Children of the Frost by Jack London

Canim tossed a bone to the brute and got upon his feet. “Come, let us

begone. The sun is yet hot, but it will get no cooler.”

“And these white people, what are they like?” Li Wan made bold to ask.

“Like you and me,” he answered, “only they are less dark of skin. You will

be among them ere the day is dead.”

Canim lashed the sleeping-robe to his one-hundred-and-fifty-pound pack,

smeared his face with wet clay, and sat down to rest till Li Wan had

finished loading the dogs. Olo cringed at sight of the club in her hand, and

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gave no trouble when the bundle of forty pounds and odd was strapped

upon him. But Bash was aggrieved and truculent, and could not forbear to

whimper and snarl as he was forced to receive the burden. He bristled his

back and bared his teeth as she drew the straps tight, the while throwing

all the malignancy of his nature into the glances shot at her sideways and

backward. And Canim chuckled and said, “Did I not say he was once a

very great warrior?”

“These furs will bring a price,” he remarked as he adjusted his headstrap

and lifted his pack clear of the ground. “A big price. The white men pay

well for such goods, for they have no time to hunt and are soft to the cold.

Soon shall we feast, Li Wan, as you have feasted never in all the lives you

have lived before.”

She grunted acknowledgment and gratitude for her lord’s condescension,

slipped into the harness, and bent forward to the load.

“The next time I am born, I would be born a white man,” he added, and

swung off down the trail which dived into the gorge at his feet.

The dogs followed close at his heels, and Li Wan brought up the rear. But

her thoughts were far away, across the Ice Mountains to the east, to the

little corner of the earth where her childhood had been lived. Ever as a

child, she remembered, she had been looked upon as strange, as one with

an affliction. Truly she had dreamed awake and been scolded and beaten

for the remarkable visions she saw, till, after a time, she had outgrown

them. But not utterly. Though they troubled her no more waking, they

came to her in her sleep, grown woman that she was, and many a night of

nightmare was hers, filled with fluttering shapes, vague and meaningless.

The talk with Canim had excited her, and down all the twisted slant of the

divide she harked back to the mocking fantasies of her dreams.

“Let us take breath,” Canim said, when they had tapped midway the bed of

the main creek.

He rested his pack on a jutting rock, slipped the head-strap, and sat down.

Li Wan joined him, and the dogs sprawled panting on the ground beside

them. At their feet rippled the glacial drip of the hills, but it was muddy

and discolored, as if soiled by some commotion of the earth.

“Why is this?” Li Wan asked.

“Because of the white men who work in the ground. Listen!” He held up

his hand, and they heard the ring of pick and shovel, and the sound of

men’s voices. “They are made mad by gold, and work without ceasing that

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they may find it. Gold ? It is yellow and comes from the ground, and is

considered of great value. It is also a measure of price.”

But Li Wan’s roving eyes had called her attention from him. A few yards

below and partly screened by a clump of young spruce, the tiered logs of a

cabin rose to meet its overhanging roof of dirt. A thrill ran through her,

and all her dream-phantoms roused up and stirred about uneasily.

“Canim,” she whispered in an agony of apprehension. “Canim, what is

that?”

“The white man’s teepee, in which he eats and sleeps.”

She eyed it wistfully, grasping its virtues at a glance and thrilling again at

the unaccountable sensations it aroused. “It must be very warm in time of

frost,” she said aloud, though she felt that she must make strange sounds

with her lips.

She felt impelled to utter them, but did not, and the next instant Canim

said, “It is called a cabin.”

Her heart gave a great leap. The sounds! the very sounds! She looked

about her in sudden awe. How should she know that strange word before

ever she heard it? What could be the matter? And then with a shock, half

of fear and half of delight, she realized that for the first time in her life

there had been sanity and significance in the promptings of her dreams.

“Cabin,” she repeated to herself. “Cabin.” An incoherent flood of dreamstuff

welled up and up till her head was dizzy and her heart seemed

bursting. Shadows, and looming bulks of things, and unintelligible

associations fluttered and whirled about, and she strove vainly with her

consciousness to grasp and hold them. For she felt that there, in that welter

of memories, was the key of the mystery; could she but grasp and hold it,

all would be clear and plain—

O Canim! O Pow-Wah-Kaan! O shades and shadows, what was that?

She turned to Canim, speechless and trembling, the dream-stuff in mad,

overwhelming riot. She was sick and fainting, and could only listen to the

ravishing sounds which proceeded from the cabin in a wonderful rhythm.

“Hum, fiddle,” Canim vouchsafed.

But she did not hear him, for in the ecstasy she was experiencing, it

seemed at last that all things were coming clear. Now! now! she thought.

A sudden moisture swept into her eyes, and the tears trickled down her

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cheeks. The mystery was unlocking, but the faintness was overpowering

her. If only she could hold herself long enough! If only— but the

landscape bent and crumpled up, and the hills swayed back and forth

across the sky as she sprang upright and screamed, “Daddy! Daddy!” Then

the sun reeled, and darkness smote her, and she pitched forward limp and

headlong among the rocks.

Canim looked to see if her neck had been broken by the heavy pack,

grunted his satisfaction, and threw water upon her from the creek. She

came to slowly, with choking sobs, and sat up.

“It is not good, the hot sun on the head,” he ventured.

And she answered, “No, it is not good, and the pack bore upon me hard.”

“We shall camp early, so that you may sleep long and win strength,” he

said gently. “And if we go now, we shall be the quicker to bed.”

Li Wan said nothing, but tottered to her feet in obedience and stirred up

the dogs. She took the swing of his pace mechanically, and followed him

past the cabin, scarce daring to breathe. But no sounds issued forth, though

the door was open and smoke curling upward from the sheet-iron

stovepipe.

They came upon a man in the bend of the creek, white of skin and blue of

eye, and for a moment Li Wan saw the other man in the snow. But she saw

dimly, for she was weak and tired from what she had undergone. Still, she

looked at him curiously, and stopped with Canim to watch him at his

work. He was washing gravel in a large pan, with a circular, tilting

movement; and as they looked, giving a deft flirt, he flashed up the yellow

gold in a broad streak across the bottom of the pan.

“Very rich, this creek,” Canim told her, as they went on. “Sometime I will

find such a creek, and then I shall be a big man.”

Cabins and men grew more plentiful, till they came to where the main

portion of the creek was spread out before them. It was the scene of a vast

devastation. Everywhere the earth was torn and rent as though by a Titan’s

struggles. Where there were no upthrown mounds of gravel, great holes

and trenches yawned, and chasms where the thick rime of the earth had

been peeled to bed-rock. There was no worn channel for the creek, and its

waters, dammed up, diverted, flying through the air on giddy flumes,

trickling into sinks and low places, and raised by huge water-wheels, were

used and used again a thousand times. The hills had been stripped of their

trees, and their raw sides gored and perforated by great timber-slides and

prospect holes. And over all, like a monstrous race of ants, was flung an

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army of men—mud-covered, dirty, dishevelled men, who crawled in and

out of the holes of their digging, crept like big bugs along the flumes, and

toiled and sweated at the gravel-heaps which they kept in constant

unrest—men, as far as the eye could see, even to the rims of the hilltops,

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