Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London

girl. No, I take my stand with Wertz and Hawes, and–”

But the dogs snarled and drew in, and he broke off, listening to

Tales of the Klondyke

75

the crunch-crunch of many snowshoes. Indian after Indian stalked

into the firelight, tall and grim, fur-clad and silent, their

shadows dancing grotesquely on the snow. One, the witch doctor,

spoke gutturally to Sipsu. His face was daubed with savage paint

blotches, and over his shoulders was drawn a wolfskin, the

gleaming teeth and cruel snout surmounting his head. No other

word was spoken. The prospectors held the peace. Sipsu arose and

slipped into her snowshoes.

“Good-by, O my man,” she said to Hitchcock. But the man who had

sat beside her on the sled gave no sign, nor lifted his head as

they filed away into the white forest.

Unlike many men, his faculty of adaptation, while large, had never

suggested the expediency of an alliance with the women of the

Northland. His broad cosmopolitanism had never impelled toward

covenanting in marriage with the daughters of the soil. If it

had, his philosophy of life would not have stood between. But it

simply had not. Sipsu? He had pleasured in camp-fire chats with

her, not as a man who knew himself to be man and she woman, but as

a man might with a child, and as a man of his make certainly would

if for no other reason than to vary the tedium of a bleak

existence. That was all. But there was a certain chivalric

thrill of warm blood in him, despite his Yankee ancestry and New

England upbringing, and he was so made that the commercial aspect

of life often seemed meaningless and bore contradiction to his

deeper impulses.

So he sat silent, with head bowed forward, an organic force,

greater than himself, as great as his race, at work within him.

Wertz and Hawes looked askance at him from time to time, a faint

but perceptible trepidation in their manner. Sigmund also felt

this. Hitchcock was strong, and his strength had been impressed

upon them in the course of many an event in their precarious life.

So they stood in a certain definite awe and curiosity as to what

his conduct would be when he moved to action.

But his silence was long, and the fire nigh out, when Wertz

stretched his arms and yawned, and thought he’d go to bed. Then

Hitchcock stood up his full height.

“May God damn your souls to the deepest hells, you chicken-hearted

cowards! I’m done with you!” He said it calmly enough, but his

strength spoke in every syllable, and every intonation was

advertisement of intention. “Come on,” he continued, “whack up,

and in whatever way suits you best. I own a quarter-interest in

the claims; our contracts show that. There’re twenty-five or

thirty ounces in the sack from the test pans. Fetch out the

scales. We’ll divide that now. And you, Sigmund, measure me my

quarter-share of the grub and set it apart. Four of the dogs are

mine, and I want four more. I’ll trade you my share in the camp

outfit and mining-gear for the dogs. And I’ll throw in my six or

seven ounces and the spare 45-90 with the ammunition. What d’ye

Tales of the Klondyke

76

say?”

The three men drew apart and conferred. When they returned,

Sigmund acted as spokesman. “We’ll whack up fair with you,

Hitchcock. In everything you’ll get your quarter-share, neither

more nor less; and you can take it or leave it. But we want the

dogs as bad as you do, so you get four, and that’s all. If you

don’t want to take your share of the outfit and gear, why, that’s

your lookout. If you want it, you can have it; if you don’t,

leave it.”

“The letter of the law,” Hitchcock sneered. “But go ahead. I’m

willing. And hurry up. I can’t get out of this camp and away

from its vermin any too quick.”

The division was effected without further comment. He lashed his

meagre belongings upon one of the sleds, rounded in his four dogs,

and harnessed up. His portion of outfit and gear he did not

touch, though he threw onto the sled half a dozen dog harnesses,

and challenged them with his eyes to interfere. But they shrugged

their shoulders and watched him disappear in the forest.

A man crawled upon his belly through the snow. On every hand

loomed the moose-hide lodges of the camp. Here and there a

miserable dog howled or snarled abuse upon his neighbor. Once,

one of them approached the creeping man, but the man became

motionless. The dog came closer and sniffed, and came yet closer,

till its nose touched the strange object which had not been there

when darkness fell. Then Hitchcock, for it was Hitchcock,

upreared suddenly, shooting an unmittened hand out to the brute’s

shaggy throat. And the dog knew its death in that clutch, and

when the man moved on, was left broken-necked under the stars. In

this manner Hitchcock made the chief’s lodge. For long he lay in

the snow without, listening to the voices of the occupants and

striving to locate Sipsu. Evidently there were many in the tent,

and from the sounds they were in high excitement. At last he

heard the girl’s voice, and crawled around so that only the moose-

hide divided them. Then burrowing in the snow, he slowly wormed

his head and shoulders underneath. When the warm inner air smote

his face, he stopped and waited, his legs and the greater part of

his body still on the outside. He could see nothing, nor did he

dare lift his head. On one side of him was a skin bale. He could

smell it, though he carefully felt to be certain. On the other

side his face barely touched a furry garment which he knew clothed

a body. This must be Sipsu. Though he wished she would speak

again, he resolved to risk it.

He could hear the chief and the witch doctor talking high, and in

a far corner some hungry child whimpering to sleep. Squirming

over on his side, he carefully raised his head, still just

touching the furry garment. He listened to the breathing. It was

a woman’s breathing; he would chance it.

Tales of the Klondyke

77

He pressed against her side softly but firmly, and felt her start

at the contact. Again he waited, till a questioning hand slipped

down upon his head and paused among the curls. The next instant

the hand turned his face gently upward, and he was gazing into

Sipsu’s eyes.

She was quite collected. Changing her position casually, she

threw an elbow well over on the skin bale, rested her body upon

it, and arranged her parka. In this way he was completely

concealed. Then, and still most casually, she reclined across

him, so that he could breathe between her arm and breast, and when

she lowered her head her ear pressed lightly against his lips.

“When the time suits, go thou,” he whispered, “out of the lodge

and across the snow, down the wind to the bunch of jackpine in the

curve of the creek. There wilt thou find my dogs and my sled,

packed for the trail. This night we go down to the Yukon; and

since we go fast, lay thou hands upon what dogs come nigh thee, by

the scruff of the neck, and drag them to the sled in the curve of

the creek.”

Sipsu shook her head in dissent; but her eyes glistened with

gladness, and she was proud that this man had shown toward her

such favor. But she, like the women of all her race, was born to

obey the will masculine, and when Hitchcock repeated “Go!” he did

it with authority, and though she made no answer he knew that his

will was law.

“And never mind harness for the dogs,” he added, preparing to go.

“I shall wait. But waste no time. The day chaseth the night

alway, nor does it linger for man’s pleasure.”

Half an hour later, stamping his feet and swinging his arms by the

sled, he saw her coming, a surly dog in either hand. At the

approach of these his own animals waxed truculent, and he favored

them with the butt of his whip till they quieted. He had

approached the camp up the wind, and sound was the thing to be

most feared in making his presence known.

“Put them into the sled,” he ordered when she had got the harness

on the two dogs. “I want my leaders to the fore.”

But when she had done this, the displaced animals pitched upon the

aliens. Though Hitchcock plunged among them with clubbed rifle, a

riot of sound went up and across the sleeping camp.

“Now we shall have dogs, and in plenty,” he remarked grimly,

slipping an axe from the sled lashings. “Do thou harness

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