the faith of men-第13章

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The　old　man　unlimbered　lamely；　blinking　his　eyes　and　murmuring

automatically：　　〃What'll　ye　have；　gents？　　What'll　ye　have？〃



They　followed　him　inside　and　ranged　up　against　the　long　bar　where

of　yore　a　half…dozen　nimble　bar…keepers　found　little　time　to　loaf。

The　great　room；　ordinarily　aroar　with　life；　was　still　and　gloomy　as

a　tomb。　　There　was　no　rattling　of　chips；　no　whirring　of　ivory

balls。　　Roulette　and　faro　tables　were　like　gravestones　under　their

canvas　covers。　　No　women's　voices　drifted　merrily　from　the　dance…

room　behind。　　Ol'　Jim　Cummings　wiped　a　glass　with　palsied　hands；

and　Kink　Mitchell　scrawled　his　initials　on　the　dust…covered　bar。



〃Where's　the　girls？〃　Hootchinoo　Bill　shouted；　with　affected

geniality。



〃Gone；〃　was　the　ancient　bar…keeper's　reply；　in　a　voice　thin　and

aged　as　himself；　and　as　unsteady　as　his　hand。



〃Where's　Bidwell　and　Barlow？〃



〃Gone。〃



〃And　Sweetwater　Charley？〃



〃Gone。〃



〃And　his　sister？〃



〃Gone　too。〃



〃Your　daughter　Sally；　then；　and　her　little　kid？〃



〃Gone；　all　gone。〃　　The　old　man　shook　his　head　sadly；　rummaging　in

an　absent　way　among　the　dusty　bottles。



〃Great　Sardanapolis！　　Where？〃　Kink　Mitchell　exploded；　unable　longer

to　restrain　himself。　　〃You　don't　say　you've　had　the　plague？〃



〃Why；　ain't　you　heerd？〃　　The　old　man　chuckled　quietly。　　〃They…all's

gone　to　Dawson。〃



〃What…like　is　that？〃　Bill　demanded。　　〃A　creek？　or　a　bar？　or　a

place？〃



〃Ain't　never　heered　of　Dawson；　eh？〃　　The　old　man　chuckled

exasperatingly。　　〃Why；　Dawson's　a　town；　a　city；　bigger'n　Forty

Mile。　　Yes；　sir；　bigger'n　Forty　Mile。〃



〃I've　ben　in　this　land　seven　year；〃　Bill　announced　emphatically；

〃an'　I　make　free　to　say　I　never　heard　tell　of　the　burg　before。

Hold　on！　　Let's　have　some　more　of　that　whisky。　　Your　information's

flabbergasted　me；　that　it　has。　　Now　just　whereabouts　is　this

Dawson…place　you　was　a…mentionin'？〃



〃On　the　big　flat　jest　below　the　mouth　of　Klondike；〃　ol'　Jim

answered。　　〃But　where　has　you…all　ben　this　summer？〃



〃Never　you　mind　where　we…all's　ben；〃　was　Kink　Mitchell's　testy

reply。　　〃We…all's　ben　where　the　skeeters　is　that　thick　you've　got

to　throw　a　stick　into　the　air　so　as　to　see　the　sun　and　tell　the

time　of　day。　　Ain't　I　right；　Bill？〃



〃Right　you　are；〃　said　Bill。　　〃But　speakin'　of　this　Dawson…place　how

like　did　it　happen　to　be；　Jim？〃



〃Ounce　to　the　pan　on　a　creek　called　Bonanza；　an'　they　ain't　got　to

bed…rock　yet。〃



〃Who　struck　it？〃



〃Carmack。〃



At　mention　of　the　discoverer's　name　the　partners　stared　at　each

other　disgustedly。　　Then　they　winked　with　great　solemnity。



〃Siwash　George；〃　sniffed　Hootchinoo　Bill。



〃That　squaw…man；〃　sneered　Kink　Mitchell。



〃I　wouldn't　put　on　my　moccasins　to　stampede　after　anything　he'd

ever　find；〃　said　Bill。



〃Same　here；〃　announced　his　partner。　　〃A　cuss　that's　too　plumb　lazy

to　fish　his　own　salmon。　　That's　why　he　took　up　with　the　Indians。

S'pose　that　black　brother…in…law　of　his；lemme　see；　Skookum　Jim；

eh？s'pose　he's　in　on　it？〃



The　old　bar…keeper　nodded。　　〃Sure；　an'　what's　more；　all　Forty　Mile；

exceptin'　me　an'　a　few　cripples。〃



〃And　drunks；〃　added　Kink　Mitchell。



〃No…sir…ee！〃　the　old　man　shouted　emphatically。



〃I　bet　you　the　drinks　Honkins　ain't　in　on　it！〃　Hootchinoo　Bill

cried　with　certitude。



Ol'　Jim's　face　lighted　up。　　〃I　takes　you；　Bill；　an'　you　loses。〃



〃However　did　that　ol'　soak　budge　out　of　Forty　Mile？〃　Mitchell

demanded。



〃The　ties　him　down　an'　throws　him　in　the　bottom　of　a　polin'…boat；〃

ol'　Jim　explained。　　〃Come　right　in　here；　they　did；　an'　takes　him

out　of　that　there　chair　there　in　the　corner；　an'　three　more　drunks

they　finds　under　the　pianny。　　I　tell　you…alls　the　whole　camp　hits

up　the　Yukon　for　Dawson　jes'　like　Sam　Scratch　was　after　them；

wimmen；　children；　babes　in　arms；　the　whole　shebang。　　Bidwell　comes

to　me　an'　sez；　sez　he；　'Jim；　I　wants　you　to　keep　tab　on　the　Monte

Carlo。　　I'm　goin'。'



〃'Where's　Barlow？'　sez　I。　　'Gone；'　sez　he；　'an'　I'm　a…followin'

with　a　load　of　whisky。'　　An'　with　that；　never　waitin'　for　me　to

decline；　he　makes　a　run　for　his　boat　an'　away　he　goes；　polin'　up

river　like　mad。　　So　here　I　be；　an'　these　is　the　first　drinks　I've

passed　out　in　three　days。〃



The　partners　looked　at　each　other。



〃Gosh　darn　my　buttoms！〃　said　Hootchinoo　Bill。　　〃Seems　likes　you　and

me；　Kink；　is　the　kind　of　folks　always　caught　out　with　forks　when　it

rains　soup。〃



〃Wouldn't　it　take　the　saleratus　out　your　dough；　now？〃　said　Kink

Mitchell。　　〃A　stampede　of　tin…horns；　drunks；　an'　loafers。〃



〃An'　squaw…men；〃　added　Bill。　　〃Not　a　genooine　miner　in　the　whole

caboodle。〃



〃Genooine　miners　like　you　an'　me；　Kink；〃　he　went　on　academically；

〃is　all　out　an'　sweatin'　hard　over　Birch　Creek　way。　　Not　a　genooine

miner　in　this　whole　crazy　Dawson　outfit；　and　I　say　right　here；　not

a　step　do　I　budge　for　any　Carmack　strike。　　I've　got　to　see　the

colour　of　the　dust　first。〃



〃Same　here；〃　Mitchell　agreed。　　〃Let's　have　another　drink。〃



Having　wet　this　resolution；　they　beached　the　canoe；　transferred　its

contents　to　their　cabin；　and　cooked　dinner。　　But　as　the　afternoon

wore　along　they　grew　restive。　　They　were　men　used　to　the　silence　of

the　great　wilderness；　but　this　gravelike　silence　of　a　town　worried

them。　　They　caught　themselves　listening　for　familiar　sounds

〃waitin'　for　something　to　make　a　noise　which　ain't　goin'　to　make　a

noise；〃　as　Bill　put　it。　　They　strolled　through　the　deserted　streets

to　the　Monte　Carlo　for　more　drinks；　and　wandered　along　the　river

bank　to　the　steamer　landing；　where　only　water　gurgled　as　the　eddy

filled　and　emptied；　and　an　occasional　salmon　leapt　flashing　into

the　sun。



They　sat　down　in　the　shade　in　front　of　the　store　and　talked　with

the　consumptive　storekeeper；　whose　liability　to　hemorrhage

accounted　for　his　presence。　　Bill　and　Kink　told　him　how　they

intended　loafing　in　their　cabin　and　resting　up　after　the　hard

summer's　work。　　They　told　him；　with　a　certain　insistence；　that　was

half　appeal　for　belief；　half　challenge　for　contradiction；　how　much

they　were　going　to　enjoy　their　idleness。　　But　the　storekeeper　was

uninterested。　　He　switched　the　conversation　back　to　the　strike　on

Klondike；　and　they　could　not　keep　him　away　from　it。　　He　could　think

of　nothing　else；　talk　of　nothing　else；　till　Hootchinoo　Bill　rose　up

in　anger　and　disgust。



〃Gosh　darn　Dawson；　say　I！〃　he　cried。



〃Same　here；〃　said　Kink　Mitchell；　with　a　brightening　face。　　〃One'd

think　something　was　doin'　up　there；　'stead　of　bein'　a　mere　stampede

of　greenhorns　an'　tinhorns。〃



But　a　boat　came　into　view　from　downstream。　　It　was　long　and　slim。

It　hugged　the　bank　closely；　and　its　three　occupants；　standing

upright；　propelled　it　against　the　stiff　current　by　means　of　long

poles。



〃Circle　City　outfit；〃　said　the　storekeeper。　　〃I　was　lookin'　for　'em

along　by　afternoon。　　Forty　Mile　had　the　start　of　them　by　a　hundred

and　seventy　miles。　　But　gee！　they　ain't　losin'　any　time！〃



'We'll　just　sit　here　quiet…like　and　watch　'em　string　by；〃　Bill　said

complacently。



As　he　spoke；　another　boat　appeared　in　sight；　followed　after　a　brief

interval　by　two　others。　　By　this　time　the　first　boat　was　abreast　of

the　men　on　the　bank。　　Its　occupants　did　not　cease　poling　while

greetings　were　exchanged；　and；　though　its　progress　was　slow；　a

half…hour　saw　it　out　of　sight　up　river。



Still　they　came　from　below；　boat　after　boat；　in　endless　procession。

The　uneasiness　of　Bill　and　Kink　increased。　　They　stole　speculative；

tentative　glances　at　each　other；　and　when　their　eyes　met　looked

away　in　embarrassment。　　Finally；　however；　their　eyes　met　and

neither　looked　away。



Kink　opened　his　mouth　to　speak；　but　words　failed　him　and　his　mouth

remained　open　while　he　continued　to　gaze　at　his　partner。



〃Just　what　I　was　thinken'；　Kink；〃　said　Bill。



They　grinned　sheepishly　at　each　other；　and　by　tacit　consent　started

to　walk　away。