she knew most of the things the women of his own race knew, and much more that it was
not in the nature of things for them to know. She could make a meal of sun-dried fish or a
bed in the snow; yet she teased them with tantalizing details of many-course dinners, and
caused strange internal dissensions to arise at the mention of various quondam dishes
which they had well-nigh forgotten. She knew the ways of the moose, the bear, and the
little
blue fox, and of the wild amphibians of the Northern seas; she was skilled in the lore of the
woods and the streams, and the tale writ by man and bird and beast upon the delicate snow
crust was to her an open book; yet Prince caught the appreciative twinkle in her eye as she
read the Rules of the Camp. These rules had been fathered by the Unquenchable Bettles at
a time when his blood ran high, and were remarkable for the terse simplicity of their
humor.
Prince always turned them to the wall before the arrival of ladies; but who could suspect
that this native wife—- Well, it was too late now.
This, then, was the wife of Axel Gunderson, a woman whose name and fame had traveled
with her husband’s, hand in hand, through all the Northland. At table, Malemute Kid baited
her with the assurance of an old friend, and Prince shook off the shyness of first
acquaintance and joined in. But she held her own in the unequal contest, while her
husband,
slower in wit, ventured naught but applause. And he was very proud of her; his every look
and action revealed the magnitude of the place she occupied in his life. He of the Otter
Skins ate in silence, forgotten in the merry battle; and long ere the others were done he
pushed back from the table and went out among the dogs. Yet all too soon his fellow
travelers drew on their mittens and parkas, and followed him.
There had been no snow for many days, and the sleds slipped along the hard-packed
Yukon
trail as easily as if it had been glare ice. Ulysses led the first sled; with the second came
AN ODYSSEY OF THE NORTH
9
Prince and Axel Gunderson’s wife; while Malemute Kid and the yellow-haired giant
brought up the third.
“It’s only a ‘hunch,’ Kid,” he said; “but I think it’s straight. He’s never been there, but he
tells a good story, and shows a map I heard of when I was in the Kootenay country, years
ago. I’d like to have you go along; but he’s a strange one, and swore point-blank to throw it
up if any one was brought in. But when I come back you’ll get first tip, and I’ll stake you
next to me, and give you a half share in the town site besides.
“No! no!” he cried, as the other strove to interrupt. “I’m running this, and before I’m done
it’ll need two heads. If it’s all right, why it’ll be a second Cripple Creek, man; do you
hear?–a second Cripple Creek! It’s quartz, you know, not placer; and if we work it right
we’ll corral the whole thing,–millions upon millions. I’ve heard of the place before, and so
have you. We’ll build a town–thousands of workmen–good waterways–steamship lines–
big
carrying trade–light-draught steamers for head-reaches–survey a railroad,
perhaps–sawmills–electric-light plant–do our own banking–commercial
company–syndicate–Say! just you hold your hush till I get back!”
The sleds came to a halt where the trail crossed the mouth of Stuart River. An unbroken
sea of frost, its wide expanse stretched away into the unknown east. The snowshoes were
withdrawn from the lashings of the sleds. Axel Gunderson shook hands and stepped to the
fore, his great webbed shoes sinking a fair half yard into the feathery surface and packing
the snow so the dogs should not wallow. His wife fell in behind the last sled, betraying
long
practice in the art of handling the awkward footgear. The stillness was broken with cheery
farewells; the dogs whined; and He of the Otter Skins talked with his whip to a recalcitrant
wheeler.
An hour later, the train had taken on the likeness of a black pencil crawling in a long,
straight line across a mighty sheet of foolscap.
II
One night, many weeks later, Malemute Kid and Prince fell to solving chess problems
from
the torn page of an ancient magazine. The Kid had just returned from his Bonanza
properties, and was resting up preparatory to a long moose hunt. Prince too had been on
creek and trail nearly all winter, and had grown hungry for a blissful week of cabin life.
“Interpose the black knight, and force the king. No, that won’t do. See, the next move—-”
“Why advance the pawn two squares? Bound to take it in transit, and with the bishop out
of
the way—-”
AN ODYSSEY OF THE NORTH
10
“But hold on! That leaves a hole, and—-”
“No; it’s protected. Go ahead! You’ll see it works.”
It was very interesting. Somebody knocked at the door a second time before Malemute
Kid said, “Come in.” The door swung open. Something staggered in. Prince caught one
square look, and sprang to his feet. The horror in his eyes caused Malemute Kid to whirl
about; and he too was startled, though he had seen bad things before. The thing tottered
blindly toward them. Prince edged away till he reached the nail from which hung his Smith
& Wesson.
“My God! what is it?” he whispered to Malemute Kid.
“Don’t know. Looks like a case of freezing and no grub,” replied the Kid, sliding away in
the opposite direction. “Watch out! It may be mad,” he warned, coming back from closing
the door.
The thing advanced to the table. The bright flame of the slush-lamp caught its eye. It was
amused, and gave voice to eldritch cackles which betokened mirth. Then, suddenly, he–for
it was a man–swayed back, with a hitch to his skin trousers, and began to sing a chanty,
such as men lift when they swing around the capstan circle and the sea snorts in their ears:
“Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er,
Pull! my bully boys! Pull!
D’yeh want–to know de captain ru-uns her?
Pull! my bully boys! Pull!
Jon-a-than Jones ob South Caho-li-in-a,
Pull! my bully—-”
He broke off abruptly, tottered with a wolfish snarl to the meat-shelf, and before they
could
intercept was tearing with his teeth at a chunk of raw bacon. The struggle was fierce
between him and Malemute Kid; but his mad strength left him as suddenly as it had come,
and he weakly surrendered the spoil. Between them they got him upon a stool, where he
sprawled with half his body across the table. A small dose of whiskey strengthened him, so
that he could dip a spoon into the sugar caddy which Malemute Kid placed before him.
After his appetite had been somewhat cloyed, Prince, shuddering as he did so, passed him
a
mug of weak beef tea.
The creature’s eyes were alight with a sombre frenzy, which blazed and waned with every
mouthful. There was very little skin to the face. The face, for that matter, sunken and
emaciated, bore very little likeness to human countenance. Frost after frost had bitten
deeply, each depositing its stratum of scab upon the half-healed scar that went before. This
dry, hard surface was of a bloody-black color, serrated by grievous cracks wherein the raw
red flesh peeped forth. His skin garments were dirty and in tatters, and the fur of one side
AN ODYSSEY OF THE NORTH
11
was singed and burned away, showing where he had lain upon his fire.
Malemute Kid pointed to where the sun-tanned hide had been cut away, strip by strip,–the
grim signature of famine.
“Who–are–you?” slowly and distinctly enunciated the Kid.
The man paid no heed.
“Where do you come from?”
“Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er,” was the quavering response.
“Don’t doubt the beggar came down the river,” the Kid said, shaking him in an endeavor to
start a more lucid flow of talk.
But the man shrieked at the contact, clapping a hand to his side in evident pain. He rose
slowly to his feet, half leaning on the table.
“She laughed at me–so–with the hate in her eye; and she–would–not–come.”
His voice died away, and he was sinking back when Malemute Kid gripped him by the
wrist, and shouted, “Who? Who would not come?”
“She, Unga. She laughed, and struck at me, so, and so. And then—-”
“Yes?”
“And then—-”
“And then what?”
“And then he lay very still, in the snow, a long time. He is–still in–the–snow.”
The two men looked at each other helplessly.
“Who is in the snow?”
“She, Unga. She looked at me with the hate in her eye, and then—-”
“Yes, yes.”
“And then she took the knife, so; and once, twice–she was weak. I traveled very slow.