The Winds of Chance Part 3

"Sure! Everybody scare' to try 'im. W'en I came up dey pay me fifty dollar for tak' one boat t'rough. By gosh! I never mak' so moch money--tree hondred dollar a day. I'm reech man now. You lak get reech queeck? I teach you be pilot. Swif' water, beeg noise!

Plenty fun in dat!" The Canadian threw back his head and laughed loudly. "W'at you say?"

"I wouldn't mind trying it," Pierce confessed, "but I have no outfit. I'm packing for wages. I'll be along when I get my grub- stake together."

"Good! I go purty queeck now. W'en you come, I tak' you t'rough de canyon free. In one day I teach you be good pilot. You ask for 'Poleon Doret. Remember?"

"I say!" Phillips halted the cheerful giant as he was about to rise. "Do you know, you're the first man who has offered to do me a favor; you're the only one who hasn't tried to hold me back and climb over me. You're the first man I've seen with--with a smile on his face."

The speaker nodded. "I know! It's peety, too. Dese poor feller is scare', lak' you. Dey don' onderstan'. But bimeby, dey get wise; dey learn to he'p de oder feller, dey learn dat a smile will carry a pack or row a boat. You remember dat. A smile and a song, she'll shorten de miles and mak' fren's wid everybody. Don' forget w'at I tell you."

"Thank you, I won't," said Pierce, with a flicker of amus.e.m.e.nt at the man's brief sermon. This Doret was evidently a sort of backwoods preacher.

"Adieu!" With another flashing smile and a wave of his hand the fellow joined the procession and went on over the crest.

It had been pleasant to exchange even these few friendly words, for of late the habit of silence had been forced upon Pierce Phillips. For weeks now he had toiled among reticent men who regarded him with hostility, who made way for him with reluctance.

Haste, labor, strain had numbed and brutalized them; fatigue had rendered them irritable, and the strangeness of their environment had made them both fearful and suspicious. There was no good- fellowship, no consideration on the Chilkoot. This was a race against time, and the stakes went to him who was most ruthless.

Phillips had not exaggerated. Until this morning, he had received no faintest word of encouragement, no slightest offer of help. Not once had a hand been outstretched to him, and every inch he had gained had been won at the cost of his own efforts and by reason of his own determination.

He was yet warm with a wordless grat.i.tude at the Frenchman's cheer when a figure came lurching toward him and fell into the s.p.a.ce Doret had vacated. This man was quite the opposite of the one who had just left; he was old and he was far from robust. He fell face downward and lay motionless. Impulsively Phillips rose and removed the new-comer's pack.

"That last lift takes it out of you, doesn't it?" he inquired, sympathetically.

After a moment the stranger lifted a thin, colorless face overgrown with a bushy gray beard and began to curse in a gasping voice.

The youth warned him. "You're only tiring yourself, my friend.

It's all down-hill from here."

The sufferer regarded Phillips from a pair of hard, smoky-blue eyes in which there lurked both curiosity and surprise.

"I say!" he panted. "You're the first white man I've met in two weeks."

Pierce laughed. "It's the result of a good example. A fellow was decent to me just now."

"This is the kind of work that gives a man dead babies," groaned the stranger. "And these darned trail-hogs!" He ground his teeth vindictively. "'Get out of the way!' 'Hurry up, old man!' 'Step lively, grandpa!' That's what they say. They snap at your heels like coyotes. Hurry? You can't force your luck!" The speaker struggled into a sitting posture and in an apologetic tone explained: "I da.s.sent lay down or I'll get rheumatism. Tough guys- -frontiersmen--Pah!" He spat out the exclamation with disgust, then closed his eyes again and sank back against his burden.

"Coyotes! That's what they are! They'd rob a carca.s.s, they'd gnaw each other's bones to get through ahead of the ice."

Up out of the chasm below came a slow-moving file of Indian packers. Their eyes were bent upon the ground, and they stepped noiselessly into one another's tracks. The only sound they made came from their creaking pack-leathers. They paused briefly to breathe and to take in their surroundings, then they went on and out of sight.

When they had disappeared the stranger spoke in a changed tone.

"Poor devils! I wonder what they've done. And you?" he turned to Phillips. "What sins have you committed?"

"Oh, just the ordinary ones. But I don't look at it that way. This is a sort of a lark for me, and I'm having a great time. It's pretty fierce, I'll admit, but--I wouldn't miss it for anything.

Would you?"

"WOULD I? In a minute! You're young, I'm old. I've got rheumatism and--a partner. He can't pack enough grub for his own lunch, and I have to do it all. He's a Jonah, too--born on Friday, or something. Last night somebody stole a sack of our bacon. Sixty pounds, and every pound had cost me sweat!" Again the speaker ground his teeth vindictively. "Lord! I'd like to catch the fellow that did it! I'd take a drop of blood for every drop of sweat that bacon cost. Have you lost anything?"

"I haven't anything to lose. I'm packing for wages to earn money enough to buy an outfit."

After a brief survey of Phillips' burden, the stranger said, enviously: "Looks like you wouldn't have to make more than a trip or two. I wish I could pack like you do, but I'm stove up. At that, I'm better than my partner! He couldn't carry a tune." There was a pause. "He eats good, though; eats like a hired man and he snores so I can't sleep. I just lie awake nights and groan at the joints and listen to him grow old. He can't even guard our grub- pile."

"The Vigilantes will put a stop to this stealing," Pierce ventured.

"Think so? Who's going to keep an eye on them? Who's going to strangle the Stranglers? Chances are they're the very ones that are lifting our grub. I know these citizens' committees." Whatever the physical limitations of the rheumatic Argonaut, it was plain that his temper was active and his resentment strong.

Phillips had cooled off by this time; in fact, the chill breath of the snow-fields had begun to penetrate his sodden clothing, therefore he prepared to take up his march.

"Going through to Linderman?" queried the other man. "So am I. If you'll wait a second I'll join you. Maybe we can give each other a hand."

The speaker's motive was patent; nevertheless, Phillips obligingly acceded to his request, and a short time later a.s.sisted him into his harness, whereupon they set out one behind the other. Pierce's pack was at least double the weight of his companion's, and it gave him a pleasurable thrill to realize that he was one of the strong, one of the elect; he wondered pityingly how long this feeble, middle-aged man could last.

Before they had tramped far, however, he saw that the object of his pity possessed a quality which was lacking in many of the younger, stronger stampeders--namely, a grim determination, a dogged perseverance--no poor subst.i.tute, indeed, for youth and brawn. Once the man was in motion he made no complaint, and he managed to maintain a very good pace.

Leaving the crest of Chilkoot behind them, the travelers bore to the right across the snowcap, then followed the ridge above Crater Lake. Every mile or two they rested briefly to relieve their chafed and aching shoulders. They exchanged few words while they were in motion, for one soon learns to conserve his forces on the trail, but when they lay propped against their packs they talked.

Phillips' abundant vigor continued to evoke the elder man's frank admiration; he eyed the boy approvingly and plied him with questions. Before they had traveled many miles he had learned what there was to learn, for Pierce answered his questions frankly and told him about the sacrifice his family had made in order to send him North, about the trip itself, about his landing at Dyea, and all the rest. When he came to the account of that sh.e.l.l-game the grizzled stranger smiled.

"I've lived in wide-open countries all my life," said the latter, "but this beats anything I ever saw. Why, the crooks outnumber the honest men and they're running things to suit themselves. One of 'em tried to lay me. ME!" He chuckled as if the mere idea was fantastically humorous. "Have you heard about this Soapy Smith?

He's the boss, the bell-cow, and he's made himself mayor of Skagway. Can you beat it? I'll bet some of his men are on our Citizens' Committee at Sheep Camp. They need a lot of killing, they do, and they'll get it. What did you do after you lost your money?"

"I fell in with two brothers and went to packing."

"Went partners with them?'

"No, they--" Phillips' face clouded, he hesitated briefly. "I merely lived with them and helped them with their outfit from time to time. We're at Sheep Camp now, and I share their tent whenever I'm there. I'm about ready to pull out and go it alone." "Right!

And don't hook up with anybody." The old man spoke with feeling.

"Look at me. I'm nesting with a dodo--darned gray-whiskered milliner! He's so ornery I have to hide the ax every time I see him. I just yearn to put him out of his misery, but I da.s.sent. Of course he has his points--everybody has; he's a game old rooster and he loves me. That's all that saves him."

Phillips was greatly interested to learn that two men so unfitted for this life, this country, should have essayed the hardships of the Chilkoot trail. It amazed him to learn that already most of their outfit was at Linderman.

"Do you mean to say that you have done all the packing for yourself and your partner?" he inquired.

"N--no. Old Jerry totters across with a package of soda-crackers once in a while. You must have heard him; he creaks like a gate.

Of course he eats up all the crackers before he gets to Linderman and then gorges himself on the heavy grub that I've lugged over, but in spite of that we've managed to make pretty good time."

After a moment of meditation he continued: "Say! You ought to see that old buzzard eat! It's disgusting, but it's interesting. It ain't so much the expense that I care about as the work. Old Jerry ought to be in an inst.i.tution--some place where they've got wheel- chairs and a big market-garden. But he's plumb helpless, so I can't cut him loose and let him bleach his bones in a strange land. I haven't got the heart."

They were resting at the Long Lake outlet, some time later, when the old man inquired:

"I presume you've got a camp at Linderman, eh?"

"No. I have some blankets cached there and I sleep out whenever I can't make the round trip."

"Round trip? Round trip in one day? Why, that's thirty miles!"

"Real miles, too. This country makes a man of a fellow. I wouldn't mind sleeping out if I were sure of a hot meal once in a while, but money is no good this side of the Summit, and these people won't even let a stranger use their stoves."

"You can't last long at that, my boy."

Phillips smiled cheerfully. "I don't have to last much longer. I sent a thousand dollars to Dyea this morning by Jim McCaskey, one of the fellows I live with. He's going to put it in Healy he's altogether different to us tenderfeet. He made me rather ashamed of myself."