swears like hell. Never have I heard a man swear like that man. I
am glad. Now that they have found that for which they look, we
will have rest. But the woman says, ‘Let us start. Hurry!’
“I am surprised. But the man with the one eye says, ‘Never mind
me. Give me your grub. You will get more grub at McKeon’s cabin
to-morrow. Send McKeon back for me. But do you go on.’ Here is
another wolf, an old wolf, and he, too, thinks but the one thought,
to go on. So we give him our grub, which is not much, and we chop
wood for his fire, and we take his strongest dogs and go on. We
left the man with one eye there in the snow, and he died there in
the snow, for McKeon never went back for him. And who that man
was, and why he came to be there, I do not know. But I think he
was greatly paid by the man and the woman, like me, to do their
work for them.
“That day and that night we had nothing to eat, and all next day we
travelled fast, and we were weak with hunger. Then we came to the
Black Rock, which rose five hundred feet above the trail. It was
at the end of the day. Darkness was coming, and we could not find
the cabin of McKeon. We slept hungry, and in the morning looked
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84
for the cabin. It was not there, which was a strange thing, for
everybody knew that McKeon lived in a cabin at Black Rock. We were
near to the coast, where the wind blows hard and there is much
snow. Everywhere there were small hills of snow where the wind had
piled it up. I have a thought, and I dig in one and another of the
hills of snow. Soon I find the walls of the cabin, and I dig down
to the door. I go inside. McKeon is dead. Maybe two or three
weeks he is dead. A sickness had come upon him so that he could
not leave the cabin. The wind and the snow had covered the cabin.
He had eaten his grub and died. I looked for his cache, but there
was no grub in it.
“‘Let us go on,’ said the woman. Her eyes were hungry, and her
hand was upon her heart, as with the hurt of something inside. She
bent back and forth like a tree in the wind as she stood there.
‘Yes, let us go on,’ said the man. His voice was hollow, like the
KLONK of an old raven, and he was hunger-mad. His eyes were like
live coals of fire, and as his body rocked to and fro, so rocked
his soul inside. And I, too, said, ‘Let us go on.’ For that one
thought, laid upon me like a lash for every mile of fifteen hundred
miles, had burned itself into my soul, and I think that I, too, was
mad. Besides, we could only go on, for there was no grub. And we
went on, giving no thought to the man with the one eye in the snow.
“There is little travel on the big cut-off. Sometimes two or three
months and nobody goes by. The snow had covered the trail, and
there was no sign that men had ever come or gone that way. All day
the wind blew and the snow fell, and all day we travelled, while
our stomachs gnawed their desire and our bodies grew weaker with
every step they took. Then the woman began to fall. Then the man.
I did not fall, but my feet were heavy and I caught my toes and
stumbled many times.
“That night is the end of February. I kill three ptarmigan with
the woman’s revolver, and we are made somewhat strong again. But
the dogs have nothing to eat. They try to eat their harness, which
is of leather and walrus-hide, and I must fight them off with a
club and hang all the harness in a tree. And all night they howl
and fight around that tree. But we do not mind. We sleep like
dead people, and in the morning get up like dead people out of
their graves and go on along the trail.
“That morning is the 1st of March, and on that morning I see the
first sign of that after which the baby wolves are in search. It
is clear weather, and cold. The sun stay longer in the sky, and
there are sun-dogs flashing on either side, and the air is bright
with frost-dust. The snow falls no more upon the trail, and I see
the fresh sign of dogs and sled. There is one man with that
outfit, and I see in the snow that he is not strong. He, too, has
not enough to eat. The young wolves see the fresh sign, too, and
they are much excited. ‘Hurry!’ they say. All the time they say,
‘Hurry! Faster, Charley, faster!’
“We make hurry very slow. All the time the man and the woman fall
down. When they try to ride on sled the dogs are too weak, and the
dogs fall down. Besides, it is so cold that if they ride on the
sled they will freeze. It is very easy for a hungry man to freeze.
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85
When the woman fall down, the man help her up. Sometimes the woman
help the man up. By and by both fall down and cannot get up, and I
must help them up all the time, else they will not get up and will
die there in the snow. This is very hard work, for I am greatly
weary, and as well I must drive the dogs, and the man and woman are
very heavy with no strength in their bodies. So, by and by, I,
too, fall down in the snow, and there is no one to help me up. I
must get up by myself. And always do I get up by myself, and help
them up, and make the dogs go on.
“That night I get one ptarmigan, and we are very hungry. And that
night the man says to me, ‘What time start to-morrow, Charley?’ It
is like the voice of a ghost. I say, ‘All the time you make start
at five o’clock.’ ‘To-morrow,’ he says, ‘we will start at three
o’clock.’ I laugh in great bitterness, and I say, ‘You are dead
man.’ And he says, ‘To-morrow we will start at three o’clock.’
“And we start at three o’clock, for I am their man, and that which
they say is to be done, I do. It is clear and cold, and there is
no wind. When daylight comes we can see a long way off. And it is
very quiet. We can hear no sound but the beat of our hearts, and
in the silence that is a very loud sound. We are like sleep-
walkers, and we walk in dreams until we fall down; and then we know
we must get up, and we see the trail once more and bear the beating
of our hearts. Sometimes, when I am walking in dreams this way, I
have strange thoughts. Why does Sitka Charley live? I ask myself.
Why does Sitka Charley work hard, and go hungry, and have all this
pain? For seven hundred and fifty dollars a month, I make the
answer, and I know it is a foolish answer. Also is it a true
answer. And after that never again do I care for money. For that
day a large wisdom came to me. There was a great light, and I saw
clear, and I knew that it was not for money that a man must live,
but for a happiness that no man can give, or buy, or sell, and that
is beyond all value of all money in the world.
“In the morning we come upon the last-night camp of the man who is
before us. It is a poor camp, the kind a man makes who is hungry
and without strength. On the snow there are pieces of blanket and
of canvas, and I know what has happened. His dogs have eaten their
harness, and he has made new harness out of his blankets. The man
and woman stare hard at what is to be seen, and as I look at them
my back feels the chill as of a cold wind against the skin. Their
eyes are toil-mad and hunger-mad, and burn like fire deep in their
heads. Their faces are like the faces of people who have died of
hunger, and their cheeks are black with the dead flesh of many
freezings. ‘Let us go on,’ says the man. But the woman coughs and