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three hundred apiece。 Also they pressed upon him the passage money in
advance。 And while they wrote to their respective journals concerning
the Good Samaritan with the thousand dozen eggs； the Good Samaritan
was hurrying back to the Swede at Linderman。
〃Here； you！ Gimme that boat！〃 was his salutation； his hand jingling
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the correspondents' gold pieces and his eyes hungrily bent upon the
finished craft。
The Swede regarded him stolidly and shook his head。
〃How much is the other fellow paying？ Three hundred？ Well；
here's four。 Take it。〃
He tried to press it upon him； but the man backed away。
〃Ay tank not。 Ay say him get der skiff boat。 You yust wait〃
'Here's six hundred。 Last call。 Take it or leave it。 Tell 'm it's a
mistake。'
The Swede wavered。 〃Ay tank yes；〃 he finally said； and the last
Rasmunsen saw of him his vocabulary was going to wreck in a vain effort
to explain the mistake to the other fellows。
The German slipped and broke his ankle on the steep hogback above
Deep Lake； sold out his stock for a dollar a dozen； and with the proceeds
hired Indian packers to carry him back to Dyea。 But on the morning
Rasmunsen shoved off with his correspondents； his two rivals followed
suit。
'How many you got？〃 one of them； a lean little New Englander； called
out。
〃One thousand dozen；〃 Rasmunsen answered proudly。
〃Huh！ I'll go you even stakes I beat you in with my eight hundred。〃
The correspondents offered to lend him the money； but Rasmunsen
declined； and the Yankee closed with the remaining rival； a brawny son of
the sea and sailor of ships and things； who promised to show them all a
wrinkle or two when it came to cracking on。 And crack on he did； with a
large tarpaulin square…sail which pressed the bow half under at every jump。
He was the first to run out of Linderman； but； disdaining the portage； piled
his loaded boat on the rocks in the boiling rapids。 Rasmunsen and the
Yankee； who likewise had two passengers； portaged across on their backs
and then lined their empty boats down through the bad water to Bennett。
Bennett was a twenty…five…mile lake； narrow and deep； a funnel
between the mountains through which storms ever romped。 Rasmunsen
camped on the sand…pit at its head； where were many men and boats bound
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The Faith of Men
north in the teeth of the Arctic winter。 He awoke in the morning to find a
piping gale from the south； which caught the chill from the whited peaks
and glacial valleys and blew as cold as north wind ever blew。 But it was
fair； and he also found the Yankee staggering past the first bold headland
with all sail set。 Boat after boat was getting under way； and the
correspondents fell to with enthusiasm。
〃We'll catch him before Cariboo Crossing；〃 they assured Rasmunsen；
as they ran up the sail and the Alma took the first icy spray over her bow。
Now Rasmunsen all his life had been prone to cowardice on water； but
he clung to the kicking steering…oar with set face and determined jaw。
His thousand dozen were there in the boat before his eyes； safely secured
beneath the correspondents' baggage； and somehow； before his eyes were
the little cottage and the mortgage for a thousand dollars。
It was bitter cold。 Now and again he hauled in the steering…sweep
and put out a fresh one while his passengers chopped the ice from the
blade。 Wherever the spray struck； it turned instantly to frost； and the
dipping boom of the spritsail was quickly fringed with icicles。 The Alma
strained and hammered through the big seas till the seams and butts began
to spread； but in lieu of bailing the correspondents chopped ice and flung it
overboard。 There was no let…up。 The mad race with winter was on； and
the boats tore along in a desperate string。
〃W…w…we can't stop to save our souls！〃 one of the correspondents
chattered； from cold； not fright。
〃That's right！ Keep her down the middle； old man！〃 the other
encouraged。
Rasmunsen replied with an idiotic grin。 The iron…bound shores were
in a lather of foam； and even down the middle the only hope was to keep
running away from the big seas。 To lower sail was to be overtaken and
swamped。 Time and again they passed boats pounding among the rocks；
and once they saw one on the edge of the breakers about to strike。 A
little craft behind them； with two men； jibed over and turned bottom up。
〃W…w…watch out； old man；〃 cried he of the chattering teeth。
Rasmunsen grinned and tightened his aching grip on the sweep。 Scores
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The Faith of Men
of times had the send of the sea caught the big square stern of the Alma
and thrown her off from dead before it till the after leach of the spritsail
fluttered hollowly； and each time； and only with all his strength； had he
forced her back。 His grin by then had become fixed； and it disturbed the
correspondents to look at him。
They roared down past an isolated rock a hundred yards from shore。
From its wave…drenched top a man shrieked wildly； for the instant cutting
the storm with his voice。 But the next instant the Alma was by； and the
rock growing a black speck in the troubled froth。
〃That settles the Yankee！ Where's the sailor？〃 shouted one of his
passengers。
Rasmunsen shot a glance over his shoulder at a black square…sail。 He
had seen it leap up out of the grey to windward； and for an hour； off and
on； had been watching it grow。 The sailor had evidently repaired
damages and was making up for lost time。
〃Look at him come！〃
Both passengers stopped chopping ice to watch。 Twenty miles of
Bennett were behind themroom and to spare for the sea to toss up its
mountains toward the sky。 Sinking and soaring like a storm… god； the
sailor drove by them。 The huge sail seemed to