Burning Daylight by Jack London

down his ear-flaps. Kama stood outside by the sled, a long,

narrow affair, sixteen inches wide and seven and a half feet in

length, its slatted bottom raised six inches above the steel-shod

runners. On it, lashed with thongs of moose-hide, were the light

Burning Daylight

27

canvas bags that contained the mail, and the food and gear for

dogs and men. In front of it, in a single line, lay curled five

frost-rimed dogs. They were huskies, matched in size and color,

all unusually large and all gray. From their cruel jaws to their

bushy tails they were as like as peas in their likeness to

timber-wolves. Wolves they were, domesticated, it was true, but

wolves in appearance and in all their characteristics. On top

the sled load, thrust under the lashings and ready for immediate

use, were two pairs of snowshoes.

Bettles pointed to a robe of Arctic hare skins, the end of which

showed in the mouth of a bag.

“That’s his bed,” he said. “Six pounds of rabbit skins. Warmest

thing he ever slept under, but I’m damned if it could keep me

warm, and I can go some myself. Daylight’s a hell-fire furnace,

that’s what he is.”

“I’d hate to be that Indian,” Doc Watson remarked.

“He’ll kill’m, he’ll kill’m sure,” Bettles chanted exultantly.

“I know. I’ve ben with Daylight on trail. That man ain’t never

ben tired in his life. Don’t know what it means. I seen him

travel all day with wet socks at forty five below. There ain’t

another man living can do that.”

While this talk went on, Daylight was saying good-by to those

that clustered around him. The Virgin wanted to kiss him, and,

fuddled slightly though he was with the whiskey, he saw his way

out without compromising with the apron-string. He kissed the

Virgin, but he kissed the other three women with equal

partiality. He pulled on his long mittens, roused the dogs to

their feet, and took his Place at the gee pole.[4]

[4] A gee-pole: stout pole projecting forward from one side of

the front end of the sled, by which the sled is steered.

“Mush, you beauties!” he cried.

The animals threw their weights against their breastbands on the

instant, crouching low to the snow, and digging in their claws.

They whined eagerly, and before the sled had gone half a dozen

lengths both Daylight and Kama (in the rear) were running to keep

up. And so, running, man and dogs dipped over the bank and down

to the frozen bed of the Yukon, and in the gray light were gone.

CHAPTER IV

On the river, where was a packed trail and where snowshoes were

unnecessary, the dogs averaged six miles an hour. To keep up

with them, the two men were compelled to run. Daylight and Kama

relieved each other regularly at the gee-pole, for here was the

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28

hard work of steering the flying sled and of keeping in advance

of it. The man relieved dropped behind the sled, occasionally

leaping upon it and resting.

It was severe work, but of the sort that was exhilarating.

They were flying, getting over the ground, making the most of the

packed trail. Later on they would come to the unbroken trail,

where three miles an hour would constitute good going. Then

there would be no riding and resting, and no running. Then the

gee-pole would be the easier task, and a man would come back to

it to rest after having completed his spell to the fore, breaking

trail with the snowshoes for the dogs. Such work was far from

exhilarating also, they must expect places where for miles at a

time they must toil over chaotic ice-jams, where they would be

fortunate if they made two miles an hour. And there would be the

inevitable bad jams, short ones, it was true, but so bad that a

mile an hour would require terrific effort. Kama and Daylight

did not talk. In the nature of the work they could not, nor in

their own natures were they given to talking while they worked.

At rare intervals, when necessary, they addressed each other in

monosyllables, Kama, for the most part, contenting himself with

grunts. Occasionally a dog whined or snarled, but in the main

the team kept silent. Only could be heard the sharp, jarring

grate of the steel runners over the hard surface and the creak of

the straining sled.

As if through a wall, Daylight had passed from the hum and roar

of the Tivoli into another world–a world of silence and

immobility. Nothing stirred. The Yukon slept under a coat of

ice three feet thick. No breath of wind blew. Nor did the sap

move in the hearts of the spruce trees that forested the river

banks on either hand. The trees, burdened with the last

infinitesimal pennyweight of snow their branches could hold,

stood in absolute petrifaction. The slightest tremor would have

dislodged the snow, and no snow was dislodged. The sled was the

one point of life and motion in the midst of the solemn quietude,

and the harsh churn of its runners but emphasized the silence

through which it moved.

It was a dead world, and furthermore, a gray world. The weather

was sharp and clear; there was no moisture in the atmosphere, no

fog nor haze; yet the sky was a gray pall. The reason for this

was that, though there was no cloud in the sky to dim the

brightness of day, there was no sun to give brightness. Far to

the south the sun climbed steadily to meridian, but between it

and the frozen Yukon intervened the bulge of the earth. The

Yukon lay in a night shadow, and the day itself was in reality a

long twilight-light. At a quarter before twelve, where a wide

bend of the river gave a long vista south, the sun showed its

upper rim above the sky-line. But it did not rise

perpendicularly. Instead, it rose on a slant, so that by high

noon it had barely lifted its lower rim clear of the horizon. It

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29

was a dim, wan sun. There was no heat to its rays, and a man

could gaze squarely into the full orb of it without hurt to his

eyes. No sooner had it reached meridian than it began its slant

back beneath the horizon, and at quarter past twelve the earth

threw its shadow again over the land.

The men and dogs raced on. Daylight and Kama were both savages

so far as their stomachs were concerned. They could eat

irregularly in time and quantity, gorging hugely on occasion, and

on occasion going long stretches without eating at all. As for

the dogs, they ate but once a day, and then rarely did they

receive more than a pound each of dried fish. They were

ravenously hungry and at the same time splendidly in condition.

Like the wolves, their forebears, their nutritive processes were

rigidly economical and perfect. There was no waste. The last

least particle of what they consumed was transformed into energy.

And Kama and Daylight were like them. Descended themselves from

the generations that had endured, they, too, endured. Theirs was

the simple, elemental economy. A little food equipped them with

prodigious energy. Nothing was lost. A man of soft

civilization, sitting at a desk, would have grown lean and

woe-begone on the fare that kept Kama and Daylight at the

top-notch of physical efficiency. They knew, as the man at the

desk never knows, what it is to be normally hungry all the time,

so that they could eat any time. Their appetites were always

with them and on edge, so that they bit voraciously into whatever

offered and with an entire innocence of indigestion.

By three in the afternoon the long twilight faded into night.

The stars came out, very near and sharp and bright, and by their

light dogs and men still kept the trail. They were

indefatigable. And this was no record run of a single day, but

the first day of sixty such days. Though Daylight had passed a

night without sleep, a night of dancing and carouse, it seemed to

have left no effect. For this there were two explanations first,

his remarkable vitality; and next, the fact that such nights were

rare in his experience. Again enters the man at the desk, whose

physical efficiency would be more hurt by a cup of coffee at

bedtime than could Daylight’s by a whole night long of strong

drink and excitement.

Daylight travelled without a watch, feeling the passage of time

and largely estimating it by subconscious processes. By what he

considered must be six o’clock, he began looking for a

camping-place. The trail, at a bend, plunged out across the

river. Not having found a likely spot, they held on for the

opposite bank a mile away. But midway they encountered an

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