by Jack London
THE WIT OF PORPORTUK
El-Soo had been a Mission girl. Her mother had died when she was verysmall, and Sister Alberta had plucked El-Soo as a brand from the burning,one summer day, and carried her away to Holy Cross Mission and dedicatedher to God. El-Soo was a full-blooded Indian, yet she exceeded all thehalf-breed and quarter-breed girls. Never had the good sisters dealtwith a girl so adaptable and at the same time so spirited.
El-Soo was quick, and deft, and intelligent; but above all she was fire,the living flame of life, a blaze of personality that was compounded ofwill, sweetness, and daring. Her father was a chief, and his blood ranin her veins. Obedience, on the part of El-Soo, was a matter of termsand arrangement. She had a passion for equity, and perhaps it wasbecause of this that she excelled in mathematics.
But she excelled in other things. She learned to read and write Englishas no girl had ever learned in the Mission. She led the girls insinging, and into song she carried her sense of equity. She was anartist, and the fire of her flowed toward creation. Had she from birthenjoyed a more favourable environment, she would have made literature ormusic.
Instead, she was El-Soo, daughter of Klakee-Nah, a chief, and she livedin the Holy Cross Mission where were no artists, but only pure-souledSisters who were interested in cleanliness and righteousness and thewelfare of the spirit in the land of immortality that lay beyond theskies.
The years passed. She was eight years old when she entered the Mission;she was sixteen, and the Sisters were corresponding with their superiorsin the Order concerning the sending of El-Soo to the United States tocomplete her education, when a man of her own tribe arrived at Holy Crossand had talk with her. El-Soo was somewhat appalled by him. He wasdirty. He was a Caliban-like creature, primitively ugly, with a mop ofhair that had never been combed. He looked at her disapprovingly andrefused to sit down.
"Thy brother is dead," he said shortly.
El-Soo was not particularly shocked. She remembered little of herbrother. "Thy father is an old man, and alone," the messenger went on."His house is large and empty, and he would hear thy voice and look uponthee."
Him she remembered--Klakee-Nah, the headman of the village, the friend ofthe missionaries and the traders, a large man thewed like a giant, withkindly eyes and masterful ways, and striding with a consciousness ofcrude royalty in his carriage.
"Tell him that I will come," was El-Soo's answer.
Much to the despair of the Sisters, the brand plucked from the burningwent back to the burning. All pleading with El-Soo was vain. There wasmuch argument, expostulation, and weeping. Sister Alberta even revealedto her the project of sending her to the United States. El-Soo staredwide-eyed into the golden vista thus opened up to her, and shook herhead. In her eyes persisted another vista. It was the mighty curve ofthe Yukon at Tana-naw Station. With the St. George Mission on one side,and the trading post on the other, and midway between the Indian villageand a certain large log house where lived an old man tended upon byslaves.
All dwellers on the Yukon bank for twice a thousand miles knew the largelog house, the old man and the tending slaves; and well did the Sistersknow the house, its unending revelry, its feasting and its fun. So therewas weeping at Holy Cross when El-Soo departed.
There was a great cleaning up in the large house when El-Soo arrived.Klakee-Nah, himself masterful, protested at this masterful conduct of hisyoung daughter; but in the end, dreaming barbarically of magnificence, hewent forth and borrowed a thousand dollars from old Porportuk, than whomthere was no richer Indian on the Yukon. Also, Klakee-Nah ran up a heavybill at the trading post. El-Soo re-created the large house. Sheinvested it with new splendour, while Klakee-Nah maintained its ancienttraditions of hospitality and revelry.
All this was unusual for a Yukon Indian, but Klakee-Nah was an unusualIndian. Not alone did he like to render inordinate hospitality, but,what of being a chief and of acquiring much money, he was able to do it.In the primitive trading days he had been a power over his people, and hehad dealt profitably with the white trading companies. Later on, withPorportuk, he had made a gold-strike on the Koyokuk River. Klakee-Nahwas by training and nature an aristocrat. Porportuk was bourgeois, andPorportuk bought him out of the gold-mine. Porportuk was content to plodand accumulate. Klakee-Nah went back to his large house and proceeded tospend. Porportuk was known as the richest Indian in Alaska. Klakee-Nahwas known as the whitest. Porportuk was a money-lender and a usurer.Klakee-Nah was an anachronism--a mediaeval ruin, a fighter and a feaster,happy with wine and song.
El-Soo adapted herself to the large house and its ways as readily as shehad adapted herself to Holy Cross Mission and its ways. She did not tryto reform her father and direct his footsteps toward God. It is true,she reproved him when he drank overmuch and profoundly, but that was forthe sake of his health and the direction of his footsteps on solid earth.
The latchstring to the large house was always out. What with the comingand the going, it was never still. The rafters of the great living-roomshook with the roar of wassail and of song. At table sat men from allthe world and chiefs from distant tribes--Englishmen and Colonials, leanYankee traders and rotund officials of the great companies, cowboys fromthe Western ranges, sailors from the sea, hunters and dog-mushers of ascore of nationalities.
El-Soo drew breath in a cosmopolitan atmosphere. She could speak Englishas well as she could her native tongue, and she sang English songs andballads. The passing Indian ceremonials she knew, and the perishingtraditions. The tribal dress of the daughter of a chief she knew how towear upon occasion. But for the most part she dressed as white womendress. Not for nothing was her needlework at the Mission and her innateartistry. She carried her clothes like a white woman, and she madeclothes that could be so carried.
In her way she was as unusual as her father, and the position sheoccupied was as unique as his. She was the one Indian woman who was thesocial equal with the several white women at Tana-naw Station. She wasthe one Indian woman to whom white men honourably made proposals ofmarriage. And she was the one Indian woman whom no white man everinsulted.
For El-Soo was beautiful--not as white women are beautiful, not as Indianwomen are beautiful. It was the flame of her, that did not depend uponfeature, that was her beauty. So far as mere line and feature went, shewas the classic Indian type. The black hair and the fine bronze werehers, and the black eyes, brilliant and bold, keen as sword-light, proud;and hers the delicate eagle nose with the thin, quivering nostrils, thehigh cheek-bones that were not broad apart, and the thin lips that werenot too thin. But over all and through all poured the flame of her--theunanalysable something that was fire and that was the soul of her, thatlay mellow-warm or blazed in her eyes, that sprayed the cheeks of her,that distended the nostrils, that curled the lips, or, when the lip wasin repose, that was still there in the lip, the lip palpitant with itspresence.
And El-Soo had wit--rarely sharp to hurt, yet quick to search outforgivable weakness. The laughter of her mind played like lambent flameover all about her, and from all about her arose answering laughter. Yetshe was never the centre of things. This she would not permit. Thelarge house, and all of which it was significant, was her father's; andthrough it, to the last, moved his heroic figure--host, master of therevels, and giver of the law. It is true, as the strength oozed fromhim, that she caught up responsibilities from his failing hands. But inappearance he still ruled, dozing, ofttimes at the board, a bacchanalianruin, yet in all seeming the ruler of the feast.
And through the large house moved the figure of Porportuk, ominous, withshaking head, coldly disapproving, paying for it all. Not that he reallypaid, for he compounded interest in weird ways, and year by year absorbedthe properties of Klakee-Nah. Porportuk once took it upon himself tochide El-Soo upon the wasteful way of life in the large house--it waswhen he had about absorbed the last of Klakee-Nah's wealth--but he neverventured so to chide again. El-Soo, like her father, was an aristocrat,as disdai
nful of money as he, and with an equal sense of honour as finelystrung.
Porportuk continued grudgingly to advance money, and ever the moneyflowed in golden foam away. Upon one thing El-Soo was resolved--herfather should die as he had lived. There should be for him no passingfrom high to low, no diminution of the revels, no lessening of the lavishhospitality. When there was famine, as of old, the Indians came groaningto the large house and went away content. When there was famine and nomoney, money was borrowed from Porportuk, and the Indians still went awaycontent. El-Soo might well have repeated, after the aristocrats ofanother time and place, that after her came the deluge. In her case thedeluge was old Porportuk. With every advance of money, he looked uponher with a more possessive eye, and felt bourgeoning within him ancientfires.
But El-Soo had no eyes for him. Nor had she eyes for the white men whowanted to marry her at the Mission with ring and priest and book. For atTana-naw Station was a young man, Akoon, of her own blood, and tribe, andvillage. He was strong and beautiful to her eyes, a great hunter, and,in that he had wandered far and much, very poor; he had been to all theunknown wastes and places; he had journeyed to Sitka and to the UnitedStates; he had crossed the continent to Hudson Bay and back again, and asseal-hunter on a ship he had sailed to Siberia and for Japan.
When he returned from the gold-strike in Klondike he came, as was hiswont, to the large house to make report to old Klakee-Nah of all theworld that he had seen; and there he first saw El-Soo, three years backfrom the Mission. Thereat, Akoon wandered no more. He refused a wage oftwenty dollars a day as pilot on the big steamboats. He hunted some andfished some, but never far from Tana-naw Station, and he was at the largehouse often and long. And El-Soo measured him against many men and foundhim good. He sang songs to her, and was ardent and glowed until allTana-naw Station knew he loved her. And Porportuk but grinned andadvanced more money for the upkeep of the large house.
Then came the death table of Klakee-Nah.
He sat at feast, with death in his throat, that he could not drown withwine. And laughter and joke and song went around, and Akoon told a storythat made the rafters echo. There were no tears or sighs at that table.It was no more than fit that Klakee-Nah should die as he had lived, andnone knew this better than El-Soo, with her artist sympathy. The oldroystering crowd was there, and, as of old, three frost-bitten sailorswere there, fresh from the long traverse from the Arctic, survivors of aship's company of seventy-four. At Klakee-Nah's back were four old men,all that were left him of the slaves of his youth. With rheumy eyes theysaw to his needs, with palsied hands filling his glass or striking him onthe back between the shoulders when death stirred and he coughed andgasped.
It was a wild night, and as the hours passed and the fun laughed androared along, death stirred more restlessly in Klakee-Nah's throat. Thenit was that he sent for Porportuk. And Porportuk came in from theoutside frost to look with disapproving eyes upon the meat and wine onthe table for which he had paid. But as he looked down the length offlushed faces to the far end and saw the face of El-Soo, the light in hiseyes flared up, and for a moment the disapproval vanished.
Place was made for him at Klakee-Nah's side, and a glass placed beforehim. Klakee-Nah, with his own hands, filled the glass with ferventspirits. "Drink!" he cried. "Is it not good?"
And Porportuk's eyes watered as he nodded his head and smacked his lips.
"When, in your own house, have you had such drink?" Klakee-Nah demanded.
"I will not deny that the drink is good to this old throat of mine,"Porportuk made answer, and hesitated for the speech to complete thethought.
"But it costs overmuch," Klakee-Nah roared, completing it for him.
Porportuk winced at the laughter that went down the table. His eyesburned malevolently. "We were boys together, of the same age," he said."In your throat is death. I am still alive and strong."
An ominous murmur arose from the company. Klakee-Nah coughed andstrangled, and the old slaves smote him between the shoulders. Heemerged gasping, and waved his hand to still the threatening rumble.
"You have grudged the very fire in your house because the wood costovermuch!" he cried. "You have grudged life. To live cost overmuch, andyou have refused to pay the price. Your life has been like a cabin wherethe fire is out and there are no blankets on the floor." He signalled toa slave to fill his glass, which he held aloft. "But I have lived. AndI have been warm with life as you have never been warm. It is true, youshall live long. But the longest nights are the cold nights when a manshivers and lies awake. My nights have been short, but I have sleptwarm."
He drained the glass. The shaking hand of a slave failed to catch it asit crashed to the floor. Klakee-Nah sank back, panting, watching theupturned glasses at the lips of the drinkers, his own lips slightlysmiling to the applause. At a sign, two slaves attempted to help him situpright again. But they were weak, his frame was mighty, and the fourold men tottered and shook as they helped him forward.
"But manner of life is neither here nor there," he went on. "We haveother business, Porportuk, you and I, to-night. Debts are mischances,and I am in mischance with you. What of my debt, and how great is it?"
Porportuk searched in his pouch and brought forth a memorandum. Hesipped at his glass and began. "There is the note of August, 1889, forthree hundred dollars. The interest has never been paid. And the noteof the next year for five hundred dollars. This note was included in thenote of two months later for a thousand dollars. Then there is thenote--"
"Never mind the many notes!" Klakee-Nah cried out impatiently. "Theymake my head go around and all the things inside my head. The whole!The round whole! How much is it?"
Porportuk referred to his memorandum. "Fifteen thousand nine hundred andsixty-seven dollars and seventy-five cents," he read with carefulprecision.
"Make it sixteen thousand, make it sixteen thousand," Klakee-Nah saidgrandly. "Odd numbers were ever a worry. And now--and it is for thisthat I have sent for you--make me out a new note for sixteen thousand,which I shall sign. I have no thought of the interest. Make it as largeas you will, and make it payable in the next world, when I shall meet youby the fire of the Great Father of all Indians. Then the note will bepaid. This I promise you. It is the word of Klakee-Nah."
Porportuk looked perplexed, and loudly the laughter arose and shook theroom. Klakee-Nah raised his hands. "Nay," he cried. "It is not a joke.I but speak in fairness. It was for this I sent for you, Porportuk.Make out the note."
"I have no dealings with the next world," Porportuk made answer slowly.
"Have you no thought to meet me before the Great Father!" Klakee-Nahdemanded. Then he added, "I shall surely be there."
"I have no dealings with the next world," Porportuk repeated sourly.
The dying man regarded him with frank amazement.
"I know naught of the next world," Porportuk explained. "I do businessin this world."
Klakee-Nah's face cleared. "This comes of sleeping cold of nights," helaughed. He pondered for a space, then said, "It is in this world thatyou must be paid. There remains to me this house. Take it, and burn thedebt in the candle there."
"It is an old house and not worth the money," Porportuk made answer.
"There are my mines on the Twisted Salmon."
"They have never paid to work," was the reply.
"There is my share in the steamer _Koyokuk_. I am half owner."
"She is at the bottom of the Yukon."
Klakee-Nah started. "True, I forgot. It was last spring when the icewent out." He mused for a time while the glasses remained untasted, andall the company waited upon his utterance.
"Then it would seem I owe you a sum of money which I cannot pay . . . inthis world?" Porportuk nodded and glanced down the table.
"Then it would seem that you, Porportuk, are a poor business man,"Klakee-Nah said slyly. And boldly Porportuk made answer, "No; there issecurity yet untouched."
"What!" cried Klakee-Nah. "Have I still property? Name it, and it isyours, and the debt is no more."
"There it is." Porportuk pointed at El-Soo.
Klakee-Nah could not understand. He peered down the table, brushed hiseyes, and peered again.
"Your daughter, El-Soo--her will I take and the debt be no more. I willburn the debt there in the candle."
Klakee-Nah's great chest began to heave. "Ho! ho!--a joke. Ho! ho! ho!"he laughed Homerically. "And with your cold bed and daughters old enoughto be the mother of El-Soo! Ho! ho! ho!" He began to cough andstrangle, and the old slaves smote him on the back. "Ho! ho!" he beganagain, and went off into another paroxysm.
Porportuk waited patiently, sipping from his glass and studying thedouble row of faces down the board. "It is no joke," he said finally."My speech is well meant."
Klakee-Nah sobered and looked at him, then reached for his glass, butcould not touch it. A slave passed it to him, and glass and liquor heflung into the face of Porportuk.
"Turn him out!" Klakee-Nah thundered to the waiting table that strainedlike a pack of hounds in leash. "And roll him in the snow!"
As the mad riot swept past him and out of doors, he signalled to theslaves, and the four tottering old men supported him on his feet as hemet the returning revellers, upright, glass in hand, pledging them atoast to the short night when a man sleeps warm.
It did not take long to settle the estate of Klakee-Nah. Tommy, thelittle Englishman, clerk at the trading post, was called in by El-Soo tohelp. There was nothing but debts, notes overdue, mortgaged properties,and properties mortgaged but worthless. Notes and mortgages were held byPorportuk. Tommy called him a robber many times as he pondered thecompounding of the interest.
"Is it a debt, Tommy?" El-Soo asked.
"It is a robbery," Tommy answered.
"Nevertheless, it is a debt," she persisted.
The winter wore away, and the early spring, and still the claims ofPorportuk remained unpaid. He saw El-Soo often and explained to her atlength, as he had explained to her father, the way the debt could becancelled. Also, he brought with him old medicine-men, who elaborated toher the everlasting damnation of her father if the debt were not paid.One day, after such an elaboration, El-Soo made final announcement toPorportuk.
"I shall tell you two things," she said. "First I shall not be yourwife. Will you remember that? Second, you shall be paid the last centof the sixteen thousand dollars--"
"Fifteen thousand nine hundred and sixty-seven dollars and seventy-fivecents," Porportuk corrected.
"My father said sixteen thousand," was her reply. "You shall be paid."
"How?"
"I know not how, but I shall find out how. Now go, and bother me nomore. If you do"--she hesitated to find fitting penalty--"if you do, Ishall have you rolled in the snow again as soon as the first snow flies."
This was still in the early spring, and a little later El-Soo surprisedthe country. Word went up and down the Yukon from Chilcoot to the Delta,and was carried from camp to camp to the farthermost camps, that in June,when the first salmon ran, El-Soo, daughter of Klakee-Nah, would sellherself at public auction to satisfy the claims of Porportuk. Vain werethe attempts to dissuade her. The missionary at St. George wrestled withher, but she replied--
"Only the debts to God are settled in the next world. The debts of menare of this world, and in this world are they settled."
Akoon wrestled with her, but she replied, "I do love thee, Akoon; buthonour is greater than love, and who am I that I should blacken myfather?" Sister Alberta journeyed all the way up from Holy Cross on thefirst steamer, and to no better end.
"My father wanders in the thick and endless forests," said El-Soo. "Andthere will he wander, with the lost souls crying, till the debt be paid.Then, and not until then, may he go on to the house of the Great Father."
"And you believe this?" Sister Alberta asked.
"I do not know," El-Soo made answer. "It was my father's belief."
Sister Alberta shrugged her shoulders incredulously.
"Who knows but that the things we believe come true?" El-Soo went on."Why not? The next world to you may be heaven and harps . . . becauseyou have believed heaven and harps; to my father the next world may be alarge house where he will sit always at table feasting with God."
"And you?" Sister Alberta asked. "What is your next world?"
El-Soo hesitated but for a moment. "I should like a little of both," shesaid. "I should like to see your face as well as the face of my father."
The day of the auction came. Tana-naw Station was populous. As wastheir custom, the tribes had gathered to await the salmon-run, and in themeantime spent the time in dancing and frolicking, trading and gossiping.Then there was the ordinary sprinkling of white adventurers, traders, andprospectors, and, in addition, a large number of white men who had comebecause of curiosity or interest in the affair.
It had been a backward spring, and the salmon were late in running. Thisdelay but keyed up the interest. Then, on the day of the auction, thesituation was made tense by Akoon. He arose and made public and solemnannouncement that whosoever bought El-Soo would forthwith and immediatelydie. He flourished the Winchester in his hand to indicate the manner ofthe taking-off. El-Soo was angered thereat; but he refused to speak withher, and went to the trading post to lay in extra ammunition.
The first salmon was caught at ten o'clock in the evening, and atmidnight the auction began. It took place on top of the high bankalongside the Yukon. The sun was due north just below the horizon, andthe sky was lurid red. A great crowd gathered about the table and thetwo chairs that stood near the edge of the bank. To the fore were manywhite men and several chiefs. And most prominently to the fore, rifle inhand, stood Akoon. Tommy, at El-Soo's request, served as auctioneer, butshe made the opening speech and described the goods about to be sold.She was in native costume, in the dress of a chief's daughter, splendidand barbaric, and she stood on a chair, that she might be seen toadvantage.
"Who will buy a wife?" she asked. "Look at me. I am twenty years oldand a maid. I will be a good wife to the man who buys me. If he is awhite man, I shall dress in the fashion of white women; if he is anIndian, I shall dress as"--she hesitated a moment--"a squaw. I can makemy own clothes, and sew, and wash, and mend. I was taught for eightyears to do these things at Holy Cross Mission. I can read and writeEnglish, and I know how to play the organ. Also I can do arithmetic andsome algebra--a little. I shall be sold to the highest bidder, and tohim I will make out a bill of sale of myself. I forgot to say that I cansing very well, and that I have never been sick in my life. I weigh onehundred and thirty-two pounds; my father is dead and I have no relatives.Who wants me?"
She looked over the crowd with flaming audacity and stepped down. AtTommy's request she stood upon the chair again, while he mounted thesecond chair and started the bidding.
Surrounding El-Soo stood the four old slaves of her father. They wereage-twisted and palsied, faithful to their meat, a generation out of thepast that watched unmoved the antics of younger life. In the front ofthe crowd were several Eldorado and Bonanza kings from the Upper Yukon,and beside them, on crutches, swollen with scurvy, were two brokenprospectors. From the midst of the crowd, thrust out by its ownvividness, appeared the face of a wild-eyed squaw from the remote regionsof the Upper Tana-naw; a strayed Sitkan from the coast stood side by sidewith a Stick from Lake Le Barge, and, beyond, a half-dozenFrench-Canadian voyageurs, grouped by themselves. From afar came thefaint cries of myriads of wild-fowl on the nesting-grounds. Swallowswere skimming up overhead from the placid surface of the Yukon, androbins were singing. The oblique rays of the hidden sun shot through thesmoke, high-dissipated from forest fires a thousand miles away, andturned the heavens to sombre red, while the earth shone red in thereflected glow. This red glow shone in the faces of all, and madeeverything seem unearthly and unreal.
The bidding began slowly. The Sitkan,
who was a stranger in the land andwho had arrived only half an hour before, offered one hundred dollars ina confident voice, and was surprised when Akoon turned threateningly uponhim with the rifle. The bidding dragged. An Indian from the Tozikakat,a pilot, bid one hundred and fifty, and after some time a gambler, whohad been ordered out of the Upper Country, raised the bid to two hundred.El-Soo was saddened; her pride was hurt; but the only effect was that sheflamed more audaciously upon the crowd.
There was a disturbance among the onlookers as Porportuk forced his wayto the front. "Five hundred dollars!" he bid in a loud voice, thenlooked about him proudly to note the effect.
He was minded to use his great wealth as a bludgeon with which to stunall competition at the start. But one of the voyageurs, looking onEl-Soo with sparkling eyes, raised the bid a hundred.
"Seven hundred!" Porportuk returned promptly.
And with equal promptness came the "Eight hundred" of the voyageur.
Then Porportuk swung his club again.
"Twelve hundred!" he shouted.
With a look of poignant disappointment, the voyageur succumbed. Therewas no further bidding. Tommy worked hard, but could not elicit a bid.
El-Soo spoke to Porportuk. "It were good, Porportuk, for you to weighwell your bid. Have you forgotten the thing I told you--that I wouldnever marry you!"
"It is a public auction," he retorted. "I shall buy you with a bill ofsale. I have offered twelve hundred dollars. You come cheap."
"Too damned cheap!" Tommy cried. "What if I am auctioneer? That doesnot prevent me from bidding. I'll make it thirteen hundred."
"Fourteen hundred," from Porportuk.
"I'll buy you in to be my--my sister," Tommy whispered to El-Soo, thencalled aloud, "Fifteen hundred!"
At two thousand one of the Eldorado kings took a hand, and Tommy droppedout.
A third time Porportuk swung the club of his wealth, making a clean raiseof five hundred dollars. But the Eldorado king's pride was touched. Noman could club him. And he swung back another five hundred.
El-Soo stood at three thousand. Porportuk made it thirty-five hundred,and gasped when the Eldorado king raised it a thousand dollars.Porportuk again raised it five hundred, and again gasped when the kingraised a thousand more.
Porportuk became angry. His pride was touched; his strength waschallenged, and with him strength took the form of wealth. He would notbe ashamed for weakness before the world. El-Soo became incidental. Thesavings and scrimpings from the cold nights of all his years were ripe tobe squandered. El-Soo stood at six thousand. He made it seven thousand.And then, in thousand-dollar bids, as fast as they could be uttered, herprice went up. At fourteen thousand the two men stopped for breath.
Then the unexpected happened. A still heavier club was swung. In thepause that ensued, the gambler, who had scented a speculation and formeda syndicate with several of his fellows, bid sixteen thousand dollars.
"Seventeen thousand," Porportuk said weakly.
"Eighteen thousand," said the king.
Porportuk gathered his strength. "Twenty thousand."
The syndicate dropped out. The Eldorado king raised a thousand, andPorportuk raised back; and as they bid, Akoon turned from one to theother, half menacingly, half curiously, as though to see what manner ofman it was that he would have to kill. When the king prepared to makehis next bid, Akoon having pressed closer, the king first loosed therevolver at his hip, then said:
"Twenty-three thousand."
"Twenty-four thousand," said Porportuk. He grinned viciously, for thecertitude of his bidding had at last shaken the king. The latter movedover close to El-Soo. He studied her carefully for a long while.
"And five hundred," he said at last.
"Twenty-five thousand," came Porportuk's raise.
The king looked for a long space, and shook his head. He looked again,and said reluctantly, "And five hundred."
"Twenty-six thousand," Porportuk snapped.
The king shook his head and refused to meet Tommy's pleading eye. In themeantime Akoon had edged close to Porportuk. El-Soo's quick eye notedthis, and, while Tommy wrestled with the Eldorado king for another bid,she bent, and spoke in a low voice in the ear of a slave. And whileTommy's "Going--going--going--" dominated the air, the slave went up toAkoon and spoke in a low voice in his ear. Akoon made no sign that hehad heard, though El-Soo watched him anxiously.
"Gone!" Tommy's voice rang out. "To Porportuk, for twenty-six thousanddollars."
Porportuk glanced uneasily at Akoon. All eyes were centred upon Akoon,but he did nothing.
"Let the scales be brought," said El-Soo.
"I shall make payment at my house," said Porportuk.
"Let the scales be brought," El-Soo repeated. "Payment shall be madehere where all can see."
So the gold scales were brought from the trading post, while Porportukwent away and came back with a man at his heels, on whose shoulders was aweight of gold-dust in moose-hide sacks. Also, at Porportuk's back,walked another man with a rifle, who had eyes only for Akoon.
"Here are the notes and mortgages," said Porportuk, "for fifteen thousandnine hundred and sixty-seven dollars and seventy-five cents."
El-Soo received them into her hands and said to Tommy, "Let them bereckoned as sixteen thousand."
"There remains ten thousand dollars to be paid in gold," Tommy said.
Porportuk nodded, and untied the mouths of the sacks. El-Soo, standingat the edge of the bank, tore the papers to shreds and sent themfluttering out over the Yukon. The weighing began, but halted.
"Of course, at seventeen dollars," Porportuk had said to Tommy, as headjusted the scales.
"At sixteen dollars," El-Soo said sharply.
"It is the custom of all the land to reckon gold at seventeen dollars foreach ounce," Porportuk replied. "And this is a business transaction."
El-Soo laughed. "It is a new custom," she said. "It began this spring.Last year, and the years before, it was sixteen dollars an ounce. Whenmy father's debt was made, it was sixteen dollars. When he spent at thestore the money he got from you, for one ounce he was given sixteendollars' worth of flour, not seventeen. Wherefore, shall you pay for meat sixteen, and not at seventeen." Porportuk grunted and allowed theweighing to proceed.
"Weigh it in three piles, Tommy," she said. "A thousand dollars here,three thousand here, and here six thousand."
It was slow work, and, while the weighing went on, Akoon was closelywatched by all.
"He but waits till the money is paid," one said; and the word went aroundand was accepted, and they waited for what Akoon should do when the moneywas paid. And Porportuk's man with the rifle waited and watched Akoon.
The weighing was finished, and the gold-dust lay on the table in threedark-yellow heaps. "There is a debt of my father to the Company forthree thousand dollars," said El-Soo. "Take it, Tommy, for the Company.And here are four old men, Tommy. You know them. And here is onethousand dollars. Take it, and see that the old men are never hungry andnever without tobacco."
Tommy scooped the gold into separate sacks. Six thousand dollarsremained on the table. El-Soo thrust the scoop into the heap, and with asudden turn whirled the contents out and down to the Yukon in a goldenshower. Porportuk seized her wrist as she thrust the scoop a second timeinto the heap.
"It is mine," she said calmly. Porportuk released his grip, but hegritted his teeth and scowled darkly as she continued to scoop the goldinto the river till none was left.
The crowd had eyes for naught but Akoon, and the rifle of Porportuk's manlay across the hollow of his arm, the muzzle directed at Akoon a yardaway, the man's thumb on the hammer. But Akoon did nothing.
"Make out the bill of sale," Porportuk said grimly.
And Tommy made out the till of sale, wherein all right and title in thewoman El-Soo was vested in the man Porportuk. El-Soo signed thedocument, and Porportuk folded it and put it away in his pouch. Suddenlyhis eyes flas
hed, and in sudden speech he addressed El-Soo.
"But it was not your father's debt," he said, "What I paid was the pricefor you. Your sale is business of to-day and not of last year and theyears before. The ounces paid for you will buy at the post to-dayseventeen dollars of flour, and not sixteen. I have lost a dollar oneach ounce. I have lost six hundred and twenty-five dollars."
El-Soo thought for a moment, and saw the error she had made. She smiled,and then she laughed.
"You are right," she laughed, "I made a mistake. But it is too late.You have paid, and the gold is gone. You did not think quick. It isyour loss. Your wit is slow these days, Porportuk. You are gettingold."
He did not answer. He glanced uneasily at Akoon, and was reassured. Hislips tightened, and a hint of cruelty came into his face. "Come," hesaid, "we will go to my house."
"Do you remember the two things I told you in the spring?" El-Soo asked,making no movement to accompany him.
"My head would be full with the things women say, did I heed them," heanswered.
"I told you that you would be paid," El-Soo went on carefully. "And Itold you that I would never be your wife."
"But that was before the bill of sale." Porportuk crackled the paperbetween his fingers inside the pouch. "I have bought you before all theworld. You belong to me. You will not deny that you belong to me."
"I belong to you," El-Soo said steadily.
"I own you."
"You own me."
Porportuk's voice rose slightly and triumphantly. "As a dog, I own you."
"As a dog you own me," El-Soo continued calmly. "But, Porportuk, youforget the thing I told you. Had any other man bought me, I should havebeen that man's wife. I should have been a good wife to that man. Suchwas my will. But my will with you was that I should never be your wife.Wherefore, I am your dog."
Porportuk knew that he played with fire, and he resolved to play firmly."Then I speak to you, not as El-Soo, but as a dog," he said; "and I tellyou to come with me." He half reached to grip her arm, but with agesture she held him back.
"Not so fast, Porportuk. You buy a dog. The dog runs away. It is yourloss. I am your dog. What if I run away?"
"As the owner of the dog, I shall beat you--"
"When you catch me?"
"When I catch you."
"Then catch me."
He reached swiftly for her, but she eluded him. She laughed as shecircled around the table. "Catch her!" Porportuk commanded the Indianwith the rifle, who stood near to her. But as the Indian stretched forthhis arm to her, the Eldorado king felled him with a fist blow under theear. The rifle clattered to the ground. Then was Akoon's chance. Hiseyes glittered, but he did nothing.
Porportuk was an old man, but his cold nights retained for him hisactivity. He did not circle the table. He came across suddenly, overthe top of the table. El-Soo was taken off her guard. She sprang backwith a sharp cry of alarm, and Porportuk would have caught her had it notbeen for Tommy. Tommy's leg went out, Porportuk tripped and pitchedforward on the ground. El-Soo got her start.
"Then catch me," she laughed over her shoulder, as she fled away.
She ran lightly and easily, but Porportuk ran swiftly and savagely. Heoutran her. In his youth he had been swiftest of all the young men. ButEl-Soo dodged in a willowy, elusive way. Being in native dress, her feetwere not cluttered with skirts, and her pliant body curved a flight thatdefied the gripping fingers of Porportuk.
With laughter and tumult, the great crowd scattered out to see the chase.It led through the Indian encampment; and ever dodging, circling, andreversing, El-Soo and Porportuk appeared and disappeared among the tents.El-Soo seemed to balance herself against the air with her arms, now oneside, now on the other, and sometimes her body, too, leaned out upon theair far from the perpendicular as she achieved her sharpest curves. AndPorportuk, always a leap behind, or a leap this side or that, like a leanhound strained after her.
They crossed the open ground beyond the encampment and disappeared in theforest. Tana-naw Station waited their reappearance, and long and vainlyit waited.
In the meantime Akoon ate and slept, and lingered much at the steamboatlanding, deaf to the rising resentment of Tana-naw Station in that he didnothing. Twenty-four hours later Porportuk returned. He was tired andsavage. He spoke to no one but Akoon, and with him tried to pick aquarrel. But Akoon shrugged his shoulders and walked away. Porportukdid not waste time. He outfitted half a dozen of the young men,selecting the best trackers and travellers, and at their head plungedinto the forest.
Next day the steamer _Seattle_, bound up river, pulled in to the shoreand wooded up. When the lines were cast off and she churned out from thebank, Akoon was on board in the pilot-house. Not many hours afterward,when it was his turn at the wheel, he saw a small birch-bark canoe putoff from the shore. There was only one person in it. He studied itcarefully, put the wheel over, and slowed down.
The captain entered the pilot-house. "What's the matter?" he demanded."The water's good."
Akoon grunted. He saw a larger canoe leaving the bank, and in it were anumber of persons. As the _Seattle_ lost headway, he put the wheel oversome more.
The captain fumed. "It's only a squaw," he protested.
Akoon did not grunt. He was all eyes for the squaw and the pursuingcanoe. In the latter six paddles were flashing, while the squaw paddledslowly.
"You'll be aground," the captain protested, seizing the wheel.
But Akoon countered his strength on the wheel and looked him in the eyes.The captain slowly released the spokes.
"Queer beggar," he sniffed to himself.
Akoon held the _Seattle_ on the edge of the shoal water and waited tillhe saw the squaw's fingers clutch the forward rail. Then he signalledfor full speed ahead and ground the wheel over. The large canoe was verynear, but the gap between it and the steamer was widening.
The squaw laughed and leaned over the rail.
"Then catch me, Porportuk!" she cried.
Akoon left the steamer at Fort Yukon. He outfitted a small poling-boatand went up the Porcupine River. And with him went El-Soo. It was aweary journey, and the way led across the backbone of the world; butAkoon had travelled it before. When they came to the head-waters of thePorcupine, they left the boat and went on foot across the RockyMountains.
Akoon greatly liked to walk behind El-Soo and watch the movements of her.There was a music in it that he loved. And especially he loved thewell-rounded calves in their sheaths of soft-tanned leather, the slimankles, and the small moccasined feet that were tireless through thelongest days.
"You are light as air," he said, looking up at her. "It is no labour foryou to walk. You almost float, so lightly do your feet rise and fall.You are like a deer, El-Soo; you are like a deer, and your eyes are likedeer's eyes, sometimes when you look at me, or when you hear a quicksound and wonder if it be danger that stirs. Your eyes are like a deer'seyes now as you look at me."
And El-Soo, luminous and melting, bent and kissed Akoon.
"When we reach the Mackenzie, we will not delay," Akoon said later. "Wewill go south before the winter catches us. We will go to the sunlandswhere there is no snow. But we will return. I have seen much of theworld, and there is no land like Alaska, no sun like our sun, and thesnow is good after the long summer."
"And you will learn to read," said El-Soo.
And Akoon said, "I will surely learn to read." But there was delay whenthey reached the Mackenzie. They fell in with a band of MackenzieIndians, and, hunting, Akoon was shot by accident. The rifle was in thehands of a youth. The bullet broke Akoon's right arm and, rangingfarther, broke two of his ribs. Akoon knew rough surgery, while El-Soohad learned some refinements at Holy Cross. The bones were finally set,and Akoon lay by the fire for them to knit. Also, he lay by the fire sothat the smoke would keep the mosquitoes away.
Then it was that Porportuk, with his six young men, arrived. Akoongroaned in his
helplessness and made appeal to the Mackenzies. ButPorportuk made demand, and the Mackenzies were perplexed. Porportuk wasfor seizing upon El-Soo, but this they would not permit. Judgment mustbe given, and, as it was an affair of man and woman, the council of theold men was called--this that warm judgment might not be given by theyoung men, who were warm of heart.
The old men sat in a circle about the smudge-fire. Their faces were leanand wrinkled, and they gasped and panted for air. The smoke was not goodfor them. Occasionally they struck with withered hands at the mosquitoesthat braved the smoke. After such exertion they coughed hollowly andpainfully. Some spat blood, and one of them sat a bit apart with headbowed forward, and bled slowly and continuously at the mouth; thecoughing sickness had gripped them. They were as dead men; their timewas short. It was a judgment of the dead.
"And I paid for her a heavy price," Porportuk concluded his complaint."Such a price you have never seen. Sell all that is yours--sell yourspears and arrows and rifles, sell your skins and furs, sell your tentsand boats and dogs, sell everything, and you will not have maybe athousand dollars. Yet did I pay for the woman, El-Soo, twenty-six timesthe price of all your spears and arrows and rifles, your skins and furs,your tents and boats and dogs. It was a heavy price."
The old men nodded gravely, though their weazened eye-slits widened withwonder that any woman should be worth such a price. The one that bled atthe mouth wiped his lips. "Is it true talk?" he asked each ofPorportuk's six young men. And each answered that it was true.
"Is it true talk?" he asked El-Soo, and she answered, "It is true."
"But Porportuk has not told that he is an old man," Akoon said, "and thathe has daughters older than El-Soo."
"It is true, Porportuk is an old man," said El-Soo.
"It is for Porportuk to measure the strength his age," said he who bledat the mouth. "We be old men. Behold! Age is never so old as youthwould measure it."
And the circle of old men champed their gums, and nodded approvingly, andcoughed.
"I told him that I would never be his wife," said El-Soo.
"Yet you took from him twenty-six times all that we possess?" asked aone-eyed old man.
El-Soo was silent.
"It is true?" And his one eye burned and bored into her like a fierygimlet.
"It is true," she said.
"But I will run away again," she broke out passionately, a moment later."Always will I run away."
"That is for Porportuk to consider," said another of the old men. "It isfor us to consider the judgment."
"What price did you pay for her?" was demanded of Akoon.
"No price did I pay for her," he answered. "She was above price. I didnot measure her in gold-dust, nor in dogs, and tents, and furs."
The old men debated among themselves and mumbled in undertones. "Theseold men are ice," Akoon said in English. "I will not listen to theirjudgment, Porportuk. If you take El-Soo, I will surely kill you."
The old men ceased and regarded him suspiciously. "We do not know thespeech you make," one said.
"He but said that he would kill me," Porportuk volunteered. "So it werewell to take from him his rifle, and to have some of your young men sitby him, that he may not do me hurt. He is a young man, and what arebroken bones to youth!"
Akoon, lying helpless, had rifle and knife taken from him, and to eitherside of his shoulders sat young men of the Mackenzies. The one-eyed oldman arose and stood upright. "We marvel at the price paid for one merewoman," he began; "but the wisdom of the price is no concern of ours. Weare here to give judgment, and judgment we give. We have no doubt. Itis known to all that Porportuk paid a heavy price for the woman El-Soo.Wherefore does the woman El-Soo belong to Porportuk and none other." Hesat down heavily, and coughed. The old men nodded and coughed.
"I will kill you," Akoon cried in English.
Porportuk smiled and stood up. "You have given true judgment," he saidto the council, "and my young men will give to you much tobacco. Now letthe woman be brought to me."
Akoon gritted his teeth. The young men took El-Soo by the arms. She didnot resist, and was led, her face a sullen flame, to Porportuk.
"Sit there at my feet till I have made my talk," he commanded. He pauseda moment. "It is true," he said, "I am an old man. Yet can I understandthe ways of youth. The fire has not all gone out of me. Yet am I nolonger young, nor am I minded to run these old legs of mine through allthe years that remain to me. El-Soo can run fast and well. She is adeer. This I know, for I have seen and run after her. It is not goodthat a wife should run so fast. I paid for her a heavy price, yet doesshe run away from me. Akoon paid no price at all, yet does she run tohim.
"When I came among you people of the Mackenzie, I was of one mind. As Ilistened in the council and thought of the swift legs of El-Soo, I was ofmany minds. Now am I of one mind again but it is a different mind fromthe one I brought to the council. Let me tell you my mind. When a dogruns once away from a master, it will run away again. No matter how manytimes it is brought back, each time it will run away again. When we havesuch dogs, we sell them. El-Soo is like a dog that runs away. I willsell her. Is there any man of the council that will buy?"
The old men coughed and remained silent
"Akoon would buy," Porportuk went on, "but he has no money. Wherefore Iwill give El-Soo to him, as he said, without price. Even now will I giveher to him."
Reaching down, he took El-Soo by the hand and led her across the space towhere Akoon lay on his back.
"She has a bad habit, Akoon," he said, seating her at Akoon's feet. "Asshe has run away from me in the past, in the days to come she may runaway from you. But there is no need to fear that she will ever run away,Akoon. I shall see to that. Never will she run away from you--this isthe word of Porportuk. She has great wit. I know, for often has itbitten into me. Yet am I minded myself to give my wit play for once.And by my wit will I secure her to you, Akoon."
Stooping, Porportuk crossed El-Soo's feet, so that the instep of one layover that of the other; and then, before his purpose could be divined, hedischarged his rifle through the two ankles. As Akoon struggled to riseagainst the weight of the young men, there was heard the crunch of thebroken bone rebroken.
"It is just," said the old men, one to another.
El-Soo made no sound. She sat and looked at her shattered ankles, onwhich she would never walk again.
"My legs are strong, El-Soo," Akoon said. "But never will they bear meaway from you."
El-Soo looked at him, and for the first time in all the time he had knownher, Akoon saw tears in her eyes.
"Your eyes are like deer's eyes, El-Soo," he said.
"Is it just?" Porportuk asked, and grinned from the edge of the smoke ashe prepared to depart.
"It is just," the old men said. And they sat on in the silence.
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_Printed by Hazell_, _Watson & Viney_, _Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_.