the red one-第12章

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And；　between　breakfast　and　dinner　and　between　dinner　and　supper；　he

always　managed　to　back…trip　for　several　packs　himself。　　Sixty

pounds　was　the　limit　of　his　burden；　however。　　He　could　manage

seventy…five；　but　he　could　not　keep　it　up。　　Once；　he　tried　ninety；

but　collapsed　on　the　trail　and　was　seriously　shaky　for　a　couple　of

days　afterward。



Work！　　On　a　trail　where　hard…working　men　learned　for　the　first　time

what　work　was；　no　man　worked　harder　in　proportion　to　his　strength

than　Old　Tarwater。　　Driven　desperately　on　by　the　near…thrust　of

winter；　and　lured　madly　on　by　the　dream　of　gold；　they　worked　to

their　last　ounce　of　strength　and　fell　by　the　way。　　Others；　when

failure　made　certain；　blew　out　their　brains。　　Some　went　mad；　and

still　others；　under　the　irk　of　the　man…destroying　strain；　broke

partnerships　and　dissolved　life…time　friendships　with　fellows　just

as　good　as　themselves　and　just　as　strained　and　mad。



Work！　　Old　Tarwater　could　shame　them　all；　despite　his　creaking　and

crackling　and　the　nasty　hacking　cough　he　had　developed。　　Early　and

late；　on　trail　or　in　camp　beside　the　trail　he　was　ever　in　evidence；

ever　busy　at　something；　ever　responsive　to　the　hail　of　〃Father

Christmas。〃　　Weary　back…trippers　would　rest　their　packs　on　a　log　or

rock　alongside　of　where　he　rested　his；　and　would　say：　　〃Sing　us

that　song　of　yourn；　dad；　about　Forty…Nine。〃　　And；　when　he　had

wheezingly　complied；　they　would　arise　under　their　loads；　remark

that　it　was　real　heartening；　and　hit　the　forward　trail　again。



〃If　ever　a　man　worked　his　passage　and　earned　it；〃　Big　Bill　confided

to　his　two　partners；　〃that　man's　our　old　Skeezicks。〃



〃You　bet；〃　Anson　confirmed。　　〃He's　a　valuable　addition　to　the

party；　and　I；　for　one；　ain't　at　all　disagreeable　to　the　notion　of

making　him　a　regular　partner　…　〃



〃None　of　that！〃　Charles　Crayton　cut　in。　　〃When　we　get　to　Dawson

we're　quit　of　him　…　that's　the　agreement。　　We'd　only　have　to　bury

him　if　we　let　him　stay　on　with　us。　　Besides；　there's　going　to　be　a

famine；　and　every　ounce　of　grub'll　count。　　Remember；　we're　feeding

him　out　of　our　own　supply　all　the　way　in。　　And　if　we　run　short　in

the　pinch　next　year；　you'll　know　the　reason。　　Steamboats　can't　get

up　grub　to　Dawson　till　the　middle　of　June；　and　that's　nine　months

away。〃



〃Well；　you　put　as　much　money　and　outfit　in　as　the　rest　of　us；〃　Big

Bill　conceded；　〃and　you've　a　say　according。〃



〃And　I'm　going　to　have　my　say；〃　Charles　asserted　with　increasing

irritability。　　〃And　it's　lucky　for　you　with　your　fool　sentiments

that　you've　got　somebody　to　think　ahead　for　you；　else　you'd　all

starve　to　death。　　I　tell　you　that　famine's　coming。　　I've　been

studying　the　situation。　　Flour　will　be　two　dollars　a　pound；　or　ten；

and　no　sellers。　　You　mark　my　words。〃



Across　the　rubble…covered　flats；　up　the　dark　canyon　to　Sheep　Camp；

past　the　over…hanging　and　ever…threatening　glaciers　to　the　Scales；

and　from　the　Scales　up　the　steep　pitches　of　ice…scoured　rock　where

packers　climbed　with　hands　and　feet；　Old　Tarwater　camp…cooked　and

packed　and　sang。　　He　blew　across　Chilcoot　Pass；　above　timberline；

in　the　first　swirl　of　autumn　snow。　　Those　below；　without　firewood；

on　the　bitter　rim　of　Crater　Lake；　heard　from　the　driving　obscurity

above　them　a　weird　voice　chanting：





〃Like　Argus　of　the　ancient　times；

We　leave　this　modern　Greece；

Tum…tum；　tum…tum；　tum；　tum；　tum…tum；

To　shear　the　Golden　Fleece。〃





And　out　of　the　snow　flurries　they　saw　appear　a　tall；　gaunt　form；

with　whiskers　of　flying　white　that　blended　with　the　storm；　bending

under　a　sixty…pound　pack　of　camp　dunnage。



〃Father　Christmas！〃　was　the　hail。　　And　then：　　〃Three　rousing　cheers

for　Father　Christmas！〃



Two　miles　beyond　Crater　Lake　lay　Happy　Camp　…　so　named　because　here

was　found　the　uppermost　fringe　of　the　timber　line；　where　men　might

warm　themselves　by　fire　again。　　Scarcely　could　it　be　called　timber；

for　it　was　a　dwarf　rock…spruce　that　never　raised　its　loftiest

branches　higher　than　a　foot　above　the　moss；　and　that　twisted　and

grovelled　like　a　pig…vegetable　under　the　moss。　　Here；　on　the　trail

leading　into　Happy　Camp；　in　the　first　sunshine　of　half　a　dozen

days；　Old　Tarwater　rested　his　pack　against　a　huge　boulder　and

caught　his　breath。　　Around　this　boulder　the　trail　passed；　laden　men

toiling　slowly　forward　and　men　with　empty　pack…straps　limping

rapidly　back　for　fresh　loads。　　Twice　Old　Tarwater　essayed　to　rise

and　go　on；　and　each　time；　warned　by　his　shakiness；　sank　back　to

recover　more　strength。　　From　around　the　boulder　he　heard　voices　in

greeting；　recognized　Charles　Crayton's　voice；　and　realized　that　at

last　they　had　met　up　with　Young　Liverpool。　　Quickly；　Charles

plunged　into　business；　and　Tarwater　heard　with　great　distinctness

every　word　of　Charles'　unflattering　description　of　him　and　the

proposition　to　give　him　passage　to　Dawson。



〃A　dam　fool　proposition；〃　was　Liverpool's　judgment；　when　Charles

had　concluded。　　〃An　old　granddad　of　seventy！　　If　he's　on　his　last

legs；　why　in　hell　did　you　hook　up　with　him？　　If　there's　going　to　be

a　famine；　and　it　looks　like　it；　we　need　every　ounce　of　grub　for

ourselves。　　We　only　out…fitted　for　four；　not　five。〃



〃It's　all　right；〃　Tarwater　heard　Charles　assuring　the　other。

〃Don't　get　excited。　　The　old　codger　agreed　to　leave　the　final

decision　to　you　when　we　caught　up　with　you。　　All　you've　got　to　do

is　put　your　foot　down　and　say　no。〃



〃You　mean　it's　up　to　me　to　turn　the　old　one　down；　after　your

encouraging　him　and　taking　advantage　of　his　work　clear　from　Dyea

here？〃



〃It's　a　hard　trail；　Liverpool；　and　only　the　men　that　are　hard　will

get　through；〃　Charles　strove　to　palliate。



〃And　I'm　to　do　the　dirty　work？〃　Liverpool　complained；　while

Tarwater's　heart　sank。



〃That's　just　about　the　size　of　it；〃　Charles　said。　　〃You've　got　the

deciding。〃



Then　old　Tarwater's　heart　uprose　again　as　the　air　was　rent　by　a

cyclone　of　profanity；　from　the　midst　of　which　crackled　sentences

like：　　…　〃Dirty　skunks！　。　。　。　See　you　in　hell　first！　。　。　。　My

mind's　made　up！　。　。　。　Hell's　fire　and　corruption！　。　。　。　The　old

codger　goes　down　the　Yukon　with　us；　stack　on　that；　my　hearty！　。　。　。

Hard？　　You　don't　know　what　hard　is　unless　I　show　you！　。　。　。　I'll

bust　the　whole　outfit　to　hell　and　gone　if　any　of　you　try　to　side…

track　him！　。　。　。　Just　try　to　side…track　him；　that　is　all；　and

you'll　think　the　Day　of　Judgment　and　all　God's　blastingness　has　hit

the　camp　in　one　chunk！〃



Such　was　the　invigoratingness　of　Liverpool's　flow　of　speech　that；

quite　without　consciousness　of　effort；　the　old　man　arose　easily

under　his　load　and　strode　on　toward　Happy　Camp。



From　Happy　Camp　to　Long　Lake；　from　Long　Lake　to　Deep　Lake；　and　from

Deep　Lake　up　over　the　enormous　hog…back　and　down　to　Linderman；　the

man…killing　race　against　winter　kept　on。　　Men　broke　their　hearts

and　backs　and　wept　beside　the　trail　in　sheer　exhaustion。　　But

winter　never　faltered。　　The　fall　gales　blew；　and　amid　bitter

soaking　rains　and　ever…increasing　snow　flurries；　Tarwater　and　the

party　to　which　he　was　attached　piled　the　last　of　their　outfit　on

the　beach。



There　was　no　rest。　　Across　the　lake；　a　mile　above　a　roaring

torrent；　they　located　a　patch　of　spruce　and　built　their　saw…pit。

Here；　by　hand；　with　an　inadequate　whipsaw；　they　sawed　the　spruce…

trunks　into　lumber。　　They　worked　night　and　day。　　Thrice；　on　the

night…shift；　underneath　in　the　saw…pit；　Old　Tarwater　fainted。　　By

day　he　cooked　as　well；　and；　in　the　betweenwhiles；　helped　Anson　in

the　building　of　the　boat　beside　the　torrent　as　the　green　planks

came　down。



The　days　grew　shorter。　　The　wind　shifted　into　the　north　and　blew

unending　gales。　　In　the　mornings　the　weary　men　crawled　from　their

blankets　and　in　their　socks　thawed　out　their　frozen　shoes　by　the

fire　Tarwater　always　had　burning　for　them。　　Ever　arose　the

increasing　tale　of　famine　on　the　Inside。　　The　last　grub　steamboats

up　from　Bering　Sea　were　stalled　by　low　water　at　the　beginning　of

the　Yukon　Flats　hundreds　of　miles　north　of　Dawson。　　In　fact；　they

lay　at　the　old　Hudson　Bay　Company's　post　at　Fort　Yukon　inside　the

Arctic　Circle。　　Flour　in　Dawson　was　up　to　two　dollars　a　pound；　but

no　one　would　sell。　　Bonanza　and　Eldorado　Kings；　with　money　to　burn；

were　leaving　for　the　Outside　because　they　could　buy　no　grub。

Miners'　Committees　were　confiscating　all　grub　and　putting　the

population　on　strict　rations。　　A　man　who　held　out　an　ounce　of　grub

was　shot　like　a　dog。　　A　score　had　been　so　executed　already。



And；　under　a　strain　which　had　broken　so　many　younger　men；　Old

Tarwater　began　to　break。　　His　cough　had　become　terrible；　and　had

not　his　exhausted　comrades　slept　like　the　dead；　he　would　have　kept

them　awake　nights。　　Also；　he　began　to　take　chills；　so　that　he

dressed　up　to　go　to　bed。　　When　he　had　finished　so　dressing；　not　a

rag　of　garment　remained　in　his　clothes　bag。　　All　he　possessed　was

on　his　back　and　swathed　around　his　gaunt　old　form。



〃Gee！〃　said　Big　Bill。　　〃If　he　puts　all　he's　got　on　now；　when　it

ain't　lower　than　twenty　above；　what'll　he　do　later　on　when　it　goes

down　to　fifty　and　sixty　below？〃



They　lined　the　rough…made　boat　down　the　mountain　torrent；　nearly

losing　it　a　dozen　times；　and　rowed　across　the　south　end　of　Lake

Linderman　in　the　thick　of　a　fall　blizzard。　　Next　morning　they

planned　to　load　and　start；　squarely　into　the　teeth　of　the　north；　on

their　perilous　traverse　of　half　a　thousand　miles　of　lakes　and

rapids　and　box　canyons。　　But　before　he　went　to　bed　that　night；

Young　Liverpool　was　out　over　the　camp。　　He　returned　to　find　his

whole　party　asleep。　　Rousing　Tarwater；　he　talked　with　him　in　low

tones。



〃Listen；　dad；〃　he　said。　…　〃You've　got　a　passage　in　our　boat；　and　if

ever　a　man　earned　a　passage　you　have。　　But　you　know　yourself　you're

pretty　well　along　in　years；　and　your　health　right　now　ain't

exciting。　　If　you　go　on　with　us　you'll　croak　surer'n　hell。　…　Now

wait　till　I　finish；　dad。　　The　price　for　a　passage　has　jumped　to

five　hundred　dollars。　　I've　been　throwing　my　feet　and　I've　hustled

a　passenger。　　He's　an　official　of　the　Alaska　Commercial　and　just

has　to　get　in。　　He's　bid　up　to　six　hundred　to　go　with　me　in　our

boat。　　Now　the　passage　is　yours。　　You　sell　it　to　him；　poke　the　six

hundred　into　your　jeans；　and　pull　South　for　California　while　the

goin's　good。　　You　can　be　in　Dyea　in　two　days；　and　in　California　in

a　week　more。　　What　d'ye　say？〃



Tarwater　coughed　and　shivered　for　a　space；　ere　he　could　get　freedom

of　breath　for　speech。



〃Son；〃　he　said；　〃I　just　want　to　tell　you　one　thing。　　I　drove　my

four　yoke　of　oxen　across　the　Plains　in　Forty…nine　and　lost　nary　a

one。　　I　drove　them　plumb　to　Californy；　and　I　freighted　with　them

afterward　out　of　Sutter's　Fort　to　American　Bar。　　Now　I'm　going　to

Klondike。　　Ain't　nothing　can　stop　me；　ain't　nothing　at　all。　　I'm

going　to　ride　that　boat；　with　you　at　the　steering　sweep；　clean　to

Klondike；　and