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a woman's breathing; he would chance it.
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77
He pressed against her side softly but firmly, and felt her start
at the contact. Again he waited, till a questioning hand slipped
down upon his head and paused among the curls. The next instant
the hand turned his face gently upward, and he was gazing into
Sipsu's eyes.
She was quite collected. Changing her position casually, she
threw an elbow well over on the skin bale, rested her body upon
it, and arranged her parka. In this way he was completely
concealed. Then, and still most casually, she reclined across
him, so that he could breathe between her arm and breast, and when
she lowered her head her ear pressed lightly against his lips.
"When the time suits, go thou," he whispered, "out of the lodge
and across the snow, down the wind to the bunch of jackpine in the
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curve of the creek. There wilt thou find my dogs and my sled,
packed for the trail. This night we go down to the Yukon; and
since we go fast, lay thou hands upon what dogs come nigh thee, by
the scruff of the neck, and drag them to the sled in the curve of
the creek."
Sipsu shook her head in dissent; but her eyes glistened with
gladness, and she was proud that this man had shown toward her
such favor. But she, like the women of all her race, was born to
obey the will masculine, and when Hitchcock repeated "Go!" he did
it with authority, and though she made no answer he knew that his
will was law.
"And never mind harness for the dogs," he added, preparing to go.
"I shall wait. But waste no time. The day chaseth the night
alway, nor does it linger for man's pleasure."
Half an hour later, stamping his feet and swinging his arms by the
sled, he saw her coming, a surly dog in either hand. At the
approach of these his own animals waxed truculent, and he favored
them with the butt of his whip till they quieted. He had
approached the camp up the wind, and sound was the thing to be
most feared in making his presence known.
"Put them into the sled," he ordered when she had got the harness
on the two dogs. "I want my leaders to the fore."
But when she had done this, the displaced animals pitched upon the
aliens. Though Hitchcock plunged among them with clubbed rifle, a
riot of sound went up and across the sleeping camp.
"Now we shall have dogs, and in plenty," he remarked grimly,
slipping an axe from the sled lashings. "Do thou harness
whichever I fling thee, and betweenwhiles protect the team."
He stepped a space in advance and waited between two pines. The
dogs of the camp were disturbing the night with their jangle, and
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Tales of the Klondyke
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78
he watched for their coming. A dark spot, growing rapidly, took
form upon the dim white expanse of snow. It was a forerunner of
the pack, leaping cleanly, and, after the wolf fashion, singing
direction to its brothers. Hitchcock stood in the shadow. As it
sprang past, he reached out, gripped its forelegs in mid-career,
and sent it whirling earthward. Then he struck it a well-judged
blow beneath the ear, and flung it to Sipsu. And while she
clapped on the harness, he, with his axe, held the passage between
the trees, till a shaggy flood of white teeth and glistening eyes
surged and crested just beyond reach. Sipsu worked rapidly. When
she had finished, he leaped forward, seized and stunned a second,
and flung it to her. This he repeated thrice again, and when the
sled team stood snarling in a string of ten, he called, "Enough!"
But at this instant a young buck, the forerunner of the tribe, and
swift of limb, wading through the dogs and cuffing right and left,
attempted the passage. The butt of Hitchcock's rifle drove him to
his knees, whence he toppled over sideways. The witch doctor,
running lustily, saw the blow fall.
Hitchcock called to Sipsu to pull out. At her shrill "Chook!" the
maddened brutes shot straight ahead, and the sled, bounding
mightily, just missed unseating her. The powers were evidently
angry with the witch doctor, for at this moment they plunged him
upon the trail. The lead-dog fouled his snowshoes and tripped him
up, and the nine succeeding dogs trod him under foot and the sled
bumped over him. But he was quick to his feet, and the night
might have turned out differently had not Sipsu struck backward
with the long dog-whip and smitten him a blinding blow across the
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eyes. Hitchcock, hurrying to overtake her, collided against him
as he swayed with pain in the middle of the trail. Thus it was,
when this primitive theologian got back to the chief's lodge, that
his wisdom had been increased in so far as concerns the efficacy
of the white man's fist. So, when he orated then and there in the
council, he was wroth against all white men.
"Tumble out, you loafers! Tumble out! Grub'll be ready before
you get into your footgear!"
Dave Wertz threw off the bearskin, sat up, and yawned.
Hawes stretched, discovered a lame muscle in his arm, and rubbed
it sleepily. "Wonder where Hitchcock bunked last night?" he
queried, reaching for his moccasins. They were stiff, and he
walked gingerly in his socks to the fire to thaw them out. "It's
a blessing he's gone," he added, "though he was a mighty good
worker."
"Yep. Too masterful. That was his trouble. Too bad for Sipsu.
Think he cared for her much?"
"Don't think so. Just principle. That's all. He thought it
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79
wasn't right--and, of course, it wasn't,--but that was no reason
for us to interfere and get hustled over the divide before our
time."
"Principle is principle, and it's good in its place, but it's best
left to home when you go to Alaska. Eh?" Wertz had joined his
mate, and both were working pliability into their frozen
moccasins. "Think we ought to have taken a hand?"
Sigmund shook his head. He was very busy. A scud of chocolate-
colored foam was rising in the coffee-pot, and the bacon needed
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turning. Also, he was thinking about the girl with laughing eyes
like summer seas, and he was humming softly.
His mates chuckled to each other and ceased talking. Though it
was past seven, daybreak was still three hours distant. The
aurora borealis had passed out of the sky, and the camp was an
oasis of light in the midst of deep darkness. And in this light
the forms of the three men were sharply defined. Emboldened by
the silence, Sigmund raised his voice and opened the last stanza
of the old song:-
"In a year, in a year, when the grapes are ripe--"
Then the night was split with a rattling volley of rifle-shots.
Hawes sighed, made an effort to straighten himself, and collapsed.
Wertz went over on an elbow with drooping head. He choked a
little, and a dark stream flowed from his mouth. And Sigmund, the
Golden-Haired, his throat a-gurgle with the song, threw up his
arms and pitched across the fire.
The witch doctor's eyes were well blackened, and his temper none
of the best; for he quarrelled with the chief over the possession
of Wertz's rifle, and took more than his share of the part-sack of
beans. Also he appropriated the bearskin, and caused grumbling
among the tribesmen. And finally, he tried to kill Sigmund's dog,
which the girl had given him, but the dog ran away, while he fell
into the shaft and dislocated his shoulder on the bucket. When
the camp was well looted they went back to their own lodges, and
there was a great rejoicing among the women. Further, a band of
moose strayed over the south divide and fell before the hunters,
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