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excruciating miles。 A snappy little breeze blew up the inlet and held him
back。 He had a gone feeling at the pit of the stomach； and suffered from
faintness and numbness。 At his command； the man took the baler and
threw salt water into his face。
The Athenian's anchor was up…and…down when they came alongside；
and Churchill was at the end of his last remnant of strength。
〃Stop her！ Stop her！〃 he shouted hoarsely。
〃Important message！ Stop her！〃
Then he dropped his chin on his chest and slept。 When half a dozen
men started to carry him up the gang…plank； he awoke； reached for the grip；
and clung to it like a drowning man。
On deck he became a centre of horror and curiosity。 The clothing in
which he had left White Horse was represented by a few rags； and he was
as frayed as his clothing。 He had travelled for fifty…five hours at the top
notch of endurance。 He had slept six hours in that time； and he was
twenty pounds lighter than when he started。 Face and hands and body
were scratched and bruised； and he could scarcely see。 He tried to stand up；
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but failed； sprawling out on the deck； hanging on to the gripsack； and
delivering his message。
〃Now； put me to bed；〃 he finished； 〃I'll eat when I wake up。〃
They did him honour； carrying him down in his rags and dirt and
depositing him and Bondell's grip in the bridal chamber； which was the
biggest and most luxurious state…room in the ship。 Twice he slept the
clock around； and he had bathed and shaved and eaten and was leaning
over the rail smoking a cigar when the two hundred pilgrims from White
Horse came alongside。
By the time the Athenian arrived in Seattle； Churchill had fully
recuperated； and he went ashore with Bondell's grip in his hand。 He felt
proud of that grip。 To him it stood for achievement and integrity and
trust。 〃I've delivered the goods；〃 was the way he expressed these various
high terms to himself。 It was early in the evening； and he went straight to
Bondell's home。 Louis Bondell was glad to see him； shaking hands with
both hands at the same time and dragging him into the house。
〃Oh； thanks； old man； it was good of you to bring it out；〃 Bondell said
when he received the gripsack。
He tossed it carelessly upon a couch； and Churchill noted with an
appreciative eye the rebound of its weight from the springs。 Bondell was
volleying him with questions。
〃How did you make out？ How're the boys？ What became of Bill
Smithers？ Is Del Bishop still with Pierce？ Did he sell my dogs？ How
did Sulphur Bottom show up？ You're looking fine。 What steamer did
you come out on？〃
To all of which Churchill gave answer； till half an hour had gone by
and the first lull in the conversation had arrived。
〃Hadn't you better take a look at it？〃 he suggested； nodding his head at
the gripsack
〃Oh； it's all right；〃 Bondell answered。 〃Did Mitchell's dump turn out
as much as he expected？〃
〃I think you'd better look at it；〃 Churchill insisted。 〃When I deliver a
thing； I want to be satisfied that it's all right。 There's always the chance
that somebody might have got into it when I was asleep； or something。〃
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〃It's nothing important； old man；〃 Bondell answered； with a laugh。
〃Nothing important；〃 Churchill echoed in a faint； small voice。 Then
he spoke with decision： 〃Louis； what's in that bag？ I want to know。〃
Louis looked at him curiously； then left the room and returned with a
bunch of keys。 He inserted his hand and drew out a heavy Colt's revolver。
Next came out a few boxes of ammunition for the revolver and several
boxes of Winchester cartridges。
Churchill took the gripsack and looked into it。 Then he turned it
upside down and shook it gently。
〃The gun's all rusted；〃 Bondell said。 〃Must have been out in the
rain。〃
〃Yes；〃 Churchill answered。 〃Too bad it got wet。 I guess I was a bit
careless。〃
He got up and went outside。 Ten minutes later Louis Bondell went
out and found him on the steps； sitting down； elbows on knees and chin on
hands； gazing steadfastly out into the darkness。
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TO BUILD A FIRE
Day had broken cold and grey； exceedingly cold and grey； when the
man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth…
bank； where a dim and little…travelled trail led eastward through the fat
spruce timberland。 It was a steep bank； and he paused for breath at the
top； excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch。 It was nine
o'clock。 There was no sun nor hint of sun； though there was not a cloud
in the sky。 It was a clear day； and yet there seemed an intangible pall
over the face of things； a subtle gloom that made the day dark； and that
was due to the absence of sun。 This fact did not worry the man。 He
was used to the lack of sun。 It had been days since he had seen the sun；
and he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful orb； due
south； would just peep above the sky… line and dip immediately from view。
The man flung a look back along the way he had come。 The Yukon
lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of ice。 On top of this ice
were as many feet of snow。 It was all pure white； rolling in gentle
undulations where the ice…jams of the freeze…up had formed。 North and
south； as far as his eye could see； it was unbroken white； save for a dark
hair…line that curved and twisted from around the spruce… covered island to
the south； and that curved and twisted away into the north； where it
disappeared behind another spruce…covered island。 This dark hair…line was
the trailthe main trailthat led south five hundred miles to the Chilcoot
Pass； Dyea； and salt water； and that led north seventy miles to Dawson；
and still on to the north a thousand miles to Nulato； and finally to St。
Michael on Bering Sea； a thousand miles and half a thousand more。
But all thisthe mysterious； far…reaching hairline trail； the absence of
sun from the sky； the tremendous cold； and the strangeness and weirdness
of it allmade no impression on the man。 It was not because he was long
used to it。 He was a new…comer in the land； a chechaquo； and this was
his first winter。 The trouble with him was that he was without
imagination。 He was quick and alert in the things of life； but only in the
things； and not in the significances。 Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty
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odd degrees of frost。 Such fact impressed him as being cold and
uncomfortable； and that was all。 It did not lead him to meditate upon his
frailty as a creature of temperature； and upon man's frailty in general； able
only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold； and from there
on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's
place in the universe。 Fifty degrees below zero stood for a bite of frost
that hurt and that must be guarded against by the use of mittens； ear…flaps；
warm moccasins； and thick socks。 Fifty degrees below zero was to him
just precisely fifty degrees below zero。 That there should be anything
more to it than that was a thought that never entered his head。
As he turned to go on； he spat speculatively。 There was a sharp；
explosive crackle that startled him。 He spat again。 And again； in the air；
before it could fall to the snow； the spittle crackled。 He knew that