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Updated: June 21, 2025
That night, long after dark, with twenty-five miles behind them, Linday and Tom Daw went into camp. It was a simple but adequate affair: a fire built in the snow; alongside, their sleeping-furs spread in a single bed on a mat of spruce boughs; behind the bed an oblong of canvas stretched to refract the heat. Daw fed the dogs and chopped ice and firewood.
Linday never let up on Strang. He studied his walk, his body movements, stripped him again and again and for the thousandth time made him flex all his muscles. Massage was given him without end, until Linday declared that Tom Daw, Bill, and the brother were properly qualified for Turkish bath and osteopathic hospital attendants. But Linday was not yet satisfied.
Down they go, kit an' kaboodle, twenty feet, bear, dawgs, an' Rocky, slidin', cussin', an' scratchin', ker-plump into ten feet of water in the bed of stream. They all swum out different ways. Nope, he didn't get the bear, but he saved the dawgs. That's Rocky. They's no stoppin' him when his mind's set." It was at the next camp that Linday heard how Rocky had come to be injured.
One of them demurred. "This is a serious case," Linday went on. "I want to talk to his wife." "I'm his brother," said the other. To him the woman looked, praying him with her eyes. He nodded reluctantly and turned toward the door. "Me, too?" Daw queried from the bench where he had flung himself down. "You, too."
From every side, faintly heard and near, under the voice of the spring wind, came the trickling of hidden waters. The Little Peco, strengthened by the multitudinous streamlets, rose against the manacles of winter, riving the ice with crashings and snappings. Daw touched Linday on the shoulder; touched him again; shook, and shook violently. "Doc," he murmured admiringly. "You can sure go some."
I reckon I'm gettin' some cranky what of losin' them dawgs." Not one day, but three days later, the two men, after being snowed in on the summit by a spring blizzard, staggered up to a cabin that stood in a fat bottom beside the roaring Little Peco. Coming in from the bright sunshine to the dark cabin, Linday observed little of its occupants. He was no more than aware of two men and a woman.
We sewed up two or three bad places temporary, and tied arteries with twine." "That settles it," Linday sneered. "Where were they?" "Stomach." "He's a sight by now." "Not on your life. Washed clean with bug-killin' dope before we stitched. Only temporary anyway. Had nothin' but linen thread, but washed that, too." "He's as good as dead," was Linday's judgment, as he angrily fingered the cards.
"If I'd known how he got it I'd never have come," was Linday's comment. Daw nodded concurrence. "That's what she said. She told me sure not to whisper how it happened." "Is he crazy?" Linday demanded in his wrath. "They're all crazy. Him an' his brother are all the time devilin' each other to tom-fool things. I seen them swim the riffle last fall, bad water an' mush-ice runnin' on a dare.
Linday broke off and searched her with his eyes, the high lights focused sharply in the brilliant black. "The question is, do you love Rex Strang as much as that?" "And if I do?" she countered. "Do you?" "Yes." "You can sacrifice? You can give him up?" Slow and reluctant was her "Yes." "And you will come with me?" "Yes." This time her voice was a whisper. "When he is well yes." "You understand.
Again it was cut and switch and ease and disentangle. And all that saved Strang was his tremendous vitality and the health of his flesh. "You will kill him," his brother complained. "Let him be. For God's sake let him be. A live and crippled man is better than a whole and dead one." Linday flamed in wrath. "You get out!
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