Who Has Won to Mastership

Who Has Won to Mastership

“Eh? Wot I say? I spik true w’en I say dat Buck two devils.”This was François’s speech next morning when he discovered Spitz missingand Buck covered with wounds. He drew him to the fire and by its light pointedthem out.

“Dat Spitz fight lak hell,” said Perrault, as he surveyed thegaping rips and cuts.

“An’ dat Buck fight lak two hells,” was François’sanswer. “An’ now we make good time. No more Spitz, no more trouble,sure.”

While Perrault packed the camp outfit and loaded the sled, the dog-driverproceeded to harness the dogs. Buck trotted up to the place Spitz would haveoccupied as leader; but François, not noticing him, brought Sol-leks to thecoveted position. In his judgment, Sol-leks was the best lead-dog left. Bucksprang upon Sol-leks in a fury, driving him back and standing in his place.

“Eh? eh?” François cried, slapping his thighs gleefully.“Look at dat Buck. Heem keel dat Spitz, heem t’ink to take dejob.”

“Go ’way, Chook!” he cried, but Buck refused to budge.

He took Buck by the scruff of the neck, and though the dog growledthreateningly, dragged him to one side and replaced Sol-leks. The old dog didnot like it, and showed plainly that he was afraid of Buck. François wasobdurate, but when he turned his back Buck again displaced Sol-leks, who wasnot at all unwilling to go.

François was angry. “Now, by Gar, I feex you!” he cried, comingback with a heavy club in his hand.

Buck remembered the man in the red sweater, and retreated slowly; nor did heattempt to charge in when Sol-leks was once more brought forward. But hecircled just beyond the range of the club, snarling with bitterness and rage;and while he circled he watched the club so as to dodge it if thrown byFrançois, for he was become wise in the way of clubs. The driver went about hiswork, and he called to Buck when he was ready to put him in his old place infront of Dave. Buck retreated two or three steps. François followed him up,whereupon he again retreated. After some time of this, François threw down theclub, thinking that Buck feared a thrashing. But Buck was in open revolt. Hewanted, not to escape a clubbing, but to have the leadership. It was his byright. He had earned it, and he would not be content with less.

Perrault took a hand. Between them they ran him about for the better part of anhour. They threw clubs at him. He dodged. They cursed him, and his fathers andmothers before him, and all his seed to come after him down to the remotestgeneration, and every hair on his body and drop of blood in his veins; and heanswered curse with snarl and kept out of their reach. He did not try to runaway, but retreated around and around the camp, advertising plainly that whenhis desire was met, he would come in and be good.

François sat down and scratched his head. Perrault looked at his watch andswore. Time was flying, and they should have been on the trail an hour gone.François scratched his head again. He shook it and grinned sheepishly at thecourier, who shrugged his shoulders in sign that they were beaten. ThenFrançois went up to where Sol-leks stood and called to Buck. Buck laughed, asdogs laugh, yet kept his distance. François unfastened Sol-leks’s tracesand put him back in his old place. The team stood harnessed to the sled in anunbroken line, ready for the trail. There was no place for Buck save at thefront. Once more François called, and once more Buck laughed and kept away.

“T’row down de club,” Perrault commanded.

François complied, whereupon Buck trotted in, laughing triumphantly, and swungaround into position at the head of the team. His traces were fastened, thesled broken out, and with both men running they dashed out on to the rivertrail.

Highly as the dog-driver had forevalued Buck, with his two devils, he found,while the day was yet young, that he had undervalued. At a bound Buck took upthe duties of leadership; and where judgment was required, and quick thinkingand quick acting, he showed himself the superior even of Spitz, of whomFrançois had never seen an equal.

But it was in giving the law and making his mates live up to it, that Buckexcelled. Dave and Sol-leks did not mind the change in leadership. It was noneof their business. Their business was to toil, and toil mightily, in thetraces. So long as that were not interfered with, they did not care whathappened. Billee, the good-natured, could lead for all they cared, so long ashe kept order. The rest of the team, however, had grown unruly during the lastdays of Spitz, and their surprise was great now that Buck proceeded to lickthem into shape.

Pike, who pulled at Buck’s heels, and who never put an ounce more of hisweight against the breast-band than he was compelled to do, was swiftly andrepeatedly shaken for loafing; and ere the first day was done he was pullingmore than ever before in his life. The first night in camp, Joe, the sour one,was punished roundly—a thing that Spitz had never succeeded in doing.Buck simply smothered him by virtue of superior weight, and cut him up till heceased snapping and began to whine for mercy.

The general tone of the team picked up immediately. It recovered its old-timesolidarity, and once more the dogs leaped as one dog in the traces. At the RinkRapids two native huskies, Teek and Koona, were added; and the celerity withwhich Buck broke them in took away François’s breath.

“Nevaire such a dog as dat Buck!” he cried. “No, nevaire!Heem worth one t’ousan’ dollair, by Gar! Eh? Wot you say,Perrault?”

And Perrault nodded. He was ahead of the record then, and gaining day by day.The trail was in excellent condition, well packed and hard, and there was nonew-fallen snow with which to contend. It was not too cold. The temperaturedropped to fifty below zero and remained there the whole trip. The men rode andran by turn, and the dogs were kept on the jump, with but infrequent stoppages.

The Thirty Mile River was comparatively coated with ice, and they covered inone day going out what had taken them ten days coming in. In one run they madea sixty-mile dash from the foot of Lake Le Barge to the White Horse Rapids.Across Marsh, Tagish, and Bennett (seventy miles of lakes), they flew so fastthat the man whose turn it was to run towed behind the sled at the end of arope. And on the last night of the second week they topped White Pass anddropped down the sea slope with the lights of Skaguay and of the shipping attheir feet.

It was a record run. Each day for fourteen days they had averaged forty miles.For three days Perrault and François threw chests up and down the main streetof Skaguay and were deluged with invitations to drink, while the team was theconstant centre of a worshipful crowd of dog-busters and mushers. Then three orfour western bad men aspired to clean out the town, were riddled likepepper-boxes for their pains, and public interest turned to other idols. Nextcame official orders. François called Buck to him, threw his arms around him,wept over him. And that was the last of François and Perrault. Like other men,they passed out of Buck’s life for good.

A Scotch half-breed took charge of him and his mates, and in company with adozen other dog-teams he started back over the weary trail to Dawson. It was nolight running now, nor record time, but heavy toil each day, with a heavy loadbehind; for this was the mail train, carrying word from the world to the menwho sought gold under the shadow of the Pole.

Buck did not like it, but he bore up well to the work, taking pride in it afterthe manner of Dave and Sol-leks, and seeing that his mates, whether they pridedin it or not, did their fair share. It was a monotonous life, operating withmachine-like regularity. One day was very like another. At a certain time eachmorning the cooks turned out, fires were built, and breakfast was eaten. Then,while some broke camp, others harnessed the dogs, and they were under way anhour or so before the darkness fell which gave warning of dawn. At night, campwas made. Some pitched the flies, others cut firewood and pine boughs for thebeds, and still others carried water or ice for the cooks. Also, the dogs werefed. To them, this was the one feature of the day, though it was good to loafaround, after the fish was eaten, for an hour or so with the other dogs, ofwhich there were fivescore and odd. There were fierce fighters among them, butthree battles with the fiercest brought Buck to mastery, so that when hebristled and showed his teeth they got out of his way.

Best of all, perhaps, he loved to lie near the fire, hind legs crouched underhim, fore legs stretched out in front, head raised, and eyes blinking dreamilyat the flames. Sometimes he thought of Judge Miller’s big house in thesun-kissed Santa Clara Valley, and of the cement swimming-tank, and Ysabel, theMexican hairless, and Toots, the Japanese pug; but oftener he remembered theman in the red sweater, the death of Curly, the great fight with Spitz, and thegood things he had eaten or would like to eat. He was not homesick. The Sunlandwas very dim and distant, and such memories had no power over him. Far morepotent were the memories of his heredity that gave things he had never seenbefore a seeming familiarity; the instincts (which were but the memories of hisancestors become habits) which had lapsed in later days, and still later, inhim, quickened and become alive again.

Sometimes as he crouched there, blinking dreamily at the flames, it seemed thatthe flames were of another fire, and that as he crouched by this other fire hesaw another and different man from the half-breed cook before him. This otherman was shorter of leg and longer of arm, with muscles that were stringy andknotty rather than rounded and swelling. The hair of this man was long andmatted, and his head slanted back under it from the eyes. He uttered strangesounds, and seemed very much afraid of the darkness, into which he peeredcontinually, clutching in his hand, which hung midway between knee and foot, astick with a heavy stone made fast to the end. He was all but naked, a raggedand fire-scorched skin hanging part way down his back, but on his body therewas much hair. In some places, across the chest and shoulders and down theoutside of the arms and thighs, it was matted into almost a thick fur. He didnot stand erect, but with trunk inclined forward from the hips, on legs thatbent at the knees. About his body there was a peculiar springiness, orresiliency, almost catlike, and a quick alertness as of one who lived inperpetual fear of things seen and unseen.

At other times this hairy man squatted by the fire with head between his legsand slept. On such occasions his elbows were on his knees, his hands claspedabove his head as though to shed rain by the hairy arms. And beyond that fire,in the circling darkness, Buck could see many gleaming coals, two by two,always two by two, which he knew to be the eyes of great beasts of prey. And hecould hear the crashing of their bodies through the undergrowth, and the noisesthey made in the night. And dreaming there by the Yukon bank, with lazy eyesblinking at the fire, these sounds and sights of another world would make thehair to rise along his back and stand on end across his shoulders and up hisneck, till he whimpered low and suppressedly, or growled softly, and thehalf-breed cook shouted at him, “Hey, you Buck, wake up!” Whereuponthe other world would vanish and the real world come into his eyes, and hewould get up and yawn and stretch as though he had been asleep.

It was a hard trip, with the mail behind them, and the heavy work wore themdown. They were short of weight and in poor condition when they made Dawson,and should have had a ten days’ or a week’s rest at least. But intwo days’ time they dropped down the Yukon bank from the Barracks, loadedwith letters for the outside. The dogs were tired, the drivers grumbling, andto make matters worse, it snowed every day. This meant a soft trail, greaterfriction on the runners, and heavier pulling for the dogs; yet the drivers werefair through it all, and did their best for the animals.

Each night the dogs were attended to first. They ate before the drivers ate,and no man sought his sleeping-robe till he had seen to the feet of the dogs hedrove. Still, their strength went down. Since the beginning of the winter theyhad travelled eighteen hundred miles, dragging sleds the whole weary distance;and eighteen hundred miles will tell upon life of the toughest. Buck stood it,keeping his mates up to their work and maintaining discipline, though he, too,was very tired. Billee cried and whimpered regularly in his sleep each night.Joe was sourer than ever, and Sol-leks was unapproachable, blind side or otherside.

But it was Dave who suffered most of all. Something had gone wrong with him. Hebecame more morose and irritable, and when camp was pitched at once made hisnest, where his driver fed him. Once out of the harness and down, he did notget on his feet again till harness-up time in the morning. Sometimes, in thetraces, when jerked by a sudden stoppage of the sled, or by straining to startit, he would cry out with pain. The driver examined him, but could findnothing. All the drivers became interested in his case. They talked it over atmeal-time, and over their last pipes before going to bed, and one night theyheld a consultation. He was brought from his nest to the fire and was pressedand prodded till he cried out many times. Something was wrong inside, but theycould locate no broken bones, could not make it out.

By the time Cassiar Bar was reached, he was so weak that he was fallingrepeatedly in the traces. The Scotch half-breed called a halt and took him outof the team, making the next dog, Sol-leks, fast to the sled. His intention wasto rest Dave, letting him run free behind the sled. Sick as he was, Daveresented being taken out, grunting and growling while the traces wereunfastened, and whimpering broken-heartedly when he saw Sol-leks in theposition he had held and served so long. For the pride of trace and trail washis, and, sick unto death, he could not bear that another dog should do hiswork.

When the sled started, he floundered in the soft snow alongside the beatentrail, attacking Sol-leks with his teeth, rushing against him and trying tothrust him off into the soft snow on the other side, striving to leap insidehis traces and get between him and the sled, and all the while whining andyelping and crying with grief and pain. The half-breed tried to drive him awaywith the whip; but he paid no heed to the stinging lash, and the man had notthe heart to strike harder. Dave refused to run quietly on the trail behind thesled, where the going was easy, but continued to flounder alongside in the softsnow, where the going was most difficult, till exhausted. Then he fell, and laywhere he fell, howling lugubriously as the long train of sleds churned by.

With the last remnant of his strength he managed to stagger along behind tillthe train made another stop, when he floundered past the sleds to his own,where he stood alongside Sol-leks. His driver lingered a moment to get a lightfor his pipe from the man behind. Then he returned and started his dogs. Theyswung out on the trail with remarkable lack of exertion, turned their headsuneasily, and stopped in surprise. The driver was surprised, too; the sled hadnot moved. He called his comrades to witness the sight. Dave had bitten throughboth of Sol-leks’s traces, and was standing directly in front of the sledin his proper place.

He pleaded with his eyes to remain there. The driver was perplexed. Hiscomrades talked of how a dog could break its heart through being denied thework that killed it, and recalled instances they had known, where dogs, too oldfor the toil, or injured, had died because they were cut out of the traces.Also, they held it a mercy, since Dave was to die anyway, that he should die inthe traces, heart-easy and content. So he was harnessed in again, and proudlyhe pulled as of old, though more than once he cried out involuntarily from thebite of his inward hurt. Several times he fell down and was dragged in thetraces, and once the sled ran upon him so that he limped thereafter in one ofhis hind legs.

But he held out till camp was reached, when his driver made a place for him bythe fire. Morning found him too weak to travel. At harness-up time he tried tocrawl to his driver. By convulsive efforts he got on his feet, staggered, andfell. Then he wormed his way forward slowly toward where the harnesses werebeing put on his mates. He would advance his fore legs and drag up his bodywith a sort of hitching movement, when he would advance his fore legs and hitchahead again for a few more inches. His strength left him, and the last hismates saw of him he lay gasping in the snow and yearning toward them. But theycould hear him mournfully howling till they passed out of sight behind a beltof river timber.

Here the train was halted. The Scotch half-breed slowly retraced his steps tothe camp they had left. The men ceased talking. A revolver-shot rang out. Theman came back hurriedly. The whips snapped, the bells tinkled merrily, thesleds churned along the trail; but Buck knew, and every dog knew, what hadtaken place behind the belt of river trees.