River Falls journal. [volume], January 07, 1915, Page PAGE SIX, Image 6

About River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019

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PAGE SIX
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PROLOGUE.
Itisthe“Hi! You! Mush
on! Chook! Chook!*’ spirit
—the vim, dash and “go" of
a hustling mining country
like the Yukon —that Jack
London has put into these
Smoke Beliew stories. Mr.
London writes of real men
—men whose daily job is to
join issue with danger and
sudden death with never a
whimper. You can't help
feeling the thrill that runs
tn the veins of these iron
muscled giants of the gold
fields, particularly since
Jack London, a good, husky
figure of a man himself,
has been through many of
the adventures he writes
about and has the knack of
taking you along and of
making you “hit the trail ”
with him. “Smoke," once a
tenderfoot, now a sure
enough sour dough, has the
test of his life in one story
and is saved from defeat by
a mere girl, in another he
drops, as he supposes, to sud
den death to save the life of
a friend. Beyond question
Jack London has struck the
rich “mother lode" of fic
tion in these wonderful sto
ries.
CHAPTER I.
The Taste ot the Meat.
IN the beginning he was Christo
pbet Beliew. By the time be was
at college be bad become Chris
Beliew. Later in the bohemian
crowd ot San Francisco he was called
lx it Beliew. And in the end be was
known bj no other name than Smoke
Beliew Nor would it have happened
bad he not bad a fond mother and an
iron uncle and had lie not received a
letter from Gillet Bellamy.
"1 have just seen a copy of the Bi I
low,” Gillet wrote from Paris. “Ot
course O’Hara will succeed with it
But he’s missing some tricks. Go
down and see him. Let him think
they’re your own suggestions. Above
all. don’t forget to make him tire that
dub who’s doing the musical and art
criticism Another thing. Tell him to
kick around and get some gink to turn
out a live serial and to put into it the
real romance and glamour and color of
ban Francisco. ”
Anu down to the office of the Bil
low went Kit Beliew faithfully to in
struct. O'Hara listened. O’Hara
agreed. O’Hara tired the dub who
wrote criticisms Further, when
O Hara wanted anything no friend
could deny him. Before Kit Beliew
could escape from the office he nad
become an associate editor, had agreed
to write weekly columns of criticism
till some decent pen was found and
had pledged himself to write a weekly
Installment of 10,000 words on the San
Francisco serial- and all this without
pay. The Billow wasn t paying yet
O'Hara explained.
Luckily for Kit be bad his own In
come. Small it was compared with
some, yet it was large enough to en
able him to belong co several clubs
and maintain a studio in the Latin
quarter. Yet be was always broke, for
the Billow, in perennial distress, ab
sorbed his cash as well as his brains
There were the illustrators, who pe
riodicaily refused to illustrate; the
printers, who periodically refused to
print, and the office boy, who frequent
ly refused to officiate. At such times
O’Hara looked at Kit, and Kit did the
rest
When the steamship Excelsior arriv
ed from Alaska, bringing the news of
the Klondike strike that set the conn
try mad. Kit made a purely frivolous
prop< >sition.
-Look nere, O’Hara.” he said. “This
gold rush is going to be big—the days
of ’4b over again. Suppose 1 cover It
for the Billow? I’ll pay my own ex
penses ’
O’Hara shook his bead. “Can’t spare
you from the office. Kit. Then there’s
that serial.”
The next Kit beard of the Klondike
was when he dropped into the club
that afternoon and encountered bis un
cle. “Hello, avuncular relative.” Kit
greeted. “Won’t you join me?”
He ordered a cocktail, but the uncle
glanced with irritated disapproval at
the cocktail and on to his nephew’s
face. John Beliew came of the old
jhard and hardy stock that had crossed
Copyright, 1914, by the Wheeler Syndicate.
th»- plains by ox ream in the fifties
an-1 in him was thi* same nardnesa
and the hardness of a childhood spent
in the conquering ot a new land.
“You’re not living right. Christopher
I’m ashamed of you Your father was
a man. every in< hos him I think he'd
have whaled all this musical and arus
tic tomfoolery out of you.”
“Alas! these degenerate days.” Kit
sighed.
The older man was on the verge ot
choking with wrath, but swallowed it
dow n and managed to articulate. “How
old are you?’
“1 have reason to believe”—
“1 knifw 1 weuty seven You tin
ished college at twenty two. You’ve
dabbied and played and frilled sot five
years. Before God and man. of what
use are you? When I was your age
I had one suit of underclothes I was
riding with the cattle in Coluso. I
was bard as rocks, and I could sleep on
a rock I lived on Jerked beet and
bear meat lam a bettei man physi
cally right now than you are You
weigh about ■ 165 I can throw you
right now or thrash you with my fists.”
“Il doesn’t take a physical prodigy
to mop up cocktails or pink tea ” Kit
murmured deprecatingly “Besides. 1
wasn't brought up right Now, if when
I was a youngster I had taken some of
those intensely masculine vacations
you go in for-I wonder why you didn’t
invite me sometimes?”
The older man looked at his nephew
with unconcealed disgust. “Well, I’m
going to take another one of those
what you call masculine vacations
Suppose I asked you to come along?
Hal and Robert are going in to Klon
dike, and I’m going to see them across
the pass and down to the lakes, then
return”—
He got no further, for the joung man
bad sprung forward and gripped nis
hand “My preserver!”
John Beliew was immediately sus
picious He had not dreamed the in
vitation would be accepted.
“When do we start?”
“It will be a hard trip You’ll be in
ihe way.”
"No, I won t, I’ll work.”
"Each man has to take a year’s sup
plies in with him There’ll be such a
jam the Indian packers won t be able
to handle it Hal and Robert will have
to pack their outfits across themselves
That’s what I'm going along tor-to
help them pack, if you come you’ll
have to do the same.”
"When do we start?’’
“Tomorrow.”
“You needn’-t take it to yourself that
your iectuse has done it,” Kit said at
parting “1 just had to get away
somewhere, anywhere, from O’Hara.”
*******
Kit Beliew landed through the mad
ness of the Dyea beach, congested with
the thousand pound outfits of thou
sands of men. This immense mass of
luggage and food, flung ashore in
tr—Hz r. r.
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A Young Woman Standing In the Door
way Had Caught His Eye.
mountains by the steamers, was begin
ning slowly to dribble up the Dyea
valley and across Chilkoot. it was a
portage of twenty-eight miles and
could be accomplished only cn the
backs ot men
Tenderest of the tenderfeet was Kit
Like many hundreds of others, he car
ried a big revolver swung on a car
fridge nelr. A strapping six foot In
dian passed h u. carrying an unusual-
ly large pack Kit swung tn behind,
admiring the splendid calves ot the
man and the grace and ease with
which he moved along m ler his bur
den The Indian dropped bis pack on
the scales in front of the post, and Kit
joined the group of admiring gold rush
ers who surrounded him The pack
weighed 125 pounds, which fact was
uttered back and forth in tones of awe.
“Going to Lake Lindeman with it.
old man?” Kit asked
The Indian, swelling with pride,
grunted an affirmative.
Here Kit slid out of the conversation.
A young woman standing in the door
way bad caught his eye. Unlike other
women landing from the steamers, she
was neither short skirted nor bloomer
clad. >he was dressed as any woman
traveling anywhere would be ‘lressedL
The might beauty and color of her
oval saw held nim, and he looked over
iong looked till she resented, and her
own eyes, long lashed and dark, met
ms in cool survey. From bis face they
traveled in evident amusement down
to the big revolver at his thigh I'hen
her eyes came back to his, and in them
was amused contempt. She turned to
the man beside her and indicated Kit.
The man glanced him over with the
same amused contempt.
“Chekako.” the girl said
The man. who looked like a tramp In
ms cheap overalls and dilapidated
woolen jacket, grinned dryly, and Kit
felt withered, though be knew not why
"Did you see that man with the
girl?” Kit’s neighbor asked him excit
edly "Know who he is?”
Kit shook his head.
"Cariboo Charley He was just
pointed out to me. He struck it big on
Klondike Old timer. Been on tht
y ukon a dozen years. He's just come
out.”
"What does "chekako’ mean?” Kit
asked
“You’re oue; I’m one,” was the an
swer— “tenderfoot ”
Kit’s first pack was a success Op
to Finnegan’s Crossing they had man
aged to get Indians to carry the 2,500
pound outfit brom that point their
own backs must do the work. They
planned to move forward at the rate
of a mile a day. It looked easy—on
pa per.
Since John Beliew was to stay in
camp and do the cooking, he would be
unable to make more than an occa
sionai pack So to each of the three
young men fell the task of carrying
SOO pounds one mile each day. If they
made fifty pound packs it meant a
daily walk of sixteen miles loaded and
of fifteen miles light, “because we
don't back trip the last time,” Kit ex
plained llie pleasant discovery. Eighty
pound packs meant nineteen miles
travel each day, and 100 pound packs
meant only fifteen miles.
“1 don’t like walking,” said Kit.
"therefore I shall carry 100 pounds.’
He caught the grin of incredulity on
bis uncle’s face and added hastily:
"Of course I shall work up to it i’ll
start with fifty.”
He did and ambled gayly along the
trail. He dropped the sack at the next
camp site and ambled back, it was
easier than he had thought. But two
miles had rubbed off the velvet of his
strength and exposed the underlying
softness. His second pack was sixty
five pounds. It was more difficult, and
he no longer ambled. Several times,
following the custom of all packers, he
sat down on the ground, resting the
pack behind him on a rock or stump
With the third pack he became bold
He fastened the straps to a ninety-five
pound sack of beans and started At
the end of a hundred yards he felt
that he must collapse. He sat down
and mopped his face
“Short hauls and short rests,” be
muttered “That’s the trick.”
Sometimes he did not make a bun
dred yards, and each time he struggled
to his feel for another short haul the
pack became undeniably heavier. He
panted for breath, and the sweat
streamed from him. Before be had cov
ered a quarter of a mile he stripped off
his woolen shirt and hung it on a tree.
A little later he discarded his hat. At
the end of half a mile he decided he
was finished. As he sat and panted
his gaze fell upon the big revolver and
rhe heavy cartridge belt.
“Ten pounds of junk!” he sneered as
ne unbuckled it
Lie did not bother to bang It on a
tree, but tiling it into the underbrush.
His short hauls decreased At times
a hundred feet was ali he could stag
ger, and then the ominous pounding of
his heart agaimV his eardrums and the
sickening tottering of bis knees com
peiled him to rest. And his rests grew
longer But his mind was busy. It
was a twenty eight mile portage, which
represented as many dilys. and this by
ill accounts was the easiest part of it.
“Wait till you get to (’hilkoot,” otb
•ms told him as they rested and talked,
where you climb with hands and feet.”
“Wait till you hit the canyon You’ll
nave io cross a raging torrent on a
sixty foot pine tree No guide ropes,
nothing, and rhe water boiling at the
<ag of rhe log to your knees. If you
ail with a pack on your back there’s
no getting out of the straps You just
stay there and drown.”
He and the sack of beans became a
perambulating tragedy. It reminded
him of the Old Man of the Sea who sat
on Sindbad’s neck. Again and again
he was nearly seduced by the thought
ut abandoning the sack of beans in the
nrusb and ot sneaking around the
•amp to the beach and catching a
steamer for civilization
Before tin- mile pack was ended if
ever a man was a wreck bp was. As
the end of the pack came in sight he
trained himself in desperation gained
he <amp >n<- ami pitched forward on
his face the hearts on his hack It did
tot kill turn but he lay for fifteen min
des hcton* he could summon sufficient
shreds ot strength to release himself
from the straps. Then he became
THE RIVER FALLS JOURNAL
deathly sick anti was so round oy
Robbie, who had similar troubles of
his own
“And I am twenty seven years old
and a man,” he privately assured him
self many times in the days that fol
lowed. There was need for it- At the
end of a week, though be bad suc
ceeded in moving bis SOO pounds for
ward a mile a day, he had lost fifteen
pounds or bis own weight His face
was lean and haggard. All resilience
had gone out of his body and mind
He no longer walked, but plodded, and
on the hack trips, traveling light bis
feet dragged almost as much as when
he was loaded.
He bad become a work animal He
fell asleep over bis food, and his sleep
was heavy and beastly save when he
was aroused, screaming with agony,
by the cramps in his legs. Every part
of him ached He tramped on raw
blisters
When they bad moved the outfit
across the foot logs at the mouth of
the canyon they made a change in
their plans. Word had come across
the pass that at Lake Lindeman the
last available trees for building boats
were being ent. The two cousins, with
tools, whipsaw, blankets and grub on
their backs, went on, leaving Kit and
his uncle to hustle along the outfit
John Bellew now shared the cooking
with Kit, and both packed shoulder to
shoulder Time was flying, and on the
peaks the first snow was falling. To
be caught on the wrong side of the
pass meant a delay of nearly a year.
The older man put his iron back
under 100 pounds. Kit was shocked
but he gritted his teeth and fastened
his own straps to 100 pounds. It
hurt, but he had learned the knack,
and his body, purged of all softness
and fat. was beginning to harden up
with lean and bitter muscle.
Also he observed and devised He
took note of the bead straps worn b\
the Indians and manufactured one foi
himself, which he used in addition to
the shoulder straps. It made things
easier, so that he began the practice
of piling any light, cumbersome piece
of luggage on top. Thus he was soon
able to bend along with 100 pounds in
the straps, fifteen or twenty more ly
ing loosely on top the pack and against
his neck, an ax or a pair of oars in
one hand and in the other the nested
cooking pails of the camp.
But work as they would the toil in
creased. The trail grew more rugged;
iheir packs grew heavier, and each day
saw the snow line dropping down the
mountains, while freight jumped to 60
cents. No word came from the cousins
beyond, so they knew they must be at
work chopping down the standing
trees and whipsawing them into boat
planks.
CHAPTER 11.
The Making of a Man.
JOHN BELLEW grew anxious
Capturing a bunch of Indians
backtripping from Lake Linde
man. be persuaded them to put
then straps on the outfit. They charg
ed 30 cents a pound to carry it to the
summit of Chilkoot, and it nearly
broke him. As it was. some 400
pounds of clothes bags and camp out
tit were not handled. He remained be
bind to move it along, dispatching Kit
with the Indians. At the summit Kit
was to remain, slowly moving bis t m
until overtaken by the 400 pounds w.-ib
which his uncle guaranteed to catch
him.
Kit plodded along the trail with his
Indian packers. At the end of a quar
ter of a mile he desired to rest. But
the Indians kept oil He stayed with
them and kept his place in the line
At the half mile he was convinced that
he was incapable of another step, yet
he gritted his teeth, kept his place and
at the end of the mile was amazed
that he was still alive.
Then, in some strange way, came
v ae ’hing called second wind, and the
next n J le was almost easier than the
first. The third mile nearly killed him.
but. though half delirious with pain
and fatigue, he never whimpered. And
tl'-en when he felt he must surely faint
came the rest. Instead of sitting in
the straps, as was the custom of the
white packers, the Indians slipped out
of the shoulder and head straps and
lay at ease, talking and smoking.
A full half hour passed before they
made another start To Kit’s surprise
be found himself a fresh man. and
“long hauls and long rests” became his
newest motto.
The pitch of Chilkoot was all be bad
heard of it, and many were the occa
sions whpn he climbed with hands as
well as feet. But when he reached
the crest of the divide in the thick of
a driving snow squall it was in the
company of his Indians, and his secret
pride was that he had come through
with them and never squealed and
never lagged.
When he had paid off the Indians
and seen them depart a stormy dark
ness was falling, and he was left alone,
a thousand feet above timber line, on
the backbone of a mountain. Wet to
the waist, famished and exhausted, he
would have given a year’s income for
a fire and a cupful of coffee. Instead,
he ate half a dozen cold flapjacks and
crawled into the folds of the partly un
rolled tent.
In the morning, stiff from his labors
and numb with the frost, he rolled out
of the canvas, ate a couple of pounds
of uncooked bacon, buckled the straps
on a hundred pounds and went down
the rocky way. Several hundred yards
beneath the trail led across a small
glacier and down to Crater lake. Oth
er men packed across the glacier All
that day he dropped his packs at the
glacier’s upfier edge, and by virtue of
the shortness of the pack he put his
straps on 150 pounds each load. His
astonish i< nt at being able to do it
nevp’ ' ’ d
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.
* %
( Continued from page three )
will come through your posterity—“ln
thee and in thy Seed shall all the fami
lies of the earth be blessed.”
God’s due time for bringing this bless
ing was still future; the blessing could
not come until Messiah should come;
but meantime God gave to the natural
seed of Abraham, through Moses, the
Law Covenant, which offered them
eternal life and an inheritance in the
Kingdom if they could keep the Law.
Of course, they could not keep the
Law; for it was the measure of a per
fect man’s ability, and alas! like the
remainder of the world the Israelites
were imperfect—sinners. Nevertheless
the offer and their attempt to keep the
Law brought them great uplift of
heart, so that when Jesus came to
them a considerable number were
ready to receive Him, did receive Him;
and He received them. They became
sons of God, through the begetting of
the Holy Spirit, at Pentecost and after
ward. These were the Spiritual Seed
of Abraham, begotten of the Holy
Spirit, Jesus Himself being the Head.
Israel had been hoping for a share in
Messiah’s Kingdom; and St. Paul ex
plains, “Israel hath not obtained that
which he seeketh for, but the Election
hath obtained it, and the rest were
blinded.” The blinded Israelites are
still cast aside, but not forever. The
Divine blessing shall come to Natural
Israel just as soon as Spiritual Is
rael shall be completed.—Rom. 11:25-34.
The Kingdom Suffereth Violence.
What did the Election obtain? Of
what did the faithful “Israelites in
deed” become heirs by accepting Jesus
and by the Pentecostal blessing? We
answer that they became identified
with Messiah’s Kingdom and heirs, or
inheritors, of the glorious Promise
made to Abraham, that in this King
dom all the families of the earth should
be blessed. But now note that there
were not a sufficient number of Jews
found worthy to complete the Kingdom
class. The Kingdom therefore could
not be inaugurated then. God had
foreseen this and through the Prophet
had promised that some would be gath
ered from the Gentiles to complete
this Kingdom class. The entire work
of the Gospel Age has been the calling
of this “elect” class for the Kingdom.
If we have rightly viewed the matter,
the foreordained number will soon
have been found, the election will be
at an end, the accepted will be glorified
as the Kingdom, and Messiah’s Reign
of Righteousness will begin.
But notice now the course of all be
longing to the Kingdom class, through
out this Age. They are not reigning
with Christ, but suffering with Christ.
Jesus explained this; they are indeed
of the Royal Family, because begot
ten of the Holy Spirit; they are in
deed the Kingdom class, because they
are affiliated with the great King; but
they have not yet entered into their
glory. They will do so only by the
power of the First Resurrection. Thus
it is written, “We must all be
changed,” because “flesh and blood
cannot inherit the Kingdom of God.”
Our Lord Himself was the Pattern,
the Forerunner of all these. After
His consecration and His begetting of
the Holy Spirit, He was tested unto
death, even the death of the cross,
before He experienced His glorious
resurrrection change and ascended
and sat down at the right hand of the
Majesty on High. Similarly all of
His followers, after consecration, must
be tested, their loyalty must be prov
en, before they can share with Him
in “His Resurrection.”
Partly for tue testing of these, their
development takes place in a time
when Satan is the Prince of this
world, and when his power is permit
ted to be exercised against them as
it was exercised against their Lord.
rn bc message to these is, “The King
dom suffereth violence, and the violent
take it by force.” As our Loid suf
fered violence from the Prince of this
world, so will His followers; for “the
disciple is not above his Lord.” His
promise to His followers is, “Be thou
faithful unto death, and I will give
thee a ciown of life.”—Revelation 2:10.
“The World Knoweth Us Not.”
So then we perceive that God’s
Kingdom class, the followers of Jesus,
have been suffering violence, just as
did their Leader, for righteousness’
sake. That the persecutors had not
known and done their evil work inten
tionally, St. Peter intimates when he
says to the Jews, “I wot that ir igno
rance ye did it, as did also your ulers;
for if they had know n, they wo ild not
have crucified the Prince of Life.”
Hence, in due time their blindness shall
be turned away, and they will look
upon Him whom they pierced and
mourn (Zechariah 12:10); and God will
pour upon them the spirit of prayer
and supplication, and forgive them and
make the experience profitable to as
many as shall prove willing.
Meantime, for eighteen centuries, the
Scriptures declare, “The world knoweth
us not, even as it knew Him not.”
God’s saintly ones have not been gen
erally the great, the influential, either
in church or state, just as Jesus and
the Apostles were Lot in their day.
Nevertheless, the Lord knoweth them
that are His. Scattered here and there,
during the past eighteen centuries, He
has been dealing with them, preparing
them, polishing them, fitting them as
jewels. And He tells us that at our
Lord’s Second Coming He will make
up His jewels—they will constitute the
Kingdom class; for “if we suffer with
Him. we shall also reign with Him.”
I am sure you will agree with me
that those whom the Lord has been so
carefully selecting, instructing and pol
ishing in the School of Christ, who
have been so effectively polished with
the trials and disciplines of evil, will
be the very class above all others to
whom the glorious dominion of earth
may well be entrusted without fear.
Only those thoroughly loyal to God and
to principle will be In that class.
Thursday. January 7, 1915
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4* Wednesdays 10 30 to 6 00 4*
4* 4*
4* Inquire at Mrs. Fletcher’s or 4*
4* at the Normal 4»
4* 4»
4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4*4* I* 4* 4*4* *t* 4* 4* 4* *l* *l*
tew
TRY OUR PRIME ROASTS
You will be captivated completely.
Everybody likes our roasts. Why?
That’s easy. Its because they’re al
ways perfect, like roasts should be.
We make no mistakes in meats and
r ur customers make no mistakes
guying of us.
MODEL MEAT MARKET
Vincent Fait, • Proprietor.