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anxiously。
Subienkow turned upon him wrathfully。
〃My medicine is always good。 However； if it is not good； then do by
me as you have done to the others。 Cut me up a bit at a time； even as you
have cut him up。〃 He pointed to the Cossack。 〃The medicine is now
cool。 Thus； I rub it on my neck； saying this further medicine。〃
With great gravity he slowly intoned a line of the 〃Marseillaise；〃 at the
same time rubbing the villainous brew thoroughly into his neck。
An outcry interrupted his play…acting。 The giant Cossack； with a last
resurgence of his tremendous vitality； had arisen to his knees。 Laughter
and cries of surprise and applause arose from the Nulatos； as Big Ivan
began flinging himself about in the snow with mighty spasms。
Subienkow was made sick by the sight； but he mastered his qualms
and made believe to be angry。
〃This will not do；〃 he said。 〃Finish him； and then we will make the
test。 Here； you； Yakaga； see that his noise ceases。〃
While this was being done； Subienkow turned to Makamuk。
〃And remember； you are to strike hard。 This is not baby…work。
Here； take the axe and strike the log； so that I can see you strike like a
man。〃
Makamuk obeyed； striking twice； precisely and with vigour； cutting
out a large chip。
〃It is well。〃 Subienkow looked about him at the circle of savage
faces that somehow seemed to symbolize the wall of savagery that had
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LOST FACE
hemmed him about ever since the Czar's police had first arrested him in
Warsaw。 〃Take your axe； Makamuk； and stand so。 I shall lie down。
When I raise my hand； strike； and strike with all your might。 And be
careful that no one stands behind you。 The medicine is good； and the axe
may bounce from off my neck and right out of your hands。〃
He looked at the two sleds； with the dogs in harness； loaded with furs
and fish。 His rifle lay on top of the beaver skins。 The six hunters who
were to act as his guard stood by the sleds。〃
〃Where is the girl？〃 the Pole demanded。 〃Bring her up to the sleds
before the test goes on。〃
When this had been carried out； Subienkow lay down in the snow；
resting his head on the log like a tired child about to sleep。 He had lived
so many dreary years that he was indeed tired。
〃I laugh at you and your strength； O Makamuk；〃 he said。 〃Strike； and
strike hard。〃
He lifted his hand。 Makamuk swung the axe； a broadaxe for the
squaring of logs。 The bright steel flashed through the frosty air； poised
for a perceptible instant above Makamuk's head； then descended upon
Subienkow's bare neck。 Clear through flesh and bone it cut its way；
biting deeply into the log beneath。 The amazed savages saw the head
bounce a yard away from the blood…spouting trunk。
There was a great bewilderment and silence； while slowly it began to
dawn in their minds that there had been no medicine。 The fur…thief had
outwitted them。 Alone； of all their prisoners； he had escaped the torture。
That had been the stake for which he played。 A great roar of laughter
went up。 Makamuk bowed his head in shame。 The fur… thief had fooled
him。 He had lost face before all his people。 Still they continued to roar
out their laughter。 Makamuk turned； and with bowed head stalked away。
He knew that thenceforth he would be no longer known as Makamuk。
He would be Lost Face； the record of his shame would be with him until
he died； and whenever the tribes gathered in the spring for the salmon； or
in the summer for the trading； the story would pass back and forth across
the camp…fires of how the fur…thief died peaceably； at a single stroke； by
the hand of Lost Face。
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LOST FACE
〃Who was Lost Face？〃 he could hear； in anticipation； some insolent
young buck demand； 〃Oh； Lost Face；〃 would be the answer； 〃he who once
was Makamuk in the days before he cut off the fur…thief's head。〃
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LOST FACE
TRUST
All lines had been cast off； and the Seattle No。 4 was pulling slowly
out from the shore。 Her decks were piled high with freight and baggage；
and swarmed with a heterogeneous company of Indians； dogs； and dog…
mushers； prospectors； traders； and homeward…bound gold… seekers。 A
goodly portion of Dawson was lined up on the bank； saying good…bye。
As the gang…plank came in and the steamer nosed into the stream； the
clamour of farewell became deafening。 Also； in that eleventh moment；
everybody began to remember final farewell messages and to shout them
back and forth across the widening stretch of water。 Louis Bondell；
curling his yellow moustache with one hand and languidly waving the
other hand to his friends on shore； suddenly remembered something and
sprang to the rail。
〃Oh； Fred！〃 he bawled。 〃Oh； Fred！
The 〃Fred〃 desired thrust a strapping pair of shoulders through the
forefront of the crowd on the bank and tried to catch Louis Bondell's
message。 The latter grew red in the face with vain vociferation。 Still the
water widened between steamboat and shore。
〃Hey； you； Captain Scott！〃 he yelled at the pilot…house。 〃Stop the
boat！〃
The gongs clanged； and the big stern wheel reversed； then stopped。 All
hands on steamboat and on bank took advantage of this respite to
exchange final； new； and imperative farewells。 More futile than ever was
Louis Bondell's effort to make himself heard。 The Seattle No。 4 lost way
and drifted down…stream； and Captain Scott had to go ahead and reverse a
second time。 His head disappeared inside the pilot… house； coming into
view a moment later behind a big megaphone。
Now Captain Scott had a remarkable voice； and the 〃Shut up！〃 he
launched at the crowd on deck