"One night I am asleep at Dawson. He wake me up. He says, 'Get
the dogs ready; we start.' No more do I ask questions, so I get
the dogs ready and we start. We go down the Yukon. It is night-
time, it is November, and it is very cold - sixty-five below. She
is soft. He is soft. The cold bites. They get tired. They cry
under their breaths to themselves. By and by I say better we stop
and make camp. But they say that they will go on. Three times I
say better to make camp and rest, but each time they say they will
go on. After that I say nothing. All the time, day after day, is
it that way. They are very soft. They get stiff and sore. They
do not understand moccasins, and their feet hurt very much. They
limp, they stagger like drunken people, they cry under their
breaths; and all the time they say, 'On! on! We will go on!'
"They are like crazy people. All the time do they go on, and on.
Why do they go on? I do not know. Only do they go on. What are
they after? I do not know. They are not after gold. There is no
stampede.
Pages:
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214