It was a
new stimulant to his manhood; for the first time he thrilled with
a conscious pride in his wisdom of the trail; and between the
twain they ever lifted the sinking hearts of their comrades. The
faces of the two men and the woman brightened as they saw him,
for after all he was the staff they leaned upon. But Sitka
Charley, rigid as was his wont, concealing pain and pleasure
impartially beneath an iron exterior, asked them the welfare of
the rest, told the distance to the fire, and continued on the
back-trip.
Next he met a single Indian, unburdened, limping, lips
compressed, and eyes set with the pain of a foot in which the
quick fought a losing battle with the dead. All possible care had
been taken of him, but in the last extremity the weak and
unfortunate must perish, and Sitka Charley deemed his days to be
few. The man could not keep up for long, so he gave him rough
cheering words. After that came two more Indians, to whom he had
allotted the task of helping along Joe, the third white man of
the party. They had deserted him. Sitka Charley saw at a glance
the lurking spring in their bodies, and knew they had at last
cast off his mastery.
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