A thousand deaths by Jack London

questionin’ short. We know what you’re tryin’ to prove–that the

other bank wasn’t searched. The witness admits it. We admit it.

It wasn’t necessary. No tracks led to that bank. The snow wasn’t

broke.”

“There was a man on the other bank just the same,” Smoke insisted.

SMOKE BELLEW

79

“That’s too thin for skatin’, young man. There ain’t many of us on

the McQuestion, an’ we got every man accounted for.”

“Who was the man you hiked out of camp two weeks ago?” Smoke asked.

“Alonzo Miramar. He was a Mexican. What’s that grub-thief got to

do with it?”

“Nothing, except that you haven’t accounted for HIM, Mr Judge.”

“He went down the river, not up.”

“How do you know where he went?”

“Saw him start.”

“And that’s all you know of what became of him?”

“No, it ain’t, young man. I know, we all know, he had four day’s

grub an’ no gun to shoot meat with. If he didn’t make the

settlement on the Yukon he’d croaked long before this.”

“I suppose you’ve got all the guns in this part of the country

accounted for, too,” Smoke observed pointedly.

Shunk Wilson was angry.

“You’d think I was the prisoner the way you slam questions into me.

Come on with the next witness. Where’s French Louis?”

While French Louis was shoving forward, Lucy opened the door.

“Where you goin’?” Shunk Wilson shouted.

“I reckon I don’t have to stay,” she answered defiantly. “I ain’t

got no vote, an’ besides my cabin’s so jammed up I can’t breathe.”

In a few minutes her husband followed. The closing of the door was

the first warning the judge received of it.

“Who was that?” he interrupted Pierre’s narrative to ask.

“Bill Peabody,” somebody spoke up. “Said he wanted to ask his wife

something and was coming right back.”

I

nstead of Bill, it was Lucy who re-entered, took off her furs, and

resumed her place by the stove.

“I reckon we don’t need to hear the rest of the witnesses,” was

Shunk Wilson’s decision, when Pierre had finished. “We know they

only can testify to the same facts we’ve already heard. Say,

Sorensen, you go an’ bring Bill Peabody back. We’ll be votin’ a

verdict pretty short. Now, Stranger, you can get up an’ say your

say concernin’ what happened. In the meantime we’ll just be savin’

delay by passin’ around the two rifles, the ammunition, an’ the

bullets that done the killin’.”

SMOKE BELLEW

80

Midway in his story of how he had arrived in that part of the

country, and at the point in his narrative where he described his

own ambush and how he had fled to the bank, Smoke was interrupted by

the indignant Shunk Wilson.

“Young man, what sense is there in you testifyin’ that way? You’re

just takin’ up valuable time. Of course you got the right to lie to

save your neck, but we ain’t goin’ to stand for such foolishness.

The rifle, the ammunition, the bullet that killed Joe Kinade is

against you–What’s that? Open the door, somebody!”

The frost rushed in, taking form and substance in the heat of the

room, while through the open door came the whining of dogs that

decreased rapidly with distance.

“It’s Sorensen an’ Peabody,” some one cried, “a-throwin’ the whip

into the dawgs an’ headin’ down river!”

“Now, what the hell–!” Shunk Wilson paused, with dropped jaw, and

glared at Lucy. “I reckon you can explain, Mrs Peabody.”

She tossed her head and compressed her lips, and Shunk Wilson’s

wrathful and suspicious gaze passed on and rested on Breck.

“An’ I reckon that new-comer you’ve ben chinning with could explain

if HE had a mind to.”

Breck, now very uncomfortable, found all eyes centred on him.

“Sam was chewing the rag with him, too, before he hit out,” some one

said.

“Look here, Mr Breck,” Shunk Wilson continued. “You’ve ben

interruptin’ proceedings, and you got to explain the meanin’ of it.

What was you chinnin’ about?”

B

reck cleared his throat timidly and replied. “I was just trying to

buy some grub.”

“What with?”

“Dust, of course.”

“Where’d you get it?”

Breck did not answer.

“He’s ben snoopin’ around up the Stewart,” a man volunteered. “I

run across his camp a week ago when I was huntin’. An’ I want to

tell you he was almighty secretious about it.”

“The dust didn’t come from there,” Breck said. “That’s only a low-

grade hydraulic proposition.”

“Bring your poke here an’ let’s see your dust,” Wilson commanded.

I tell you it didn’t come from there.”

SMOKE BELLEW

81

“Let’s see it just the same.”

Breck made as if to refuse, but all about him were menacing faces.

Reluctantly, he fumbled in his coat pocket. In the act of drawing

forth a pepper can, it rattled against what was evidently a hard

object.

“Fetch it all out!” Shunk Wilson thundered.

And out came the big nugget, first-size, yellow as no gold any

onlooker had ever seen. Shunk Wilson gasped. Half a dozen,

catching one glimpse, made a break for the door. They reached it at

the same moment, and, with cursing and scuffling, jammed and pivoted

through. The judge emptied the contents of the pepper can on the

table, and the sight of the rough lump-gold sent half a dozen more

toward the door.

“Where are you goin’?” Eli Harding asked, as Shunk started to

follow.

“For my dogs, of course.”

“Ain’t you goin’ to hang him?”

“It’d take too much time right now. He’ll keep till we get back, so

I reckon this court is adjourned. This ain’t no place for

lingerin’.”

Harding hesitated. He glanced savagely at Smoke, saw Pierre

beckoning to Louis from the doorway, took one last look at the lump-

gold on the table, and decided.

“No use you tryin’ to get away,” he flung back over his shoulder.

“Besides, I’m goin’ to borrow your dogs.”

“What is it–another one of them blamed stampedes?” the old blind

trapper asked in a queer and petulant falsetto, as the cries of men

and dogs and the grind of the sleds swept the silence of the room.

“It sure is,” Lucy answered. “An’ I never seen gold like it. Feel

that, old man.”

She put the big nugget in his hand. He was but slightly interested.

“It was a good fur-country,” he complained, “before them danged

miners come in an’ scared back the game.”

The door opened, and Breck entered.

“Well,” he said, “we four are all that are left in camp. It’s forty

miles to the Stewart by the cut-off I broke, and the fastest of them

can’t make the round trip in less than five or six days. But it’s

time you pulled out, Smoke, just the same.”

Breck drew his hunting knife across the other’s bonds, and glanced

at the woman.

SMOKE BELLEW

82

“I hope you don’t object?” he said, with significant politeness.

“If there’s goin’ to be any shootin’,” the blind man broke out, “I

wish somebody’d take me to another cabin first.”

“Go on, an’ don’t mind me,” Lucy answered. “If I ain’t good enough

to hang a man, I ain’t good enough to hold him.”

Smoke stood up, rubbing his wrists where the thongs had impeded the

circulation.

“I’ve got a pack all ready for you,” Breck said. “Ten days’ grub,

blankets, matches, tobacco, an axe, and a rifle.”

“Go to it,” Lucy encouraged. “Hit the high places, Stranger. Beat

it as fast as God’ll let you.”

“I’m going to have a square meal before I start,” Smoke said. “And

when I start it will be up the McQuestion, not down. I want you to

go along with me, Breck. We’re going to search that other bank for

the man that really did the killing.”

“If you’ll listen to me, you’ll head down for the Stewart and the

Yukon,” Breck objected. “When this gang gets back from my low-grade

hydraulic proposition, it will be seeing red.”

Smoke laughed and shook his head.

“I can’t jump this country, Breck. I’ve got interests here. I’ve

got to stay and make good. I don’t care whether you believe me or

not, but I’ve found Surprise Lake. That’s where that gold came

from. Besides, they took my dogs, and I’ve got to wait to get them

back. Also, I know what I’m about. There was a man hidden on that

bank. He came pretty close to emptying his magazine at me.”

Half an hour afterward, with a big plate of moose-steak before him

and a big mug of coffee at his lips, Smoke half-started up from his

seat. He had heard the sounds first. Lucy threw open the door.

“Hello, Spike; hello, Methody,” she greeted the two frost-rimed men

who were bending over the burden on their sled.

“We just come down from Upper Camp,” one said, as the pair staggered

into the room with a fur-wrapped object which they handled with

exceeding gentleness. “An’ this is what we found by the way. He’s

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