Shorty and Kit tramped back through a foot of snow to the head of the rapids and cast off the boat.Kit was divided between two impressions: one, of the caliber of his comrade, which served as a spur to him; the other, likewise a spur, was the knowledge that old Isaac Bellew, and all the other Bellews, had done things like this in their westward march of empire.What they had done, he could do.It was the meat, the strong meat, and he knew, as never before, that it required strong men to eat such meat.
"You've sure got to keep the top of the ridge," Shorty shouted at him, the plug tobacco lifting to his mouth, as the boat quickened in the quickening current and took the head of the rapids.
Kit nodded, swayed his strength and weight tentatively on the steering oar, and headed the boat for the plunge.
Several minutes later, half-swamped and lying against the bank in theeddy below the White Horse, Shorty spat out a mouthful of tobacco juice and shook Kit's hand.
"Meat! Meat!" Shorty chanted."We eat it raw!We eat it alive!"At the top of the bank they met Breck.His wife stood at a little distance.Kit shook his hand.
"I'm afraid your boat can't make it," he said."It is smaller than ours and a bit cranky."The man pulled out a row of bills.
"I'll give you each a hundred if you run it through."Kit looked out and up the tossing Mane of the White Horse.A long, gray twilight was falling, it was turning colder, and the landscape seemed taking on a savage bleakness.
"It ain't that," Shorty was saying."We don't want your money.Wouldn't touch it nohow.But my pardner is the real meat with boats, and when he says yourn ain't safe I reckon he knows what he's talkin' about."Kit nodded affirmation, and chanced to glance at Mrs Breck.Her eyes were fixed upon him, and he knew that if ever he had seen prayer in a woman's eyes he was seeing it then.Shorty followed his gaze and saw what he saw.They looked at each other in confusion and did not speak.Moved by the common impulse, they nodded to each other and turned to the trail that led to the head of the rapids.They had not gone a hundred yards when they met Stine and Sprague coming down.
"Where are you going?" the latter demanded.
"To fetch that other boat through," Shorty answered.
"No you're not.It's getting dark.You two are going to pitch camp." So huge was Kit's disgust that he forebore to speak.
"He's got his wife with him," Shorty said."That's his lookout," Stine contributed.
"And Smoke's and mine," was Shorty's retort.
"I forbid you," Sprague said harshly."Smoke, if you go another step I'll discharge you.""And you, too, Shorty," Stine added.
"And a hell of a pickle you'll be in with us fired," Shorty replied."How'll you get your blamed boat to Dawson?Who'll serve you coffeein your blankets and manicure your finger-nails? Come on, Smoke.They don't dast fire us.Besides, we've got agreements.It they fire us they've got to divvy up grub to last us through the winter."Barely had they shoved Breck's boat out from the bank and caught the first rough water, when the waves began to lap aboard.They were small waves, but it was an earnest of what was to come.Shorty cast back a quizzical glance as he gnawed at his inevitable plug, and Kit felt a strange rush of warmth at his heart for this man who couldn't swim and who couldn't back out.
The rapids grew stiffer, and the spray began to fly.In the gathering darkness, Kit glimpsed the Mane and the crooked fling of the current into it.He worked into this crooked current, and felt a glow of satisfaction as the boat hit the head of the Mane squarely in the middle.After that, in the smother, leaping and burying and swamping, he had no clear impression of anything save that he swung his weight on the steering oar and wished his uncle were there to see.They emerged, breathless, wet through, and filled with water almost to the gunwale.Lighter pieces of baggage and outfit were floating inside the boat.A few careful strokes on Shorty's part worked the boat into the draw of the eddy, and the eddy did the rest till the boat softly touched against the bank.Looking down from above was Mrs Breck.Her prayer had been answered, and the tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"You boys have simply got to take the money," Breck called down to them.
Shorty stood up, slipped, and sat down in the water, while the boat dipped one gunwale under and righted again.
"Damn the money," said Shorty."Fetch out that whiskey.Now that it's over I'm getting cold feet, an' I'm sure likely to have a chill."
