One night, many weeks later, Malemute Kid and Prince fell to solving
chess problems from the torn page of an ancient magazine. The Kid had
just returned from his Bonanza properties and was resting up
preparatory to a long moose hunt.
Prince, too, had been on creek and trail nearly all winter, and had
grown hungry for a blissful week of cabin life.
'Interpose the black knight, and force the king. No, that won't do.
See, the next move-'
'Why advance the pawn two squares? Bound to take it in transit, and
with the bishop out of the way-' 'But hold on! That leaves a hole,
and-' 'No; it's protected. Go ahead! You'll see it works.' It was very
interesting. Somebody knocked at the door a second time before Malemute
Kid said, 'Come in.' The door swung open. Something staggered in.
Prince caught one square look and sprang to his feet. The horror in his
eyes caused Malemute Kid to whirl about; and he, too, was startled,
though he had seen bad things before. The thing tottered blindly toward
them. Prince edged away till he reached the nail from which hung his
Smith & Wesson.
'My God! what is it?' he whispered to Malemute Kid.
'Don't know. Looks like a case of freezing and no grub,' replied the
Kid, sliding away in the opposite direction. 'Watch out! It may be
mad,' he warned, coming back from closing the door.
The thing advanced to the table. The bright flame of the slush lamp
caught its eye. It was amused, and gave voice to eldritch cackles which
betokened mirth.
Then, suddenly, he--for it was a man--swayed back, with a hitch to his
skin trousers, and began to sing a chantey, such as men lift when they
swing around the capstan circle and the sea snorts in their ears:
Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er, Pull! my bully boys! Pull! D'yeh
want--to know de captain ru-uns her? Pull! my bully boys! Pull!
Jon-a-than Jones ob South Caho-li-in-a, Pull! my bully. He broke off
abruptly, tottered with a wolfish snarl to the meat shelf, and before
they could intercept was tearing with his teeth at a chunk of raw
bacon. The struggle was fierce between him and Malemute Kid; but his
mad strength left him as suddenly as it had come, and he weakly
surrendered the spoil. Between them they got him upon a stool, where he
sprawled with half his body across the table.
A small dose of whiskey strengthened him, so that he could dip a spoon
into the sugar caddy which Malemute Kid placed before him. After his
appetite had been somewhat cloyed, Prince, shuddering as he did so,
passed him a mug of weak beef tea.
The creature's eyes were alight with a somber frenzy, which blazed and
waned with every mouthful. There was very little skin to the face. The
face, for that matter, sunken and emaciated, bore little likeness to
human countenance.
Frost after frost had bitten deeply, each depositing its stratum of
scab upon the half-healed scar that went before. This dry, hard surface
was of a bloody-black color, serrated by grievous cracks wherein the
raw red flesh peeped forth. His skin garments were dirty and in
tatters, and the fur of one side was singed and burned away, showing
where he had lain upon his fire.
Malemute Kid pointed to where the sun-tanned hide had been cut away,
strip by strip--the grim signature of famine.
'Who--are--you?' slowly and distinctly enunciated the Kid.
The man paid no heed.
'Where do you come from?' 'Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er,' was the
quavering response.
'Don't doubt the beggar came down the river,' the Kid said, shaking him
in an endeavor to start a more lucid flow of talk.
But the man shrieked at the contact, clapping a hand to his side in
evident pain. He rose slowly to his feet, half leaning on the table.
'She laughed at me--so--with the hate in her eye; and
she--would--not--come.' His voice died away, and he was sinking back
when Malemute Kid gripped him by the wrist and shouted, 'Who? Who would
not come?' 'She, Unga. She laughed, and struck at me, so, and so. And
then-' 'Yes?'
'And then--' 'And then what?' 'And then he lay very still in the snow a
long time. He is-still in--the--snow.' The two men looked at each other
helplessly.
'Who is in the snow?' 'She, Unga. She looked at me with the hate in her
eye, and then--'
'Yes, yes.' 'And then she took the knife, so; and once, twice--she was
weak. I traveled very slow. And there is much gold in that place, very
much gold.' 'Where is Unga?' For all Malemute Kid knew, she might be
dying a mile away. He shook the man savagely, repeating again and
again, 'Where is Unga? Who is Unga?' 'She--is--in--the--snow.' 'Go on!'
The Kid was pressing his wrist cruelly.
'So--I--would--be--in--the snow--but--I--had--a--debt--to--pay.
It--was--heavy--I--had--a-debt--to--pay--a--debt--to--pay I--had-' The
faltering monosyllables ceased as he fumbled in his pouch and drew
forth a buckskin sack. 'A--debt--to--pay--five--pounds--of--gold-grub--
stake--Mal--e--mute--Kid--I--y--' The exhausted head dropped upon the
table; nor could Malemute Kid rouse it again.
'It's Ulysses,' he said quietly, tossing the bag of dust on the table.
'Guess it's all day with Axel Gunderson and the woman. Come on, let's
get him between the blankets. He's Indian; he'll pull through and tell
a tale besides.' As they cut his garments from him, near his right
breast could be seen two unhealed, hard-lipped knife thrusts.