were away on the hunt, and the women and boys
were dragging in the meat. It was in the spring, and I was alone. A
great brown bear, just awake from his winter's sleep, hungry, his fur
hanging to the bones in flaps of leanness, shoved his head within the
lodge and said, "Oof!" My brother came running back with the first sled
of meat. And he fought the bear with burning sticks from the fire, and
the dogs in their harnesses, with the sled behind them, fell upon the
bear. There was a great battle and much noise. They rolled in the fire,
the skin bales were scattered, the lodge overthrown. But in the end the
bear lay dead, with the fingers of my brother in his mouth and the marks
of his claws upon my brother's face. Did you mark the Indian by the
Pelly trail, his mitten which had no thumb, his hand which he warmed by
our fire? He was my brother. And I said he should have no grub. And he
went away in the Silence without grub.'

"This, my brothers, was the love of Passuk, who died in the snow, by the
Caribou Crossing. It was a mighty love, for she denied her brother for
the man who led her away on weary trails to a bitter end. And, further,
such was this woman's love, she denied herself. Ere her eyes closed for
the last time she took my hand and slipped it under her squirrel-skin
_parka_ to her waist. I felt there a well-filled pouch, and learned the
secret of her lost strength. Day by day we had shared fair, to the last
least bit; and day by day but half her share had she eaten. The other
half had gone into the well-filled pouch.

"And she said: 'This is the end of the trail for Passuk; but your trail,
Charley, leads on and on, over the great Chilcoot, down to Haines Mission
and the sea. And it leads on and on, by the light of many suns, over
unknown lands and strange waters, and it is full of years and honors and
great glories. It leads you to the lodges of many women, and good women,
but it will never lead you to a greater love than the love of Passuk.'

"And I knew the woman spoke true. But a madness came upon me, and I
threw the well-filled pouch from me, and swore that my trail had reached
an end, till her tired eyes grew soft with tears, and she said: 'Among
men has Sitka Charley walked in honor, and ever has his word been true.
Does he forget that honor now, and talk vain words by the Caribou
Crossing? Does he remember no more the men of Forty Mile, who gave him
of their grub the best, of their do