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carried Bondell's grip； which he had used for a pillow； down to the canoe；
kicked Antonsen awake； and started in pursuit of the Flora。
〃There's no telling what might happenmachinery break down； or
something；〃 was his reply to Captain Jones's expostulations。 〃I'm going
to catch that steamer and send her back for the boys。〃
Tagish Lake was white with a fall gale that blew in their teeth。 Big；
swinging seas rushed upon the canoe； compelling one man to bale and
leaving one man to paddle。 Headway could not be made。 They ran
along the shallow shore and went overboard； one man ahead on the tow…
line； the other shoving on the canoe。 They fought the gale up to their
waists in the icy water； often up to their necks； often over their heads and
buried by the big； crested waves。 There was no rest； never a moment's
pause from the cheerless； heart…breaking battle。 That night； at the head of
Tagish Lake； in the thick of a driving snow…squall； they overhauled the
Flora。 Antonsen fell on board； lay where he had fallen； and snored。
Churchill looked like a wild man。 His clothes barely clung to him。 His
face was iced up and swollen from the protracted effort of twenty…four
hours； while his hands were so swollen that he could not close the fingers。
As for his feet； it was an agony to stand upon them。
The captain of the Flora was loth to go back to White Horse。 Churchill
was persistent and imperative； the captain was stubborn。 He pointed out
finally that nothing was to be gained by going back； because the only
ocean steamer at Dyea； the Athenian； was to sail on Tuesday morning； and
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that he could not make the back trip to White Horse and bring up the
stranded pilgrims in time to make the connection。
〃What time does the Athenian sail？〃 Churchill demanded。
〃Seven o'clock； Tuesday morning。〃
〃All right；〃 Churchill said； at the same time kicking a tattoo on the ribs
of the snoring Antonsen。 〃You go back to White Home。 We'll go ahead
and hold the Athenian。〃
Antonsen； stupid with sleep； not yet clothed in his waking mind； was
bundled into the canoe； and did not realize what had happened till he was
drenched with the icy spray of a big sea； and heard Churchill snarling at
him through the darkness：…
〃Paddle； can't you！ Do you want to be swamped？〃
Daylight found them at Caribou Crossing； the wind dying down； and
Antonsen too far gone to dip a paddle。 Churchill grounded the canoe on
a quiet beach； where they slept。 He took the precaution of twisting his
arm under the weight of his head。 Every few minutes the pain of the pent
circulation aroused him； whereupon he would look at his watch and twist
the other arm under his head。 At the end of two hours he fought with
Antonsen to rouse him。 Then they started。 Lake Bennett； thirty miles in
length； was like a millpond； but； half way across； a gale from the south
smote them and turned the water white。 Hour after hour they repeated the
struggle on Tagish； over the side； pulling and shoving on the canoe； up to
their waists and necks； and over their heads； in the icy water； toward the
last the good…natured giant played completely out。 Churchill drove him
mercilessly； but when he pitched forward and bade fair to drown in three
feet of water； the other dragged him into the canoe。 After that； Churchill
fought on alone； arriving at the police post at the head of Bennett in the
early afternoon。 He tried to help Antonsen out of the canoe； but failed。
He listened to the exhausted man's heavy breathing； and envied him when
he thought of what he himself had yet to undergo。 Antonsen could lie there
and sleep； but he； behind time； must go on over mighty Chilcoot and down
to the sea。 The real struggle lay before him； and he almost regretted the
strength that resided in his frame because of the torment it could inflict
upon that frame。
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Churchill pulled the canoe up on the beach； seized Bondell's grip； and
started on a limping dog…trot for the police post。
〃There's a canoe down there； consigned to you from Dawson；〃 he
hurled at the officer who answered his knock。 〃And there's a man in it
pretty near dead。 Nothing serious； only played out。 Take care of him。
I've got to rush。 Good…bye。 Want to catch the Athenian。〃
A mile portage connected Lake Bennett and Lake Linderman； and his
last words he flung back after him as he resumed the trot。 It was a very
painful trot； but he clenched his teeth and kept on； forgetting his pain most
of the time in the fervent heat with which he regarded the gripsack。 It
was a severe handicap。 He swung it from one hand to the other； and back
again。 He tucked it under his arm。 He threw one hand over the
opposite shoulder； and the bag bumped and pounded on his back as he ran
along。 He could scarcely hold it in his bruised and swollen fingers； and
several times he dropped it。 Once； in changing from one hand to the
other； it escaped his clutch and fell in front of him； tripped him up； and
threw him violently to the ground。
At the far end of the portage he bought an old set of pack…straps for a
dollar； and in them he swung the grip。 Also； he chartered a launch to run
him the six miles to the upper end of Lake Linderman； where he arrived at
four in the afternoon。 The Athenian was to sail from Dyea next morning
at seven。 Dyea was twenty…eight miles away； and between towered
Chilcoot。 He sat down to adjust his foot…gear for the long climb； and
woke up。 He had dozed the instant he sat down； though he had not slept
thirty seconds。 He was afraid his next doze might be longer； so he
finished fixing his foot…gear standing up。 Even then he was overpowered
for a fleeting moment。 He experienced the flash of unconsciousness；
becoming aware of it； in mid…air； as his relaxed body was sinking to the
ground and as he caught himself together； he stiffened his muscles with a
spasmodic wrench； and escaped the fall。 The sudden jerk back to
consciousness left him sick and trembling。 He beat his head with the heel
of his hand； knocking wakefulness into the numbed brain。
Jack Burns's pack…train was starting back light for Crater Lake； and
Churchill was invited to a mule。 Burns wanted to put the gripsack on
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another animal； but Churchill held on to it； carrying it on his saddle…
pommel。 But he dozed； and the grip persisted in dropping off the
pommel； one side or the other； each time wakening him with a sickening
start。 Then； in the early darkness； Churchill's mule brushed him against a
projecting branch that laid his cheek open。 To cap it； the mule blundered
off the trail and fell； throwing rider and gripsack out upon the rocks。
After that； Churchill walked； or stumbled rather； over the apology for a
trail； leading the mule。 Stray and awful odours； drifting from each side of
the trail； told of the horses that had died in the rush for gold。 But he did
not mind。 He was too sleepy。 By the time Long Lake was reached；
however； he had recovered from his sleepiness； and at Deep Lake he
resigned the gripsack to Burns。 But thereafter； by the light of the dim
stars； he kept his eyes on Burns。 There were not going to be any
accidents with that bag。
At Crater Lake； the pack…train went into camp； and Churchill； slinging
the grip on his back； started the steep climb for the summit。 For the first
time； on that precipitous wall； he realized how tired he was。 He crept and
crawled like a crab