There was
little meat to them, but I had counted on them for a week's grub, and
they were gone.
"The next morning I divided all the grub, which was little, into three
portions. And I told Long Jeff that he could keep up with us, or not, as
he saw fit; for we were going to travel light and fast. But he raised
his voice and cried over his sore feet and his troubles, and said harsh
things against comradeship. Passuk's feet were sore, and my feet were
sore--ay, sorer than his, for we had worked with the dogs; also, we
looked to see. Long Jeff swore he would die before he hit the trail
again; so Passuk took a fur robe, and I a cooking pot and an axe, and we
made ready to go. But she looked on the man's portion, and said, 'It is
wrong to waste good food on a baby. He is better dead.' I shook my head
and said no--that a comrade once was a comrade always. Then she spoke of
the men of Forty Mile; that they were many men and good; and that they
looked to me for grub in the spring. But when I still said no, she
snatched the pistol from my belt, quick, and as our brother Bettles has
spoken, Long Jeff went to the bosom of Abraham before his time.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154