The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure

by Rex Beach

  From their vantage on the dump, the red gravel of which ran like a rawscar down the mountainside, the men looked out across the gulch, abovethe western range of hills to the yellow setting sun. Far below them thecreek was dotted with other tiny pay dumps of the same red gravel overwhich men crawled, antlike, or upon which they labored at windlass. Thinwisps of smoke rose from the cabin roofs, bespeaking the supper hour.

  They had done a hard day's work, these two, and wearily descended totheir shack, which hugged the hillside beneath.

  Ten hours with pick and shovel in a drift where the charcoal-gasflickers a candle-flame will reduce one's artistic keenness, andtogether they slouched along the path, heedless alike of view or color.

  As Crowley built the fire Buck scoured himself in the wet snow besidethe door, emerging from his ablutions as cook. The former stretched uponthe bunk with growing luxury. "Gee whiz! I'm tuckered out. Twelve hoursin that air is too much for anybody."

  "Sure," growled the other. "Bet I sleep good to-night, all right, allright. What's the use, anyhow?" he continued, disgustedly. "I'm sore onthe whole works. If the Yukon was open I'd chuck it all."

  "What! Go back to the States? Give up?"

  "Well, yes, if you want to call it that, though I think I've shown Iain't a quitter. Lord! I've rustled steady for two years, and what haveI got? Nothing--except my interest in this pauperized hill claim."

  "If two years of hard luck gives you cold feet, you ain't worthy of thedignity of 'prospector.' This here is the only honorable calling thereis. There's no competition and cuttin' throats in our business, nor wedon't rob the widders and orphans. A prospector is defined as asemi-human being with a low forehead but a high sense of honor, astummick that shies at salads, but a heart that's full of grit. Theydon't never lay down, and the very beauty of the business is that younever know when you're due. Some day a guy comes along: 'I hit her overyonder, bo,' says he, whereupon you insert yourself into a pack-strap,pound the trail, and the next you know you're a millionaire or two."

  "Bah! No more stampedes for me. I've killed myself too often--there'snothing in 'em. I'm sick of it, I tell you, and I'm going out to God'scountry. No more wild scrambles and hardships for Buck."

  A step sounded on the chips without, and a slender, sallow man entered.

  "Hello, Maynard!" they chorused, and welcomed him to a seat.

  "What are you doing out here?"

  "D'you bring any chewing with you?"

  Evidently he labored under excitement, for his face was flushed and hiseyes danced nervously. He panted from his climb, ignoring theirquestions.

  "There's been a big strike--over on the Tanana--four bits to the pan."

  Forgetting fatigue, Crowley scrambled out of his bunk while the cookleft his steaming skillet.

  "When?"

  "How d'you know?"

  "It's this way. I met a fellow as I came out from town--he'd just comeover--one of the discoverers. He showed me the gold. It's coarse; onenugget weighed three hundred dollars and there's only six men in theparty. They went up the Tanana last fall, prospecting, and only juststruck it. Three of 'em are down with scurvy, so this one came over themountains for fresh grub. It'll be the biggest stampede this camp eversaw." Maynard became incoherent.

  "How long ago did you meet him?" Crowley inquired, excitedly.

  "About an hour. I came on the run, because he'll get into camp byeleven, and midnight will see five hundred men on the trail. Look atthis--he gave me a map." The speaker gloatingly produced a scrap ofwriting-paper and continued, "Boys, you've got five hours' start ofthem."

  "We can't go; we haven't got any dogs," said Buck. "Those people fromtown would catch us in twenty miles."

  "You don't want dogs," Maynard answered. "It's too soft. You'll have tomake a quick run with packs or the spring break-up will catch you. Iwish I could go. It's big, I tell you. Lord! How I wish I could go!"

  They were huddled together, their eyes feverish, their fingers tracingthe pencil-markings. A smell of burning food filled the room, but thereis no obsession more absolute than the gold-lust.

  "Get the packs together while me and Buck eats a bite. We'll take thefox-robe and the Navajo. Glad I've got a new pair of mukluks, 'cause weneed light footgear; but what will you wear, boy? Them hip-boots is tooheavy--you'd never make it."

  "Here," said Maynard, "try these." He slipped off his light gossamersporting-boots, and Buck succeeded in stamping his feet into them.

  "Little tight, but they'll go."

  They snatched bites of food, meanwhile collecting their paraphernalia,Maynard helping as he could.

  Each selected a change of socks and mittens. Then the grub was dividedevenly--tea, flour, bacon, baking-powder, salt, sugar. There was nothingelse, for spring on the Yukon finds only the heel of the grub-stake.Each rolled his portion in his blanket and lashed it with light rope.Then an end of the bundle was thrust into the waist of a pair ofoveralls and the garment closely cinched to it. The legs were broughtforward and fastened, forming two loops, through which they slippedtheir arms, balancing the packs, or shifting a knot here and there. Alight ax, a coffee-pot, frying-pan, and pail were tied on the outside,and they stood ready for the run. They stored carefully wrapped bundlesof matches in pockets, packs, and in the lining of their caps. Thepreparations had not taken twenty minutes.

  "Too bad we ain't got some cooked grub, like chocolate or dog-biscuits,"said Crowley, "but seeing as we've got five hours' start over everybodywe won't have to kill ourselves."

  Maynard spoke hesitatingly. "Say, I told Sully about it as I camealong."

  "What!" Crowley interrupted him sharply.

  "Yes! I told him to get ready, and I promised to give him the locationan hour after you left. You see, he did me a good turn once and I had toget back at him somehow. He and Knute are getting fixed now. Why, what'sup?"

  He caught a queer, quick glance between his partners and noted ahardness settle into the lined face of the elder.

  "Nothing much," Buck took up. "I guess you didn't know about thetrouble, eh? Crowley knocked him down day before yesterday and Sullyswears he'll kill him on sight. It came up over that fraction on BusterCreek."

  "Well, well," said Maynard, "that's bad, isn't it? I promised, though,so I'll have to tell him."

  "Sure! That's all right," Crowley agreed, quietly, though his lipcurled, showing the strong, close-shut, ivory teeth. His nostrilsdilated, also, giving his face a passing wolfish hint. "There's neitherwhite man nor Swede that can gain an hour on us, and if he should happento--he wouldn't pass."

  Be it known that many great placer fortunes have been won by those whostepped in the warm tracks of the discoverers, while rarely does thegoddess smile on the tardy; in consequence, no frenzy approaches that ofthe gold stampede.

  Passing Sully's place, they found him and his partner ready and waiting,their packs on the saw-buck. Crowley glared at his enemy in silencewhile the other sneered wickedly back, and Big Knute laughed in hisyellow beard.

  Buck's heart sank. Could he outlast these two? He was a boy; they werereckless giants with thews and legs of iron. Knute was a gaunt-framedViking; Sully a violent, florid man with the quarters of an ox. Throughthe quixotism of Maynard this trip bade fair to combine the killinggrind of a long, fierce stampede with the bitter struggle of man andman, and too well he knew the temper of his red-headed partner to doubtthat before the last stake was driven either he or Sully would be down.From the glare in their eyes at passing it came over him that either heor Knute would recross the mountains partnerless. The trail was toonarrow for these other men. He shrank from the toil and agony he feltwas coming to him through this; then, with it, there came the burninggold-hunger; the lust that drives starving, broken wrecks onwardunremittingly, over misty hills, across the beds of lava and theforbidden tundra; on, into the new diggings.

  It neared eight o'clock, and, although darkness was far distant, thechill that follows the sun fell sharply.

  As they swung out on to the riv
er their fatigue had dropped away andthey moved with the steady, loose gait of the hardened "musher." Bucklooked at his watch. They had been gone an hour.

  "The race is on!" said he.

  Though unhurried, their progress was likewise unhindered, and the milesslipped backward as the darkness thickened, hour by hour. Straight upthe fifty-mile stream to its source, over the great backbone and intothe unmapped country their course led. If they hurried they would havefirst choice of the good claims close about the discovery; if theylagged Sully and his ox-eyed partner would overtake them, and beyondthat it was unpleasant to conjecture.

  "We'll hit water pretty soon!" Crowley's voice broke hours of silence,for they were sparing of language. They neither whistled nor sang norspoke, for Man is a potential body from which his store of energy wastesthrough tiny unheeded ways.

  True to prophecy, in the darkness of midnight they walked out upon athin skin of newly frozen ice.

  "Look out for the overflow! She froze since dark," Crowley cautioned."We're liable to go through."

  On all sides it cracked alarmingly, while they felt it sag beneath theirfeet. It is bad in the dark to ride the ice of an overflow, for one maycrash through ankle-deep to the solid body beneath or plunge to hisarmpits.

  They skated over the yielding surface toward safety till, withoutwarning, Crowley smashed in half-way to his hips. He fell forwardbodily, and the ice let him through till he rolled in the water. Buckskimmed over more lightly, and, when they had reached the solid footing,helped him wring out his garments. Straightway the cloth whitened underthe frost and crackled when they resumed their march, but there was notime for fires, and by vigorous action he could keep the cold fromstriking in.

  They had threaded up into the region where spring was further advanced,and within half an hour encountered another overflow. Climbing the steepbank, they wallowed through thickets waist-deep in snow. Beneath thecrust, which cut knifelike, it was wet and soggy, so they emergedsaturated. Then debouching on to the glare ice the boy had a nasty fall,for he slipped, and his loose-hung pack flung him suddenly. Nothing ismore wicked than a pack on smooth ice. The surface had frozenglass-smooth, and constant difficulty beset their progress. Theirslick-soled footgear refused to grip it, so that often they fell, alwaysawkwardly, occasionally crushing through into the icy water beneath.

  Without warning Buck found that he was very tired. He also found thathis pack had grown soggy and quadrupled in weight, tugging sullenly athis aching shoulders.

  As daylight showed they slipped harness and, hurriedly gathering twigs,boiled a pot of tea. They took time to prepare nothing else, yet eventhough the kettle sang speedily, as they drank from around the bendbelow came voices. Crowley straightened with a curse and, snatching hispack, fled up the stream, followed by his companion. They ran tillBuck's knees failed him. Thereupon the former removed a portion of theyoungster's burden, adding it to his own, and they hurried on for hours,till they fell exhausted upon a dry moss hummock. Here they exchangedfootgear, as Buck now found his feet were paining him acutely, owing tothe tightness of his rubber boots. They proved too small for Crowley aswell, and in a few hours his feet were likewise ruined.

  Noon found them limping among the bald hills of the river's source. Heretimber was sparse and the snows, too, had thinned; so to avoid theconvolutions of the stream they cut across points, floundering among"niggerheads"--quaint, wobbly hummocks of grass--being thrown repeatedlyby their packs which had developed a malicious deviltry. This footingwas infinitely worse than the reeking ice, but it saved time, so theytook it.

  Now, under their stiff mackinaws they perspired freely as the sunmounted, until their heavy garments chafed them beneath arms and legs.Moreover, mosquitoes, which in this latitude breed within arm's-lengthof snow-drifts, continually whined in a vicious cloud before theirfeatures.

  Human nerves will weather great strains, but wearing, maddening,unending trivialities will break them down, and so, although theirjourney in miles had been inconsiderable, the dragging packs, thedriving panic, the lack of food and firm footing, had trebled it.

  Scaling the moss-capped saddle, they labored painfully, a hundred yardsat a time. Back of them the valley unrolled, its stream winding awaylike a gleaming ribbon, stretching, through dark banks of fir, down tothe Yukon. After incredible effort they reached the crest and gazeddully out to the southward over a limitless jangle of peaks, on, on, toa blue-veiled valley leagues and leagues across. Many square miles layunder them in the black of unbroken forests. It was their first glimpseof the Tanana. Far beyond, from a groveling group of foot-hills, asolitary, giant peak soared grandly, standing aloof, serene, terrible inits proportions. Even in their fatigue they exclaimed aloud:

  "It's Mount McKinley!"

  "Yep! Tallest wart on the face of the continent. There's the creek we godown--see!" Crowley indicated a watercourse which meandered away throughcanons and broad reaches. "We foller it to yonder cross valley; theneast to there."

  To Buck's mind, his gesture included a tinted realm as far-reaching as astate.

  Stretched upon the bare schist, commanding the back stretch, theymunched slices of raw bacon.

  Directly, out toward the mountain's foot two figures crawled.

  "There they come!" and Crowley led, stumbling, sliding, into the strangevalley.

  As this was the south and early side of the range, they found the hillsmore barren of snow. Water seeped into the gulches till the creek icewas worn and rotted.

  "This 'll be fierce," the Irishman remarked. "If she breaks on us we'llbe hung up in the hills and starve before the creeks lower enough to gethome."

  Small streams freeze solidly to the bottom and the spring waters weardownward from the surface. Thus they found the creek awash, and,following farther, it became necessary to wade in many places. They cameto a box canon where the winter snow had packed, forming a dam, and, asthere was no way of avoiding it without retreating a mile and climbingthe ragged bluff, they floundered through, their packs aloft, the slushywater armpit-deep.

  "We'd ought 'a' took the ridges," Buck chattered. Language slips forthphonetically with fatigue.

  "No! Feller's apt to get lost. Drop into the wrong creek--come out fiftymile away."

  "I bet the others do, anyhow," Buck held, stubbornly. "It's lots easiergoing."

  "Wish Sully would, but he's too wise. No such luck for me." A longpause. "I reckon I'll have to kill him before he gets back!" Again theyrelapsed into miles of silence.

  Crowley's fancy fed on vengeance, hatred livening his work-wornfaculties. He nursed carefully the memory of their quarrel, for ithelped him travel and took his mind from the agony of movement and thisaching sleep-hunger.

  The feet of both men felt like fearful, shapeless masses; their packsleaned backward sullenly, chafing raw shoulder sores; and always theravenous mosquitoes stung and stung, and whined and whined.

  At an exclamation the leader turned. Miles back, silhouetted far aboveon the comb of the ridge, they descried two tiny figures.

  "That's what we'd ought 'a' done. They'll beat us in."

  "No, they won't. They'll have to camp to-night or get lost, while we cankeep goin'. We can't go wrong down here; can't do no more than drownd."

  Buck groaned at the thought of the night hours. He couldn't stand it,that was all! Enough is enough of anything and he had gone the limit.Just one more mile and he would quit; yet he did not.

  All through that endless phantom night they floundered, incased infreezing garments, numb and heavy with sleep, but morning found them atthe banks of the main stream.

  "You look like hell," said Buck, laughing weakly. His mirth relaxed hisnerves suddenly, till he giggled and hiccoughed hysterically. Nor couldhe stop for many minutes, the while Crowley stared at him apatheticallyfrom a lined and shrunken countenance, his features standing outskeleton-like. The younger man evidenced the strain even more severely,for his flesh was tender, and he had traveled the last hours on purenerve. His jaws were locked and corded,
however, while his drooping eyesshone unquenchably.

  Eventually they rounded a bluff on to a cabin nestling at the mouth of adark valley. Near it men were working with a windlass, so, stumbling tothem, they spoke huskily.

  "Sorry we 'ain't got room inside," the stranger replied, "but three ofthe boys is down with scurvy, and we're all cramped up. Plenty morefolks coming, I s'pose, eh?"

  The two had sunk on to the wet ground and did not answer. Buck fell withhis pack still on, utterly lost, and the miner was forced to drag thebundle from his shoulders. As he rolled him up he was sleeping heavily.

  Crowley awakened while the sun was still golden; his joints achingexcruciatingly. They had slept four hours. He boiled tea on the miners'stove and fried a pan of salt pork, but was too tired to prepareanything else, so they drank the warm bacon-grease clear with their tea.

  As Buck strove to arise, his limbs gave way weakly, so that he fell, andit took him many moments to recover their use.

  "Where's the best chance, pardner?" they inquired of the men on thedump.

  "Well, there ain't none very close by. We've got things pretty wellcovered."

  "How's that? There's only six of you; you can't hold but six claims,besides discovery."

  "Oh yes, we can! We've got powers of attorney; got 'em last fall in St.Michael; got 'em recorded, too."

  Crowley's sunken eyes blazed.

  "Them's no good. We don't recko'nize 'em in this district. One claim isenough for any man if it's good, and too much if it's bad."

  "What district you alludin' at?" questioned the other, ironically."You're in the Skookum District now. It takes six men to organize. Well!We organized. We made laws. We elected a recorder. I'm it. If you don'tlike our rules, yonder is the divide. We've got the U. S. governmentback of us. See!"

  Crowley's language became purely local, but the other continuedunruffled.

  "We knew you-all was coming, so we sort of loaded up. If there's anyground hereabouts that we ain't got blanketed, it's purely an oversight.There's plenty left farther out, though," and he swept them a mockinggesture. "Help yourselves and pass up for more. I'll record 'em."

  "What's the fee?"

  "Ten dollars apiece."

  Crowley swore more savagely.

  "You done a fine job of hoggin', didn't you? It's two and a halfeverywhere else."

  But the recorder of the Skookum District laughed carelessly and resumedhis windlass. "Sorry you ain't pleased. Maybe you'll learn to like it."

  As they turned away he continued: "I don't mind giving you a hunch,though. Tackle that big creek about five miles down yonder. Sheprospected good last fall, but you'll have to go clean to her head,'cause we've got everything below."

  Eight hours later, by the guiding glare of the Northern Lights, the twostumbled back into camp, utterly broken.

  They had followed the stream for miles and miles to find it staked bythe powers of attorney of the six. Coming to the gulch's head, to besure, they found vacant ground, but refused to claim such unpromisingterritory. Then the endless homeward march through the darkness! Out ofthickets and through drifts they burst, while fatigue settled on themlike some horrid vampire from the darkness. Every step being no longerinvoluntary became a separate labor, requiring mental concentration.They were half dead in slumber as they walked, but their stubborncourage and smoldering rage at the men who had caused this drove themon. They suffered silently, because it takes effort to groan, and theyhoarded every atom of endurance.

  Many, many times Buck repeated a poem, timing his steps to its rhythm,rendering it over and over till it wore a rut through his brain, hiseyes fixed dully upon the glaring fires above the hilltops. For years afaintness came over him with the memory of these lines:

  Then dark they lie, and stark they lie, rookery, dune, and floe, And the Northern Lights came down o' nights to dance with the houseless snow.

  Reaching the cabin, they found an army of men sleeping heavily upon thewet moss. Among them was the great form of Knute, but nowhere did theyspy Sully.

  With much effort they tore off the constricting boots and, using themfor pillows, sank into a painful lethargy.

  Awakened early by the others, they took their stiffly frozen footgearbeneath the blankets to thaw against their warm bodies, but their feetwere swelled to double size and every joint had ossified rheumatically.Eventually they hobbled about, preparing the first square meal since thestart--two days and three nights.

  Still they saw no Sully, though Crowley's eyes darted careful inquiryamong the horde of stampeders which moved about the cabin. Later, heseemed bent on some hidden design, so they crawled out of sight of thecamp, then, commencing at the upper stake of Discovery, he stepped offthe claims from post to post.

  It is customary to blaze the boundaries of locations on tree trunks, butfrom topographical irregularities it is difficult to properly gaugethese distances, hence, many rich fractions have been run over by theheedless, to fall to him who chained the ground.

  Upon pacing the third one, he showed excitement.

  "You walk this one again--mebbe I made a mistake."

  Buck returned, crashing through the brush.

  "I make it seventeen hundred."

  The claim above figured likewise, and they trembled with elation as theyblazed their lines.

  Returning to camp, they found the recorder in the cabin with the scurvypatients. Unfolding the location notices, his face went black as heread, while he snarled, angrily:

  "'Fraction between Three and Four' and 'Fraction between Four and Five,'eh? You're crazy."

  "I reckon not," said Crowley, lifting his lips at the cornerscharacteristically.

  "There ain't any fraction there," the other averred, loudly. "We ownthem claims. I told you we had everything covered."

  "You record them fractions!"

  "I won't do it! I'll see you in--"

  Crowley reached forth suddenly and strangled him as he sat. He buriedhis thumbs in his throat, forcing him roughly back against a bunk.Farther and farther he crushed him till the man lay pinioned andwrithing on his back. Then he knelt on him, shaking and worrying like agreat terrier.

  At the first commotion the cripples scrambled out of bed, shoutinglustily through their livid gums, their bloated features mottled andsickly with fright. One lifted himself toward the Winchester, and itfell from his hands full cocked when Buck hurled him into a corner,where he lay screaming in agony.

  Drawn by the uproar, the stampeders outside rushed toward the shack tobe met in the door by the young man.

  "Keep back!"

  "What's up!"

  "Fight!"

  "Let me in!"

  A man bolted forward, but was met with such a driving blow in the facethat he went thrashing to the slush. Another was hurled back, and thenthey heard Crowley's voice, rough and throaty, as he abused therecorder. Strained to the snapping-point, his restraint had shattered tobits and now passion ran through him, wild and unbridled.

  From his words they grasped the situation, and their sympathies changed.They crowded the door and gazed curiously through the window to see himjam the recorder shapelessly into a chair, place pen and ink in hishand, and force him to execute two receipts. It is not a popularpractice, this blanketing, as the temper of the watchers showed.

  "Serves 'em right, the hogs," some one said, and he voiced the universalsentiment.

  That night, as they ravened over their meager meal, Knute came to them,hesitatingly. He was greatly worried and apprehension wrinkled hiswooden face.

  "Saay! W'at you t'ink 'bout Sully?"

  "I don't know. Why?"

  "By yingo, ay t'ink he's lose!"

  "Lost! How's that?"

  In his dialect, broken by anxiety, he told how Sully and he hadquarreled on the big divide. Maddened by failure to gain on Crowley, theformer had insisted on following the mountain crests in the hope ofquicker travel. The Swede had yielded reluctantly till, frightened bythe network of radiating gulches which spread out
beneath their feet ina bewildering sameness, he had refused to go farther. They hadquarreled. In a fit of fury Sully had hurled his pack away, and Knute'slast vision of him had been as he went raving and cursing onward like amadman, traveling fast in his fury. Knute had retreated, dropped intothe valley, and eventually reached his goal.

  There is no time for reliefs on a stampede. The gentler emotions areleft in camp with the women. He who would risk life, torture, andprivation for a stranger will trample pitilessly on friend and enemyblinded by the gold glitter or drunken with the chase of the rainbow.

  For five days and nights the army lived on its feet, streaming upgullies where lay the hint of wealth or swarming over the somber bluffs;and hourly the madness grew, feeding on itself, till they fought likebeasts. Fabulous values were begotten. Giant sales were bruited about.Flying rumors of gold at the cross-roots inflamed them to furtherfrenzy.

  A town site was laid out and a terrible scramble for lots ensued.

  One man was buried in the plot he claimed, his disputant being adjudgedthe owner by virtue of his quicker draw. It was manslaughter, they knew,but no one spared the time to guard him, so he went free. Nor did he runaway. One cannot, while the craze is on.

  Five days of this, and then the stream broke. With it broke the deliriumof the five hundred. The valleys roared and bawled from bluff to bluff,while the flats became seas of seething ice and rubbish. Thus, cut offfrom home, they found their grub was gone, for every one had clung tillhis food grew low. As the obsession left them their brotherhoodreturned--food was apportioned in community, and they spoke vaguely ofthe fate of Sully.

  For still another half-fortnight they lay about the cabin while thestreams raged, and then Crowley spoke to his partner. Rolling theirblankets, they started, and, although many were tempted to go, none hadthe courage, preferring to starve on quarter rations till the waterslowered.

  Ascending for miles where the torrent narrowed, they felled a treeacross for a bridge and, ascending the ridges, took the direction ofcamp. In a new and broken country, not formed of continuous ranges, thisis difficult. So to avoid frequent fordings they followed the highground, going devious, confusing miles. The snows were largely gone,though the nights were cruel, and thus they traveled.

  At last, when they had worked through to the Yukon spurs, one morning ona talus high above Buck spied the flapping forms of a flock of ravens.They fluttered ceaselessly among the rocks, rising noisily, only tosettle again.

  These are the gleaming, baleful vultures of the North, and often theyattain a considerable size and ferocity.

  The men gazed at them with apathy. Was it worth while to spend the stepsto see what drew them? By following their course they would pass far tothe right.

  "I hate the dam' things," said Crowley, crossly. "I seen 'em, oncet,hangin' to a caribou calf with a broken leg, tryin' to pick his eyesout. Let's see what it is."

  He veered to the left, scrambling up among the boulders. The birds rosefretfully, perching near by, but the men saw nothing. As they restedmomentarily the birds again swooped downward, reassured.

  Then, partly hidden among the detritus, they spied that which madeCrowley cry out in horror, while the sound of Buck's voice was like thechoking of a woman. As they started, one of the ebony scavengers dippedfiercely, picking at a ragged object. A human arm slowly arose andblindly beat it off, but the raven's mate settled also, and, sinking itsbeak into the object, tore hungrily.

  With a shout they stumbled forward, lacerated by the jagged slide rock,only to pause aghast and shaking.

  Sully lay crouched against a boulder where he had crawled for the sunheat. Rags of clothing hung upon his gaunt frame, through which thesharp bones strove to pierce; also at sight of his hands and feet theyshuddered. With the former he had covered his eyes from the ravens, buthis cheeks and head were bloody and shredded. He muttered constantly,like the thick whirring of machinery run down.

  "Oh, my God!" Buck whispered.

  Crowley had mastered himself and knelt beside the figure. He looked upand tears lay on his cheeks.

  "Look at them hands and feet! That was done by fire and frost together.He must have fell in his own camp-fires after he went crazy."

  The garments were burned off to elbow and knee, while the flesh wasblack and raw.

  Tenderly they carried the gabbing creature down to the timber and laidhim on a bed of boughs. His condition told the grim tale of hiswanderings, crazed with hunger and hardship.

  Heating water, they poured it into him, dressing his wounds with stripsfrom their underclothes. Of stimulants they had none, but fed him thelast pinch of flour, together with the final rasher of salt pork,although they knew that these things are not good for starving men. Formany days they had traveled on less than quarter rations themselves.

  "What will we do?"

  "It ain't over twenty miles to the niggers'. He'll die before we can gethelp back. D'ye reckon we can carry him?"

  It was not sympathy which prompted Crowley, for he sympathized with hisboyish companion, whose sufferings it hurt him sorely to augment. It wasnot pity; he pitied himself, and his own deplorable condition; nor didmercy enter into his processes, for the man had mercilessly planned tokill him, and he likewise had nursed a bitter hatred against him, whichmisfortune could only dim. It was not these things which moved him, buta vaguer, wilder quality; an elemental, unspoken, indefinable feeling ofbrotherhood throughout the length of the North, teaching subtly, yetabsolutely and without appeal, that no man shall be left in hisextremity to the cruel harshness of this forbidding land.

  "Carry him?" Buck cried. "No! You're crazy! What's the use? He'll die,anyhow--and so'll we if we don't get grub soon." Buck was new to thecountry, and he was a boy.

  "No, he won't. He lived hard and he'll die hard, for he's a hellion--heis. We've got to pack him in!"

  "By God! I won't risk _my_ life for a corpse--'specially one like him."The lad broke out in hysterical panic, for he had lived on the raggedestedge of his nerve these many days. Now his every muscle was dead andnumbed with pain. Only his mind was clear, caused by the effort to forcemovement into his limbs. When he stopped walking he fell into ahalf-slumber which was acutely painful. When he arose to redrive hisweary body it became freakish, so that he fell or collided with trees.He was bloody and bruised and cut. Carry a dead man? It was madness,and, besides, he felt an utter giving away at every joint.

  He was too tired to make his reasoning plain; his tongue was thick, andCrowley's brain too calloused to grasp argument, therefore he squattedbeside the muttering creature and wept impotently. He was asleep, withtears in his stubbly beard, when his partner finished the rude litter,yet he took up his end of the burden, as Crowley knew he would.

  "You'll kill us both, damn ye!" he groaned.

  "Probably so, but we can't leave him to them things." The other noddedat the vampires perched observantly in the surrounding firs.

  Then began their great trial and temptation. For hours on end the birdsfluttered from tree to tree, always in sight and hoarsely complainingtill the sick fancies of the men distorted them into foul, gibingcreatures of the Pit screaming with devilish glee at their anguish.Blindly they staggered through the forest while the limbs reached forthto block them, thrusting sharp needles into their eyes or whipping backviciously. Vines writhed up their legs, straining to delay their march,and the dank moss curled ankle-deep, slyly tripping their dragging,swollen feet. Nature hindered them sullenly, with all her heart-breakingimplacability. They reeled constantly under their burden and grew tohate the ragged-barked trees that smote them so cruelly and so roughlytore their flesh. Ofttimes they fell, rolling the maniac limply from hiscouch, but they dragged him back and strained forward to the hideousracket of his mumblings, which grew louder as his delirium increased.They were forced to tie him to the poles, but could not stop his ghastlyshriekings. At every pause the dismal ravens croaked and leered evillyfrom the shadows, till Buck shuddered and hid his face while Crowleygnashed his teeth. From
time to time other birds joined them inanticipation of the feast, till they were ringed about, and the sight ofthis ever-growing, grisly, clamorous flock of watchers became awful tothe men. They felt the horny talons searching their flesh and the hungrybeaks tearing at their eyeballs.

  A dog-sled and birch-bark practice covering both banks of the Yukon fortwo hundred miles yielded Doc Lewis sufficient revenue to grub-stake aSwede. Thus he slept warm, kept his feet dry, and was still a miner. Hedid not believe in hardship, and eschewed stampedes. Yet when he hadseen the last able-bodied man vanish from camp on the Skookum run hegrew restless. He scoffed at fake excitements to Jarvis, thefaro-dealer, who also forbore the trail by virtue of his calling, but hegot no satisfaction. A fortnight later he rolled his blankets andjourneyed toilsomely up the river valley.

  "Better late than never," he thought.

  Arriving at the empty shack of the negroes, he camped, only to awakenduring the night to the roar of the torrent at his door. Having seenother mountain streams in the break-up, he waited philosophically,hunting ptarmigan among the firs back of the cabin.

  He had lost track of the days when, down the gulch, in the morninglight, he descried a strange party approaching.

  Two men bore between them a stretcher made from their shirts. Theycrawled with dreadful slowness, resting every hundred feet. Moreover,they stumbled and staggered aimlessly through the niggerheads. As theydrew near he sighted their faces, from which the teeth grinned in agrimace of torture and through which the cheek-bones seemed topenetrate.

  He knew what the signs boded. For years he had ministered to thesenecessities, and no man had ever approached his success.

  "It is the rape of the North they are doing," he sighed. "We ravage herstores, but she takes grim toll from all of us." He moved the hot waterforward on the stove, cleared off the rude table, and laid out hisinstrument-case.

  WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN