第32章 GRIT OF WOMEN(4)

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 said no--that a comrade once was a comrade always.Then she spoke of the men of Forty Mile; that they were many men and good;and that they looked to me for grub in the spring.But when Istill said no, she snatched the pistol from my belt, quick, and as our brother Bettles 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."Sitka Charley paused and threw pieces of ice into the gold pan on the stove.The men were silent, and their backs chilled to the sobbing cries of the dogs as they gave tongue to their misery in the outer cold.

"And day by day we passed in the snow the sleeping-places of the two ghosts--Passuk and I--and we knew we would be glad for such ere we made Salt Water.Then we came to the Indian, 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 moccasins in a cup, and ate them.He did not have much moccasins left.And he was a Coast Indian, and told 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 hundred--he did not know, but he was going to Pelly.It was too far to turn back; he could only keep on.

"He did not ask for grub, for he could see we, too, were hard put.

Passuk looked at the man, and at me, as though she were of two minds, like a mother partridge whose young are in trouble.So Iturned to her and said, 'This man has been dealt unfair.Shall Igive 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 the Silence toward Pelly.That night she wept.Never had Iseen her weep before.Nor was it the smoke of the fire, for the wood was dry wood.So I marveled at her sorrow, and thought her woman's heart had grown soft at the darkness of the trail and the pain.

"Life is a strange thing.Much have I thought on it, and pondered long, yet daily the strangeness of it grows not less, but more.

Why this longing for Life? It is a game which no man wins.To live is to toil hard, and to suffer sore, till Old Age creeps heavily upon us and we throw down our hands on the cold ashes of dead fires.It is hard to live.In pain the babe sucks his first breath, in pain the old man gasps his last, and all his days are full of trouble and sorrow; yet he goes down to the open arms of Death, stumbling, falling, with head turned backward, fighting to the last.And Death is kind.It is only Life, and the things of Life that hurt.Yet we love Life, and we hate Death.It is very strange.

"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 sun-dogs 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 people, 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.We camped by the Tahkeena, and knew it not.Our eyes looked upon the White Horse, but we saw it not.

Our feet trod the portage of the Canyon, but they felt it not.We felt nothing.And we fell often by the way, but we fell, always, with our faces 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 morning we lay beneath the 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 Mission, and the great Chilcoot, far above the timber-line, reared his storm-swept head between.But Passuk spoke to me, low, with my ear against her lips that I might hear.And now, because she need not fear my anger, she spoke her heart, and told me of her love, and of many things which I did not understand.

"And she said: 'You are my man, Charley, and I have been a good 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 trail, I have not complained.Nor did I say that there was more warmth in the lodge of my father, or that there was more grub on the Chilcat.When you have spoken, I have listened.When you have ordered, I have obeyed.Is it not so, Charley?'

"And I said: 'Ay, it is so.'