by Jack London
The Wisdom of the Trail
Sitka Charley had achieved the impossible. Other Indians might haveknown as much of the wisdom of the trail as he did; but he alone knewthe white man's wisdom, the honor of the trail, and the law. But thesethings had not come to him in a day. The aboriginal mind is slow togeneralize, and many facts, repeated often, are required to compass anunderstanding. Sitka Charley, from boyhood, had been thrown continuallywith white men, and as a man he had elected to cast his fortunes withthem, expatriating himself, once and for all, from his own people. Eventhen, respecting, almost venerating their power, and pondering over it,he had yet to divine its secret essence--the honor and the law. And itwas only by the cumulative evidence of years that he had finally cometo understand. Being an alien, when he did know, he knew it better thanthe white man himself; being an Indian, he had achieved the impossible.
And of these things had been bred a certain contempt for his ownpeople--a contempt which he had made it a custom to conceal, but whichnow burst forth in a polyglot whirlwind of curses upon the heads ofKah-Chucte and Gowhee. They cringed before him like a brace of snarlingwolf dogs, too cowardly to spring, too wolfish to cover their fangs.They were not handsome creatures. Neither was Sitka Charley. All threewere frightful-looking. There was no flesh to their faces; theircheekbones were massed with hideous scabs which had cracked and frozenalternately under the intense frost; while their eyes burned luridlywith the light which is born of desperation and hunger. Men sosituated, beyond the pale of the honor and the law, are not to betrusted. Sitka Charley knew this; and this was why he had forced themto abandon their rifles with the rest of the camp outfit ten daysbefore. His rifle and Captain Eppingwell's were the only ones thatremained.
'Come, get a fire started,' he commanded, drawing out the preciousmatchbox with its attendant strips of dry birchbark.
The two Indians fell sullenly to the task of gathering dead branchesand underwood. They were weak and paused often, catching themselves, inthe act of stooping, with giddy motions, or staggering to the center ofoperations with their knees shaking like castanets.
After each trip they rested for a moment, as though sick and deadlyweary. At times their eyes took on the patient stoicism of dumbsuffering; and again the ego seemed almost burst forth with its wildcry, 'I, I, I want to exist!'--the dominant note of the whole livinguniverse.
A light breath of air blew from the south, nipping the exposed portionsof their bodies and driving the frost, in needles of fire, through furand flesh to the bones. So, when the fire had grown lusty and thawed adamp circle in the snow about it, Sitka Charley forced his reluctantcomrades to lend a hand in pitching a fly. It was a primitive affair,merely a blanket stretched parallel with the fire and to windward ofit, at an angle of perhaps forty-five degrees. This shut out the chillwind and threw the heat backward and down upon those who were to huddlein its shelter. Then a layer of green spruce boughs were spread, thattheir bodies might not come in contact with the snow. When this taskwas completed, Kah-Chucte and Gowhee proceeded to take care of theirfeet. Their icebound moccasins were sadly worn by much travel, and thesharp ice of the river jams had cut them to rags.
Their Siwash socks were similarly conditioned, and when these had beenthawed and removed, the dead-white tips of the toes, in the variousstages of mortification, told their simple tale of the trail.
Leaving the two to the drying of their footgear, Sitka Charley turnedback over the course he had come. He, too, had a mighty longing to sitby the fire and tend his complaining flesh, but the honor and the lawforbade. He toiled painfully over the frozen field, each step aprotest, every muscle in revolt. Several times, where the open waterbetween the jams had recently crusted, he was forced to miserablyaccelerate his movements as the fragile footing swayed and threatenedbeneath him. In such places death was quick and easy; but it was nothis desire to endure no more.
His deepening anxiety vanished as two Indians dragged into view round abend in the river. They staggered and panted like men under heavyburdens; yet the packs on their backs were a matter of but a fewpounds. He questioned them eagerly, and their replies seemed to relievehim. He hurried on. Next came two white men, supporting between them awoman. They also behaved as though drunken, and their limbs shook withweakness. But the woman leaned lightly upon them, choosing to carryherself forward with her own strength. At the sight of her a flash ofjoy cast its fleeting light across Sitka Charley's face. He cherished avery great regard for Mrs. Eppingwell. He had seen many white women,but this was the first to travel the trail with him. When CaptainEppingwell proposed the hazardous undertaking and made him an offer forhis services, he had shaken his head gravely; for it was an unknownjourney through the dismal vastnesses of the Northland, and he knew itto be of the kind that try to the uttermost the souls of men.
But when he learned that the captain's wife was to accompany them, hehad refused flatly to have anything further to do with it. Had it beena woman of his own race he would have harbored no objections; but thesewomen of the Southland--no, no, they were too soft, too tender, forsuch enterprises.
Sitka Charley did not know this kind of woman. Five minutes before, hedid not even dream of taking charge of the expedition; but when shecame to him with her wonderful smile and her straight clean English,and talked to the point, without pleading or persuading, he hadincontinently yielded. Had there been a softness and appeal to mercy inthe eyes, a tremble to the voice, a taking advantage of sex, he wouldhave stiffened to steel; instead her clear-searching eyes andclear-ringing voice, her utter frankness and tacit assumption ofequality, had robbed him of his reason. He felt, then, that this was anew breed of woman; and ere they had been trail mates for many days heknew why the sons of such women mastered the land and the sea, and whythe sons of his own womankind could not prevail against them. Tenderand soft! Day after day he watched her, muscle-weary, exhausted,indomitable, and the words beat in upon him in a perennial refrain.Tender and soft! He knew her feet had been born to easy paths and sunnylands, strangers to the moccasined pain of the North, unkissed by thechill lips of the frost, and he watched and marveled at them twinklingever through the weary day.
She had always a smile and a word of cheer, from which not even themeanest packer was excluded. As the way grew darker she seemed tostiffen and gather greater strength, and when Kah-Chucte and Gowhee,who had bragged that they knew every landmark of the way as a child didthe skin bails of the tepee, acknowledged that they knew not where theywere, it was she who raised a forgiving voice amid the curses of themen. She had sung to them that night till they felt the weariness fallfrom them and were ready to face the future with fresh hope. And whenthe food failed and each scant stint was measured jealously, she it waswho rebelled against the machinations of her husband and Sitka Charley,and demanded and received a share neither greater nor less than that ofthe others.
Sitka Charley was proud to know this woman. A new richness, a greaterbreadth, had come into his life with her presence. Hitherto he had beenhis own mentor, had turned to right or left at no man's beck; he hadmoulded himself according to his own dictates, nourished his manhoodregardless of all save his own opinion. For the first time he had felta call from without for the best that was in him, just a glance ofappreciation from the clear-searching eyes, a word of thanks from theclear-ringing voice, just a slight wreathing of the lips in thewonderful smile, and he walked with the gods for hours to come. It wasa new stimulant to his manhood; for the first time he thrilled with aconscious pride in his wisdom of the trail; and between the twain theyever lifted the sinking hearts of their comrades. The faces of the twomen and the woman brightened as they saw him, for after all he was thestaff they leaned upon. But Sitka Charley, rigid as was his wont,concealing pain and pleasure impartially beneath an iron exterior,asked them the welfare of the rest, told the distance to the fire, andcontinued on the back-trip.
Next he met a single Indian, unburdened, limping, lips compressed, andeyes set with the pain of a foot in which the quick fought a lo
singbattle with the dead. All possible care had been taken of him, but inthe last extremity the weak and unfortunate must perish, and SitkaCharley deemed his days to be few. The man could not keep up for long,so he gave him rough cheering words. After that came two more Indians,to whom he had allotted the task of helping along Joe, the third whiteman of the party. They had deserted him. Sitka Charley saw at a glancethe lurking spring in their bodies, and knew they had at last cast offhis mastery. So he was not taken unawares when he ordered them back inquest of their abandoned charge, and saw the gleam of the huntingknives that they drew from the sheaths. A pitiful spectacle, three weakmen lifting their puny strength in the face of the mighty vastness; butthe two recoiled under the fierce rifle blows of the one and returnedlike beaten dogs to the leash. Two hours later, with Joe reelingbetween them and Sitka Charley bringing up the rear, they came to thefire, where the remainder of the expedition crouched in the shelter ofthe fly.
'A few words, my comrades, before we sleep,' Sitka Charley said afterthey had devoured their slim rations of unleavened bread. He wasspeaking to the Indians in their own tongue, having already given theimport to the whites. 'A few words, my comrades, for your own good,that ye may yet perchance live. I shall give you the law; on his ownhead by the death of him that breaks it. We have passed the Hills ofSilence, and we now travel the head reaches of the Stuart. It may beone sleep, it may be several, it may be many sleeps, but in time weshall come among the men of the Yukon, who have much grub. It were wellthat we look to the law. Today Kah-Chucte and Gowhee, whom I commandedto break trail, forgot they were men, and like frightened children ranaway.
'True, they forgot; so let us forget. But hereafter, let them remember.If it should happen they do not...' He touched his rifle carelessly,grimly. 'Tomorrow they shall carry the flour and see that the white manJoe lies not down by the trail. The cups of flour are counted; shouldso much as an ounce be wanting at nightfall... Do ye understand? Todaythere were others that forgot. Moose Head and Three Salmon left thewhite man Joe to lie in the snow. Let them forget no more. With thelight of day shall they go forth and break trail. Ye have heard thelaw. Look well, lest ye break it.' Sitka Charley found it beyond him tokeep the line close up. From Moose Head and Three Salmon, who broketrail in advance, to Kah-Chucte, Gowhee, and Joe, it straggled out overa mile. Each staggered, fell or rested as he saw fit.
The line of march was a progression through a chain of irregular halts.Each drew upon the last remnant of his strength and stumbled onwardtill it was expended, but in some miraculous way there was alwaysanother last remnant. Each time a man fell it was with the firm beliefthat he would rise no more; yet he did rise, and again and again. Theflesh yielded, the will conquered; but each triumph was a tragedy. TheIndian with the frozen foot, no longer erect, crawled forward on handand knee. He rarely rested, for he knew the penalty exacted by thefrost.
Even Mrs. Eppingwell's lips were at last set in a stony smile, and hereyes, seeing, saw not. Often she stopped, pressing a mittened hand toher heart, gasping and dizzy.
Joe, the white man, had passed beyond the stage of suffering. He nolonger begged to be let alone, prayed to die; but was soothed andcontent under the anodyne of delirium. Kah-Chucte and Gowhee draggedhim on roughly, venting upon him many a savage glance or blow. To themit was the acme of injustice.
Their hearts were bitter with hate, heavy with fear. Why should theycumber their strength with his weakness? To do so meant death; not todo so--and they remembered the law of Sitka Charley, and the rifle.
Joe fell with greater frequency as the daylight waned, and so hard washe to raise that they dropped farther and farther behind. Sometimes allthree pitched into the snow, so weak had the Indians become. Yet ontheir backs was life, and strength, and warmth.
Within the flour sacks were all the potentialities of existence. Theycould not but think of this, and it was not strange, that which came topass. They had fallen by the side of a great timber jam where athousand cords of firewood waited the match. Near by was an air holethrough the ice. Kah-Chucte looked on the wood and the water, as didGowhee; then they looked at each other.
Never a word was spoken. Gowhee struck a fire; Kah-Chucte filled a tincup with water and heated it; Joe babbled of things in another land, ina tongue they did not understand.
They mixed flour with the warm water till it was a thin paste, and ofthis they drank many cups. They did not offer any to Joe; but he didnot mind. He did not mind anything, not even his moccasins, whichscorched and smoked among the coals.
A crystal mist of snow fell about them, softly, caressingly, wrappingthem in clinging robes of white. And their feet would have yet trodmany trails had not destiny brushed the clouds aside and cleared theair. Nay, ten minutes' delay would have been salvation.
Sitka Charley, looking back, saw the pillared smoke of their fire, andguessed. And he looked ahead at those who were faithful, and at Mrs.Eppingwell. 'So, my good comrades, ye have again forgotten that youwere men? Good! Very good. There will be fewer bellies to feed.' SitkaCharley retied the flour as he spoke, strapping the pack to the one onhis own back. He kicked Joe till the pain broke through the poordevil's bliss and brought him doddering to his feet. Then he shoved himout upon the trail and started him on his way. The two Indiansattempted to slip off.
'Hold, Gowhee! And thou, too, Kah-Chucte! Hath the flour given suchstrength to thy legs that they may outrun the swift-winged lead? Thinknot to cheat the law. Be men for the last time, and be content that yedie full-stomached.
Come, step up, back to the timber, shoulder to shoulder. Come!' The twomen obeyed, quietly, without fear; for it is the future which pressedupon the man, not the present.
'Thou, Gowhee, hast a wife and children and a deerskin lodge in theChipewyan. What is thy will in the matter?' 'Give thou her of the goodswhich are mine by the word of the captain--the blankets, the beads, thetobacco, the box which makes strange sounds after the manner of thewhite men. Say that I did die on the trail, but say not how.' 'Andthou, Kah-Chucte, who hast nor wife nor child?' 'Mine is a sister, thewife of the factor at Koshim. He beats her, and she is not happy. Givethou her the goods which are mine by the contract, and tell her it werewell she go back to her own people. Shouldst thou meet the man, and beso minded, it were a good deed that he should die. He beats her, andshe is afraid.' 'Are ye content to die by the law?' 'We are.' 'Thengood-bye, my good comrades. May ye sit by the well-filled pot, in warmlodges, ere the day is done.' As he spoke he raised his rifle, and manyechoes broke the silence. Hardly had they died away when other riflesspoke in the distance. Sitka Charley started.
There had been more than one shot, yet there was but one other rifle inthe party.
He gave a fleeting glance at the men who lay so quietly, smiledviciously at the wisdom of the trail, and hurried on to meet the men ofthe Yukon.