which had run out on the spit of land
to the water's edge, gazing after them malignantly.

Breaking the long silence, Spurling said, "Thank God, he can come no
further."

"But his body awaits us at Murder Point," Granger replied.

"I can deal with men's bodies," Spurling said. Then they moved onward,
pressing up against the current.

At the first hint of daylight they landed and hid themselves, lest, in
that deserted land, their presence should be detected. The precaution
proved wise, for about noon a party of belated voyageurs passed
northward en route for the Crooked Creek. They were singing, keeping
time with their paddles; their careless gladness made the hunted men,
for all their gold, feel envious.

They dared not kindle a fire, and at last, that they might save the
little warmth they had, were compelled to lie down together, breast to
breast, clasping one another closely as though they were friends. At
sunset they again set out. All night long to Granger the sky seemed
filled with uncouth legendary animals, which trooped across the
horizon file on file. Sometimes they were Beorn's camels, sometimes
they were timber-wolves or brindled huskies with yellow faces, but
more often they were creatures of evil passions, for which there are
no names. To avoid looking at them, he would keep his eyes in the
canoe or would stare at Spurling's back. But the sight of his
companion's monotonous movements, compelling him to go on working when
his arms ached and his body seemed broken, caused such mad fury to
arise within him that he feared for his own actions, and was glad to
return his eyes to the clouds. At dawn, as though a golden door had
been opened, the creatures passed in and disappeared, and he saw them
no more till sunset.

For himself, he would gladly have lain down, and died, had not
Spurling with the same indomitable courage which he had displayed on
the Dawson trail, roused him up and compelled him with his brutal
jibes to play the man. By the end of the first day on the Last Chance
their food gave out, and since leaving the hut all their meals had
been scanty; then they would willingly have given a third of the gold
which they carried in exchange for a hatful of the flour which, in
their greed for nuggets, they had left behind on the Forbidden River's
banks. If a bird flew over their heads, they dared not fire a gun lest
its report should be heard, so great was their fear of possible
arrest.

As their wea