Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least not
until deprived of them. He has no conception of the subtle atmosphere
exhaled by the sex feminine, so long as he bathes in it; but let it be
withdrawn, and an ever-growing void begins to manifest itself in his
existence, and he becomes hungry, in a vague sort of way, for a
something so indefinite that he cannot characterize it. If his comrades
have no more experience than himself, they will shake their heads
dubiously and dose him with strong physic. But the hunger will continue
and become stronger; he will lose interest in the things of his
everyday life and wax morbid; and one day, when the emptiness has
become unbearable, a revelation will dawn upon him.
In the Yukon country, when this comes to pass, the man usually
provisions a poling boat, if it is summer, and if winter, harnesses his
dogs, and heads for the Southland. A few months later, supposing him to
be possessed of a faith in the country, he returns with a wife to share
with him in that faith, and incidentally in his hardships. This but
serves to show the innate selfishness of man. It also brings us to the
trouble of 'Scruff' Mackenzie, which occurred in the old days, before
the country was stampeded and staked by a tidal-wave of the
che-cha-quas, and when the Klondike's only claim to notice was its
salmon fisheries.
'Scruff' Mackenzie bore the earmarks of a frontier birth and a frontier
life.
His face was stamped with twenty-five years of incessant struggle with
Nature in her wildest moods,--the last two, the wildest and hardest of
all, having been spent in groping for the gold which lies in the shadow
of the Arctic Circle. When the yearning sickness came upon him, he was
not surprised, for he was a practical man and had seen other men thus
stricken. But he showed no sign of his malady, save that he worked
harder. All summer he fought mosquitoes and washed the sure-thing bars
of the Stuart River for a double grubstake. Then he floated a raft of
houselogs down the Yukon to Forty Mile, and put together as comfortable
a cabin as any the camp could boast of. In fact, it showed such cozy
promise that many men elected to be his partner and to come and live
with him. But he crushed their aspirations with rough speech, peculiar
for its strength and brevity, and bought a double supply of grub from
the trading-post.
As has been noted, 'Scruff' Mackenzie was a practical man. If he wanted
a thing he usually got it, but in doing so, went no farther out of his
way than was necessary. Though a son of toil and hardship, he was
averse to a journey of six hundred miles on the ice, a second of two
thousand miles on the ocean, and still a third thousand miles or so to
his last stamping-grounds,--all in the mere quest of a wife. Life was
too short. So he rounded up his dogs, lashed a curious freight to his
sled, and faced across the divide whose westward slopes were drained by
the head-reaches of the Tanana.
He was a sturdy traveler, and his wolf-dogs could work harder and
travel farther on less grub than any other team in the Yukon. Three
weeks later he strode into a hunting-camp of the Upper Tanana Sticks.
They marveled at his temerity; for they had a bad name and had been
known to kill white men for as trifling a thing as a sharp ax or a
broken rifle.
But he went among them single-handed, his bearing being a delicious
composite of humility, familiarity, sang-froid, and insolence. It
required a deft hand and deep knowledge of the barbaric mind
effectually to handle such diverse weapons; but he was a past-master in
the art, knowing when to conciliate and when to threaten with Jove-like
wrath.
He first made obeisance to the Chief Thling-Tinneh, presenting him with
a couple of pounds of black tea and tobacco, and thereby winning his
most cordial regard. Then he mingled with the men and maidens, and that
night gave a potlach.
The snow was beaten down in the form of an oblong, perhaps a hundred
feet in length and quarter as many across. Down the center a long fire
was built, while either side was carpeted with spruce boughs. The
lodges were forsaken, and the fivescore or so members of the tribe gave
tongue to their folk-chants in honor of their guest.
'Scruff' Mackenzie's two years had taught him the not many hundred
words of their vocabulary, and he had likewise conquered their deep
gutturals, their Japanese idioms, constructions, and honorific and
agglutinative particles. So he made oration after their manner,
satisfying their instinctive poetry-love with crude flights of
eloquence and metaphorical contortions. After Thling-Tinneh and the
Shaman had responded in kind, he made trifling presents to the menfolk,
joined in their singing, and proved an expert in their fifty-two-stick
gambling game.
And they smoked his tobacco and were pleased. But among the younger men
there was a defiant attitude, a spirit of braggadocio, easily
understood by the raw insinuations of the toothless squaws and the
giggling of the maidens. They had known few white men, 'Sons of the
Wolf,' but from those few they had learned strange lessons.
Nor had 'Scruff' Mackenzie, for all his seeming carelessness, failed to
note these phenomena. In truth, rolled in his sleeping-furs, he thought
it all over, thought seriously, and emptied many pipes in mapping out a
campaign. One maiden only had caught his fancy,--none other than
Zarinska, daughter to the chief. In features, form, and poise,
answering more nearly to the white man's type of beauty, she was almost
an anomaly among her tribal sisters. He would possess her, make her his
wife, and name her--ah, he would name her Gertrude! Having thus
decided, he rolled over on his side and dropped off to sleep, a true
son of his all-conquering race, a Samson among the Philistines.
It was slow work and a stiff game; but 'Scruff' Mackenzie maneuvered
cunningly, with an unconcern which served to puzzle the Sticks. He took
great care to impress the men that he was a sure shot and a mighty
hunter, and the camp rang with his plaudits when he brought down a
moose at six hundred yards. Of a night he visited in Chief
Thling-Tinneh's lodge of moose and cariboo skins, talking big and
dispensing tobacco with a lavish hand. Nor did he fail to likewise
honor the Shaman; for he realized the medicine-man's influence with his
people, and was anxious to make of him an ally. But that worthy was
high and mighty, refused to be propitiated, and was unerringly marked
down as a prospective enemy.
Though no opening presented for an interview with Zarinska, Mackenzie
stole many a glance to her, giving fair warning of his intent. And well
she knew, yet coquettishly surrounded herself with a ring of women
whenever the men were away and he had a chance. But he was in no hurry;
besides, he knew she could not help but think of him, and a few days of
such thought would only better his suit.
At last, one night, when he deemed the time to be ripe, he abruptly
left the chief's smoky dwelling and hastened to a neighboring lodge. As
usual, she sat with squaws and maidens about her, all engaged in sewing
moccasins and beadwork. They laughed at his entrance, and badinage,
which linked Zarinska to him, ran high. But one after the other they
were unceremoniously bundled into the outer snow, whence they hurried
to spread the tale through all the camp.
His cause was well pleaded, in her tongue, for she did not know his,
and at the end of two hours he rose to go.
'So Zarinska will come to the White Man's lodge? Good! I go now to have
talk with thy father, for he may not be so minded. And I will give him
many tokens; but he must not ask too much. If he say no? Good! Zarinska
shall yet come to the White Man's lodge.'
He had already lifted the skin flap to depart, when a low exclamation
brought him back to the girl's side. She brought herself to her knees
on the bearskin mat, her face aglow with true Eve-light, and shyly
unbuckled his heavy belt. He looked down, perplexed, suspicious, his
ears alert for the slightest sound without.
But her next move disarmed his doubt, and he smiled with pleasure. She
took from her sewing bag a moosehide sheath, brave with bright
beadwork, fantastically designed. She drew his great hunting-knife,
gazed reverently along the keen edge, half tempted to try it with her
thumb, and shot it into place in its new home. Then she slipped the
sheath along the belt to its customary resting-place, just above the
hip. For all the world, it was like a scene of olden time,--a lady and
her knight.
Mackenzie drew her up full height and swept her red lips with his
moustache, the, to her, foreign caress of the Wolf. It was a meeting of
the stone age and the steel; but she was none the less a woman, as her
crimson cheeks and the luminous softness of her eyes attested.
There was a thrill of excitement in the air as 'Scruff' Mackenzie, a
bulky bundle under his arm, threw open the flap of Thling-Tinneh's
tent. Children were running about in the open, dragging dry wood to the
scene of the potlach, a babble of women's voices was growing in
intensity, the young men were consulting in sullen groups, while from
the Shaman's lodge rose the eerie sounds of an incantation.
The chief was alone with his blear-eyed wife, but a glance sufficed to
tell Mackenzie that the news was already told. So he plunged at once
into the business, shifting the beaded sheath prominently to the fore
as advertisement of the betrothal.
'O Thling-Tinneh, mighty chief of the Sticks And the land of the
Tanana, ruler of the salmon and the bear, the moose and the cariboo!
The White Man is before thee with a great purpose. Many moons has his
lodge been empty, and he is lonely. And his heart has eaten itself in
silence, and grown hungry for a woman to sit beside him in his lodge,
to meet him from the hunt with warm fire and good food. He has heard
strange things, the patter of baby moccasins and the sound of
children's voices. And one night a vision came upon him, and he beheld
the Raven, who is thy father, the great Raven, who is the father of all
the Sticks. And the Raven spake to the lonely White Man, saying: "Bind
thou thy moccasins upon thee, and gird thy snow-shoes on, and lash thy
sled with food for many sleeps and fine tokens for the Chief
Thling-Tinneh. For thou shalt turn thy face to where the mid-spring sun
is wont to sink below the land and journey to this great chief's
hunting-grounds. There thou shalt make big presents, and Thling-Tinneh,
who is my son, shall become to thee as a father. In his lodge there is
a maiden into whom I breathed the breath of life for thee. This maiden
shalt thou take to wife." 'O Chief, thus spake the great Raven; thus do
I lay many presents at thy feet; thus am I come to take thy daughter!'
The old man drew his furs about him with crude consciousness of
royalty, but delayed reply while a youngster crept in, delivered a
quick message to appear before the council, and was gone.
'O White Man, whom we have named Moose-Killer, also known as the Wolf,
and the Son of the Wolf! We know thou comest of a mighty race; we are
proud to have thee our potlach-guest; but the king-salmon does not mate
with the dogsalmon, nor the Raven with the Wolf.' 'Not so!' cried
Mackenzie. 'The daughters of the Raven have I met in the camps of the
Wolf,--the squaw of Mortimer, the squaw of Tregidgo, the squaw of
Barnaby, who came two ice-runs back, and I have heard of other squaws,
though my eyes beheld them not.' 'Son, your words are true; but it were
evil mating, like the water with the sand, like the snow-flake with the
sun. But met you one Mason and his squaw' No?
He came ten ice-runs ago,--the first of all the Wolves. And with him
there was a mighty man, straight as a willow-shoot, and tall; strong as
the bald-faced grizzly, with a heart like the full summer moon; his-'
'Oh!' interrupted Mackenzie, recognizing the well-known Northland
figure, 'Malemute Kid!' 'The same,--a mighty man. But saw you aught of
the squaw? She was full sister to Zarinska.' 'Nay, Chief; but I have
heard. Mason--far, far to the north, a spruce-tree, heavy with years,
crushed out his life beneath. But his love was great, and he had much
gold. With this, and her boy, she journeyed countless sleeps toward the
winter's noonday sun, and there she yet lives,--no biting frost, no
snow, no summer's midnight sun, no winter's noonday night.'
A second messenger interrupted with imperative summons from the council.
As Mackenzie threw him into the snow, he caught a glimpse of the
swaying forms before the council-fire, heard the deep basses of the men
in rhythmic chant, and knew the Shaman was fanning the anger of his
people. Time pressed. He turned upon the chief.
'Come! I wish thy child. And now, see! Here are tobacco, tea, many cups
of sugar, warm blankets, handkerchiefs, both good and large; and here,
a true rifle, with many bullets and much powder.' 'Nay,' replied the
old man, struggling against the great wealth spread before him. 'Even
now are my people come together. They will not have this marriage.'
'But thou art chief.' 'Yet do my young men rage because the Wolves have
taken their maidens so that they may not marry.' 'Listen, O
Thling-Tinneh! Ere the night has passed into the day, the Wolf shall
face his dogs to the Mountains of the East and fare forth to the
Country of the Yukon. And Zarinska shall break trail for his dogs.'
'And ere the night has gained its middle, my young men may fling to the
dogs the flesh of the Wolf, and his bones be scattered in the snow till
the springtime lay them bare.' It was threat and counter-threat.
Mackenzie's bronzed face flushed darkly. He raised his voice. The old
squaw, who till now had sat an impassive spectator, made to creep by
him for the door.
The song of the men broke suddenly and there was a hubbub of many
voices as he whirled the old woman roughly to her couch of skins.
'Again I cry--listen, O Thling-Tinneh! The Wolf dies with teeth
fast-locked, and with him there shall sleep ten of thy strongest
men,--men who are needed, for the hunting is not begun, and the fishing
is not many moons away. And again, of what profit should I die? I know
the custom of thy people; thy share of my wealth shall be very small.
Grant me thy child, and it shall all be thine. And yet again, my
brothers will come, and they are many, and their maws are never filled;
and the daughters of the Raven shall bear children in the lodges of the
Wolf. My people are greater than thy people. It is destiny. Grant, and
all this wealth is thine.' Moccasins were crunching the snow without.
Mackenzie threw his rifle to cock, and loosened the twin Colts in his
belt.
'Grant, O Chief!' 'And yet will my people say no.' 'Grant, and the
wealth is thine. Then shall I deal with thy people after.' 'The Wolf
will have it so. I will take his tokens,--but I would warn him.'
Mackenzie passed over the goods, taking care to clog the rifle's
ejector, and capping the bargain with a kaleidoscopic silk kerchief.
The Shaman and half a dozen young braves entered, but he shouldered
boldly among them and passed out.
'Pack!' was his laconic greeting to Zarinska as he passed her lodge and
hurried to harness his dogs. A few minutes later he swept into the
council at the head of the team, the woman by his side. He took his
place at the upper end of the oblong, by the side of the chief. To his
left, a step to the rear, he stationed Zarinska, her proper place.
Besides, the time was ripe for mischief, and there was need to guard
his back.
On either side, the men crouched to the fire, their voices lifted in a
folk-chant out of the forgotten past. Full of strange, halting cadences
and haunting recurrences, it was not beautiful. 'Fearful' may
inadequately express it. At the lower end, under the eye of the Shaman,
danced half a score of women. Stern were his reproofs of those who did
not wholly abandon themselves to the ecstasy of the rite. Half hidden
in their heavy masses of raven hair, all dishevelled and falling to
their waists, they slowly swayed to and fro, their forms rippling to an
ever-changing rhythm.
It was a weird scene; an anachronism. To the south, the nineteenth
century was reeling off the few years of its last decade; here
flourished man primeval, a shade removed from the prehistoric
cave-dweller, forgotten fragment of the Elder World. The tawny
wolf-dogs sat between their skin-clad masters or fought for room, the
firelight cast backward from their red eyes and dripping fangs. The
woods, in ghostly shroud, slept on unheeding.
The White Silence, for the moment driven to the rimming forest, seemed
ever crushing inward; the stars danced with great leaps, as is their
wont in the time of the Great Cold; while the Spirits of the Pole
trailed their robes of glory athwart the heavens.
'Scruff' Mackenzie dimly realized the wild grandeur of the setting as
his eyes ranged down the fur-fringed sides in quest of missing faces.
They rested for a moment on a newborn babe, suckling at its mother's
naked breast. It was forty below,--seven and odd degrees of frost. He
thought of the tender women of his own race and smiled grimly. Yet from
the loins of some such tender woman had he sprung with a kingly
inheritance,--an inheritance which gave to him and his dominance over
the land and sea, over the animals and the peoples of all the zones.
Single-handed against fivescore, girt by the Arctic winter, far from
his own, he felt the prompting of his heritage, the desire to possess,
the wild danger--love, the thrill of battle, the power to conquer or to
die.
The singing and the dancing ceased, and the Shaman flared up in rude
eloquence.
Through the sinuosities of their vast mythology, he worked cunningly
upon the credulity of his people. The case was strong. Opposing the
creative principles as embodied in the Crow and the Raven, he
stigmatized Mackenzie as the Wolf, the fighting and the destructive
principle. Not only was the combat of these forces spiritual, but men
fought, each to his totem. They were the children of Jelchs, the Raven,
the Promethean fire-bringer; Mackenzie was the child of the Wolf, or in
other words, the Devil. For them to bring a truce to this perpetual
warfare, to marry their daughters to the arch-enemy, were treason and
blasphemy of the highest order. No phrase was harsh nor figure vile
enough in branding Mackenzie as a sneaking interloper and emissary of
Satan. There was a subdued, savage roar in the deep chests of his
listeners as he took the swing of his peroration.
'Aye, my brothers, Jelchs is all-powerful! Did he not bring
heaven-borne fire that we might be warm? Did he not draw the sun, moon,
and stars, from their holes that we might see? Did he not teach us that
we might fight the Spirits of Famine and of Frost? But now Jelchs is
angry with his children, and they are grown to a handful, and he will
not help.
'For they have forgotten him, and done evil things, and trod bad
trails, and taken his enemies into their lodges to sit by their fires.
And the Raven is sorrowful at the wickedness of his children; but when
they shall rise up and show they have come back, he will come out of
the darkness to aid them. O brothers! the Fire-Bringer has whispered
messages to thy Shaman; the same shall ye hear. Let the young men take
the young women to their lodges; let them fly at the throat of the
Wolf; let them be undying in their enmity! Then shall their women
become fruitful and they shall multiply into a mighty people! And the
Raven shall lead great tribes of their fathers and their fathers'
fathers from out of the North; and they shall beat back the Wolves till
they are as last year's campfires; and they shall again come to rule
over all the land! 'Tis the message of Jelchs, the Raven.' This
foreshadowing of the Messiah's coming brought a hoarse howl from the
Sticks as they leaped to their feet. Mackenzie slipped the thumbs of
his mittens and waited. There was a clamor for the 'Fox,' not to be
stilled till one of the young men stepped forward to speak.
'Brothers! The Shaman has spoken wisely. The Wolves have taken our
women, and our men are childless. We are grown to a handful. The Wolves
have taken our warm furs and given for them evil spirits which dwell in
bottles, and clothes which come not from the beaver or the lynx, but
are made from the grass.
And they are not warm, and our men die of strange sicknesses. I, the
Fox, have taken no woman to wife; and why? Twice have the maidens which
pleased me gone to the camps of the Wolf. Even now have I laid by skins
of the beaver, of the moose, of the cariboo, that I might win favor in
the eyes of Thling-Tinneh, that I might marry Zarinska, his daughter.
Even now are her snow-shoes bound to her feet, ready to break trail for
the dogs of the Wolf. Nor do I speak for myself alone.
As I have done, so has the Bear. He, too, had fain been the father of
her children, and many skins has he cured thereto. I speak for all the
young men who know not wives. The Wolves are ever hungry. Always do
they take the choice meat at the killing. To the Ravens are left the
leavings.
'There is Gugkla,' he cried, brutally pointing out one of the women,
who was a cripple.
'Her legs are bent like the ribs of a birch canoe. She cannot gather
wood nor carry the meat of the hunters. Did the Wolves choose her?'
'Ai! ai!' vociferated his tribesmen.
'There is Moyri, whose eyes are crossed by the Evil Spirit. Even the
babes are affrighted when they gaze upon her, and it is said the
bald-face gives her the trail.
'Was she chosen?' Again the cruel applause rang out.
'And there sits Pischet. She does not hearken to my words. Never has
she heard the cry of the chit-chat, the voice of her husband, the
babble of her child.
'She lives in the White Silence. Cared the Wolves aught for her? No!
Theirs is the choice of the kill; ours is the leavings.
'Brothers, it shall not be! No more shall the Wolves slink among our
campfires. The time is come.' A great streamer of fire, the aurora
borealis, purple, green, and yellow, shot across the zenith, bridging
horizon to horizon. With head thrown back and arms extended, he swayed
to his climax.
'Behold! The spirits of our fathers have arisen and great deeds are
afoot this night!' He stepped back, and another young man somewhat
diffidently came forward, pushed on by his comrades. He towered a full
head above them, his broad chest defiantly bared to the frost. He swung
tentatively from one foot to the other.
Words halted upon his tongue, and he was ill at ease. His face was
horrible to look upon, for it had at one time been half torn away by
some terrific blow. At last he struck his breast with his clenched
fist, drawing sound as from a drum, and his voice rumbled forth as does
the surf from an ocean cavern.
'I am the Bear,--the Silver-Tip and the Son of the Silver-Tip! When my
voice was yet as a girl's, I slew the lynx, the moose, and the cariboo;
when it whistled like the wolverines from under a cache, I crossed the
Mountains of the South and slew three of the White Rivers; when it
became as the roar of the Chinook, I met the bald-faced grizzly, but
gave no trail.' At this he paused, his hand significantly sweeping
across his hideous scars.
'I am not as the Fox. My tongue is frozen like the river. I cannot make
great talk. My words are few. The Fox says great deeds are afoot this
night. Good! Talk flows from his tongue like the freshets of the
spring, but he is chary of deeds.
'This night shall I do battle with the Wolf. I shall slay him, and
Zarinska shall sit by my fire. The Bear has spoken.' Though pandemonium
raged about him, 'Scruff' Mackenzie held his ground.
Aware how useless was the rifle at close quarters, he slipped both
holsters to the fore, ready for action, and drew his mittens till his
hands were barely shielded by the elbow gauntlets. He knew there was no
hope in attack en masse, but true to his boast, was prepared to die
with teeth fast-locked. But the Bear restrained his comrades, beating
back the more impetuous with his terrible fist. As the tumult began to
die away, Mackenzie shot a glance in the direction of Zarinska. It was
a superb picture. She was leaning forward on her snow-shoes, lips apart
and nostrils quivering, like a tigress about to spring. Her great black
eyes were fixed upon her tribesmen, in fear and defiance. So extreme
the tension, she had forgotten to breathe. With one hand pressed
spasmodically against her breast and the other as tightly gripped about
the dog-whip, she was as turned to stone. Even as he looked, relief
came to her. Her muscles loosened; with a heavy sigh she settled back,
giving him a look of more than love--of worship.
Thling-Tinneh was trying to speak, but his people drowned his voice.
Then Mackenzie strode forward. The Fox opened his mouth to a piercing
yell, but so savagely did Mackenzie whirl upon him that he shrank back,
his larynx all agurgle with suppressed sound. His discomfiture was
greeted with roars of laughter, and served to soothe his fellows to a
listening mood.
'Brothers! The White Man, whom ye have chosen to call the Wolf, came
among you with fair words. He was not like the Innuit; he spoke not
lies. He came as a friend, as one who would be a brother. But your men
have had their say, and the time for soft words is past.
'First, I will tell you that the Shaman has an evil tongue and is a
false prophet, that the messages he spake are not those of the
Fire-Bringer. His ears are locked to the voice of the Raven, and out of
his own head he weaves cunning fancies, and he has made fools of you.
He has no power.
'When the dogs were killed and eaten, and your stomachs were heavy with
untanned hide and strips of moccasins; when the old men died, and the
old women died, and the babes at the dry dugs of the mothers died; when
the land was dark, and ye perished as do the salmon in the fall; aye,
when the famine was upon you, did the Shaman bring reward to your
hunters? did the Shaman put meat in your bellies? Again I say, the
Shaman is without power. Thus I spit upon his face!' Though taken aback
by the sacrilege, there was no uproar. Some of the women were even
frightened, but among the men there was an uplifting, as though in
preparation or anticipation of the miracle. All eyes were turned upon
the two central figures. The priest realized the crucial moment, felt
his power tottering, opened his mouth in denunciation, but fled
backward before the truculent advance, upraised fist, and flashing
eyes, of Mackenzie. He sneered and resumed.
'Was I stricken dead? Did the lightning burn me? Did the stars fall
from the sky and crush me? Pish! I have done with the dog. Now will I
tell you of my people, who are the mightiest of all the peoples, who
rule in all the lands. At first we hunt as I hunt, alone.
'After that we hunt in packs; and at last, like the cariboo-run, we
sweep across all the land.
'Those whom we take into our lodges live; those who will not come die.
Zarinska is a comely maiden, full and strong, fit to become the mother
of Wolves. Though I die, such shall she become; for my brothers are
many, and they will follow the scent of my dogs.
'Listen to the Law of the Wolf: Whoso taketh the life of one Wolf, the
forfeit shall ten of his people pay. In many lands has the price been
paid; in many lands shall it yet be paid.
'Now will I deal with the Fox and the Bear. It seems they have cast
eyes upon the maiden. So? Behold, I have bought her! Thling-Tinneh
leans upon the rifle; the goods of purchase are by his fire. Yet will I
be fair to the young men. To the Fox, whose tongue is dry with many
words, will I give of tobacco five long plugs.
'Thus will his mouth be wetted that he may make much noise in the
council. But to the Bear, of whom I am well proud, will I give of
blankets two; of flour, twenty cups; of tobacco, double that of the
Fox; and if he fare with me over the Mountains of the East, then will I
give him a rifle, mate to Thling-Tinneh's. If not? Good! The Wolf is
weary of speech. Yet once again will he say the Law: Whoso taketh the
life of one Wolf, the forfeit shall ten of his people pay.'
Mackenzie smiled as he stepped back to his old position, but at heart
he was full of trouble. The night was yet dark. The girl came to his
side, and he listened closely as she told of the Bear's battle-tricks
with the knife.
The decision was for war. In a trice, scores of moccasins were widening
the space of beaten snow by the fire. There was much chatter about the
seeming defeat of the Shaman; some averred he had but withheld his
power, while others conned past events and agreed with the Wolf. The
Bear came to the center of the battle-ground, a long naked
hunting-knife of Russian make in his hand. The Fox called attention to
Mackenzie's revolvers; so he stripped his belt, buckling it about
Zarinska, into whose hands he also entrusted his rifle. She shook her
head that she could not shoot,--small chance had a woman to handle such
precious things.
'Then, if danger come by my back, cry aloud, "My husband!" No; thus,
"My husband!"'
He laughed as she repeated it, pinched her cheek, and reentered the
circle. Not only in reach and stature had the Bear the advantage of
him, but his blade was longer by a good two inches. 'Scruff' Mackenzie
had looked into the eyes of men before, and he knew it was a man who
stood against him; yet he quickened to the glint of light on the steel,
to the dominant pulse of his race.
Time and again he was forced to the edge of the fire or the deep snow,
and time and again, with the foot tactics of the pugilist, he worked
back to the center. Not a voice was lifted in encouragement, while his
antagonist was heartened with applause, suggestions, and warnings. But
his teeth only shut the tighter as the knives clashed together, and he
thrust or eluded with a coolness born of conscious strength. At first
he felt compassion for his enemy; but this fled before the primal
instinct of life, which in turn gave way to the lust of slaughter. The
ten thousand years of culture fell from him, and he was a cave-dweller,
doing battle for his female.
Twice he pricked the Bear, getting away unscathed; but the third time
caught, and to save himself, free hands closed on fighting hands, and
they came together.
Then did he realize the tremendous strength of his opponent. His
muscles were knotted in painful lumps, and cords and tendons threatened
to snap with the strain; yet nearer and nearer came the Russian steel.
He tried to break away, but only weakened himself. The fur-clad circle
closed in, certain of and anxious to see the final stroke. But with
wrestler's trick, swinging partly to the side, he struck at his
adversary with his head. Involuntarily the Bear leaned back, disturbing
his center of gravity. Simultaneous with this, Mackenzie tripped
properly and threw his whole weight forward, hurling him clear through
the circle into the deep snow. The Bear floundered out and came back
full tilt.
'O my husband!' Zarinska's voice rang out, vibrant with danger.
To the twang of a bow-string, Mackenzie swept low to the ground, and a
bonebarbed arrow passed over him into the breast of the Bear, whose
momentum carried him over his crouching foe. The next instant Mackenzie
was up and about. The bear lay motionless, but across the fire was the
Shaman, drawing a second arrow. Mackenzie's knife leaped short in the
air. He caught the heavy blade by the point. There was a flash of light
as it spanned the fire. Then the Shaman, the hilt alone appearing
without his throat, swayed and pitched forward into the glowing embers.
Click! Click!--the Fox had possessed himself of Thling-Tinneh's rifle
and was vainly trying to throw a shell into place. But he dropped it at
the sound of Mackenzie's laughter.
'So the Fox has not learned the way of the plaything? He is yet a woman.
'Come! Bring it, that I may show thee!' The Fox hesitated.
'Come, I say!' He slouched forward like a beaten cur.
'Thus, and thus; so the thing is done.' A shell flew into place and the
trigger was at cock as Mackenzie brought it to shoulder.
'The Fox has said great deeds were afoot this night, and he spoke true.
There have been great deeds, yet least among them were those of the
Fox. Is he still intent to take Zarinska to his lodge? Is he minded to
tread the trail already broken by the Shaman and the Bear?
'No? Good!'
Mackenzie turned contemptuously and drew his knife from the priest's
throat.
'Are any of the young men so minded? If so, the Wolf will take them by
two and three till none are left. No? Good! Thling-Tinneh, I now give
thee this rifle a second time. If, in the days to come, thou shouldst
journey to the Country of the Yukon, know thou that there shall always
be a place and much food by the fire of the Wolf. The night is now
passing into the day. I go, but I may come again. And for the last
time, remember the Law of the Wolf!' He was supernatural in their sight
as he rejoined Zarinska. She took her place at the head of the team,
and the dogs swung into motion. A few moments later they were swallowed
up by the ghostly forest. Till now Mackenzie had waited; he slipped
into his snow-shoes to follow.
'Has the Wolf forgotten the five long plugs?' Mackenzie turned upon the
Fox angrily; then the humor of it struck him.
'I will give thee one short plug.' 'As the Wolf sees fit,' meekly
responded the Fox, stretching out his hand.