The Idaho Republican. [volume], March 18, 1919, Page 6, Image 6

About The Idaho Republican. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1904-1932

Image provided by: Idaho State Historical Society

                
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The While Silence
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a Cold and Mute Witness to Human
* Heroism, Devotion and Tragedy *
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ARMEN won't last more
than a couple of days."
Mason spat out a chunk
of ice and surveyed the
poor animal ruefully, then put her foot
in his mouth and proceeded to bite
out the ice which clustered cruelly be
tween the toes.
"I never saw a dog with a highfa
lutin' name that ever was worth a
rap," be said as he concluded his task
and shoved her aside. "They just fade
away and die under the responsibility.
Did ye ever see one go wrong with a
sensible name like Cassiar, Siwash or
Husky? No, sir! Take a look at Shoo
kum here, he's"—
Snapl The lean brute flashed up,
the white teeth just missing Mason's
throat
"Ye will, w'll ye?" A shrewd clout
behind the ear with the butt of tbe dog
whip stretched tbe animal in the snow,
quivering softly, a yellow slaver drip
ping' from its fangs.
"As I was saying, just look at 8boo
kum here. He's got the spirit. Bet ye
be eats Carmen before the week's out."
"I'll bank another proposition against
that," replied Malemute Kid, reversing
the frozen bread placed before the Are
te thaw. "We'll eat Shookum before
the trip is over. What d' ye say,
ftuth?" 1
Tbe Indian woman settled the coffee
with a piece of ice, glanced from Male
prate Kid to her husband, then at the
dogs, but vouchsafed no reply. It was
snch a palpable truism that none was
necessary. Two hundred miles of un
brekep trail in prospect, with a scant
ftix days' grub for themselves and none
Cor the dogs, could admit no other al
ternative. Tbe two men and the wom
an grouped about the Are and began
their meager meal. The dogs lay in
their harnesses, for it was a midday
halt, aftd watched each mouthful en
viously.
"No more lunches after today," said
Malemute Kid. "And we've got to
keep a close eye on the dogs. They're
getting vicious. They'd Just as soon
pull a rellow down as not if they get a
chance."
"And I was president of an Epworth
once and taught in the Sunday school."
Having irrelevantly delivered himself
of thtB, Mason fell into a dreamy con
templation of his steaming moccasins,
but was aroused by Ruth filling his
cup. "Thank God, we've got slathers
of tea! I've seen it growing down in
Tennessee. What wouldn't I give for
a hot com pone Just now! Never
mind, Ruth. You won't starve much
longer, nor wear moccasins either."
The woman threw off her gloom at
this, and in her eyes welled up a great
love for her white lord, the first white
man she had ever seen, tbe first man
whom she had known to treat a wom
an as something better than a mere
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Stretched the Animal In the 8now, Quivering 8oftiy,
box,
Animal or common beast of burden.
"Yes, Ruth," continued her husband,
having recourse to the macaronic Jar
gon in which it was alone possible for
them to understand each other, "wait
till we clean up and pull for the Out
side. We'll take the white man's ca
noe and go to tbe salt water. Yes, bad
water, rough water—great mountains
dance up and down all the time. And
so big, so far, so far away—you travel
ten sleep, twenty sleep, forty sleep"—
be graphically enumerated the days on
his fingers—"all the time water, bad
water. Then you come to great village,
plenty people, just the same mosqui
toes next summer. Wigwams, oh, so
high—ten, twenty pines. Hi-yu skoo
kum!"
He paused impotently, cast an ap
pealing glance at Malemute Kid, then
laboriously placed the twenty pines
end on end by sign language. Male
mute Kid smiled with cheery cyni
cism, but Ruth's eyes were wide with
wonder and with pleasure, for she half
believed he was jqking, and such con
descension pleased her poor woman's
heart
"And then you step into a
and pouf! up you go." He tossed his
empty cup in the air by way of illus
tration and as he deftly caught it cried:
"And biff! down you come. Ob, great
medicine men! You go Fort Yukon; I
go Arctic City—twenty-five sleep—big
string, all the time—I catch him string.
I say: 'Hello, Ruth! How are ye?*
And you say. 'Is that my good hus
band?' And I say, 'Yes.' And *you
say, 'No can bake good bread; no more
soda.' Then I say: 'Look in cache, un
der flour. Goodby.' You look and
catch plenty soda. All the time you
Fort Yukon, me Arctic City. Hhyu
medicine man!"
Ruth smiled so ingenuously at the
fairy story that both men burst into
laughter. A row among the dogs cut
short tbe wonders of tne Outside, and
by the time the snarling combatants
were separated she had lashed the
sleds and all was ready for the trail.
"Mush! Baldy! Hi! Mush on!" Ma
son worked his whip smartly and as
the dogs whined low in the traces
broke out the sled with tbe gee pole.
Ruth followed with the second team,
leaving Malemute Ivid, who had helped
her start, to bring up the rear. Strong
man, brute that he was, capable of
felling an ox at a blow, he could not
bear to beat the poor animals, but hu
mored them as a dog driver rarely does
—nay, almost wept with them in their
misery.
"Come, mush on there, you poor,
sore footed brutes!" he murmured aft
er several ineffectual attempts to start
the load. But his patience was at
last rewarded, and, though whimper
ing with pain, they hastened to Jo* ,
their fellows.
No more conversation. The toll or
the trail will not permit euch extra**
agance. And of all deadening labor*
that of the dorthland trail la the worst.
Happy la the man who can weather a
day's travel at the price of silence,
and that on a beaten track.
And of all heart breaking labors that
of breaking trail is worst. At every
step the great webbed shoe Binks till
the snow is level with the knee. Then
up, straight up, the deviation of a frac
tion of an inch being n certain pre
cursor of disaster, the snowshoe must
be lifted till the surface Is cleaned;
then forward, down, and tl 3 other foot
is raised perpendicularly for the mat
ter of half a yard. He who tries this
for the first time, if haply he avoids
bringing bis shoes in dangerous pro
pinquity and measures not his length
on the treacherous footing, tvill give
up exhausted at the end of a hundred
yards. He who can keep out of the
way of the dogs for a whole day may
well crawl into his sleeping bag ftith
a clear conscience and a pride which
passeth all understanding, and he who
travels twenty sleeps on the long trail
is a man whom the gods may envy.
The afternoon wore on, and with the
awe born of the white silence the
voiceless travelers bent to their work.
Nature has many tricks wherewith
she convinces tnan of his finity—the
ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of
the storm, the shock of the earth
quake, the long roll of heaven's artil
lery—but the most tremendous, the
most stupefying of all, is the passive
phase of the white silence. All move
ment ceases; the sky clears; the heav
ens are as brass. The slightest whis
per seems sacrilege, and man becomes
timid, affrighted at the sound of his
own voice. Sole speck of life Journey
box, ing across the ghostly wastes of a dead
world, he trembles at his audacity,
realises that his Is a maggot's life,
nothing more. Strange thoughts arise
unsummoned, and the mystery of all
things strives for utterance. And the
fear of death, of God, of the universe,
comes over him—the hope of the res
urrection and the life, the yearning for
immortality, the vain striving of the
imprisoned essence. It is then, if ever,
man walks alone with God.
So wore the day away. The river
took a great bend, and Mason headed
his team for the cut-off across the
narrow neck of land. But the dogs
balked at the high bank. AgalD and
again, though Ruth and Malemutc Kid I
were shoving on the sled, they slipped'
back. Then came the concerted effort.
•The miserable creatures, weak from
hunger, exerted their last strength.
Up, up, the sled poised on the top of
the bank, but the leader swung the
string of dogs behind him to the right,
fouling Mason's snowshoes. The re
sult was grievous. Mason was whip
ped off his feet. One of the dogs fell
in the traces, and the sled toppled
back, dragging everything to the bot
tom again.
Slash! The whip fell among the
dogs savagely, especially upon the one
which had fallen.
"Don't, Mason,'' entreated Malemute
Kid. "The poor devil's on its last
legs. Wait and we'll put my team on.''
Mason deliberately withheld the whip
till the last word had fallen, then out
flashed the long lash, completely curl
ing about the offending creature s body
Carmen—for it was Carmen—cowered
in the snow, cried piteously, then roll
ed over on her side.
It was a tragic moment, a pitiful in
cident of the trail—a dying dog, two
comrades in anger. Ituth glanced so
licitously frqm man to man, but Mule
mute Kid restrained himself, though
there was a world of reproach in his
eyes, and, bending over the dog, cut
the traces. No word was spoken. The
teams ware double spanned arid the
difficulty overcome; the sleds were un
der way again, the dying dog dragging
herself along in the rear. As long as
an animal can travel it is not shot,
and this last chance is accorded it—
the crawling into camp, if it can, in
the hope of a moose being killed.
Already penitent for his angry ac
tion, but too stubborn to make amends,
Mason toiled on at the head of the
cavalcade, little dreaming that danger
hovered in the air. The timber clus
tered thick in the sheltered bottom,
and through this they threaded their
way. Fifty feet or more from th/ 'j-ail
towered a lofty pine. For generate ns
it had stood there, and for generations
destiny had had this one end in view.
Perhaps the same had been decreed of
Mason.
He stooped to fasten the loosened
thong of bis moccasin. The sleds came
to a halt, and the dogs lay down in the
snow without a whimper. The still
ness was weird. Not a breath rustled
the frost encrusted forest. The cold
and silence of outer space had chilled
the heart and smote the trembling
lips of nature. A sigh pulsed through
the air. They did not seem to actually
hear it, but, rather, felt It, like the
premonition of movement in a motion
less void. Then the great tree bur
dened with its weight of years and
snow, played its last part in tbe trag
edy of life. Masod heard the warning
crash and attempted to spring up, but.
almost erect, caught the blow squarely
on the shoulder.
The sudden danger, the quick death
—how often had Malemute Kid faced
it! The pine needles.were still quiv
ering as he guve his commands and
sprang into action. Nor did the Indian
girl faint or raise her voice in idle
wailing, as might many of her white
sisters. At his order she threw her
weight on the end of a quickly extem
porized handspike, easing the pressure
and listening to her husband's groans,
while Malemute Kid attacked the tree
with his ax. The steel rang merrily
as it bit into the frozen tr^uk, each
stroke being accompanied by a forced,
audible respiration, the "Huh! Hub!''
of the woodsman.
At last the Kid laid the pitiable
• thing that was once a maa in the snow
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He Stooped to Fasten the Loosened
Throng.
l But worse than his comrade's pain was
| the dumb anguish in the woman's face,
, the blended look of hopeful, hopeless
query. Little was said. Those of the
northland are early taught the futility
of words and tbr ^estimable value of
deeds. With the temperature at 65
below zero a man cannot lie many min
utes in the snow and live. So the sled
lashings were cut and the sufferer,
rolled in furs, laid on a couch of
boughs. Before him roared a fire,
built of the very wood which wrought
the mishap. Behind and partially over
him was stretched the primitive fly—
a piece of canvas which caught the
radiating heat and threw it back and
i down upon him, a trick which meD
may know who study physics at the
fount.
And men who have shared their bed
with death know when the call is
sounded. Mason was terribly crushed.
The most cursory examination reveal
ed it. His right arm. leg and back
were broken, his limbs were paralyzed
from the hips, and the likelihood of
internal injuries was large. An occa
sional moan was his only sign of life.
No hope. Nothing to be done. The
pitiless night crept slowly, by, Ruth's
portion the despairing stoicism of her
race, and Malemute Kid adding new
lines to his face of bronze. In fact,
Mason suffered least of all, for he
spent his time in eastern Tennessee,
in the Great Smoky mountains, living
over the scenes of his childhood. And
most pathetic was the melody of his
long forgotten southern vernacular a 0
he raved of swimming holes and coon
hunts and watermelon raids. It was
us Greek to Ruth, but the Kid under
stood and felt—felt as only one can
feel who has been shut out for years
from all that civilization means.
Morning brought consciousness to
the stricken man, and Malemute Kid
bent closer to catch bis whispers.
"You remember when we foregath
ered on the Tanana, four years come
next l^e run? I didn't care so much
for her then. It was more like she
was pretty, and there was a smack
of excitement about it, I think. But,
d' ye know, I've come to think a heap
of her. She's been a good wife to me,
always at my shoulder in the pinch.
And when it comes to trading you
know there isn't her equal. D' ye rec
ollect the time she shot the Moosehom
rapids t6 pull you and me off that
rock, the bullets whipping the water
like hailstones, and the time of the
famine at Nuklukyeto, or when she
raced the ice run to bring the news?
Yes, she's been a good wife to me,
betterin that other one. Didn't know
I'd been there? Never told you, eh?
Well, I tried it once down In the
States. That's why I'm here. Been
raised together too. I came away to
give her a chance for divorce. She
got it.
"But that's got nothing to do with
Ruth. I had thought of cleaning up
and pulling for the Outside next year,
her and I—but it's too late. Don't send
her back to her people, Kid. It's beast
ly hard for a woman to go back.
Think of it—nearly four years on our
bacon and beans and flour and dried
fruit, and then to go back to her fish
and cariboo! It's not good for her to
have tried our ways, to come to know
they're better'n her people's, and then
return to them. Take care of her, Kid.
Why don't you—but no; you always
-fought shy of them and you never
toid me why you came to this country,
Be kind to her and send her back to
the States as soon as you can. But
fix it so as she can come back. Liable
to get homesick, you know.
"And the youngster—it's drawn us
closer, Kid. I only hope it la a boy.
Think of It— flesh of my flesh, Kid!
He mustn t stop in this country. And
lf it's a girl, why, she can't Sell my
furs. They'H fetch at least five thou
sand. Anfl I've got as much more
with the company. And handle my in
terests with yours. I think that bench
claim will show up. See that he gets
a good schooling, and, Kid, above, all,
don't let bim come back. This coun
try was not made for white men.
"I'm a gone man, Kid. Three or four
sleeps at the best. Vou've got to go
on. You must go on! Remember, it's
my wife, it's my boy—O God, 1 hope
it's a boy! You can't stay by me, and
1 charge you, a dying man, to pull on.
"Give me three days," pleaded Male
mute Kid. "You may change for the
better. Something may turn ire "
"No."
"Just three days."
"You must pull on.
"Two days."
"It's my wife and my boy, Kid. You
would not ask it"
, "One day."
"No, no! I charge"—
"Only one day. We can shave ft
through on the grub, and I might knock
over a moose."
"No—all right—one day, but not a
minute more. And, Kid. don't—don't
leave me to face It alone. Just a shot,
one pull on the trigger. You under
stand. Think of it! Think of itl
Flesh of my flesh, and I'll never live
to see him!
"Send Ruth here. I want to say
goodby and tell her that she must
think of tbe boy and not wait till I'm
dead. She might refuse to go with
you if I didn't Goodby, old man.
"Kid, I say—a—sink a hole above
the pup, next to tbe slide. I panned
out 40 cents on my shovel there.
"And Kid"—he stooped lower to catch
the last faint words, the dying man's
surrender of his pride—"I'm sorry—for
—you know—Carmen."
Leaving* the girl crying softly over
her man, Malemute Kid slipped into
his parka and snowshoes, tucked his
rifle under his arm and crept away
into the forest. He was no tyro in
the stern sorrows of tbe northlsnd,
but never had he faced so stiff a prob
lem as this. In the abstract it was a
plain, mathematical proposition—three
possible lives as against one doomed
one. But now he hesitated. For five
years, shoulder to shoulder, on the riv
ers and trails, in the camps and mines,
facing death by field and flood and
famine, had they knitted the bonds of
their comradeship. So close was the
tie that he had often been conscious
II
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of a vague jealousy of Ruth from tho i
first time she had come between. And I
now it must be severed by his own
han(1 -
Though he prayed for a moose, just
one moose, all game seemed to have
deserted the land, and nightfall found
the exhausted man crawling into camp
light handed, heavy hearted. An ujt
roar from the dogs and shrill cries
from Ruth hastened him.
Bursting into tbe camp, he saw the
girl in the midst of the snarling pack,
laying about her with ax ax. The dogs
had broken the iron ru e of their mas
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The White Silence 8eemed to 8neer.
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joined the issue with his rifle reversed.
to and tbe hoary game of natural selec
tlon wa , played out wltb a „ tJ , e ruth
lessness of its primeval environment,
R| fle and ax went np and hit or
us missed with monotonous regularity,
Lithe bodfcs flashed with wild eyes
and dripping fangs, and man and
beast fought for supremacy to tbe bit
terest conclusion. Then the beaten
brutes crept to the edge of the Are
light, licking their wounds, voicing
j their misery to the stars. .
l The whole stock of dried salmon had
been devoured, and perhaps five pounds
of flour remained to tide them over
200 miles of wilderness. Ruth turned
to her husband, while Malemute Kid
cut up the warm body of one of the
dogs, the skull of which bad been
crushed by the ax. Every portion was
carefully put away, Bave tbe hide and
offal, which were cast to bis fellows
of tbe moment before. *
Morning brought fresh trouble. The
animals were turning on each other.
Carmen, who still clung to her slender
thread of life, was downed by the
pack. Tbe lash fell among them un
heeded. They cringed and cried under
the blows, but refused to scatter till
the last wretched bit had disappeared
—bones, hide, hair, everything.
Malemute Kid went about his work
listening to Mason, who was back
in Tennessee, delivering tangled dis
courses and wild exhortations to his
brethren of other days.
Taking advantage of neighboring
pines, he worked rapidly, and Ruth
watched him make a cache similar to
those sometimes used by hunters to
preserve their meat from the wolver
ines and dogs. One after the other he
bent the tops of two small pines to
ward each other and nearly to the
ground, making them fast with thongs
of moosehide.
II
Ruth bad received her husband's last
wishes and made no struggle. Poor
girl! She had learned tbe lesson of
obedience well. From a child she had
bowed and seen all women bow to the
lords of creation, and it did not seem
in the nature of things for woman to
resist The Kid permitted her one out
burst of grief as she kissed her hus
band—her own people had no such cus
tom-then led her to the foremost sled
and helped her into her snowshoes.
Blindly, instinctively she took the gee
pole and whip and "mushed" the dogs
out on the trail. Then the Kid return
ed to Mason, who bad fallen into a co
ma, and long after she was out of
sight crouched by the Are, waiting,
hoping, praying for his comrade to die.
It is not pleasant to be alone with
painful thoughts in the white silence.
The silence of gloom is merciful,
shrouding one as with protection and
breathing a thousand intangible sym
pathies, but the bright white silence,
clear and cold, under steely skies, is
i pitiless.
I An hour passed, two hours, but the
man would not die. At high noon the
sun, without raising its rim above the
southern horizon, threw a suggestion
C f dre athwart the heavens, then quick
j y drew it back. Malemute Kid roused
and dragged himself to his comrade's
8 ide. He cast one glance about him.
The white silence seemed to sneer, and
a great fear came upon him. There
was a sharp report, Mason swung into
his aerial sepulchre, and Malemute
Kid lashed the dogs into a wild gallop
a* he fled across the snow.