smoke bellew-第3部分

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〃You've　got　to　show　me。〃

John　Bellew　did。　　He　was　forty…eight；　but　he　bent　over　the　sack；　applied　a　tentative；　shifting　grip　that　balanced　it；　and；　with　a　quick　heave；　stood　erect；　the　somersaulted　sack　of　flour　on　his　shoulder。

〃Knack；　my　boy；　knackand　a　spine。〃

Kit　took　off　his　hat　reverently。

〃You're　a　wonder；　avuncular；　a　shining　wonder。　　D'ye　think　I　can　learn　the　knack？〃

John　Bellew　shrugged　his　shoulders。

〃You'll　be　hitting　the　back　trail　before　we　get　started。〃

〃Never　you　fear；〃　Kit　groaned。　　〃There's　O'Hara；　the　roaring　lion；　down　there。　　I'm　not　going　back　till　I　have　to。〃



III。

Kit's　first　pack　was　a　success。　　Up　to　Finnegan's　Crossing　they　had　managed　to　get　Indians　to　carry　the　twenty…five　hundred…pound　outfit。　　From　that　point　their　own　backs　must　do　the　work。　　They　planned　to　move　forward　at　the　rate　of　a　mile　a　day。　　It　looked　easyon　paper。　　Since　John　Bellew　was　to　stay　in　camp　and　do　the　cooking；　he　would　be　unable　to　make　more　than　an　occasional　pack；　so；　to　each　of　the　three　young　men　fell　the　task　of　carrying　eight　hundred　pounds　one　mile　each　day。　　If　they　made　fifty…pound　packs；　it　meant　a　daily　walk　of　sixteen　miles　loaded　and　of　fifteen　miles　light〃Because　we　don't　back…trip　the　last　time；〃　Kit　explained　the　pleasant　discovery；　eighty…pound　packs　meant　nineteen　miles　travel　each　day；　and　hundred…pound　packs　meant　only　fifteen　miles。

〃I　don't　like　walking；〃　said　Kit。　　〃Therefore　I　shall　carry　one　hundred　pounds。〃　　He　caught　the　grin　of　incredulity　on　his　uncle's　face；　and　added　hastily：　　〃Of　course　I　shall　work　up　to　it。　　A　fellow's　got　to　learn　the　ropes　and　tricks。　　I'll　start　with　fifty。〃

He　did；　and　ambled　gaily　along　the　trail。　　He　dropped　the　sack　at　the　next　camp…site　and　ambled　back。　　It　was　easier　than　he　had　thought。　　But　two　miles　had　rubbed　off　the　velvet　of　his　strength　and　exposed　the　underlying　softness。　　His　second　pack　was　sixty…five　pounds。　　It　was　more　difficult；　and　he　no　longer　ambled。　　Several　times；　following　the　custom　of　all　packers；　he　sat　down　on　the　ground；　resting　the　pack　behind　him　on　a　rock　or　stump。　　With　the　third　pack　he　became　bold。　　He　fastened　the　straps　to　a　ninety…five…　pound　sack　of　beans　and　started。　　At　the　end　of　a　hundred　yards　he　felt　that　he　must　collapse。　　He　sat　down　and　mopped　his　face。

〃Short　hauls　and　short　rests；〃　he　muttered。　　〃That's　the　trick。〃

Sometimes　he　did　not　make　a　hundred　yards；　and　each　time　he　struggled　to　his　feet　for　another　short　haul　the　pack　became　undeniably　heavier。　　He　panted　for　breath；　and　the　sweat　streamed　from　him。　　Before　he　had　covered　a　quarter　of　a　mile　he　stripped　off　his　woollen　shirt　and　hung　it　on　a　tree。　　A　little　later　he　discarded　his　hat。　　At　the　end　of　half　a　mile　he　decided　he　was　finished。　　He　had　never　exerted　himself　so　in　his　life；　and　he　knew　that　he　was　finished。　　As　he　sat　and　panted；　his　gaze　fell　upon　the　big　revolver　and　the　heavy　cartridge…belt。

〃Ten　pounds　of　junk；〃　he　sneered；　as　he　unbuckled　it。

He　did　not　bother　to　hang　it　on　a　tree；　but　flung　it　into　the　underbush。　　And　as　the　steady　tide　of　packers　flowed　by　him；　up　trail　and　down；　he　noted　that　the　other　tender…feet　were　beginning　to　shed　their　shooting　irons。

His　short　hauls　decreased。　　At　times　a　hundred　feet　was　all　he　could　stagger；　and　then　the　ominous　pounding　of　his　heart　against　his　ear…　drums　and　the　sickening　totteriness　of　his　knees　compelled　him　to　rest。　　And　his　rests　grew　longer。　　But　his　mind　was　busy。　　It　was　a　twenty…eight　mile　portage；　which　represented　as　many　days；　and　this；　by　all　accounts；　was　the　easiest　part　of　it。　　〃Wait　till　you　get　to　Chilcoot；〃　others　told　him　as　they　rested　and　talked；　〃where　you　climb　with　hands　and　feet。〃

〃They　ain't　going　to　be　no　Chilcoot；〃　was　his　answer。　　〃Not　for　me。　Long　before　that　I'll　be　at　peace　in　my　little　couch　beneath　the　moss。〃

A　slip；　and　a　violent　wrenching　effort　at　recovery；　frightened　him。　He　felt　that　everything　inside　him　had　been　torn　asunder。

〃If　ever　I　fall　down　with　this　on　my　back　I'm　a　goner；〃　he　told　another　packer。

〃That's　nothing；〃　came　the　answer。　　〃Wait　till　you　hit　the　Canyon。　You'll　have　to　cross　a　raging　torrent　on　a　sixty…foot　pine　tree。　　No　guide　ropes；　nothing；　and　the　water　boiling　at　the　sag　of　the　log　to　your　knees。　　If　you　fall　with　a　pack　on　your　back；　there's　no　getting　out　of　the　straps。　　You　just　stay　there　and　drown。〃

〃Sounds　good　to　me；〃　he　retorted；　and　out　of　the　depths　of　his　exhaustion　he　almost　half　meant　it。

〃They　drown　three　or　four　a　day　there；〃　the　man　assured　him。　　〃I　helped　fish　a　German　out　there。　　He　had　four　thousand　in　greenbacks　on　him。〃

〃Cheerful；　I　must　say；〃　said　Kit；　battling　his　way　to　his　feet　and　tottering　on。

He　and　the　sack　of　beans　became　a　perambulating　tragedy。　　It　reminded　him　of　the　old　man　of　the　sea　who　sat　on　Sinbad's　neck。　And　this　was　one　of　those　intensely　masculine　vacations；　he　meditated。　　Compared　with　it；　the　servitude　to　O'Hara　was　sweet。　Again　and　again　he　was　nearly　seduced　by　the　thought　of　abandoning　the　sack　of　beans　in　the　brush　and　of　sneaking　around　the　camp　to　the　beach　and　catching　a　steamer　for　civilization。

But　he　didn't。　　Somewhere　in　him　was　the　strain　of　the　hard；　and　he　repeated　over　and　over　to　himself　that　what　other　men　could　do；　he　could。　　It　became　a　nightmare　chant；　and　he　gibbered　it　to　those　that　passed　him　on　the　trail。　　At　other　times；　resting；　he　watched　and　envied　the　stolid；　mule…footed　Indians　that　plodded　by　under　heavier　packs。　　They　never　seemed　to　rest；　but　went　on　and　on　with　a　steadiness　and　certitude　that　was　to　him　appalling。

He　sat　and　cursedhe　had　no　breath　for　it　when　under　wayand　fought　the　temptation　to　sneak　back　to　San　Francisco。　　Before　the　mile　pack　was　ended　he　ceased　cursing　and　took　to　crying。　　The　tears　were　tears　of　exhaustion　and　of　disgust　with　self。　　If　ever　a　man　was　a　wreck；　he　was。　　As　the　end　of　the　pack　came　in　sight；　he　strained　himself　in　desperation；　gained　the　camp…site；　and　pitched　forward　on　his　face；　the　beans　on　his　back。　　It　did　not　kill　him；　but　he　lay　for　fifteen　minutes　before　he　could　summon　sufficient　shreds　of　strength　to　release　himself　from　the　straps。　　Then　he　became　deathly　sick；　and　was　so　found　by　Robbie；　who　had　similar　troubles　of　his　own。　　It　was　this　sickness　of　Robbie　that　braced　him　up。

〃What　other　men　can　do；　we　can　do；〃　Kit　told　him；　though　down　in　his　heart　he　wondered　whether　or　not　he　was　bluffing。



IV。

〃And　I　am　twenty…seven　years　old　and　a　man；〃　he　privately　assured　himself　many　times　in　the　days　that　followed。　　There　was　need　for　it。　　At　the　end　of　a　week；　though　he　had　succeeded　in　moving　his　eight　hundred　pounds　forward　a　mile　a　day；　he　had　lost　fifteen　pounds　of　his　own　weight。　　His　face　was　lean　and　haggard。　　All　resilience　had　gone　out　of　his　body　and　mind。　　He　no　longer　walked；　but　plodded。　　And　on　the　back…trips；　travelling　light；　his　feet　dragged　almost　as　much　as　when　he　was　loaded。

He　had　become　a　work　animal。　　He　fell　asleep　over　his　food；　and　his　sleep　was　heavy　and　beastly；　save　when　he　was　aroused；　screaming　with　agony；　by　the　cramps　in　his　legs。　　Every　part　of　him　ached。　　He　tramped　on　raw　blisters；　yet　this　was　even　easier　than　the　fearful　bruising　his　feet　received　on　the　water…rounded　rocks　of　the　Dyea　Flats；　across　which　the　trail　led　for　two　miles。　　These　two　miles　represented　thirty…eight　miles　of　travelling。　　He　washed　his　face　once　a　day。　　His　nails；　torn　and　broken　and　afflicted　with　hangnails；　were　never　cleaned。　　His　shoulders　and　chest；　galled　by　the　pack…straps；　made　him　think；　and　for　the　first　time　with　understanding；　of　the　horses　he　had　seen　on　city　streets。

One　ordeal　that　nearly　destroyed　him　at　first　had　been　the　food。　The　extraordinary　amount　of　work　demanded　extraordinary　stoking；　and　his　stomach　was　unaccustomed　to　great　quantities　of　bacon　and　of　the　coarse；　highly　poisonous　brown　beans。　　As　a　result；　his　stomach　went　back　on　him；　and　for　several　days　the　pain　and　irritation　of　it　and　of　starvation　nearly　broke　him　down。　　And　then　came　the　day　of　joy　when　he　could　eat　like　a　ravenous　animal；　and；　wolf…eyed；　ask　for　more。

When　they　had　moved　the　outfit　across　the　foot…logs　at　the　mouth　of　the　Canyon；　they　made　a　change　in　their　plans。　　Word　had　come　across　the　Pass　that　at　Lake　Linderman　the　last　available　trees　for　building　boats　were　being　cut。　　The　two　cousins；　with　tools；　whipsaw；　blankets；　and　grub　on　their　backs；　went　on；　leaving　Kit　and　his　uncle　to　hustle　along　the　outfit。　　John　Bellew　now　shared　the　cooking　with　Kit；　and　both　packed　shoulder　to　shoulder。　　Time　was　flying；　and　on　the　peaks　the　first　snow　was　falling。　　To　be　caught　on　the　wrong　side　of　the　Pass　meant　a　delay　of　nearly　a　year。　　The　older　man　put　his　iron　back　under　a　hundred　pounds。　　Kit　was　shocked；　but　he　gritted　his　teeth　and　fastened　his　own　straps　to　a　hundred　pounds。　　It　hurt；　but　he　had　learned　the　knack；　and　his　body；　purged　of　all　softness　and　fat；　was　beginning　to　harden　up　with　lean　and　bitter　muscle。　　Also；　he　observed　and　devised。　　He　took　note　of　the　head…straps　worn　by　the　Indians；　and　manufactured　one　for　himself；　which　he　used　in　addition　to　the　shoulder…straps。　It　made　things　easier；　so　that　he　beg