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A small dose of whiskey strengthened him, so that he could dip a spoon into the sugar caddy which Malemute Kid placed before him. After his appetite had been somewhat cloyed, Prince, shuddering as he did so, passed him a mug of weak beef tea.

The creature’s eyes were alight with a somber frenzy, which blazed and waned with every mouthful. There was very little skin to the face. The face, for that matter, sunken and emaciated, bore little likeness to human countenance.

Frost after frost had bitten deeply, each depositing its stratum of scab upon the half-healed scar that went before. This dry, hard surface was of a bloody-black color, serrated by grievous cracks wherein the raw red flesh peeped forth. His skin garments were dirty and in tatters, and the fur of one side was singed and burned away, showing where he had lain upon his fire.

Malemute Kid pointed to where the sun-tanned hide had been cut away, strip by strip–the grim signature of famine.

‘Who–are–you?’ slowly and distinctly enunciated the Kid.

The man paid no heed.

‘Where do you come from?’ ‘Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er,’ was the quavering response.

‘Don’t doubt the beggar came down the river,’ the Kid said, shaking him in an endeavor to start a more lucid flow of talk.

But the man shrieked at the contact, clapping a hand to his side in evident pain. He rose slowly to his feet, half leaning on the table.

‘She laughed at me–so–with the hate in her eye; and she–would–not–come.’ His voice died away, and he was sinking back when Malemute Kid gripped him by the wrist and shouted, ‘Who? Who would not come?’ ‘She, Unga. She laughed, and struck at me, so, and so. And then-‘ ‘Yes?’

‘And then–‘ ‘And then what?’ ‘And then he lay very still in the snow a long time. He is-still in–the–snow.’ The two men looked at each other helplessly.

‘Who is in the snow?’ ‘She, Unga. She looked at me with the hate in her eye, and then–‘

‘Yes, yes.’ ‘And then she took the knife, so; and once, twice–she was weak. I traveled very slow. And there is much gold in that place, very much gold.’ ‘Where is Unga?’ For all Malemute Kid knew, she might be dying a mile away. He shook the man savagely, repeating again and again, ‘Where is Unga? Who is Unga?’ ‘She–is–in–the–snow.’ ‘Go on!’ The Kid was pressing his wrist cruelly.

‘So–I–would–be–in–the snow–but–I–had–a–debt–to–pay. It–was–heavy–I–had–a-debt–to–pay–a–debt–to–pay I–had-‘ The faltering monosyllables ceased as he fumbled in his pouch and drew forth a buckskin sack. ‘A–debt–to–pay–five–pounds–of–gold-grub– stake–Mal–e–mute–Kid–I–y–‘ The exhausted head dropped upon the table; nor could Malemute Kid rouse it again.

‘It’s Ulysses,’ he said quietly, tossing the bag of dust on the table. ‘Guess it’s all day with Axel Gunderson and the woman. Come on, let’s get him between the blankets. He’s Indian; he’ll pull through and tell a tale besides.’ As they cut his garments from him, near his right breast could be seen two unhealed, hard-lipped knife thrusts.

III

‘I will talk of the things which were in my own way; but you will understand. I will begin at the beginning, and tell of myself and the woman, and, after that, of the man.’ He of the Otter Skins drew over to the stove as do men who have been deprived of fire and are afraid the Promethean gift may vanish at any moment. Malemute Kid picked up the slush lamp and placed it so its light might fall upon the face of the narrator. Prince slid his body over the edge of the bunk and joined them.

‘I am Naass, a chief, and the son of a chief, born between a sunset and a rising, on the dark seas, in my father’s oomiak. All of a night the men toiled at the paddles, and the women cast out the waves which threw in upon us, and we fought with the storm. The salt spray froze upon my mother’s breast till her breath passed with the passing of the tide. But I–I raised my voice with the wind and the storm, and lived.