The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 7, 1904, Page 8

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. == the true spe C es along of b men as is best Never heard of Never heerd of it, eh? Well, it's a @ead sira open-an’-shut fact, an’ no g well enough for a mighty thout st ing powe a c whooj sta powe t runnin’ mates. Takes the s 1 wiry fellows when it comes to git right down an’ k n' on like a lean- Jowled dog to a bone “Look you, brothers,” broke in Charley from h tka s seat on the grub box. “Ye have of the streak of fat that runs big men’s muscles, and ye have spoken women and the love, and oker ye have spoken fair; but I have in mind things which happened when the land w: £ and the fires of men far apa he stars. It was then I ern had con with a big man, and a streek of fat, and a woman. And the woman was small; but her heart was greater th e beef heart of the man, and st grit. And we travel- ed a weary trail, even to the salt wa- ter, and the cold was bitter, the snow deep, the great. And the womar e mighty love—no more « than this. Brot v d is red with Si- wast my heart is white. A great when I was vet a vour kind and th; that the Si- your ne of you time. I have known 1 bucked big, on big of many breeds. And things I measure deeds after your man and judge men, and think thoughts. Wherefore when 1 speak harshly of one of your own kind 1 know you will not take it amiss; and whe I speak high of ome of my father’s people you will not take 1t T to say ‘Sitka Charley is Biwash there is a crooked light in his eyes and small honor to his tongue Is it not so Deep down in throat the circle vouch- safed its assent The woman was Passuk. I got her in fair trade from her people, who were of the coast and whose (hilcat totem stood the head of a salt arm of the sea My heart did not go out to the woman, nor did I take stock of her looks. For she scarce took her eyes from the ground, and she was timid and afraid, as girls will be when cast into & st er's arms whom they ha > pever seen before. One blanket would cover the twain; so I chose Passuk. “Have 1 not said 1 was a servant to the Government? So T was taken on a warship, sleds and dogs and evaporated foods, and with me came Passuk. And we went north to the winter ice rim of ring where we were landed—my- self and Passuk and the dogs. 1 was also given moneys of the Government, for I was its servant, and charts of ands which the eyes of man had never elt upon, and messages. The ages were sealed and protected from the weather, and I was to de- ver them to the whale ships of the nd by the great Macken- rd, in the spring., when the there was a crust came south, Passuk untry of the Yukon. A but the sun pointed out feet. It was a naked have said, and we curr with pole and ed an pe came to Forty-mile Good i white faces once again, s to the bank. And that winter w hard winter. The dark- ess ar d drew down upon us, the mine ~ach gave of 1c of bacon. together in the store the empty shelves made s fe ness the more. We ta light of the fire, he een set aside for ot p in the g Discussion was heid, and it said that a man must go forth the Salt Water and tell to the misery. At this all eyes for it was understood a great traveler. “It is 00 I ‘to Haines sion by 1 every in.h of it snowshoe > me the pi of your dogs st of your grub and I g0. And withmr s 1l go Passuk.' P they were agreed. But there Long Jeff, a Yankee 4 and big muscled. Also his big. He, too, was a mighty he said, born to the snowshoe eht up buffalo milk. 1lle 1 go with me, in case I fell by the that he might carry the word on (o Mission. How was I to know that big talk betokened the streak of fat, or that Yankee men who did great things kept their teeth together? So we took k of the dogs and the best of the will man the and struck the trail, we three— uk, Long Jeff and I “I will talk little of the toll, save that on some days we made ten miies, and on others thirty, but more often ten. And the best of the grub was not good, while we went on stint from the start. Likewise the pick of the dogs was poor, and we were hard put to keep them on their legs. At the White River our three sleds became two sleds, and we had only come 200 miles. But we lost nothing. The dogs that left the traces went into the bellies of those that remained. “Not a greeting, not a curl of smoke. till we made the Pelly I_ere I had counted on grub; and here I caunted on leaving Long Jeff, who was whining and trail sore. But the factor’s lungs were wheezing, his eyes bright, his cache nigh empty; and he showed us the empty cache of the missionary, also his grave with the rocks piled high to keep off the dogs. There was a bunch of Indians there, but babies and old men there were none, and it was clear that few would see the spring. “So we pulled on light-stomached and heavy-hearted, with half a thous- and miles of snow and silence between us and Haines Mission by the sea. The darknc-- was at its worst, and at mid- day the sun could not cl:ar the sky- line to the south. But the ice jams were smaller, the going better; so I pushed the dogs hard and traveleC late and early “As I said at Forty-mile, every inch of it was snowshoe work. And the shoes made great sores on our feet, which cracked and scabbed but would not heal. And every day those sbres grew more grievous, till in the morn- ing when we girded on our shoes Long Jeff cried like a child. I put him at the fore of the sled to break trail, but he slipped off the shoes for comfort. Because of this the trail w not packed, his moccasins made great holes, and into these holes the dogs wallowed. The bones of the dogs were ready to burst through their hides, and this was not good for them. So I spoke hard words to the man, and he promised, and broke his word. Then I beat him with the dog-whip, and after that the dogs wallowed more. He was a child, what of pain and the streak of fat. ‘But Passuk? While the man lay by the fire and wept she cooked, and in the morning helped lash the sleds and in the evening to unlash them. And she saved the dogs. Ever was she to the fore, lifting the webbed shoes and making the way easy. “Passuk-—how shall 1 say?—I took it for granted that she should do these things, and thought no more no the about it. For my mind was busy with other matters, and besides I was young in years and knew little of woman. It was only on looking back that I came to understand. “Apnd the man became worthiess. The dogs had little strength In them, but he stole rides on the sled when he lagged behind. Passuk said she would take the one sled, so the man had nothing to do. In the morning I gave him his fair share of grub and started him on the trail alone. Then the woman and I broke camp, packed the sleds and harnessed the dogs. By midday, when the sun mocked us, we would overtake the man, with the tears frozen on his cheeks, and pass him. In the night we made camp, set aside his fair share of grub and spread his furs. Also we made a big fire that he might see. And hours afterward he would come limp- ing in and eat his grub with moans and groans, and sleep. He was not sick, this man. He was only trall-sore and tired, and weak with hunger. But Pas- suk and 1 were trail-sore and tired and weak with hunger, and we did all the work apd he did none. But he had the streak of fat of which our brother Bet- tles has spoken. Further, we gave the man always his fair share of grub. “Then one day we met two ghosts journeying through the Silence. They were a man and a boy, and they were white. The ice had opened on Lake Le Barge, and through it had gone their main outfit. One blanket each carried about his shoulders. At night they built a,fire and crouched over it till morning. They had a little flour. This they stirred in warm water and drank. The man showed me eight cups of flour—all they had—and Pelly, stricken with famine, 200 miles away. They said, also, that there was an Indian behind; that they had whacked fair, but that he could not keep up. I did not believe they had whacked fair, else would the Indian have kept up. But I could glve them no grub. They strovs to steal a dog—the fattest, which was very thin—but I shoved my pistol in their faces and told them begone. And they went away, like drunken men, through the silence toward Pelly. “T had three dogs now, and one sled, and the dogs were only bones and hair. When there is little wood the fire burns low and the cabin grows cold. So with us. With little grub the frost bites sharp and our faces weré black and frozen till our own mothers would not have known us. And our feet were very sore. In the morning when I hit the trail 1 sweated 'to keep down the cry when the pain of the snowshoes smote me. Passuk never opened her lips, but stepped to the fore to break the way. The man howled. “The Thirty-mile was swift and the current ate away the ice from beneath, and there were many airholes and cracks and much open water. One day we came upon the man, resting, for he had gone ahead, as was his wont, in the morning. But between us was open water. This he had passed around by taking to the rim ice, where it was too narrow for a sled. So we found an ice bridge. Passuk weighed little and went first, with a long pole crosswise in her hands in chance she broke through. But she was light and her shoes large, and she passed over. Then she called the dogs. But they had neither poles nor shoes and they broke through and were swept under by the water. I held tight to the sled from behind till the traces broke and the dogs went on down under the ice. There was littie meat to them, but I had counted on them for a week's grub, and they were gone, ' “The next morning I divided all thy grub, which was little, into three por- tions. And I told Long Jeff that he cculd keep up with us or not, as he saw fit, for we were going to travel light and fast. But he raised his voice and cried over his sare feet and his troublas and said harsh things against comrade- ship. “Passuk's feet were sore, and my feet were gsore—aye, sorer than his, for we had worked with the dogs; also, we looked to ‘see. Long Jeft swore he would die before he hit the trail again; 80 Passuk took a fur robe and I a cook- ing pot and an ax and we made ready to go. “But she looked on the man’s portion and said: ‘It is wrong to waste good food on a baby. He is better dead.” I shook my head and id no—that a comrade once was a comrade always. “Then the spoke of the men of Forty- mile; that they were many men and good, and that they looked to me for gub in the spring. But when I still said no, she snatched the pisiol from my belt quick, and, as our brother Bet- tles has spoken, Long Jeff went to the bosom of Abraham before his time. I chided Passuk for this; but she showed no sorrow, nor was she sorrowful. And in my heart I knew she was right. “And day by day we passed in the snow the sleeping places of the twu ghosts—Passuk and I—a~ ! we knew we would be glad for such ere we made salt water. Then we came to the In- dian, like another ghost, with his face set toward Pelly. They had not whacked up fair, the man and the boy, he said, and he had had no flour for three days. Each night he boiled pieces of his moecasins in a cup and ate them. He did not have much moccasins left. And he was a coast Incian, and toid us these things through Passuk, who talked his tongue. He was a stranger in the Yukon, and he knew not the way, but his face was set to Pelly. How far was it? Two sleeps? Ten? A hun- dred? He did not -know, but he was going to Pelly. It was too far to turn back: he cou.d only keep on. “He did not ask for grub, for he could see we, too, were hard put. Pas- suk looked at the man and at me, as though she were of two minds, like & mother partridge whose young are in trouble. So I turned to her and said: ‘This man has been dealt unfair. Shall I give him of our grub a portion?’ “I saw her eyes light, as with quick pleasure; but she looked long at the man and at me, and her mouth drew close and hard, and she said: ‘No. The Salt Water is afar off, and Death lies In wait. Better it is that he take this stranger man and let my man Charley pass.’ So the man went away in si- lence toward Pelly. That night she wept. Never had I seen her weep be- fore. Nor was it the smoke of the fire, for the wood was dry wood. “We spoke little, Passuk and I, in the days which came. In the night we lay In the snow like dead people, and in the morning we went on our way, walking like dead people. And all things were dead. There were no ptarmigan, no squirrels, no snowshoe rabbits—nothing. The river made no sound beneath its white robes. The sap was frozen in the forest. And it became cold, as now; and in the night the stars drew near and large, and leaped and danced; and in the day the sundogs mocked us till we saw many suns, and all the air flashed and sparkled, and the snow was diamond dust. And there was no heat, no sound, only the bitter cold and the silence. “As I say, we walked like dead peo- ple, as in a dream, and we kept no count of time. Only our faces were set to salt water, our souls strained for salt water and our feet carried us toward salt water, “Our last grub went, and we had shared fair, Passuk and I, but she fell more often, and at Caribou Crossing her strength left her. And in the morn- ing we lay beneath one robe and did not take the trail. It was in my mind to stay there and meet death hand-in- hand with Passuk: for I had grown old, and had learned the love of woman. Also It was eighty miles to Haines Mis- sion, and the great Chilcoot, far above the timber line, reared his storm-swept to head between. But Passuk spoke me, low, with my ear against her | that I might hear. And no she need not fear my anger, she spoks her heart, and told me of her love, and of many things which I did not under- stand. “And she sald: ‘You are my man, Charley, and I have been a x00d woman to you. And in all the days I have made your fire, and cooked your food, and fed your dogs, and lifted paddle or broken trafl, I have not complained Nor did I say that there was more warmth. in the lodge of my father, ¢ that, there was more grub on the Chil cat. .- When you have spoken, I have listened. When you have omeret‘J. 1 have obeyed. Is it.not so, Charley? “And 1 said; ‘Aye.Jt js so.’ “And she sald: When first you came to the Chilcat, mgy, looked upon me, but bought me as' & man buys a dog. and took me away, my heart was hard against you and filled with bitterness and fear. But that was long 0. For you were kind to me, Charley, as a good man is kind to his dog. Your heart was cold, and there was no room for me; yet you dealt me fair and your ways were just. And I was with you when you did bold deeds and led great ventures, and I measured you against the men of other breeds, and I saw you stood among them full of honor. and your word was wise, your tongue true. And I grew proud of you, till it came that you fillea all my h»vlrt. and all my thought was of you. You were as the midsummer sun, when its golden trail runs in a circle and never leaves the sky. And whatever way I cdst my eyes 1 beheid the sun. B your heart wes ever col i, Charley, and there was no room “And I said: ‘It is It w and there was no roo But that past. Now my heart like the snow- fall in the spring, when the sun has come back. There is a great thaw and a bending, a sound of ru g waters, and a budding and sprouting o things. And there is drum partridges and songs of rob i great music, for the wint is broken, Passuk, and I have learned the love of woman.' “She smiled and moved draw her closer. And she said am glad.® After that she lay quiet for a long time, breathing softly, her head upon my breast. Then she whispered “ “The trail ends here, and I am tired. But first I would speak of other things. In the long ago, when I was a girl on the Chilcat, I played alone among the skin bales of my father's lodge: for the men Wwere away on the hunt, and the women and boys were dragging in the for me to meat. It was in the spring, and I was alone. A great brown bear, just awdke from his winter’s sleep, hungry, his hanging to the bomes in flaps of lean- ness, shoved his head within the lodge and said “Ooof!” My brother came run- ning back with the first sled of meat And he fought the bear with burning sticks from the fire, and the dogs in their harnesses, with the sled behind them, fell upon the bear. There was a great battle and much noise. They rolled in the fire, the skin bales were scattered, the lodge overthrown. But in the end the bear lay dead, with the fingers of my brother in his mouth and the marks of his claws upon my broth- er's Did you mark the Indian by the ™y trall, his mitten whic.. had no thumb, his hand which he warmed by oir ure? He was my brother. And I said he should have no grub. And he went away in the Silence without grub. “This, my brothers, was the love of Passuk, who died in the snow, by the Caribou’ ' Crossing. It was a mighty love, for she denied her brother for the man who led her away on weary trails to & bitter end. And, further, such was this woman’s love, she denied her- self. Ere her eyes closell for the last time she took my hand and slipped it under her squirrel-skin parka to her waist. I feit there a well-filled pouch, and learnmed the secret of her lost strength. Day by day we had shared fair, to the last least bit; and day by day but half her share had she eaten. “And she sald: “This is the end of the trail for Passuk; but your trail, Char- ley, leads on and on, over the great Chilcoot, down to Haines Mission and the sea. And it leads on and on, by the light of many suns, over unknown lands and strange waters, and it is full of years and honors and great glories. It leads you to the lodges of many women, and good women, but it will never lead you to a greater love than the love of Passuk.’ “And I knew the woman spoke true But a madness came upon me and I threw the well-filled pouch from me and swore that my trail had reached an end till her tired eyes grew soft with tears, and she said: ‘Among men has Sitka Charley walked in honor and ever has his word been true. Does he forget that honor now and talk vain words by the Caribou Cressing? Does he remember no more the men of Forty- mile, who gave him of their grub the best, of their dogs the pick?" “And when she grew cold in my arms [ arose and sought out the well- filled pouch and girt on my snowshoees and staggered along the trail, for there was a weakness in my knees, and head was dizzy, and in my ears the was a roaring and a flashing of fde upon my eyes. | “And in this wise, like a m bereft of rcason, who sees strange \?{ lons and whose thoughts are light wit wine, I came tocHaines Mission by the sea.” } Sitka Charley threw back the tent- flaps. it was midday. To the south, just clearing the bieak Henderson Divide. poised the cold disked sun. vin cither hand the sundogs blazed. The air was a gossamer of glittering frost. In the foreground, beside the trail, a wolf dog, bristling with frost, thryst a long snout heavenward and mourngd.