Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 97, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 March 1912 — BURNING DAYLIGHT [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BURNING DAYLIGHT

BY JACK LONDON

AuthopOe*The Call OeTheW/IIT "ML/EE TANG, "MaP77HTdEHTtc' Illustrations By Dearborn Mavra

(Copyright. 1910. by the New York Herald Company.) (Copyright. 1910. by the MacMillan Company.

CHAPTER 11.

It was Daylight's night. He was the center and the head of the revel, unquenchably joyous, a contagion of fun. In between dances he paid over to Kearns the twenty thousand in dust and transferred to him his Moosehide claim. Likewise he arranged the taking over of BHly Rawlins’ mail contract, and made his preparations for the start. He dispatched a messenger to rout out Kama, his dog-driver—a Tananaw Indian, far-wandered from his tribal home In the service of the invading whites. Kama entered the Tivoli, tall, lean, muscular, and furclad, the pick of his barbaric race and barbaric still, unshaken and unabashed by the revelers that rioted aboiit him while Daylight gave his orders. " “Um,” said Kama, tabbing his instructions on his fingers. “Get um letters from Rawlins. Load um on sled. Grub for Selkirk —you think um plenty dog-grub stop Selkirk?’* "Plenty dog-grub, Kama.” “Um. Bring sled this place nine um clock. Bring um snowshoes. No bring um tent. Mebbe bring um fly? um little fly?” "No fly,” Daylight answered decisively. We travel light—sawee? We carry plenty letters out, plenty letters back. You are strong man. Plenty cold, plenty travel, all right.” “Sure all right,” Kama muttered, with resignation. “Much cold, no care. Um ready nine um clock.” He turned on his moccasined heel and walked out, imperturbable, sphinxlike, neither giving nor receiving greetings nor looking to right or left. The Virgin led Daylight away Into a corner. "Look here. Daylight,” she said in a low voice, “you’re busted.” “Higher’n a kite.” “I’ve eight thousand in Mac’s safe —” she began. But Daylight Interrupted. The upron-string loomed near and he shied ike an unbroken colt. “It don’t matter,” he said. “Busted I came into the world, busted I go out, tnd I’ve been busted most of the time lince I arrived. Come,on; let’s waltz.” “But, listen,” she urged. “My money’s doing nothing. I could lend It to you—a grub-stake,” she added, aurriedly, at sight of the alarm in his face. '■

“Noboby grub-stakes me," was the answer. “I ’stake myself, and when I make a killing it's sure all mine. No thank you, old girl. Much obliged. I’ll get my stake by running the mail out and in.” Wkh a sudden well-assumed ebullition of spirits he drew her toward the dancing-floor, and as they swung around and around in a waltz the pondered on the iron heart of the man who held her in his arms and resisted all her wiles. At six the next morning, scorching with whisky, yet ever himself, he stood at the bar putting every man’s hand down. The way of it was that’ two men faced each other across a corner, their right elbows resting on the bar, their right hands gripped together, while each stove to press the other’s hand down. Man after man came against him, but no man put his hand down, even Olaf Henderson and French Louis failing despite their hugeness. “The winner pays'.” Daylight cried. “Surge along you-all! This way to the snake-room I ” “I’m busted higher’n a kite, and I’m hittin’ the trail for Dyea—” “Goin’ out?” some one called. A spasm of anger wrought on his face for a flashing instant, but in the next good humor was back again. “I konw you-all are only pokin’ fun asking such a question,” he said with a smile. “Of course I ain’t going out.” “Take the oath again, Daylight,” the same voice cried. .! “I sure will. I first come over Chilcoot in ’B3. I went out over the Pass in a fall blizzard, with a rag of a shirt and a cup of raw flour. I got my grubstake in Juneau that winter, and in the spring I went out over the Pass once more. And once more the famine drew me out. Next spring I went in again, and I swore then that I’d never come out till I made my stake. Well, I ain’t made it, and here I am. And I ain’t going out now. I get the mall and I come right back. I won’t stop the night at Dyea. I’ll hit up Chilcoot soon as I change the dogs and get the mall and grub. And so I swear once more. I’ll never hit for the Outside till I make my pile. And I tell you-all, here and now, it’s got to be an almighty big pile. I’ll be real conservative, and put the bottom notch at a million. And for not an ounce less’n that will I go out of the country. I tell you-all I got a hunch. There’s a big strike coming on the Yukon, and it’s just about due. I don’t mean no ornery Moosehide, Birch creek kind of a strike. I mean a real rip-snorter hair-raiser. Nothing can stop her, and she’ll come up river. There’s where you-all’ll track my moccasins in the near future if you-all WBPt , to fln<L m£_—somewhere ip th«. -

country around Stewart river, Indian river and Klondike river. When I get back with the mall. I’ll head that way so fast you-all won’t see my trail for smoke. She’s a-coming, fellows, gold

from the grass roots down, a hundred dollars to the pan, and a stampede In from the Outside fifty thousand strong.” “If I was you. Daylight, I wouldn’t mush today,” Joe Hines counseled, ’ coming In from consulting the spirit thermometer outside the door. “We’re jin for a good cold snap. It’s sixty-two below now, and still goln’ down. Better wait till she breaks.” I Daylight laughed, and the old sourdoughs around him laughed. “It’s a thousand miles to Dyea,” Bettles announced, climbing bn the chair and supporting his swaying body by an arm passed around Daylight’s neck. “It's a thousand miles, I’m saying, an’ most of the train unbroke, but I bet any chechaquo—anything he w r ants — that Daylight makes Dyea in thirty days.” “That’s an average of over thirtythree miles a day,” Doc Watson warned, “and I’ve traveled some myself. A blizzard on Chilcoot would tie him up for a week." J “Yep,” Bettles retorted, “an’ Daylight’ll do the second thousand back again on end in thirty days more, and I got five thousand dollars' that says so, and damn the blizzards.” To emphasize -his remarks, he pulled out a gold sack the size of a bologna sausage and thumped it down on the bar. Doc Watson thumped his own sack alongside. I “Hold on!” Daylight cried. “Betties’ right, and I want In on this. “I bet five hundred that sixty days from now I pull up at the Tivoli door with the Dyea mail.” A skeptical roar went up, and a dozen men pulled out their sacks. “Of course he’ll make it,” Kearns whispered in Bettles’ ear. "And there’s five hundred Daylight’s back in sixty days,” he added aloud. Billy Rawlins closed with the wager, and Bettles hugged Kearns ecstatically.

“By Yupiter, I ban take that bet,” Olaf Henderson said, dragging Daylight away from Bettles and Kearns. “Winner pays!” Daylight shouted, closing the wager. “And I’m sure going to win, and sixty days is a long time between drinks, so J pay now. Name your brand, you hochinoos! Name your brand!” Somebody opened the outer door. A vague gray light filtered in. “Burning Daylight, Burning Daylight.” some one called warnlngly. Daylight paused for nothing, heading for the door and pulling down his •ar-flaps. Kama stood outside by the sled, a long, narrow affair, sixteen inches wide and seven and a half feet in length, its slatted bottom raised six inches above the steel-shod runners. On it, lashed with thongs of moose hide, were the light canvas bags that contained the mail, and the food and gear for dogs and men. In front of it, in a single line, lay curled five frost-rimmed dogs. They were huskies, matched in size and color, all unusually large and all gray. From their cruel jaws to their bushy tails they were as like as peas in their likeness to timber wolves. Wolves they were, domesticated. It was true, but wolves in appearance and In air their characteristics. On top the sled load, thrust under the lashings and ready for immediate use, were two pairs of snowshoes. Daylight was saying good-by to those who clustered around him. The Virgin wanted to kiss' him, and, fuddled slightly though he was with the whisky, he saw his way out without compromising with the apronstring. He kissed the Virgin, but he kissed the other three women . with equal partiality. He pulled on his long mittens, roused the dogs to their feet, and took his place at the gee-

I pole. “Mush, you beanties’.” he cried. The animals threw their weights against their breastbands on the instant, crouching low to the snow and digging in their claws. They whined eagerly, and before the sled had gone half a dozen lengths both Daylight and Kama (in the rear) were running to keep up. And so. running, man and dogs dipped over the bank and down to the frozen bed of the Yukon, and in the gray light were gone. On the rivqr, where was a packed trail and where ‘snowshoes were unnecessary, the dogs averaged six miles an hour. To keep up with them, the two men were compelled to run. Daylight and Kama relieved each other regularly at the gee-pole, for here was the hard work of steering the flying sled and of keeping in advance of it. The man relieved dropped behind the sled, occasionally leaping upon it and resting. As If through a wall, Daylight had passed from the hum and roar of the Tivoli into another world —a world of silence and immobility. Nothing stirred. The Yukon slept under a coat of ice three feet thick. The cold snap continued. Only men of iron kept the trail at such low temperatures, and Kama and Daylight were picked men of their races. But Kama knew the other was the better man, and. thus, at the start, he was himself foredoomed to defeat Not that he slackened his effort or willingness by the slightest degree, but that he was beaten by the burden he carried in his mind. His attitude toward Daylight was worshipful. Stoical, taciturn, proud of his physical prowess, he found all these qualities incarnated in his white companion. , ' (To be Continued.)

“She's a Comin’, Fellows, Gold From the Grass Roots Down, a Hundred Dollars to the Pan.”