CHAPTER FIVE

The Work of the Trail

Thirty days from the time they left Dawson, the team arrived at Skagway. They were in a terrible state. Buck now weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds, compared to his earlier weight of one hundred and forty. The rest of the team also suffered. Sol-leks could hardly walk and the other dogs had shoulder wounds from the ropes.

Their feet fell heavily on the trail, making double their tiredness from travel. There was nothing the matter with them except that they were dead tired. It was not a tiredness that could be cured by resting a couple of hours, but one that comes through too many months of work. There was no power to heal, no strength left to call upon. It had all been used, the last least bit of it. Every muscles every cell, was tired, dead tired. And there was reason for it. In less than five months they had traveled twenty five hundred miles. During the last eighteen hundred they had only had five days' rest. They arrived at Skagway on their last legs.

"Go on, poor sore feet," the driver said as they slowly dragged the sled through the main streets of Skagway. "This is the last one and then we'll get a nice long rest, for sure. It will be one very long rest."

The drivers were certain about expecting a long stop. They themselves had covered over twelve hundred miles with only two days of rest. They deserved a long vacation. But so many men had rushed into Klondike, and so many were their relatives back home, that the mail was becoming as huge as a mountain. Besides, there were official orders from the government to work immediately. Fresh dogs were to replace the ones who couldn't work, and those that couldn't work were sold.

Three days passed, and Buck and his teammates discovered how tired they really were. Then, on the morning of the fourth day, two men from the States came along and bought them, harness and tall, for almost nothing. The men called each other "Hal" and "Charles". Charles was a middle-aged man with weak and watery eyes. Hal was a young man of about twenty who carried a hand gun called a Colt and wore a huge hunting-knife on his belt. The belt was covered with bullets, and it was the most noticeable thing about him. It showed the lowness of his character. Both men were completely out of place, and why they had decided to adventure in the Northland is part of the mystery of things.

Buck heard the money passed between the men and the government official. He knew that the Scotsman and the other men were passing out of his life like Francois and Perrault had done. When driven with his mates to the new owner's camp, Buck saw a camp that was not in order and messy, a tent half stretched, dishes unwashed, also, he saw a woman. Mercedes, the men called her. She was Charles' wife and Hal's sister—a nice family party.

Buck watched uneasily as they tried to take down the tent and load the sled. They used a great deal of effort, but no business-like manner. The tent was rolled into a size three times what it should have been, and the dishes packed away unwashed. Mercedes continually walked among the men, giving advice. After they loaded up their cloth-sack, she discovered other things that needed packing, and they unloaded again.

Three men from a neighboring tent came out and looked on, smiling and winking to each other.

"You've got too big of a load right now," said one of them; "and though it's none of my business to tell you what to do, I wouldn't bother to take the tent, if I were you."

"Not take the tent!" cried Mercedes. "How can I manage without a tent?"

"It's springtime, and there won't be anymore cold weather," the man replied.

She shook her head in a decided way, and Hal and Charles put the last items on the huge load.

"Think it'll fide?" asked one of the men.

"Why shouldn't it?" demanded Charles.

"Oh, that's all right. I didn't mean anything by that," the man quickly said. "I was just wondering; it seems pretty heavy on top."

"And I'm sure those dogs can pull all day with that load," said the other man.

"Certainly," said Hal, with freezing politeness, taking hold of the whip. "Go!" he shouted. "Get going!"

The dogs pulled with all their might, but they couldn't go anywhere. They were unable to move the sled.

"Those lazy animals, I'll show them," Hal cried, preparing to strike them with the whip.

But Mercedes ran up to him, crying, "Oh, Hal, you mustn't," as she caught hold of his arm. "The poor dears! Now you must promise you won't be hard on them for the rest of the trip or I won't go another step."

"You don't know anything about dogs, her brother replied." And I wish you'd leave me alone. They're lazy, I tell you, and you need to whip them to get anything out of them. That's their way; ask any of those men."

Mercedes looked at them, a look on her face that showed her dislike for pain.

"They're weak as water, if you want to know," came a reply from one of the men. "They need rest; that's the matter."

"Rest be damned," said Hal, and Mercedes jumped in surprise at his answer.

But she was a family person, and rushed to defend her brother. "Never mind what he said. You drive the dogs the way you think you should."

Again Hal's whip fell on the dogs. They threw themselves forward, dug their feet into the packed snow, and put forth all their strength. The sled didn't move one inch. After two more efforts they stood still. When the whip whistled again, Mercedes again stepped forward. She dropped on her knees beside Buck, with tears in her eyes, and put her arms around his neck.

"You poor, poor dears, she cried, why don't you pull hard? Then you wouldn't be whipped." Buck did not like her, but he felt too weak to move, taking it as part of the day's terrible work.

One of the men, who had been holding his words, now spoke up: "It's not that I care one bit about what happens to you, but to help the dogs, I'll tell you that you need to break the sled out of the ice. It's frozen in the ice. Throw your weight to the right and then to the left and break out the sled."

Following the advice, Hal broke out the sled and it moved forward slowly. Under a rain of whip strikes, Buck and his mates struggled with all their might. A hundred yards ahead, the street turned sharply into the main street. It would have taken an experienced driver to keep the sled from falling over, and Hal was not such a man. As they swung around the turn the sled fell over, spilling half of their stuff onto the street. The dogs never stopped. They dragged the lightened sled on its side behind them. They were angry at their unfair treatment. Hal cried, "stop! Stop? But they paid no attention. He tripped and was pulled off his feet. The sled ran over him, and the dogs continued to run up the street, spilling the rest of the supplies onto the street.

Finally some kind-hearted citizens of Skagway stopped the dogs and gathered up the spilled belongings. They gave advice: half the load and twice the dogs, if they ever expected to reach Dawson. Hal and his sister listened against their will and started to get rid of some of their things. They threw out canned goods, which made many people laugh, for the idea of taking canned goods on the Long Trail was completely foolish. "Looks like you're starting a hotel," said one of the men. "Even half of these blankets are too much. Throw away that tent and those dishes. You aren't washing them anyway. Good Lord! Do you think you're traveling on a train?"

And so it happened. Mercedes cried when her clothes-bags were dumped on the ground, and piece by piece were thrown out. She promised she would not go one inch, even if it meant leaving her husband. Finally, wiping her eyes, she started to throw away even necessary items. Then she started on the possessions of the two men, attacking them with the same energy.

This finished, the load, though cut in half, was still very large. Charles and Hal went out later in the evening and bought six other dogs. This brought the number of the team up to fourteen. But the new dogs were not very good. They did not seem to know anything. Buck and the other dogs looked at the new dogs with disgust. Buck was able to teach them their places, but he couldn't teach them what they had to do. They did not like to be harnessed to the sled. Also, because they were not used to the hard environment of the North, many of them had lost their spirit. Bones were the only thing breakable about them.

With the new dogs hopeless and homesick, and the old team worn out by twenty-five hundred miles of continuous work, the future of the trip did not look very good. The two men, however, were quite cheerful. And they were proud, too. They believed that owning a team of fourteen dogs was a great thing. However, there was a reason why fourteen dogs should not drag one sled, and that was because one sled could not carry enough food for fourteen dogs. But Charles and Hal did not know this. They had worked the trip out by pencil so much to a dog, and so many days. With Mercedes agreeing with everything they said, it all looked so very simple.

Late next morning Buck led the team up the street. There was no energy in him, or in his mates. They were starting the journey dead tired. Four times they had covered the distance between Salt Water and Dawson, and the knowledge that he was facing the same journey again put him in a bad mood. His heart was not in the work, nor was the heart of any dog. The new dogs were nervous and frightened, and the old dogs had no confidence in their new masters.

Somehow, Buck knew that he could not expect anything from these two men and one woman. They did not know how to do anything, and as the days passed it became clear that they could not learn. They were lazy in all things, without order or discipline. It took them half the night to set up camp, and half the morning to pack up the camp and get the sled loaded. Also, they loaded the sled in such a disorderly way that they often had to stop to rearrange their load. Some days they did not make it ten miles. Other days they were unable to get started at all. And on no day did they make even half the distance needed to make sure that their food supply lasted.

It was no surprise that they should go short of dog food. They added to the problem by giving the dogs too much food. The new dogs, because they were not used to the cold, needed more food. Because the older dogs were so tired, Hal decided that he needed to double their food amount to give them more energy. On top of this, Mercedes would steal fish from the food bags to feed them even more. But it was not food that Buck and the other huskies needed; it was rest. They were making poor time, and the heavy load took away all their strength.

Then came the time when they had to give the dogs less food. Hal discovered one day that half of his food supply was gone, while only one quarter of the distance was covered. There was no way to get more food. So he cut down the amount and tried to increase the day's travel. It was a simple matter to give the dogs less food, but another matter to travel faster. Their late morning starts did not help them travel longer hours. They did not know how to work the dogs, and they did not know how to work themselves.

The first dog to go was Dub. His shoulder had been hurt before the trip, and now it was so bad that he could no longer get up. One day, Hal had to shoot him. Next, the new dogs started to get sick from lack of food. Soon, most of the new dogs had died, as well.

By this time, all the dreams and beauty of the Northland had fallen away from these Southland people. Arctic travel had become too hard a reality for their manhood and womanhood. Mercedes stopped crying over the dogs, and started to cry for herself. Also, she often fought with her brother and husband. Though they were often dead tired themselves, it seemed that arguing and fighting were two things they always had energy for. The patience that often develops in men who work hard on the trail did not come to them at all. They were always in pain; their muscles hurt, their bones hurt, and their hearts hurt. Because of this, their words to one another became unkind, and hard words were the first thing on their lips in the morning and the last thing at night.

Charles and Hal constantly fought whenever Mercedes wasn't between them. Each believed that he alone was doing his fair share of work, while the other was lazy. Sometimes Mercedes would stand up for her husband, sometimes for her brother. The result was a family battle that never stopped. Starting with a job about who should gather wood for the fire, an argument would begin that involved the rest of the family. Fathers, mothers, uncles, even dead relatives were argued about. That Hal's views on art should have anything to do with gathering firewood is beyond understanding; nevertheless, the argument was as likely to go in that direction as in the direction of Charles' political views. In the meantime, the fire remained unbuilt, the camp half-made, and the dogs unfed.

Mercedes had a special problem—the problem of being a woman. She was pretty and soft, and had been treated as such all her life. But her brother and husband did not treat her like this now. Instead, they complained about her helplessness. With her complaining, she made their lives even worse. She no longer thought about the dogs, and because she was tired and had many pains, she demanded to ride on the sled. She was pretty and soft, but she weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. This was another heavy load for the weak and starving dogs. She rode for days, till the dogs fell down and the sled stood still. Charles and Hal begged her to get off and walk. Then she wept and asked Heaven to remember their unkindness.

Because of their own sufferings, they did not notice the sufferings of the dogs. Hal's belief, which he practiced on others, was that one must become hard to suffering. He had started by telling his sister and brother-in-law this. Failing this, he beat it into the dogs with a club. At Five Fingers the dog-food ran out, and a toothless old Indian woman offered to trade a few pounds of frozen horsemeat for Hal's gun. This also ran out after a few days.

Through it all Buck pulled the team along as if in a night mare. He pulled, when he could, and, when he couldn't, he fell down on the snow and remained there until the whip or the club drove him to his feet again. The shine had gone out of his hair, and it was covered in blood from Hal's whip. His muscles had wasted away to almost nothing, and it was possible to see his bones through the skin. It was heart-breaking, only Buck's heart was unbreakable. The man in the red sweater had proved that.

As it was with Buck, so it was with his mates. They were also a bunch of skin and bones. There were seven, including him. In their pain they no longer felt the sting of the whip or the pain of the club. They were not half-living, or even a quarter-living. When a stop was made, they dropped down as if dead.

Then came a day when Billie, the good-natured, fell and could not rise. Hal had traded his gun, so he took his big knife and hit Billie on the head as he lay in the snow. Then he cut the body free of the harness and dragged it to one side. Buck saw, and the other mates saw, and they knew that this thing was close to them. In the next few days another dog died, and only five of them were left: Joe, too wasted to be mean now; Pike, who suffered from two bad legs; Sol-leks, still faithful to the harness but terribly sad that he had no strength left; Teek, who had not traveled as far as the original team; and Buck, half blind with weakness and hardly feeling the trail under his feet.

It was beautiful spring weather, but neither man nor dog took notice of it. Each day the sun rose earlier and set later. It was dawn by three in the morning, and darkness came around nine at night. The whole long day was bright with sunshine. The ghostly winter had given way to the life of spring, and an awakening had begun. Everything seemed washed with the joy of living. All things, from the trees to the animals, were obeying the cycle of nature. From every hill came the sound of running water, and the music of unseen rivers. All things were becoming unfrozen. The Yukon was trying to break loose from the ice that held it. The sun ate the ice from above, while the river ate it from underneath. Holes of air were made, while whole pieces of ice fell info the fiver. And in the middle of all of spring's activity and beauty rode the two men, the woman, and the huskies.

With the dogs failing, Mercedes crying, Hal shouting, and Charles ready to quit, they rode into John Thorton's camp at the mouth of the White River. When they stopped the sled, the dogs fell down as if they had been struck dead. Mercedes dried her eyes and looked at John Thorton. Charles sat down on some wood to rest. Hal did all the talking. John, who continued, to work on a piece of wood, gave short answers and little advice. It was not because he was unfriendly or unhelpful. He had met people like them before, and he knew that any advice he gave would be of no help.

"We've heard that the top ice of the river is ready to fall through and that we should wait," said Hal after John warned him not to travel anymore. "But they also told us we wouldn't make White River, and here we are." He said this last sentence with an air of great pride.

"And they told you the truth," answered John. "The bottom of the ice is ready to drop at any moment. Only fools, with the blind luck of fools, could have made it. I tell you the truth when I say that no amount of gold would ever get me to travel on that ice right now."

"That's because you're not a fool, I suppose," said Hal, angrily. "All the same, we're going to Dawson." He picked up his whip. Get up, Buck! Get going!"

John kept on working. It was of no use, he knew, to get between Hal and the dogs, as it was of no use to get between a fool and his idea.

But the team did not get up at Hal's command. It had long since passed into the stage where blows were required to rouse it. The whip flashed out here and there, on it is merciless errands. John Thorton pressed his lips tightly together. Sol-leks was the first to climb to his feet. Teek followed. Joe came next, crying with pain. Pike also made a painful try. Twice he fell over, but on the third try, he managed to stand. Buck made no effort. He lay quietly where he had fallen. The whip struck him again and again, but he neither cried nor struggled. Several times John started to say something, but then changed his mind. His eyes were wet, and he began to walk up and down as the whipping continued.

This was the first time that Buck had failed, and it made Hal even angrier that he had failed in front of John Thorton. He exchanged the whip for the club. Buck refused to move even under a rain of blows. Like his mates, he could barely get up, but unlike his mates, he had made up his mind not to get up. He had a strange feeling that something terrible was soon to happen. This feeling was strong when they pulled into John's camp, and it had not left him. He knew that the thin ice was dangerous for travel, that something terrible lay ahead there where his master was trying to get him to go. He refused to move. So greatly had he suffered this journey, and so far wasted was he, that the on blows from the club did not hurt much. And as they continued to fall on him, the light of life in his body slowly became darker. Strangely, he began to feel nothing. He could barely hear the fall of the club on his body. But it was no longer his body; it seemed so far away.

And then suddenly, without warning, John Thorton jumped upon Hal. Hal fell back, as if hit by a falling tree. Mercedes screamed, but Charles remained seated upon the pile of wood.

John Thorton stood over Buck, struggling to control his anger. "If you hit that dog again, I'll kill you, he said to Hal.

It's my dog, Hal replied, wiping the blood from his mouth as he came back. Get out of my way, or I'll fix you. I'm going to Dawson."

Thorton stood between Hal and Buck, showing that he had not the least idea of getting out of the way. Hal took out his hunting-knife. Mercedes screamed, cried, and laughed, as though she was going crazy. Then Thorton hit Hal's hand with a piece of wood, knocking the knife to the ground. Hal tried to pick up the knife, but Thorton hit his hand again. Then he bent down, picked it up himself, and in two motions cut Buck from the harness.

Hal had no fight left in him. Besides, his hands were full with his sister, or his arms, rather. Buck seemed nearly dead anyway and could be of no use. A few minutes later they pulled out of the camp and onto the river. Pike was leading, Sol-leks was behind him, followed by Teek and Joe. They struggled in the harness. Mercedes was once again riding the sled. Hal drove the sled, while Charles followed from behind.

As Buck watched them, Thorton bent down and with rough, kind hands searched for broken bones. But he found none, only many bruises and a body suffering from starvation. The sled was a quarter of a mile away. Dog and man watched it move slowly along the ice. Suddenly, they saw its back end, with Hal, drop down into the river. Mercedes' scream came to their ears. They saw Charles turn around and make one step to run back, and then a whole piece of ice gave way. Dogs and humans had both disappeared. Only a big hole remained.

John Thorton and Buck looked at each other.

"You poor devil," said John, and Buck licked his hand.

(end of section)