were consumed in cooking, repairing harnesses, and making and breaking
camp, and the remaining nine hours dogs and men slept as if dead. The
iron strength of Kama broke. Day by day the terrific toil sapped him.
Day by day he consumed more of his reserves of strength. He became
slower of movement, the resiliency went out of his muscles, and his
limp became permanent. Yet he labored stoically on, never shirking,
never grunting a hint of complaint. Daylight was thin-faced and tired.

He looked tired; yet somehow, with that marvelous mechanism of a body
that was his, he drove on, ever on, remorselessly on. Never was he
more a god in Kama's mind than in the last days of the south-bound
traverse, as the failing Indian watched him, ever to the fore, pressing
onward with urgency of endurance such as Kama had never seen nor
dreamed could thrive in human form.

The time came when Kama was unable to go in the lead and break trail,
and it was a proof that he was far gone when he permitted Daylight to
toil all day at the heavy snowshoe work. Lake by lake they crossed the
string of lakes from Marsh to Linderman, and began the ascent of
Chilcoot. By all rights, Daylight should have camped below the last
pitch of the pass at the dim end of day; but he kept on and over and
down to Sheep Camp, while behind him raged a snow-storm that would have
delayed him twenty-four hours.

This last excessive strain broke Kama completely. In the morning he
could not travel. At five, when called, he sat up after a struggle,
groaned, and sank back again. Daylight did the camp work of both,
harnessed the dogs, and, when ready for the start, rolled the helpless
Indian in all three sleeping robes and lashed him on top of the sled.
The going was good; they were on the last lap; and he raced the dogs
down through Dyea Canon and along the hard-packed trail that led to
Dyea Post. And running still, Kama groaning on top the load, and
Daylight leaping at the gee-pole to avoid going under the runners of
the flying sled, they arrived at Dyea by the sea.

True to his promise, Daylight did not stop. An hour's time saw the
sled loaded with the ingoing mail and grub, fresh dogs harnessed, and a
fresh Indian engaged. Kama never spoke from the time of his arrival
till the moment Daylight, ready to depart, stood beside him to say
good-by. They shook hands.

"You kill um dat damn Indian," Kama said. "Sawee, Daylight? You kill
um."

"He'll sure last