circle of firelight and watched the -two men. Mostly he watched Holliday, because Holliday was his master, -but often his eyes dwelt puzzledly on Dugan. He knew Dugan, and Dugan -knew him. Vaguely, a dim remembrance arose, of Dugan in Carson’s -cabin, feeding him a sweet and pleasant-tasting liquid out of a bottle -while he laughed uproariously. Yes, Cheechako remembered it -distinctly. He wondered if Dugan had any more of that pleasant stuff. - -Once he rose and started forward tentatively. Dugan had been smelling -quite normally human, but as Cheechako drew near him he again smelled -like something that is afraid. It puzzled Cheechako. He sniffed and -would have gone nearer but first, of course, he looked at Holliday. -And Holliday merely glanced at him and did not notice. Cheechako was -used to such ignoring. He wagged his tail a little and went back -outside the firelight. His master did not want him near. - -But later that night, when the two men lay rolled in their blankets in -the smoke of the smudge fire, Cheechako went thoughtfully forward -again. He began to nudge Dugan’s kit with his nose. There might be -some of that sweet-tasting liquid. - -Holliday awoke and sat up with a start. The other man had not gone to -sleep. - -“What the hell’s your dog doing in my kit?” he demanded hysterically. - -“We’ll see,” said Holliday. His voice had a curious edge to it. - -Cheechako sniffed about. There was something there that had a familiar -odor. He drew in his breath in a long and luxurious smell. Then he -began to scratch busily. - -“I’ll take a look at that,” said Holliday grimly. - -He went to where Cheechako scratched, while Dugan moved cautiously -among his blankets. The firelight glinted momentarily on polished -metal among the coverings. The metal thing was pointed at Holliday’s -back, though it trembled slightly. - -Holliday looked up. - -“Your bacon,” he said, his tone altered. “Get out!” he ordered -Cheechako. - -Cheechako went away after wagging his tail placatingly. Presently he -curled up and slept fitfully, the odor he had sniffed permeating all -his dreams. The odor was that of Carson, and Cheechako dreamed of -times in the cabin when Dugan was there. Holliday, too, composed -himself to slumber, but Dugan lay awake and shivered. Some of Carson’s -possessions were in the kit Cheechako had nosed at, and though he had -had his revolver on Holliday, Dugan was by no means sure he could have -summoned the nerve to kill him. He had killed Carson in a fashion -peculiarly his own which did not require that he discharge the weapon -himself. But now he debated in a panicky fear if he had not better -shoot Holliday sleeping. It would be dangerous down here, not like the -hills at all. But it might be best. If that damned dog kept sniffing -around—— - -The next morning he cursed in a species of hysterical relief when he -saw Cheechako trotting soberly away behind his master. Cheechako -wagged his tail politely in parting. He did not understand why Dugan -had feigned not to remember him. Now they were going to find another -man, and Holliday would expect him to sniff that man’s legs and look -up and wag his tail. It was a ceremony that was part of the scheme of -things. Cheechako simply remembered Dugan as a man who had stayed a -long time with Carson in the cabin upriver, and had fed him sweet -liquid out of a bottle, and now smelled as if he were afraid. - -But Holliday, of course, did not know that. Otherwise he would have -been burying Dugan by this time, with a grimly satisfied look upon his -face. - - - IV - -Far off in the wilderness where the cedars meditated beside a deserted -cabin, a faint rumbling murmur set up again. Of course it might have -been the wind in the trees, or a minor landslide in the hills not many -miles away, or even a giant spruce tree crashing thunderously to the -earth. But it lasted just a bit too long for such a simple -explanation. To a fanciful hearer, it might have sounded as if the -mill of the forest god were grinding its grist again. - -And just as such an idea would demand, many unrelated things began to -happen which bore obscurely upon the murder of a man now buried deeply -beneath a deeply-carved wooden cross. - -Holliday, for instance, received two letters. One was from the girl -who loved him. One was from the dead man, stained and draggled with -long journeying and much forwarding and months on its travels. The -letter from the girl told him pitifully that she loved him and wanted -to be near him, and offered to come and share any trial or hardship -rather than endure the numbing pain of separation. Holliday, of -course, knew better than to take her at her word. - -The other letter was very short: - - Dear Bob: - - I’m sending this down by a Chillicoot buck what stopped to - ask for some matches. The claim is proving up kind of a - bonanza because I already took out near twenty thousand - in dust which makes a damn big poke for you with what you - got me to keep for you. You better look out or I’ll steal - it. Ha, ha. - - I got me a new dog that I call Cheechako. He’s a pretty good - dog an’ I got a feller to help me out until you come back an’ - he’s taut the pup to drink molasses out of a bottle. You out - to see it. - - Well, no more until next time. Yrs, - Sam. - -And the man who had come down the river trail and left Cheechako -chained to starve these many long moons past; he found himself growing -short of cash and lacking an easier way to recoup his fortunes, -decided to do some placer work himself. When he worked with Sam Carson -he had marked down a likely spot, but did not trouble to work it -because he could attain to wealth so much more simply. Just a bullet -that he need not even fire himself. He took canoe and went paddling up -the river, having a winter’s supplies bundled up in the bow. - -Then the mill stopped again, and again for lack of grist to grind. -Doubtless the forest god to whom it belonged went on about his other -affairs. - - - V - -Cheechako slept within the cabin that winter, stretched out before the -fire and soaking the heat into his body with the luxurious enjoyment -that only a dog can compass. There was no need for the discipline that -before had made his chaining necessary. Holliday’s training had had -better results than Carson’s. Cheechako was a well-mannered dog, now, -who listened soberly when Holliday talked to him. - -And Holliday talked often. Loneliness in the wilds is quite different -from loneliness anywhere else. With the snow piled in monster drifts -about the cabin, so that there was an actual tunnel a good part of the -way from the door to the wood-pile, he was utterly isolated from the -world. He had to talk. He told Cheechako confidentially just what the -girl Outside meant to him. He would not have said it to any living -man, but the dog listened soberly. Sometimes Holliday grew morose. -Sometimes he called himself a fool for not bringing her with him—and -then gave thanks that he did not. And he had moments of passionate -jealousy and doubt, wondering if she were waiting for him and -believing in him through all the months when no word from either could -reach the other. - -He read her last letter into tiny fragments, long after he could -recite it word for word. He read strange meanings into it, as that she -began to feel her loyalty wavering and in honesty wished to place it -beyond recall. And then he read them out again and was bitterly -ashamed that such things had entered his mind at all. All this was -during the days of storm when he could not even build monster fires -and thaw out gravel to be shifted where the first waters of spring -would wash out its infinitesimal proportion of gold for him. - -But Dugan appeared at the cabin in December. - -He came on snowshoes and had conquered his first surprise before he -shouted outside the cabin door. Dugan had come over in hopes of -finding some stray reading-matter, anything to break the monotony of -his own cabin some four miles or more away. The smoke warned him that -someone was within and no more than a flicker of his eyelids expressed -surprise that Holliday was the occupant. - -Holliday greeted him with a feverish cordiality, pressed tobacco upon -him, bade him remain and eat, presented Cheechako and they talked -interminably. Dugan was jollity itself. He was soon assured that -Holliday had no suspicion of him. He had left no clue after the murder -and Cheechako—who might have gamboled about him—had been trained by -Holliday into the perfection of canine manners. Cheechako remembered, -yes, but he did not associate Dugan with the death of his former -master. And in any event he was a dog, and there was but one master in -the world for him. Injuries done to a past owner would not arouse -Cheechako now, though he would fight to the last drop of his blood for -Holliday. Dugan had every reason in the world to feel secure. - -He was secure. In his gratitude for having someone to talk to, -Holliday would have welcomed the devil himself. When Dugan finally -left for his own cabin, Holliday was more nearly normal than for -months. - -And it may be that Dugan’s presence kept Holliday sane that winter. He -was surely used to loneliness, but no such loneliness as possessed him -now. No man is lonely who can keep his brain busy with the things of -the moment and the place he is in, but Holliday could not do that. A -picture of the girl who waited for him was always at hand. His -presence and his desperate work was due to her. He could not help -thinking and dreaming of her, and that thinking and dreaming made the -solitude into a corroding horror. - -Dugan changed all that. He was someone to talk to. Holliday even told -him about the girl. He talked for hours about her, while Cheechako lay -at one side of the cabin floor and watched gravely, his ears alert and -his eyes somber. Often he watched Dugan, and vague memories crept -disturbingly about his mind. Here, in this same cabin—— - -Dugan knew about the murder, too, how Holliday had come joyously to -the cabin—and found his best friend murdered and his happiness -destroyed in the one instant. Sam Carson had been the keeper of most -of Holliday’s possessions, and they had been stolen by the murderer. - -It was probably his own feigned sympathy and secret sardonic amusement -that suggested a duplication of his former feat to Dugan. Dugan’s own -claim was rich—how rich he could not tell until spring. But Holliday’s -claim was little worse. Carson had skimmed the cream, but the rest was -worth taking, if it could be done without risk. - -And Dugan, who had not nerve enough to shoot a man in cold blood, and -was too cowardly to pick a fight, grinned obscurely to himself. He -fingered his own pokes, which would be bulging when spring came. He -thought of Holliday’s. And then he began to whittle out a little -contrivance of wood and leathern thongs, which looked very much like a -trap, but was much more deadly. It was a clever little idea of his -own. Perfectly safe, and absolutely no risk. Suddenly, he stooped and -listened. It seemed as if some noise to which his ears were -unconsciously attuned had suddenly ceased. - -Maybe the mill had stopped again. - - - VI - -And then spring came. From the trees came cracklings as their coatings -of sleet and solidified snow were stripped off and fell melting to the -earth below. From the river came minor rumblings as the thawed streams -of the mountains poured their waters into it, and its surface ice, -grown thinner, cracked across and spun downstream in crumbling icepans -toward the sea. The rocks, from hooded things in dazzling cerements, -peered out naked and glistening like newborn seals at the world that -was stirring for its feverish growth of summer. The spruce buds -swelled to bursting. Slowly dwindling patches of snow disclosed -incongruously green grass prematurely sprouted. And the wild things -seemed to awake. Bull caribou roared their challenges in the -indefinite distance. Foxes moved about, keen and joyously savage, no -longer hampered by the snow. Now and then the winter’s windrift above -some hidden hollow stirred, and a peevish bear emerged from his long -sleep, sleepily ferocious. - -And Holliday worked like a madman. All day long he shoveled his gravel -and dirt into the cradle through which a small stream ran. After the -first few days he sang. It might be that he would not have a sum that -would satisfy him, but he would squander some of it and see the girl -who loved him. He would see her and speak to her again! It was no -wonder that he sang. - -And Dugan? He worked, too, and his eyes glistened at the size of his -clean-ups. He filled one poke, then another, and still another as time -went on. But Dugan would never be satisfied with what was his own. He -went over to Holliday’s cabin now and then, and listened while -Holliday told him excitedly of the miracle that would happen. He was -going Outside! In a little while longer. He would see the girl. - -He told the whole course of his progress to the man who had murdered -his friend, while Cheechako sat between his feet and regarded Dugan -speculatively. Cheechako could not understand why Dugan so -consistently ignored him. It seemed illogical to the dog, because he -remembered that in this same cabin—— - -And at last Holliday came back from the cradle, singing at the top of -his voice. - -Cheechako had caught some of his festive spirit and danced clumsily -about him. Dugan was sitting on the bench before the cabin and his -eyelids flickered when Holliday came into view. - -“I’m through!” shouted Holliday, at sight of his visitor. “Dugan, I’m -through! I’m going down-river in the morning with a fat poke in my -pack to see the most wonderful girl in the world!” - -Dugan grinned. He had been at the cabin for some little time, and -there was a surprise he had prepared for Holliday inside. It was the -same surprise he had prepared for Carson. - -“I’m going down tomorrow myself,” he said. “Closed up my shack and -quit my workings.” - -“We’ll celebrate,” said Holliday exuberantly. “Man! I’m going Outside -to the most wonderful——” - -Cheechako sniffed the air in the cabin. Dugan did not smell normally -human. He smelled as if he were afraid. And yet he was grinning and -cracking jokes as if he shared in Holliday’s uproarious happiness. - -Cheechako continued to be puzzled and to grow more puzzled. Two or -three times he cocked up his ears as if listening to a faint rumbling -murmur far off in the wilds which might have been anything—even the -mill of a forest god, grinding the grist of men’s destinies. But -mostly he watched the two men. - -Dugan produced a bottle, long hoarded, but Holliday would not touch -it. He wanted to stay awake, he said, that no atom of his wonderful -good luck should go untasted to the full. He would be starting -downstream at daybreak. And Dugan grinned, and drank himself. - -Holliday began to cook a festive meal. The smells were savory and -delicious, but Cheechako’s nose suddenly attracted him to an unusual -spot. He went tentatively toward Holliday’s bunk. Being a -well-mannered dog, he knew he should never climb upon his master’s -bed, but something drew him there irresistibly. He sniffed, and -Dugan’s smell was suddenly that of a thing in deadly fear. Cheechako -turned his head and regarded him puzzledly. Dugan’s scent was on his -master’s blankets, too, and Dugan had no business to be there. -Cheechako sniffed, bewildered. This other odor—— - -“There’s just one thing,” said Holliday with a sudden wistful gravity. -“Old Sam’s dead. I told you how he was murdered. I wish—well, I wish -he was going Outside with me.” - -The faint rumbling outside that sounded like millstones grinding grew -suddenly loud and harsh, as if the stones were crumbling up the last -stray grains that had been fed to them. Cheechako cocked his ears, but -that was only a noise. There was a queer smell on his master’s bunk. -He heaved up his forepaws to sniff it more nearly. - -“Cheechako!” snapped Dugan. Dugan had gone suddenly pale, and more -than ever he had the smell of fear about him. - -Holliday lifted his head and a curious expression came upon his face. -Dugan went over and took Cheechako by the collar. - -“Shedding fleas on your bunk,” he said to Holliday, grinning. “But he -ought to share in the celebration, too. Got any molasses?” - -He knew, of course. He reached up and took down the bottle of syrup -Holliday had saved as a supreme luxury. - -“Taught a dog to do this once,” grinned Dugan. “Here, you, Cheechako! -Open your mouth!” - -Cheechako sniffed at his leg. Then he saw the bottle. His eyes danced. -Dugan had remembered at last! He jumped up to lick eagerly. - -“Ho!” roared Dugan, as Cheechako struggled frantically to coax out the -sticky sweet stuff faster than it would flow. “I knew you’d like it! -Watch him, Holliday!” - -Holliday straightened up. - -“You’ve never heard me call that dog ‘Cheechako,’” he said queerly. -“I’ve always called him ‘Pup.’ The only other man who’d know his name -would be Sam Carson and—” Holliday’s voice changed swiftly—“and the -man who killed him! And that trick— By God, you’re Sam Carson’s -murderer!” - -His revolver flashed out. Dugan gasped. The bottle fell to the floor -and Cheechako lapped eagerly at its exuding contents. - -“You shot him from behind,” said Holliday savagely. “With your gun not -a foot from his head! Get out that gun now, Dugan. I give you just two -seconds!” - -Dugan’s teeth chattered. His eyes darted despairingly to the bunk. -Holliday’s face was like stone. There was no faintest trace of mercy -in it. With a sudden squeal like that of a cornered rat, Dugan rushed -for him. - -And Holliday’s revolver was out and in his hand, but Dugan’s -open-handed attack brought an instinctive response in kind. His free -fist shot out in a terrific blow. It caught Dugan squarely between the -eyes and hurled him backward. He staggered, and his foot crushed -Cheechako’s paw. The dog leaped up with a yelp and bared teeth and his -movement was enough to upset Dugan’s balance completely. He toppled -backward and a sudden terrible scream filled all the cabin. - -He fell against the bunk and his arms clutched wildly, while his face -showed only frozen horror. Then he crashed down on the blankets. - -And there was a bellowing roar and a burst of smoke from the bunk. -Dugan did not even shudder. He lay quite still. Presently a sullen -little “drip-drip-drip” sounded on the floor. - -Holliday bent over and pawed among the blankets. He brought out a -curious little contrivance, very much like a trap. It was a board with -a revolver tied to it and a thong so arranged that pressure on the -thong would discharge the revolver into the source of the pressure. - -Cheechako sniffed at it. It was the source of the peculiar odor he had -noted in his master’s bunk. He wagged his tail placatingly and looked -up at Holliday. - -“Right where my head would have gone,” said Holliday, shuddering a -little in spite of himself, “when I lay down to sleep. And he was -going to stay here overnight. I see how he killed Carson now. -_Pfaugh!_” - -Sick with disgust, and a little shaken, he flung down the board. - -Holliday did not go down-river at daybreak. It was nearer noon when he -started. And instead of one deeply-carved cross in the ground about -the cabin there were two. One read: - - SAM CARSON - MURDERED - JUNE 2, 19— - -And the other: - - HIS MURDERER - JUNE 2, 19— - -Holliday paddled down the river with Cheechako in the bow of his -canoe, looking with bright and curious eyes at all that was to be -seen. Holliday had the gold that he had washed out himself during the -winter. He had, besides, gold taken from Dugan’s pokes to the amount -that Dugan had stolen. The surplus he had scattered in the river. He -did not want it. He was going Outside to the girl who had waited for -him. - -And the mill? Oh, the mill had ground up all its grist. It stopped, -until one day a half-breed killed a white man in some dispute over an -Indian woman, and the echo of the shot traveled thinly over the wilds. -And then a faint rumbling murmur set up which might, of course, have -been the wind in the trees, or a landslide in the hills not so very -far away. But, equally, of course, it might not. - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 10, 1924 issue -of Short Stories magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRIST *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Grist</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Murray Leinster</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 16, 2022 [eBook #67421]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRIST ***</div> -<div id='i001' style='margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;' class='w001'> - <img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -</div> -<div class='ce'> -<h1>Grist </h1> -<div>By Murray Leinster </div> -<div style='font-size:0.8em;margin-top:0.3em;'>Author of “A Wireless for the Fangless One,” </div> -<div style='font-size:0.8em;'>“The Captain of the Quiberon,” etc. </div> -</div> -<div style='font-size:0.8em'> -<blockquote> -<p style='text-indent:0'>THE MILLS OF THE GODS SET UP IN THE NORTHERN FASTNESS GRIND OUT PERIL -AND LOYALTY, FEAR AND COURAGE—AND THE TESTS THAT ARE TO TRY THE SOULS -OF THOSE WHOSE DESTINY CALLS THEM TO THE LAND OF FROST AND GOLD.</p> - -</blockquote> -</div> -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>I </div> -</div> -<p>He threw back his head and howled eerily. His muzzle lifted to the -stars and the most mournful sound known to man poured from his throat -and was echoed and reëchoed by the hooded cedars and the rocks about -him. He could not have told you why he howled. Dogs are not prone to -introspection. But he knew that his master, who should be in the cabin -yonder, would never come out again. He knew that the dying wisps of -smoke from the chimney would never billow out in thick gray clouds -again. And he knew that the other man—who had come out so hastily and -gone swinging down the river trail—would never, never return.</p> - -<p>Cheechako was chained. It had originally been a mark of disgrace, an -unbearable humiliation to a malamute pup, but he did not mind it any -longer. His master had made sleeping quarters for him that were vastly -warmer than a snow-bed even in the coldest weather, and Cheechako -wholeheartedly approved. He was comfortable, he was fed, and Carson -released him now and then to stretch his legs and swore at him -affectionately from time to time, and no reasonable dog will demand -any more. Or so Cheechako viewed it, anyhow.</p> - -<p>But now his muzzle tilted up. His eyes half-closed, and from his -throat those desolate and despairing howls poured forth. -<i>A-a-o-oooo-e-e! A-a-o-oooo-e-e!</i> They were a dirge and a lament. They -were sounds of grief and they were noises of despair. Cheechako could -not explain their meaning at all, but when a man dies they spring -full-bodied from that man’s dog’s throat.</p> - -<img src='images/illus-001.jpg' alt='' style='float:left; width:25%; margin-right:10px' /> -<p>The hooded cedars watched, and echoed back the sound. The rocks about -him watched, and gave tongue stilly in a faint reflection of his -sorrow. The river listened, and babbled absently of sympathy and -rippled on. The river has seen too many men die to be disturbed. The -wilds listened. For many miles around the despairing, grief-stricken -howling reached. To tree and forest, and hill and valley, the thin and -muted wailing bore its message. Only the cabin seemed indifferent, -though the tragedy was within it. Somewhere within the four log walls -Carson lay sprawled out. Cheechako knew that he was dead without -knowing how he knew. There had been a shot. Later, the other man had -come out hastily with a pack on his back. He had taken the river trail -and disappeared.</p> - -<p>And long into the night, until the pale moonlight faded and died, -Cheechako howled his sorrow for a thing he did not understand. Of his -own predicament, the dog had yet no knowledge. It was natural to be -chained. Food was brought when one was chained. That there was now no -one to bring him food, that no one was likely to come, and that the -most pertinacious of puppy teeth could not work through the chain that -bound him; these things did not disturb him. His head thrown back, his -eyes half-closed, he howled in an ecstasy of grief.</p> - -<p>And while he gave vent to his sorrow in the immemorable tradition of -his race, a faint rumbling set up afar off in the wilds. It was hardly -more than a murmur, and maybe it was the wind among the trees. Maybe -it was a minor landslide in the hills not so many miles away—a few -hundred tons of earth and stone that plunged downward when the thaw of -spring released its keystone. Maybe it was any one of any number of -things, even a giant spruce tree crashing thunderously to the ground. -But it lasted a little too long for any such simple explanation. If -one were inclined to be fanciful, one would say it was the mill of one -of the forest gods, grinding the grist of men’s destinies, and set -going now by the murder of which Cheechako howled.</p> - -<p>Certainly many unrelated things began to happen which bore obscurely -upon that killing. The man who had fled down-river reflected on his -cleverness and grinned to himself. He opened thick sausage-like bags -and ran his fingers through shining yellow dust. Remembering his -security against detection or punishment, he laughed cacklingly.</p> - -<p>And very far away—away down in Seattle—Bob Holliday found courage to -ask a girl to marry him, and promised to go back to Alaska only long -enough to gather together what capital he had accumulated, when they -would be married. Most of what he owned, he told her, was in a placer -claim that he and Sam Carson worked together. He would sell out to Sam -and return. But he would not take her back to the hardships he had -endured. He was filled with a fierce desire to shield and protect her. -That meant money, Outside, of course. And he started north eagerly for -the results of many years’ suffering and work, which Sam Carson was -guarding for him.</p> - -<p>And again, in a dingy small building a sleepy mail clerk discovered a -letter that had slipped behind account-books and been hidden for -months on end. He canceled its stamp and dropped it into a mail bag to -go to its proper destination.</p> - -<p>Then, the rumbling murmur which might have been the mill of a forest -god off in the wilds stopped abruptly. The grist had had its first -grinding.</p> - -<p>But the mill was not put away. Oh, no. Cheechako howled on until the -moonlight paled and day came again. And the letter that had lain so -long was dropped into a canoe and floated down to the coast in charge -of a half-breed paddleman. And Bob Holliday sped north for Alaska and -his partner, Sam Carson, who guarded a small fortune that Holliday had -earned in sweat and agony and fierce battle with the wilds and winter -snows. Holliday was very happy. The money his partner held for him -would mean comforts and even luxuries for the girl he loved.</p> - -<p>The mill of the forest god was simply laid aside for a little while. -They grind, not slowly—these mills of the gods—but very swiftly, more -swiftly than the grist can come to their grinding stones. Now and then -they are forced to wait for more. But everything upon the earth comes -to them some time. High ambitions and most base desires, and women’s -laughter and red blood gushing, and all hopes and fears and lusts and -terrors together disappear between the millstones and come out -transformed into the product that the gods desire.</p> - -<p>The mill was merely waiting.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>II </div> -</div> -<p>The place had that indefinable air of desertion that comes upon a -wilderness cabin in such an amazingly short time. The wood-pile, huge, -yet clearly but the remnant of a winter’s supply, had not yet sprouted -any of the mosses and lichens that multiply on dead wood in the short -Alaskan summer. The axe, even, was leaned against the door. Chips -still rested on blades of the quickly-growing grass that comes before -the snow has vanished. A pipe rested on a bench before the house. But -the place was deserted. The feel of emptiness was in the air.</p> - -<p>Holliday had drawn in his breath for a shout to announce his coming -when the curious desolation all about struck home. It was almost like -a blow. Every sign and symbol of occupancy. Every possible indication -that the place was what it seemed to be—the winter quarters of an -old-timer thriftily remaining near his claim. And then, suddenly, the -feeling of emptiness that was like death.</p> - -<img src='images/illus-002.jpg' alt='' style='float:right; width:25%; margin-left:10px' /> -<p>He disembarked in silence, his forehead creased in a quick and puzzled -frown. He was walking swiftly when he climbed the bluff, glancing -sharply here and there. A sudden cold apprehension made him hesitate. -Then he shook himself impatiently and moved more quickly still.</p> - -<p>Within ten yards of the door he stopped stock-still. And then he -fairly rushed for the cabin and plunged within.</p> - -<p>It was a long time later that he came out. He was very pale, and -looked like a man who has been shaken to the core. He was swearing -brokenly. Then he made himself stop and sit down. With shaking fingers -he filled his pipe and lighted it.</p> - -<p>“In his bunk,” he said evenly to the universe. “A bullet through his -head. No sign of a fight. It isn’t credible—but there isn’t a sign of -any dust or any supplies, and somebody else had been bunking in there -with him. Murder, of course.”</p> - -<p>He smoked. Presently he got up and found a path which he followed. At -its end he saw what he was looking for. He poked about the cradle -there, and expertly fingered the heap of gravel that had been thawed -and dug out to be washed when summer came again.</p> - -<p>“He’d cleaned up,” he said evenly. “He must have had a lot of dust, -and the man with him knew it. I’ve got to find that man.”</p> - -<p>His hands clenched and unclenched as he went back toward the cabin. -Then he calmed himself again. His eyes searched for a suitable spot -for the thing he had to do.</p> - -<p>And then, quite suddenly, “My God!” said Holliday.</p> - -<p>It was Cheechako, who had dragged himself to the limit of his chain -and with his last atom of strength managed to whimper faintly. -Cheechako was not pretty to look at. It had been a very long time -since the night that he howled to the stars of his grief for the man -who was dead. And he had been chained fast. Cheechako was alive, and -that was all.</p> - -<p>He lay on the ground, looking up with agonized, pitiful eyes. Holliday -stared down at him and reached for his gun in sheer mercy. Then his -eyes hardened.</p> - -<p>“No-o-o. I guess not. You’ll be Sam’s dog. You’ll have to stay alive a -while yet. Maybe you can pick out his murderer for me.”</p> - -<p>He unbuckled the collar that Cheechako’s most frenzied efforts had not -enabled him to reach, and took the mass of skin and boniness beneath -down toward his canoe. With a face like stone he tended Cheechako with -infinite gentleness.</p> - -<p>And that night he left Cheechako wrapped up in his own blankets while -he carved deeply upon a crudely fashioned wooden cross. His expression -frightened Cheechako a little, but the dog lay huddled in the blankets -and gazed at him hungrily. Cheechako hoped desperately that this man -would be his master hereafter. Only, he also hoped desperately that he -would never, never use a chain.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>III </div> -</div> -<p>Cheechako learned much and forgot a little in the weeks that followed. -When he could stand on his wabbling paws, Holliday took him off -invalid’s diet and fed him more naturally canine dishes—the perpetual -dried or frozen fish of the dog-teams, for instance. Cheechako wolfed -it as he wolfed everything else, and in that connection learned a -lesson. Once in his eagerness he leaped up to snatch it from -Holliday’s hand. His snapping teeth closed on empty air, and he was -soundly thrashed for the effort. Later, he learned not to snarl or -snap if his food was taken squarely from between his teeth. When he -had mastered that, he was tamed. He understood that he was not to try -to bite Holliday under any circumstances whatever. And when he had -mastered the idea he was almost pitifully anxious to prove his loyalty -to Holliday. The only thing was that in learning that he got it into -his head that he was not to snarl at or try to sink his teeth in any -man.</p> - -<p>That was possibly why Holliday was disappointed when he took the dog -grimly downstream and made his inquiries as to who had come down in -the two weeks after Carson’s murder. He found the names of every -arrival, and he grimly pursued every one who might have been the man -he was looking for. Each one had a plausible tale to tell. Most of -them were known and could prove their whereabouts at the time of -Carson’s death. But enough had trapped or wintered inland near their -claims to make the absence of any explanation at all no proof of -guilt. That was where Cheechako was to come in.</p> - -<p>Always, before his grim interrogation was over, Holliday unobtrusively -allowed Cheechako to draw near. Cheechako had known the man who had -been with Carson when he was murdered. Holliday watched him closely. -He would sniff at the man, glance up at his master, and wag his tail -placatingly. Holliday watched for some sign of recognition. Cheechako -grew to consider it a part of the greeting of every man his master -met. That was the difference between them. Cheechako simply did not -understand. He had already forgotten a great deal of what had happened -to him, and Holliday was his master now. Carson was a dim and misty -figure of the past.</p> - -<p>By the time Holliday actually came upon the man of whom he was in -search, Cheechako considered the little ceremony a part of the scheme -of things, not to be deviated from.</p> - -<p>They found him camping alone, after trailing him for two days.</p> - -<p>“Howdy,” said he, looking up from his fire with its sizzling pan of -beans and bacon.</p> - -<p>“Howdy,” said Holliday curtly. “You came down-river about a month -ago?”</p> - -<p>The man bent forward over his fire. Cheechako, watching patiently, saw -his whole figure stiffen.</p> - -<p>“I come down, yes,” said the camper, stirring his beans. Sweat came -out on his forehead, but he made no movement toward a weapon. He was -not the sort to fight anything out.</p> - -<p>“Know Sam Carson?” demanded Holliday.</p> - -<p>“Hm—” said the camper. “Seems like I knew him once in Nome.”</p> - -<p>His eyes rested on Cheechako, and flicked away. Cheechako knew that he -was recognized and he wagged his tail tentatively, but he had changed -allegiance now. He waited to see what Holliday would do.</p> - -<p>“Stop at his cabin?” demanded Holliday grimly.</p> - -<p>“Nope,” said the camper. “What’s up?”</p> - -<p>“Pup!” said Holliday.</p> - -<p>This was Cheechako’s cue. Holliday did not know what Carson had called -him, and “Pup” had been a substitute. Knowing, then, what Holliday -expected of him and anxious to do nothing of which his master would -not approve, Cheechako went forward and sniffed politely at the man’s -legs. He rather expected some sign of recognition. When it came, -Cheechako would respond as cordially as was consonant in a dog who -belonged to someone else. But the man who had stayed with Carson made -no move whatever, though his smell to Cheechako was the smell of a -thing in deadly fear.</p> - -<p>Cheechako glanced up at Holliday, and wagged his tail placatingly.</p> - -<p>“He don’t seem to know you,” said Holliday grimly. “I guess you -didn’t.”</p> - -<img src='images/illus-003.jpg' alt='' style='float:left; width:25%; margin-right:10px' /> -<p>They camped with the stranger, then, and he told Holliday that his -name was Dugan and that he was a placer man, and told stories at which -Holliday unbent enough to smile faintly.</p> - -<p>Holliday was grim and silent, these days, because he had a man-hunt on -his hands, and the gold dust that was to have made a certain girl -happy had been stolen by the murderer of his friend. He listened -abstractedly to Dugan’s jests, but mostly he brooded over the death of -his friend and his own hopes in the same instant.</p> - -<p>Cheechako lay at the edge of the circle of firelight and watched the -two men. Mostly he watched Holliday, because Holliday was his master, -but often his eyes dwelt puzzledly on Dugan. He knew Dugan, and Dugan -knew him. Vaguely, a dim remembrance arose, of Dugan in Carson’s -cabin, feeding him a sweet and pleasant-tasting liquid out of a bottle -while he laughed uproariously. Yes, Cheechako remembered it -distinctly. He wondered if Dugan had any more of that pleasant stuff.</p> - -<p>Once he rose and started forward tentatively. Dugan had been smelling -quite normally human, but as Cheechako drew near him he again smelled -like something that is afraid. It puzzled Cheechako. He sniffed and -would have gone nearer but first, of course, he looked at Holliday. -And Holliday merely glanced at him and did not notice. Cheechako was -used to such ignoring. He wagged his tail a little and went back -outside the firelight. His master did not want him near.</p> - -<p>But later that night, when the two men lay rolled in their blankets in -the smoke of the smudge fire, Cheechako went thoughtfully forward -again. He began to nudge Dugan’s kit with his nose. There might be -some of that sweet-tasting liquid.</p> - -<p>Holliday awoke and sat up with a start. The other man had not gone to -sleep.</p> - -<p>“What the hell’s your dog doing in my kit?” he demanded hysterically.</p> - -<p>“We’ll see,” said Holliday. His voice had a curious edge to it.</p> - -<p>Cheechako sniffed about. There was something there that had a familiar -odor. He drew in his breath in a long and luxurious smell. Then he -began to scratch busily.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take a look at that,” said Holliday grimly.</p> - -<p>He went to where Cheechako scratched, while Dugan moved cautiously -among his blankets. The firelight glinted momentarily on polished -metal among the coverings. The metal thing was pointed at Holliday’s -back, though it trembled slightly.</p> - -<p>Holliday looked up.</p> - -<p>“Your bacon,” he said, his tone altered. “Get out!” he ordered -Cheechako.</p> - -<p>Cheechako went away after wagging his tail placatingly. Presently he -curled up and slept fitfully, the odor he had sniffed permeating all -his dreams. The odor was that of Carson, and Cheechako dreamed of -times in the cabin when Dugan was there. Holliday, too, composed -himself to slumber, but Dugan lay awake and shivered. Some of Carson’s -possessions were in the kit Cheechako had nosed at, and though he had -had his revolver on Holliday, Dugan was by no means sure he could have -summoned the nerve to kill him. He had killed Carson in a fashion -peculiarly his own which did not require that he discharge the weapon -himself. But now he debated in a panicky fear if he had not better -shoot Holliday sleeping. It would be dangerous down here, not like the -hills at all. But it might be best. If that damned dog kept sniffing -around——</p> - -<p>The next morning he cursed in a species of hysterical relief when he -saw Cheechako trotting soberly away behind his master. Cheechako -wagged his tail politely in parting. He did not understand why Dugan -had feigned not to remember him. Now they were going to find another -man, and Holliday would expect him to sniff that man’s legs and look -up and wag his tail. It was a ceremony that was part of the scheme of -things. Cheechako simply remembered Dugan as a man who had stayed a -long time with Carson in the cabin upriver, and had fed him sweet -liquid out of a bottle, and now smelled as if he were afraid.</p> - -<p>But Holliday, of course, did not know that. Otherwise he would have -been burying Dugan by this time, with a grimly satisfied look upon his -face.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>IV </div> -</div> -<p>Far off in the wilderness where the cedars meditated beside a deserted -cabin, a faint rumbling murmur set up again. Of course it might have -been the wind in the trees, or a minor landslide in the hills not many -miles away, or even a giant spruce tree crashing thunderously to the -earth. But it lasted just a bit too long for such a simple -explanation. To a fanciful hearer, it might have sounded as if the -mill of the forest god were grinding its grist again.</p> - -<p>And just as such an idea would demand, many unrelated things began to -happen which bore obscurely upon the murder of a man now buried deeply -beneath a deeply-carved wooden cross.</p> - -<img src='images/illus-004.jpg' alt='' style='float:right; width:25%; margin-left:10px' /> -<p>Holliday, for instance, received two letters. One was from the girl -who loved him. One was from the dead man, stained and draggled with -long journeying and much forwarding and months on its travels. The -letter from the girl told him pitifully that she loved him and wanted -to be near him, and offered to come and share any trial or hardship -rather than endure the numbing pain of separation. Holliday, of -course, knew better than to take her at her word.</p> - -<p>The other letter was very short:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p style='text-indent:0'>Dear Bob:</p> -<p>I’m sending this down by a Chillicoot buck what stopped to -ask for some matches. The claim is proving up kind of a -bonanza because I already took out near twenty thousand -in dust which makes a damn big poke for you with what you -got me to keep for you. You better look out or I’ll steal -it. Ha, ha.</p> -<p>I got me a new dog that I call Cheechako. He’s a pretty good -dog an’ I got a feller to help me out until you come back an’ -he’s taut the pup to drink molasses out of a bottle. You out -to see it.</p> -<p>Well, no more until next time. Yrs,</p> -<div style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em'>Sam.</div> -</blockquote> -<p>And the man who had come down the river trail and left Cheechako -chained to starve these many long moons past; he found himself growing -short of cash and lacking an easier way to recoup his fortunes, -decided to do some placer work himself. When he worked with Sam Carson -he had marked down a likely spot, but did not trouble to work it -because he could attain to wealth so much more simply. Just a bullet -that he need not even fire himself. He took canoe and went paddling up -the river, having a winter’s supplies bundled up in the bow.</p> - -<p>Then the mill stopped again, and again for lack of grist to grind. -Doubtless the forest god to whom it belonged went on about his other -affairs.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>V </div> -</div> -<p>Cheechako slept within the cabin that winter, stretched out before the -fire and soaking the heat into his body with the luxurious enjoyment -that only a dog can compass. There was no need for the discipline that -before had made his chaining necessary. Holliday’s training had had -better results than Carson’s. Cheechako was a well-mannered dog, now, -who listened soberly when Holliday talked to him.</p> - -<p>And Holliday talked often. Loneliness in the wilds is quite different -from loneliness anywhere else. With the snow piled in monster drifts -about the cabin, so that there was an actual tunnel a good part of the -way from the door to the wood-pile, he was utterly isolated from the -world. He had to talk. He told Cheechako confidentially just what the -girl Outside meant to him. He would not have said it to any living -man, but the dog listened soberly. Sometimes Holliday grew morose. -Sometimes he called himself a fool for not bringing her with him—and -then gave thanks that he did not. And he had moments of passionate -jealousy and doubt, wondering if she were waiting for him and -believing in him through all the months when no word from either could -reach the other.</p> - -<p>He read her last letter into tiny fragments, long after he could -recite it word for word. He read strange meanings into it, as that she -began to feel her loyalty wavering and in honesty wished to place it -beyond recall. And then he read them out again and was bitterly -ashamed that such things had entered his mind at all. All this was -during the days of storm when he could not even build monster fires -and thaw out gravel to be shifted where the first waters of spring -would wash out its infinitesimal proportion of gold for him.</p> - -<p>But Dugan appeared at the cabin in December.</p> - -<p>He came on snowshoes and had conquered his first surprise before he -shouted outside the cabin door. Dugan had come over in hopes of -finding some stray reading-matter, anything to break the monotony of -his own cabin some four miles or more away. The smoke warned him that -someone was within and no more than a flicker of his eyelids expressed -surprise that Holliday was the occupant.</p> - -<p>Holliday greeted him with a feverish cordiality, pressed tobacco upon -him, bade him remain and eat, presented Cheechako and they talked -interminably. Dugan was jollity itself. He was soon assured that -Holliday had no suspicion of him. He had left no clue after the murder -and Cheechako—who might have gamboled about him—had been trained by -Holliday into the perfection of canine manners. Cheechako remembered, -yes, but he did not associate Dugan with the death of his former -master. And in any event he was a dog, and there was but one master in -the world for him. Injuries done to a past owner would not arouse -Cheechako now, though he would fight to the last drop of his blood for -Holliday. Dugan had every reason in the world to feel secure.</p> - -<p>He was secure. In his gratitude for having someone to talk to, -Holliday would have welcomed the devil himself. When Dugan finally -left for his own cabin, Holliday was more nearly normal than for -months.</p> - -<p>And it may be that Dugan’s presence kept Holliday sane that winter. He -was surely used to loneliness, but no such loneliness as possessed him -now. No man is lonely who can keep his brain busy with the things of -the moment and the place he is in, but Holliday could not do that. A -picture of the girl who waited for him was always at hand. His -presence and his desperate work was due to her. He could not help -thinking and dreaming of her, and that thinking and dreaming made the -solitude into a corroding horror.</p> - -<p>Dugan changed all that. He was someone to talk to. Holliday even told -him about the girl. He talked for hours about her, while Cheechako lay -at one side of the cabin floor and watched gravely, his ears alert and -his eyes somber. Often he watched Dugan, and vague memories crept -disturbingly about his mind. Here, in this same cabin——</p> - -<p>Dugan knew about the murder, too, how Holliday had come joyously to -the cabin—and found his best friend murdered and his happiness -destroyed in the one instant. Sam Carson had been the keeper of most -of Holliday’s possessions, and they had been stolen by the murderer.</p> - -<p>It was probably his own feigned sympathy and secret sardonic amusement -that suggested a duplication of his former feat to Dugan. Dugan’s own -claim was rich—how rich he could not tell until spring. But Holliday’s -claim was little worse. Carson had skimmed the cream, but the rest was -worth taking, if it could be done without risk.</p> - -<p>And Dugan, who had not nerve enough to shoot a man in cold blood, and -was too cowardly to pick a fight, grinned obscurely to himself. He -fingered his own pokes, which would be bulging when spring came. He -thought of Holliday’s. And then he began to whittle out a little -contrivance of wood and leathern thongs, which looked very much like a -trap, but was much more deadly. It was a clever little idea of his -own. Perfectly safe, and absolutely no risk. Suddenly, he stooped and -listened. It seemed as if some noise to which his ears were -unconsciously attuned had suddenly ceased.</p> - -<p>Maybe the mill had stopped again.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>VI </div> -</div> -<p>And then spring came. From the trees came cracklings as their coatings -of sleet and solidified snow were stripped off and fell melting to the -earth below. From the river came minor rumblings as the thawed streams -of the mountains poured their waters into it, and its surface ice, -grown thinner, cracked across and spun downstream in crumbling icepans -toward the sea. The rocks, from hooded things in dazzling cerements, -peered out naked and glistening like newborn seals at the world that -was stirring for its feverish growth of summer. The spruce buds -swelled to bursting. Slowly dwindling patches of snow disclosed -incongruously green grass prematurely sprouted. And the wild things -seemed to awake. Bull caribou roared their challenges in the -indefinite distance. Foxes moved about, keen and joyously savage, no -longer hampered by the snow. Now and then the winter’s windrift above -some hidden hollow stirred, and a peevish bear emerged from his long -sleep, sleepily ferocious.</p> - -<p>And Holliday worked like a madman. All day long he shoveled his gravel -and dirt into the cradle through which a small stream ran. After the -first few days he sang. It might be that he would not have a sum that -would satisfy him, but he would squander some of it and see the girl -who loved him. He would see her and speak to her again! It was no -wonder that he sang.</p> - -<p>And Dugan? He worked, too, and his eyes glistened at the size of his -clean-ups. He filled one poke, then another, and still another as time -went on. But Dugan would never be satisfied with what was his own. He -went over to Holliday’s cabin now and then, and listened while -Holliday told him excitedly of the miracle that would happen. He was -going Outside! In a little while longer. He would see the girl.</p> - -<p>He told the whole course of his progress to the man who had murdered -his friend, while Cheechako sat between his feet and regarded Dugan -speculatively. Cheechako could not understand why Dugan so -consistently ignored him. It seemed illogical to the dog, because he -remembered that in this same cabin——</p> - -<p>And at last Holliday came back from the cradle, singing at the top of -his voice.</p> - -<p>Cheechako had caught some of his festive spirit and danced clumsily -about him. Dugan was sitting on the bench before the cabin and his -eyelids flickered when Holliday came into view.</p> - -<img src='images/illus-005.jpg' alt='' style='float:left; width:25%; margin-right:10px' /> -<p>“I’m through!” shouted Holliday, at sight of his visitor. “Dugan, I’m -through! I’m going down-river in the morning with a fat poke in my -pack to see the most wonderful girl in the world!”</p> - -<p>Dugan grinned. He had been at the cabin for some little time, and -there was a surprise he had prepared for Holliday inside. It was the -same surprise he had prepared for Carson.</p> - -<p>“I’m going down tomorrow myself,” he said. “Closed up my shack and -quit my workings.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll celebrate,” said Holliday exuberantly. “Man! I’m going Outside -to the most wonderful——”</p> - -<p>Cheechako sniffed the air in the cabin. Dugan did not smell normally -human. He smelled as if he were afraid. And yet he was grinning and -cracking jokes as if he shared in Holliday’s uproarious happiness.</p> - -<p>Cheechako continued to be puzzled and to grow more puzzled. Two or -three times he cocked up his ears as if listening to a faint rumbling -murmur far off in the wilds which might have been anything—even the -mill of a forest god, grinding the grist of men’s destinies. But -mostly he watched the two men.</p> - -<p>Dugan produced a bottle, long hoarded, but Holliday would not touch -it. He wanted to stay awake, he said, that no atom of his wonderful -good luck should go untasted to the full. He would be starting -downstream at daybreak. And Dugan grinned, and drank himself.</p> - -<p>Holliday began to cook a festive meal. The smells were savory and -delicious, but Cheechako’s nose suddenly attracted him to an unusual -spot. He went tentatively toward Holliday’s bunk. Being a -well-mannered dog, he knew he should never climb upon his master’s -bed, but something drew him there irresistibly. He sniffed, and -Dugan’s smell was suddenly that of a thing in deadly fear. Cheechako -turned his head and regarded him puzzledly. Dugan’s scent was on his -master’s blankets, too, and Dugan had no business to be there. -Cheechako sniffed, bewildered. This other odor——</p> - -<p>“There’s just one thing,” said Holliday with a sudden wistful gravity. -“Old Sam’s dead. I told you how he was murdered. I wish—well, I wish -he was going Outside with me.”</p> - -<p>The faint rumbling outside that sounded like millstones grinding grew -suddenly loud and harsh, as if the stones were crumbling up the last -stray grains that had been fed to them. Cheechako cocked his ears, but -that was only a noise. There was a queer smell on his master’s bunk. -He heaved up his forepaws to sniff it more nearly.</p> - -<p>“Cheechako!” snapped Dugan. Dugan had gone suddenly pale, and more -than ever he had the smell of fear about him.</p> - -<p>Holliday lifted his head and a curious expression came upon his face. -Dugan went over and took Cheechako by the collar.</p> - -<p>“Shedding fleas on your bunk,” he said to Holliday, grinning. “But he -ought to share in the celebration, too. Got any molasses?”</p> - -<p>He knew, of course. He reached up and took down the bottle of syrup -Holliday had saved as a supreme luxury.</p> - -<p>“Taught a dog to do this once,” grinned Dugan. “Here, you, Cheechako! -Open your mouth!”</p> - -<p>Cheechako sniffed at his leg. Then he saw the bottle. His eyes danced. -Dugan had remembered at last! He jumped up to lick eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Ho!” roared Dugan, as Cheechako struggled frantically to coax out the -sticky sweet stuff faster than it would flow. “I knew you’d like it! -Watch him, Holliday!”</p> - -<p>Holliday straightened up.</p> - -<p>“You’ve never heard me call that dog ‘Cheechako,’” he said queerly. -“I’ve always called him ‘Pup.’ The only other man who’d know his name -would be Sam Carson and—” Holliday’s voice changed swiftly—“and the -man who killed him! And that trick— By God, you’re Sam Carson’s -murderer!”</p> - -<p>His revolver flashed out. Dugan gasped. The bottle fell to the floor -and Cheechako lapped eagerly at its exuding contents.</p> - -<p>“You shot him from behind,” said Holliday savagely. “With your gun not -a foot from his head! Get out that gun now, Dugan. I give you just two -seconds!”</p> - -<p>Dugan’s teeth chattered. His eyes darted despairingly to the bunk. -Holliday’s face was like stone. There was no faintest trace of mercy -in it. With a sudden squeal like that of a cornered rat, Dugan rushed -for him.</p> - -<p>And Holliday’s revolver was out and in his hand, but Dugan’s -open-handed attack brought an instinctive response in kind. His free -fist shot out in a terrific blow. It caught Dugan squarely between the -eyes and hurled him backward. He staggered, and his foot crushed -Cheechako’s paw. The dog leaped up with a yelp and bared teeth and his -movement was enough to upset Dugan’s balance completely. He toppled -backward and a sudden terrible scream filled all the cabin.</p> - -<p>He fell against the bunk and his arms clutched wildly, while his face -showed only frozen horror. Then he crashed down on the blankets.</p> - -<p>And there was a bellowing roar and a burst of smoke from the bunk. -Dugan did not even shudder. He lay quite still. Presently a sullen -little “drip-drip-drip” sounded on the floor.</p> - -<p>Holliday bent over and pawed among the blankets. He brought out a -curious little contrivance, very much like a trap. It was a board with -a revolver tied to it and a thong so arranged that pressure on the -thong would discharge the revolver into the source of the pressure.</p> - -<img src='images/illus-006.jpg' alt='' style='float:right; width:25%; margin-left:10px' /> -<p>Cheechako sniffed at it. It was the source of the peculiar odor he had -noted in his master’s bunk. He wagged his tail placatingly and looked -up at Holliday.</p> - -<p>“Right where my head would have gone,” said Holliday, shuddering a -little in spite of himself, “when I lay down to sleep. And he was -going to stay here overnight. I see how he killed Carson now. -<i>Pfaugh!</i>”</p> - -<p>Sick with disgust, and a little shaken, he flung down the board.</p> - -<p>Holliday did not go down-river at daybreak. It was nearer noon when he -started. And instead of one deeply-carved cross in the ground about -the cabin there were two. One read:</p> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em'> -<div class='ce'> -<div>SAM CARSON</div> -<div>MURDERED</div> -<div>JUNE 2, 19—</div> -</div> -</div> -<p>And the other:</p> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em'> -<div class='ce'> -<div>HIS MURDERER</div> -<div>JUNE 2, 19—</div> -</div> -</div> -<p>Holliday paddled down the river with Cheechako in the bow of his -canoe, looking with bright and curious eyes at all that was to be -seen. Holliday had the gold that he had washed out himself during the -winter. He had, besides, gold taken from Dugan’s pokes to the amount -that Dugan had stolen. The surplus he had scattered in the river. He -did not want it. He was going Outside to the girl who had waited for -him.</p> - -<p>And the mill? Oh, the mill had ground up all its grist. It stopped, -until one day a half-breed killed a white man in some dispute over an -Indian woman, and the echo of the shot traveled thinly over the wilds. -And then a faint rumbling murmur set up which might, of course, have -been the wind in the trees, or a landslide in the hills not so very -far away. But, equally, of course, it might not.</p> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-bottom:2em; - margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; - background-color:#EFF1F6; text-indent:0'> - Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 10, 1924 issue of - <i>Short Stories</i> magazine. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRIST ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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