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Anson； make a fire on the bank。 And you； Bill； set up the Yukon
stove in the boat。 Old dad ain't as young as the rest of us； and
for the rest of this voyage he's going to have a fire on board to
sit by。〃
All of which came to pass； and the boat； in the grip of the
current； like a river steamer with smoke rising from the two joints
of stove…pipe； grounded on shoals； hung up on split currents； and
charged rapids and canyons； as it drove deeper into the Northland
winter。 The Big and Little Salmon rivers were throwing mush…ice
into the main river as they passed； and； below the riffles； anchor…
ice arose from the river bottom and coated the surface with crystal
scum。 Night and day the rim…ice grew； till； in quiet places； it
extended out a hundred yards from shore。 And Old Tarwater； with
all his clothes on； sat by the stove and kept the fire going。
Night and day； not daring to stop for fear of the imminent freeze…
up； they dared to run； an increasing mushiness of ice running with
them。
〃What ho； old hearty？〃 Liverpool would call out at times。
〃Cheer O；〃 Old Tarwater had learned to respond。
〃What can I ever do for you； son； in payment？〃 Tarwater； stoking
the fire； would sometimes ask Liverpool； beating now one released
hand and now the other as he fought for circulation where he
steered in the freezing stern…sheets。
〃Just break out that regular song of yours； old Forty…Niner；〃 was
the invariable reply。
And Tarwater would lift his voice in the cackling chant； as he
lifted it at the end； when the boat swung in through driving cake…
ice and moored to the Dawson City bank； and all waterfront Dawson
pricked its ears to hear the triumphant paean：
Like Argus of the ancient times；
We leave this modern Greece；
Tum…tum； tum…tum； tum； tum； tum…tum；
To shear the Golden Fleece；
Charles did it； but he did it so discreetly that none of his party；
least of all the sailor； ever learned of it。 He saw two great open
barges being filled up with men； and； on inquiry； learned that
these were grubless ones being rounded up and sent down the Yukon
by the Committee of Safety。 The barges were to be towed by the
last little steamboat in Dawson； and the hope was that Fort Yukon；
where lay the stranded steamboats； would be gained before the river
froze。 At any rate； no matter what happened to them； Dawson would
be relieved of their grub…consuming presence。 So to the Committee
of Safety Charles went； privily to drop a flea in its ear
concerning Tarwater's grubless； moneyless； and aged condition。
Tarwater was one of the last gathered in； and when Young Liverpool
returned to the boat； from the bank he saw the barges in a run of
cake…ice； disappearing around the bend below Moose…hide Mountain。
Running in cake…ice all the way； and several times escaping jams in
the Yukon Flats； the barges made their hundreds of miles of
progress farther into the north and froze up cheek by jowl with the
grub…fleet。 Here； inside the Arctic Circle； Old Tarwater settled
down to pass the long winter。 Several hours' work a day； chopping
firewood for the steamboat companies； sufficed to keep him in food。
For the rest of the time there was nothing to do but hibernate in
his log cabin。
Warmth； rest； and plenty to eat； cured his hacking cough and put
him in as good physical condition as was possible for his advanced
years。 But； even before Christmas； the lack of fresh vegetables
caused scurvy to break out； and disappointed adventurer after
disappointed adventurer took to his bunk in abject surrender to
this culminating misfortune。 Not so Tarwater。 Even before the
first symptoms appeared on him； he was putting into practice his
one prescription； namely； exercise。 From the junk of the old
trading post he resurrected a number of rusty traps； and from one
of the steamboat captains he borrowed a rifle。
Thus equipped； he ceased from wood…chopping； and began to make more
than a mere living。 Nor was he downhearted when the scurvy broke
out on his own body。 Ever he ran his trap…lines and sang his
ancient chant。 Nor could the pessimist shake his surety of the
three hundred thousand of Alaskan gold he as going to shake out of
the moss…roots。
〃But this ain't gold…country；〃 they told him。
〃Gold is where you find it； son； as I should know who was mining
before you was born； 'way back in Forty…Nine；〃 was his reply。
〃What was Bonanza Creek but a moose…pasture？ No miner'd look at
it； yet they washed five…hundred…dollar pans and took out fifty
million dollars。 Eldorado was just as bad。 For all you know；
right under this here cabin； or right over the next hill； is
millions just waiting for a lucky one like me to come and shake it
out。〃
At the end of January came his disaster。 Some powerful animal that
he decided was a bob…cat； managing to get caught in one of his
smaller traps； dragged it away。 A heavy snow…fall put a stop
midway to his pursuit； losing the trail for him and losing himself。
There were but several hours of daylight each day between the
twenty hours of intervening darkness； and his efforts in the grey
light and continually falling snow succeeded only in losing him
more thoroughly。 Fortunately； when winter snow falls in the
Northland the thermometer invariably rises； so； instead of the
customary forty and fifty and even sixty degrees below zero； the
temperature remained fifteen below。 Also； he was warmly clad and
had a full matchbox。 Further to mitigate his predicament； on the
fifth day he killed a wounded moose that weighed over half a ton。
Making his camp beside it on a spruce…bottom； he was prepared to
last out the winter； unless a searching party found him or his
scurvy grew worse。
But at the end of two weeks there had been no sign of search； while
his scurvy had undeniably grown worse。 Against his fire； banked
from outer cold by a shelter…wall of spruce…boughs； he crouched
long hours in sleep and long hours in waking。 But the waking hours
grew less； becoming semi…waking or half…dreaming hours as the
process of hibernation worked their way with him。 Slowly the
sparkle point of consciousness and identity that was John Tarwater
sank； deeper and deeper； into the profounds of his being that had
been compounded ere man was man； and while he was becoming man；
when he； first of all animals； regarded himself with an
introspective eye and laid the beginnings of morality in
foundations of nightmare peopled by the monsters of his own ethic…
thwarted desires。
Like a man in fever； waking to intervals of consciousness； so Old
Tarwater awoke； cooked his moose…meat； and fed the fire； but more
and more time he spent in his torpor； unaware of what was day…dream
and what was sleep…dream in the content of his unconsciousness。
And here； in the unforgetable crypts of man's unwritten history；
unthinkable and unrealizable； like passages of nightmare or
impossible adventures of lunacy