“That night is the end of February. I kill three ptarmiganwith the woman’s revolver， and we are made somewhatstrong again. But the dogs have nothing to eat. They try toeat their harness， which is of leather and walrus-hide， andI must fight them off with a club and hang all the harnessin a tree. And all night they howl and fight around thattree. But we do not mind. We sleep like dead people， andin the morning get up like dead people out of their gravesand go on along the trail.
“That morning is the 1st of March， and on that morningI see the first sign of that after which the baby wolvesare in search. It is clear weather， and cold. The sun staylonger in the sky， and there are sun-dogs flashing on eitherside， and the air is bright with frost-dust. The snow fallsno more upon the trail， and I see the fresh sign of dogsand sled. There is one man with that outfit， and I see inthe snow that he is not strong. He， too， has not enoughto eat. The young wolves see the fresh sign， too， and theyare much excited. ‘Hurry！’ they say. All the time they say，‘Hurry！ Faster， Charley， faster！’
“We make hurry very slow. All the time the man and thewoman fall down. When they try to ride on sled the dogsare too weak， and the dogs fall down. Besides， it is so coldthat if they ride on the sled they will freeze. It is very easyfor a hungry man to freeze. When the woman fall down，the man help her up. Sometimes the woman help the manup. By and by both fall down and cannot get up， and Imust help them up all the time， else they will not get upand will die there in the snow. This is very hard work， forI am greatly weary， and as well I must drive the dogs， andthe man and woman are very heavy with no strength intheir bodies. So， by and by， I， too， fall down in the snow，and there is no one to help me up. I must get up by myself.
And always do I get up by myself， and help them up， andmake the dogs go on.
“That night I get one ptarmigan， and we are very hungry.
And that night the man says to me， ‘What time start tomorrow，Charley？’ It is like the voice of a ghost. I say，‘All the time you make start at five o’clock.’ ‘To-morrow，’
he says， ‘we will start at three o’clock.’ I laugh in greatbitterness， and I say， ‘You are dead man.’ And he says， ‘Tomorrowwe will start at three o’clock.’
“And we start at three o’clock， for I am their man， andthat which they say is to be done， I do. It is clear and cold，and there is no wind. When daylight comes we can see along way off. And it is very quiet. We can hear no soundbut the beat of our hearts， and in the silence that is a veryloud sound. We are like sleep-walkers， and we walk indreams until we fall down； and then we know we must getup， and we see the trail once more and bear the beatingof our hearts. Sometimes， when I am walking in dreamsthis way， I have strange thoughts. Why does Sitka Charleylive？ I ask myself. Why does Sitka Charley work hard，and go hungry， and have all this pain？ For seven hundredand fifty dollars a month， I make the answer， and I knowit is a foolish answer. Also is it a true answer. And afterthat never again do I care for money. For that day a largewisdom came to me. There was a great light， and I sawclear， and I knew that it was not for money that a manmust live， but for a happiness that no man can give， orbuy， or sell， and that is beyond all value of all money in theworld.
“In the morning we come upon the last-night camp ofthe man who is before us. It is a poor camp， the kind aman makes who is hungry and without strength. On thesnow there are pieces of blanket and of canvas， and I knowwhat has happened. His dogs have eaten their harness， andhe has made new harness out of his blankets. The man andwoman stare hard at what is to be seen， and as I look atthem my back feels the chill as of a cold wind against theskin. Their eyes are toil-mad and hunger-mad， and burnlike fire deep in their heads. Their faces are like the facesof people who have died of hunger， and their cheeks areblack with the dead flesh of many freezings. ‘Let us go on，’
says the man. But the woman coughs and falls in the snow.
It is the dry cough where the frost has bitten the lungs.
For a long time she coughs， then like a woman crawlingout of her grave she crawls to her feet. The tears are iceupon her cheeks， and her breath makes a noise as it comesand goes， and she says， ‘Let us go on.’
“We go on. And we walk in dreams through the silence.
And every time we walk is a dream and we are withoutpain； and every time we fall down is an awakening， and wesee the snow and the mountains and the fresh trail of theman who is before us， and we know all our pain again. Wecome to where we can see a long way over the snow， andthat for which they look is before them. A mile away thereare black spots upon the snow. The black spots move. Myeyes are dim， and I must stiffen my soul to see. And I seeone man with dogs and a sled. The baby wolves see， too.
They can no longer talk， but they whisper， ‘On， on. Let ushurry！’
“And they fall down， but they go on. The man who isbefore us， his blanket harness breaks often， and he muststop and mend it. Our harness is good， for I have hung itin trees each night. At eleven o’clock the man is half a mileaway. At one o’clock he is a quarter of a mile away. He isvery weak. We see him fall down many times in the snow.
One of his dogs can no longer travel， and he cuts it out ofthe harness. But he does not kill it. I kill it with the axeas I go by， as I kill one of my dogs which loses its legs andcan travel no more.
“Now we are three hundred yards away. We go very slow.
Maybe in two， three hours we go one mile. We do notwalk. All the time we fall down. We stand up and staggertwo steps， maybe three steps， then we fall down again.
And all the time I must help up the man and woman.