"Shorty, if he won't pull, take that oar yourself," Kit commanded."Sure," was the answer."He can chop ice."But Sprague refused to give over the oar; Stine had ceased rowing, and the boat was drifting backward.
"Turn around, Smoke," Sprague ordered.
And Kit, who never in his life had cursed any man, astonished himself."I'll see you in hell, first," he replied."Take hold of that oar andpull."
It is in moments of exhaustion that men lose all their reserves of civilization, and such a moment had come.Each man had reached the breaking-point.Sprague jerked off a mitten, drew his revolver, and turned it on his steersman.This was a new experience to Kit.He had never had a gun presented at him in his life.And now, to his surprise, it seemed to mean nothing at all.It was the most natural thing in the world."If you don't put that gun up," he said, "I'll take it away and rap youover the knuckles with it."
"If you don't turn the boat around I'll shoot you," Sprague threatened.
Then Shorty took a hand.He ceased chopping ice and stood up behind Sprague.
"Go on an' shoot," said Shorty, wiggling the hatchet."I'm just aching for a chance to brain you.Go on an' start the festivities.""This is mutiny," Stine broke in."You were engaged to obey orders." Shorty turned on him.
"Oh, you'll get yours as soon as I finish with your pardner, you little hog-wallopin' snooper, you.""Sprague," Kit said, "I'll give you just thirty seconds to put away that gun and get that oar out."Sprague hesitated, gave a short hysterical laugh, put the revolver away and bent his back to the work.
For two hours more, inch by inch, they fought their way along the edge of the foaming rocks, until Kit feared he had made a mistake.And then, when on the verge of himself turning back, they came abreast of a narrow opening, not twenty feet wide, which led into a land-locked inclosure where the fiercest gusts scarcely flawed the surface.It was the haven gained by the boats of previous days.They landed on a shelving beach, and the two employers lay in collapse in the boat, while Kit and Shorty pitched the tent, built a fire, and started the cooking.
"What's a hog-walloping snooper, Shorty?" Kit asked.
"Blamed if I know," was the answer; "but he's one just the same."The gale, which had been dying quickly, ceased at nightfall, and it came on clear and cold.A cup of coffee, set aside to cool and forgotten, a few minutes later was found coated with half an inch of ice.At eight o'clock, when Sprague and Stine, already rolled in their blankets, were sleeping the sleep of exhaustion, Kit came back from a look at the boat.
"It's the freeze-up, Shorty," he announced."There's a skin of ice over the whole pond already.""What are you going to do?"
"There's only one thing.The lake of course freezes first.The rapid current of the river may keep it open for days.This time to- morrow any boat caught in Lake Le Barge remains there until next year.""You mean we got to get out to-night?Now?" Kit nodded.
"Tumble out, you sleepers!" was Shorty's answer, couched in a roar, ashe began casting off the guy-ropes of the tent.
The other two awoke, groaning with the pain of stiffened muscles and the pain of rousing from exhausted sleep.
"What time is it?" Stine asked."Half-past eight.""It's dark yet," was the objection.
Shorty jerked out a couple of guy-ropes, and the tent began to sag.
"It's not morning," he said."It's evening.Come on.The lake's freezin'.We got to get acrost."Stine sat up, his face bitter and wrathful."Let it freeze.We're not going to stir.""All right," said Shorty."We're goin' on with the boat." "You were engaged--""To take you to Dawson," Shorty caught him up."Well, we're takin' you, ain't we?"He punctuated his query by bringing half the tent down on top of them.
They broke their way through the thin ice in the little harbour, and came out on the lake, where the water, heavy and glassy, froze on their oars with every stroke.The water soon became like mush, clogging the stroke of the oars and freezing in the air even as it dripped.Later the surface began to form a skin, and the boat proceeded slower and slower.
Often, afterwards, when Kit tried to remember that night and failed to bring up aught but nightmare recollections, he wondered what must have been the sufferings of Stine and Sprague.His one impression of himself was that he struggled through biting frost and intolerable exertion for a thousand years more or less.
Morning found them stationary.Stine complained of frosted fingers, and Sprague of his nose, while the pain in Kit's cheeks and nose told him that he, too, had been touched.With each accretion of daylight they could see farther, and far as they could see was icy surface.The water of the lake was gone.A hundred yards away was the shore of the north end.Shorty insisted that it was the opening of the river and that he could see water.He and Kit alone were able to work, and with their oars theybroke the ice and forced the boat along.And at the last gasp of their strength they made the suck of the rapid river.One look back showed them several boats which had fought through the night and were hopelessly frozen in; then they whirled around a bend in a current running six miles an hour.
