smoke bellew-第2部分

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〃Glory。〃

〃And　you　used　to　swim；　and　you　have　essayed　to　sit　a　horse！〃　　John　Bellew　set　his　glass　down　with　unnecessary　violence。　　〃What　earthly　good　are　you　anyway？　　You　were　well　put　up；　yet　even　at　university　you　didn't　play　football。　　You　didn't　row。　　You　didn't…〃

〃I　boxed　and　fencedsome。〃

〃When　did　you　last　box？〃

〃Not　since；　but　I　was　considered　an　excellent　judge　of　time　and　distance；　only　I　waser…〃

〃Go　on。〃

〃Considered　desultory。〃

〃Lazy；　you　mean。〃

〃I　always　imagined　it　was　an　euphemism。〃

〃My　father；　sir；　your　grandfather；　old　Isaac　Bellew；　killed　a　man　with　a　blow　of　his　fist　when　he　was　sixty…nine　years　old。〃

〃The　man？〃

〃No；　youryou　graceless　scamp！　　But　you'll　never　kill　a　mosquito　at　sixty…nine。〃

〃The　times　have　changed；　oh；　my　avuncular。　　They　send　men　to　state　prisons　for　homicide　now。〃

〃Your　father　rode　one　hundred　and　eighty…five　miles；　without　sleeping；　and　killed　three　horses。〃

〃Had　he　lived　to…day；　he'd　have　snored　over　the　course　in　a　Pullman。〃

The　older　man　was　on　the　verge　of　choking　with　wrath；　but　swallowed　it　down　and　managed　to　articulate：

〃How　old　are　you？〃

〃I　have　reason　to　believe…〃

〃I　know。　　Twenty…seven。　　You　finished　college　at　twenty…two。　　You've　dabbled　and　played　and　frilled　for　five　years。　　Before　God　and　man；　of　what　use　are　you？　　When　I　was　your　age　I　had　one　suit　of　underclothes。　　I　was　riding　with　the　cattle　in　Colusa。　　I　was　hard　as　rocks；　and　I　could　sleep　on　a　rock。　　I　lived　on　jerked　beef　and　bear…meat。　　I　am　a　better　man　physically　right　now　than　you　are。　You　weigh　about　one　hundred　and　sixty…five。　　I　can　throw　you　right　now；　or　thrash　you　with　my　fists。〃

〃It　doesn't　take　a　physical　prodigy　to　mop　up　cocktails　or　pink　tea；〃　Kit　murmured　deprecatingly。　　〃Don't　you　see；　my　avuncular；　the　times　have　changed。　　Besides；　I　wasn't　brought　up　right。　　My　dear　fool　of　a　mother…〃

John　Bellew　started　angrily。

〃…As　you　described　her；　was　too　good　to　me；　kept　me　in　cotton　wool　and　all　the　rest。　　Now；　if　when　I　was　a　youngster　I　had　taken　some　of　those　intensely　masculine　vacations　you　go　in　forI　wonder　why　you　didn't　invite　me　sometimes？　　You　took　Hal　and　Robbie　all　over　the　Sierras　and　on　that　Mexico　trip。〃

〃I　guess　you　were　too　Lord　Fauntleroyish。〃

〃Your　fault；　avuncular；　and　my　dearermother's。　　How　was　I　to　know　the　hard？　　I　was　only　a　chee…ild。　　What　was　there　left　but　etchings　and　pictures　and　fans？　　Was　it　my　fault　that　I　never　had　to　sweat？〃

The　older　man　looked　at　his　nephew　with　unconcealed　disgust。　　He　had　no　patience　with　levity　from　the　lips　of　softness。

〃Well；　I'm　going　to　take　another　one　of　those　what…you…call　masculine　vacations。　　Suppose　I　asked　you　to　come　along？〃

〃Rather　belated；　I　must　say。　　Where　is　it？〃

〃Hal　and　Robert　are　going　in　to　Klondike；　and　I'm　going　to　see　them　across　the　Pass　and　down　to　the　Lakes；　then　return…〃

He　got　no　further；　for　the　young　man　had　sprung　forward　and　gripped　his　hand。

〃My　preserver！〃

John　Bellew　was　immediately　suspicious。　　He　had　not　dreamed　the　invitation　would　be　accepted。

〃You　don't　mean　it；〃　he　said。

〃When　do　we　start？〃

〃It　will　be　a　hard　trip。　　You'll　be　in　the　way。〃

〃No；　I　won't。　　I'll　work。　　I've　learned　to　work　since　I　went　on　the　Billow。〃

〃Each　man　has　to　take　a　year's　supplies　in　with　him。　　There'll　be　such　a　jam　the　Indian　packers　won't　be　able　to　handle　it。　　Hal　and　Robert　will　have　to　pack　their　outfits　across　themselves。　　That's　what　I'm　going　along　forto　help　them　pack。　　It　you　come　you'll　have　to　do　the　same。〃

〃Watch　me。〃

〃You　can't　pack；〃　was　the　objection。

〃When　do　we　start？〃

〃To…morrow。〃

〃You　needn't　take　it　to　yourself　that　your　lecture　on　the　hard　has　done　it；〃　Kit　said；　at　parting。　　〃I　just　had　to　get　away；　somewhere；　anywhere；　from　O'Hara。〃

〃Who　is　O'Hara？　　A　Jap？〃

〃No；　he's　an　Irishman；　and　a　slave…driver；　and　my　best　friend。　　He's　the　editor　and　proprietor　and　all…around　big　squeeze　of　the　Billow。　What　he　says　goes。　　He　can　make　ghosts　walk。〃

That　night　Kit　Bellew　wrote　a　note　to　O'Hara。

〃It's　only　a　several　weeks'　vacation；〃　he　explained。　　〃You'll　have　to　get　some　gink　to　dope　out　instalments　for　that　serial。　　Sorry；　old　man；　but　my　health　demands　it。　　I'll　kick　in　twice　as　hard　when　I　get　back。〃



II。

Kit　Bellew　landed　through　the　madness　of　the　Dyea　beach；　congested　with　thousand…pound　outfits　of　thousands　of　men。　　This　immense　mass　of　luggage　and　food；　flung　ashore　in　mountains　by　the　steamers；　was　beginning　slowly　to　dribble　up　the　Dyea　valley　and　across　Chilcoot。　It　was　a　portage　of　twenty…eight　miles；　and　could　be　accomplished　only　on　the　backs　of　men。　　Despite　the　fact　that　the　Indian　packers　had　jumped　the　freight　from　eight　cents　a　pound　to　forty；　they　were　swamped　with　the　work；　and　it　was　plain　that　winter　would　catch　the　major　portion　of　the　outfits　on　the　wrong　side　of　the　divide。

Tenderest　of　the　tender…feet　was　Kit。　　Like　many　hundreds　of　others　he　carried　a　big　revolver　swung　on　a　cartridge…belt。　　Of　this；　his　uncle；　filled　with　memories　of　old　lawless　days；　was　likewise　guilty。　　But　Kit　Bellew　was　romantic。　　He　was　fascinated　by　the　froth　and　sparkle　of　the　gold　rush；　and　viewed　its　life　and　movement　with　an　artist's　eye。　　He　did　not　take　it　seriously。　　As　he　said　on　the　steamer；　it　was　not　his　funeral。　　He　was　merely　on　a　vacation；　and　intended　to　peep　over　the　top　of　the　pass　for　a　'look　see'　and　then　to　return。

Leaving　his　party　on　the　sand　to　wait　for　the　putting　ashore　of　the　freight；　he　strolled　up　the　beach　toward　the　old　trading　post。　　He　did　not　swagger；　though　he　noticed　that　many　of　the　be…revolvered　individuals　did。　　A　strapping；　six…foot　Indian　passed　him；　carrying　an　unusually　large　pack。　　Kit　swung　in　behind；　admiring　the　splendid　calves　of　the　man；　and　the　grace　and　ease　with　which　he　moved　along　under　his　burden。　　The　Indian　dropped　his　pack　on　the　scales　in　front　of　the　post；　and　Kit　joined　the　group　of　admiring　gold…rushers　who　surrounded　him。　　The　pack　weighed　one　hundred　and　twenty　pounds；　which　fact　was　uttered　back　and　forth　in　tones　of　awe。　　It　was　going　some；　Kit　decided；　and　he　wondered　if　he　could　lift　such　a　weight；　much　less　walk　off　with　it。

〃Going　to　Lake　Linderman　with　it；　old　man？〃　he　asked。

The　Indian；　swelling　with　pride；　grunted　an　affirmative。

〃How　much　you　make　that　one　pack？〃

〃Fifty　dollar。〃

Here　Kit　slid　out　of　the　conversation。　　A　young　woman；　standing　in　the　doorway；　had　caught　his　eye。　　Unlike　other　women　landing　from　the　steamers；　she　was　neither　short…skirted　nor　bloomer…clad。　　She　was　dressed　as　any　woman　travelling　anywhere　would　be　dressed。　　What　struck　him　was　the　justness　of　her　being　there；　a　feeling　that　somehow　she　belonged。　　Moreover；　she　was　young　and　pretty。　　The　bright　beauty　and　colour　of　her　oval　face　held　him；　and　he　looked　over…longlooked　till　she　resented；　and　her　own　eyes；　long…lashed　and　dark；　met　his　in　cool　survey。

From　his　face　they　travelled　in　evident　amusement　down　to　the　big　revolver　at　his　thigh。　　Then　her　eyes　came　back　to　his；　and　in　them　was　amused　contempt。　　It　struck　him　like　a　blow。　　She　turned　to　the　man　beside　her　and　indicated　Kit。　　The　man　glanced　him　over　with　the　same　amused　contempt。

〃Chechaquo；〃　the　girl　said。

The　man；　who　looked　like　a　tramp　in　his　cheap　overalls　and　dilapidated　woollen　jacket；　grinned　dryly；　and　Kit　felt　withered　though　he　knew　not　why。　　But　anyway　she　was　an　unusually　pretty　girl；　he　decided；　as　the　two　moved　off。　　He　noted　the　way　of　her　walk；　and　recorded　the　judgment　that　he　would　recognize　it　after　the　lapse　of　a　thousand　years。

〃Did　you　see　that　man　with　the　girl？〃　Kit's　neighbour　asked　him　excitedly。　　〃Know　who　he　is？〃

Kit　shook　his　head。

〃Cariboo　Charley。　　He　was　just　pointed　out　to　me。　　He　struck　it　big　on　Klondike。　　Old　timer。　　Been　on　the　Yukon　a　dozen　years。　　He's　just　come　out。〃

〃What's　chechaquo　mean？〃　Kit　asked。

〃You're　one；　I'm　one；〃　was　the　answer。

〃Maybe　I　am；　but　you've　got　to　search　me。　　What　does　it　mean？〃

〃Tender…foot。〃

On　his　way　back　to　the　beach　Kit　turned　the　phrase　over　and　over。　It　rankled　to　be　called　tender…foot　by　a　slender　chit　of　a　woman。

Going　into　a　corner　among　the　heaps　of　freight；　his　mind　still　filled　with　the　vision　of　the　Indian　with　the　redoubtable　pack；　Kit　essayed　to　learn　his　own　strength。　　He　picked　out　a　sack　of　flour　which　he　knew　weighed　an　even　hundred　pounds。　　He　stepped　astride　of　it；　reached　down；　and　strove　to　get　it　on　his　shoulder。　　His　first　conclusion　was　that　one　hundred　pounds　was　the　real　heavy。　　His　next　was　that　his　back　was　weak。　　His　third　was　an　oath；　and　it　occurred　at　the　end　of　five　futile　minutes；　when　he　collapsed　on　top　of　the　burden　with　which　he　was　wrestling。　　He　mopped　his　forehead；　and　across　a　heap　of　grub…sacks　saw　John　Bellew　gazing　at　him；　wintry　amusement　in　his　eyes。

〃God！〃　proclaimed　that　apostle　of　the　hard。　　〃Out　of　our　loins　has　come　a　race　of　weaklings。　　When　I　was　sixteen　I　toyed　with　things　like　that。〃

〃You　forget；　avuncular；〃　Kit　retorted；　〃that　I　wasn't　raised　on　bear…meat。〃

〃And　I'll　toy　with　it　when　I'm　sixty。〃

〃You've　got　to　show　me。〃

John　Bellew　did。　　He　was　forty…eight；　but　he　bent　over　the　sack；　applied　a