'Carmen won't last more than a couple of days.' Mason spat out a chunkof ice and surveyed the poor animal ruefully, then put her foot in hismouth and proceeded to bite out the ice which clustered cruelly betweenthe toes.
'I never saw a dog with a highfalutin' name that ever was worth a rap,'he said, as he concluded his task and shoved her aside. 'They just fadeaway and die under the responsibility. Did ye ever see one go wrongwith a sensible name like Cassiar, Siwash, or Husky? No, sir! Take alook at Shookum here, he's—' Snap! The lean brute flashed up, thewhite teeth just missing Mason's throat.
'Ye will, will ye?' A shrewd clout behind the ear with the butt of thedog whip stretched the animal in the snow, quivering softly, a yellowslaver dripping from its fangs.
'As I was saying, just look at Shookum here—he's got the spirit. Betye he eats Carmen before the week's out.' 'I'll bank anotherproposition against that,' replied Malemute Kid, reversing the frozenbread placed before the fire to thaw. 'We'll eat Shookum before thetrip is over. What d'ye say, Ruth?' The Indian woman settled the coffeewith a piece of ice, glanced from Malemute Kid to her husband, then atthe dogs, but vouchsafed no reply. It was such a palpable truism thatnone was necessary. Two hundred miles of unbroken trail in prospect,with a scant six days' grub for themselves and none for the dogs, couldadmit no other alternative. The two men and the woman grouped about thefire and began their meager meal. The dogs lay in their harnesses forit was a midday halt, and watched each mouthful enviously.
'No more lunches after today,' said Malemute Kid. 'And we've got tokeep a close eye on the dogs—they're getting vicious. They'd just assoon pull a fellow down as not, if they get a chance.' 'And I waspresident of an Epworth once, and taught in the Sunday school.' Havingirrelevantly delivered himself of this, Mason fell into a dreamycontemplation of his steaming moccasins, but was aroused by Ruthfilling his cup.
'Thank God, we've got slathers of tea! I've seen it growing, down inTennessee. What wouldn't I give for a hot corn pone just now! Nevermind, Ruth; you won't starve much longer, nor wear moccasins either.'The woman threw off her gloom at this, and in her eyes welled up agreat love for her white lord—the first white man she had everseen—the first man whom she had known to treat a woman as somethingbetter than a mere animal or beast of burden.
'Yes, Ruth,' continued her husband, having recourse to the macaronicjargon in which it was alone possible for them to understand eachother; 'wait till we clean up and pull for the Outside. We'll take theWhite Man's canoe and go to the Salt Water.