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Updated: June 6, 2025
"He's working for me, and I guess he obeys my orders," Stine retorted. "Shorty, take that bag ashore." Shorty obeyed, and Sprague shivered in the boat. Kit, having received no orders, remained inactive, glad of the rest. "A boat divided against itself won't float," he soliloquized. "What's that?" Sprague snarled at him. "Talking to myself habit of mine," he answered.
Stine sat up, his face bitter and wrathful. "Let it freeze. We're not going to stir." "All right," said Shorty. "We're goin' on with the boat." "You were engaged " "To take you to Dawson," Shorty caught him up. "Well, we're takin' you, ain't we?" He punctuated his query by bringing half the tent down on top of them.
"If you'll take my orders, I'll get her off," Sprague finally said. The attempt was well intended, but before he could clamber on board he was wet to the waist. "We've got to camp and build a fire," he said, as the boat grounded again. "I'm freezing." "Don't be afraid of a wetting," Stine sneered. "Other men have gone off to-day wetter than you. Now I'm going to take her out."
Between Linderman and Lake Bennett was a portage. The boat, lightly loaded, was lined down the small but violent connecting stream, and here Kit learned a vast deal more about boats and water. But when it came to packing the outfit, Stine and Sprague disappeared, and their men spent two days of back-breaking toil in getting the outfit across.
"Aren't we ever going to get started?" Shorty dipped in turn, and passed the spoon to Kit. Nor did either speak till the pot was empty and the bottom scraped. "Of course we ain't been doin' nothing," Shorty said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "We ain't been doin' nothing at all. And of course you ain't had nothing to eat. It was sure careless of me." "Yes, yes," Stine said quickly.
"Plain Smoke cut out the Mister," Kit suggested. Sprague nodded curtly and strolled away among the tents, to be followed by Doctor Stine, a slender, pallid young man. Shorty looked significantly at his companion. "Over a ton and a half of outfit, and they won't lend a hand. You'll see." "I guess it's because we're paid to do the work," Kit answered cheerfully, "and we might as well buck in."
There was only one spoon, a long-handled one, and they dipped, turn and turn about, into the pot. Kit was filled with an immense certitude that in all his life he had never tasted anything so good. "Lord, man," he mumbled between chews, "I never knew what appetite was till I hit the trail." Sprague and Stine arrived in the midst of this pleasant occupation. "What's the delay?" Sprague complained.
From his bleeding knuckles and the skin off one cheek, it was evident that he had given Stine and Sprague what was coming. "You ought to see that cabin," he chuckled, as they stood at the bar. "Rough-house ain't no name for it. Dollars to doughnuts nary one of 'em shows up on the street for a week. An' now it's all figgered out for you an' me. Grub's a dollar an' a half a pound.
'That I promise you, Thyra; and you, too, my brave Trofast, said the merchant, rising with dignity. 'Trofast is hungry, said Waldemar, with his knowing air. 'Goodness, Thyra! fetch his cutlets! Thyra was about to rush down into the kitchen, but at that moment Stine came puffing upstairs with them. Presumably, the professor did not find Mam Hansen worth repairing.
They did a job, explosive of some kind." Hope was dead. Dis was dead. In the ruin ahead, mixed and broken with other rubble, were the bodies of all the people who had trusted him. Lea ... beautiful and cruelly dead Lea. Doctor Stine, his patients, Faussel, all of them. He had kept them on this planet, and now they were dead. Every one of them. Dead. Murderer! Life was ended.
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