ns peculiar
to itself. It is this eternal maddening pull, with the pitiful
crawling gait that tells; horse's labour and a snail's pace. The
toil begets a perspiration which the cold solidifies midway through
the garments. At every pause the clammy clothes grow chill, forcing
one forward, onward, with sweating body and freezing face. In
extreme cold, snow pulverizes dryly till steel runners drag as though
slid through sand. Occasional overflows bar the stream from bank to
bank, resulting in wet feet and quick changes by hasty fires to save
numb toes. Now the air is dead under a smother of falling flakes
that fluff up ankle deep, knee deep, till the sled plunges along
behind, half buried, while the men wallow and invent ingenious oaths.
Again the wind whirls it by in grotesque goblin shapes; wonderful
storm beings, writhing, whipping, biting as they pass; erasing bank
and mountain. Yet always there is that aching, steady tug of the
shoulder-rope, stopping circulation till the arms depend numbly; and
always the weary effort of trail breaking.

Captain felt that he had never worked with a more unsatisfying team
mate. Not that Klusky did not pull, he evidently did his best, but
he never spoke, while the other grew ever conscious of the beady,
glittering eyes boring into his back. At camp, the Jew watched him
furtively, sullenly, till he grew to feel oppressed, as with a sense
of treachery, or some fell design hidden far back. Every morning he
secured the ropes next the sled, thus forcing Captain to walk ahead.
He did not object to the added task of breaking trail, for he had
expected the brunt of the work, but the feeling of suspicion
increased till it was only by conscious effort that he drove himself
to turn his back upon the other and take up the journey.

It was this oppression that warned him on the third day. Leaning as
he did against the sled ropes he became aware of an added burden, as
though the man behind had eased to shift his harness. When it did
not cease he glanced over his shoulder. Keyed up as he was this
nervous agility saved him.

Klusky held a revolver close up to his back, and, though he had
unconsciously failed to pull, he mechanically stepped in the other's
tracks. The courage to shoot had failed him momentarily, but as
Captain turned, it came, and he pulled the trigger.

Frozen gun oil has caused grave errors in calculation. The hammer
curled back wickedly and stuck. Waiting his ch