The Man from the Bitter Roots

Jac

od, the two long icicles hanging from the ends of his mustache made him look like an industrious walru

jack-pot,

have conveyed much to a mountain man. To Mr. Sprudell it meant onl

find my

the mound of blankets in the corner whence came the muffled voic

o it, but I think I seen your shirt wavin' from a p'int a rock about s

on

ly-"where the w

y trou

suit out'n the top of a pine tree. You've no more pants than a rabbit, feller.

I do?" Spru

unk. "You kin jest as well die in t

ly. The mound

th.' It hurt my lungs like I was breathin' darnin' needles when I cut this wood. The drift

commanded ferociously. "You're letting in a lot of cold air. Quit rampin' round!" From which it may be

e Bill admitted, with a grin. "To

e blankets, then a pair of gleaming eyes. "I propose to ge

cle Bill calmly. "Whe

Ore City-on foot, i

explained

ll of snow, and the cold's a fright. You'd be

here was offended dignit

ts, and your shoes is full of snow. I doubts if you has sock

eth in the extreme of exasperation at Uncle Bill. By some

a voice which implied that th

ncle Bill; "I'm h

re's no reason why we shouldn't

ll answered easily, "ex

ha

got to get a sheep. I thought I could eat snowballs as long

g?" demanded Sp

urselves on a can of froze tomatoes, though I hates to eat so hearty and go right to bed. There's a pint of beans, too, that by cookin' steady in this alt

under the covers, where a loud scrunching told

thin', Toy? Is your rheuma

faint voice answ

e stood rubbing his hands over the red-hot stove, w

dgepole under snow. Outside, the storm was roaring with unabated fury, and Uncle Bill's emergency supply of wood was almo

ddenly and said, w

ou a thousand dollars

nd dollars! Wasn't that like a dude? Dudes t

d a sack of flour just then tha

It's endurance that's countin' from now on. We're up ag

ell s

ould not leave? "What's Toy go

old man's t

't think I'd quit him, do you, when he's sick-leave him here to die alone?" Griswold flopped a pancake in the skillet and added, in a s

me?" Sprudell de

up in a day or two, and then again it mayn't. Anyway, the

paying you five dollars a day for, exce

t I don't wear brass buttons and a uniform." His blue eyes blazed. "It's your infernal meanness that's to blame, and nothin' else. I warned you-I told you half a dozen times that you wasn't gittin' grub enough to come into the hills this ti

face until it was only a shade less white than his thick, white hair was that he, T. Victor Sprudell, president of the Bartlesville Tool Works, of Bartlesville, Indiana, was going to starve! To freeze! To die in the pitiless hills like any penn

ège, blocks long, following a wreath-covered coffin in which he reposed. And later, an afternoon extra in which his demise was featur

was sublime; but to perish alone, unnoted, side by side with the Chinese cook and chiefly for want of t

became panic, and his panic like unto hysteria. He ached with cold and his cramped position, and he was now getting in earnest the gnawing pangs of hunger. What was a Chi

s to soften it, and listened to the chattering of his teeth while

mall," Uncle Bill observed suddenly, after Sprud

aid Sprudell defiantly, as though he had been accused.

ance I see, Sprudell, and I'll take it if you'll say you'll stay with Toy. I'll try to get down to that cabin on the ri

said st

hind! It's every ma

plied, with eq

added grimly: "I reckon you've

rred, and raising himself painfully

o, I t

shook h

-himself' talk aint

reiterated,

o, I t

rd what

ank in Spokane for send money to Chiny to pay on lice lanch. Tell Chiny Charley-he savvy all. I stay here. You come back

eet and making his preparations to leave, Uncle Bill lay still. He

abin, I don't believe I'll have the strength to waller back alone; but if there i

ongolian face when Griswold was ready to go, and

black eyes softened with affectionate pr

gravely. "And hang on as long as you can." Then

of the tent and lay quite still as the two we

ruck him and the wind-driven snow shut out the tent. He had not gone far before he wished that he had done as Uncle Bill had told him and wrapped his feet in "Californy socks." The strips of gunny sacking which he had refused because they

And the wind that took his breath had a curious, piercing quality that hurt, as Uncle Bill had said, like breathing darning needles. "The White Death!"

s heart could go on pumping congealed blood through the auricles and ventricles. It had annoyed him at first when chunks of snow dropped from overhanging branches and lodged between his neck and collar, to trickle down his spine; but shortly he ceased to notice so small a matter. In the start, when he had inadvertently slipped off a buried log and found himself entangled in a network of down timber, he had

answer, knowing the old man would come back. That he came back swearing made no dif

ommercial Club. He had the same cozy sensation of contentment. He could almost feel the crackling fire warming his knees and shins, and it required

atter? Aire y

and manner of this irascible guide! Mr. Sprudell fancied that by way of reply he smiled a t

git that dude?" The intervening feet

tuation was desperate. The bitter cold grew worse as night came on. He knew that they had worked their way down toward the river, but how far down? Was the deep ca?on he had

groan as he floundered back and shoo

ust keep movin'! Do you want

ame thickly, and Sprude

tried to lift him, to carry him, to drag him

ch that he expected an answer as to give vent to his despair. There was not a chance in a million that the miner

is mouth wide open. Surely he heard an answering cry! Faint it was-far off-as

o! He

where in the white world of de

o! He

pt as a matter of emphasis, but he told himself that that

ly, sunk to his armpits in

way up the ca?on through the drifts to Griswold's side. They wasted no time in w

but after an hour or so of work his saviors had the satisfaction of

Sprudell could stand. "But," sharply, as he stumbled

tions of snow and ice water had not done.

es darkened as he

went crazy. He tried

st. Incredulity and suspicion shone plainly in his eyes. Sprudell's imagination was a winged thing, and now it spread its startled pinions. Penned up with a murderer-what a tale to tell in Bartlesvi

her of them got behind him a

il Fishes of the Old Red Sandstone of the British Isles." It was unlikely, he reasoned, that a man who voluntarily read, for instance, "Contributions to the Natural Hi

them?" There was skepticism, a

a place like this if I didn

admit, and added, patronizingl

amous, many-sided scientist was his hero, occupying a pedestal that no

ng. He was a great scientist, a great mining engineer, a successful business man. He developed and put the Calumet and Hecla on a paying basis. He made the University Museum in Cambridge what it is. He knew more about sea urchins and coral reefs than men who

udell murmured, t

ith bulging eyes. "My head would git a

d Uncle Bill was stowing away provisions in a small canvas sack. He gathered, from the signs of preparation, that the miner was going to try and find the Chin

nt always did. His eyes caught the suggestive outlines of the blanket on the floor, and, with a start, he remembered what was under it. They had no sensibilities, these Westerners

Uncle Bill glance

eet h

gnored his p

while-like as not you'll haf to have them took off. Lay still and don't

small children and was on the pay roll of the Bartlesville Tool Works some hard winter. He'd--Sprudell's r

here and there. He looked at Sprudell while he folded it ref

and, egotist though he was, he was equally aware th

ndecidedly, and then seemed

in case I don't come back. I intend to, but"-he glanced i

p. Give them this old letter and the picture and this letter, here, of mine. This is half the gold dust-our season's work." He placed a heavy canvas sample sack

bout such things. And be sure the assessment work's kept up. In the letter, there, I've given them my figures as to how the samples run. Some day there

n as I

ome back and haun

he left them; he simply fas

e said to Uncle Bill at parting. "If there's any way

n plays at tragic moments; no long handshakes and heart-

" said Un

ith his elbow and watched Burt's struggl

ruce had disappeared. "He's man all through." The old voic

spent principally moving between window and door, watching, listening, saying

cessation, and in such intervals the curious fog hung over the s

bury Slim. Then, against the day of their going, he fashioned crude snow

and a whole lot better show of gittin' down." Uncle Bill

always answered fretfully. "There are bu

uce must have been two days without food. He looked pinched and shrivelled as

tle, but there's nothin' stirrin' in such a sto

t the irresolution he read in his

hing we can

e, Uncle Bill hung on. Sprudell paced the cabin like

I aches to choke the windpipe off that dude," the old

but no sign of Bruce; then a gale blowing d

is frosted feet for joy. "We'll take it on the ice to Long's Crossin'," he vouc

the sled, they started for the river, past the broken snow and the shallow grave where the dead madman lay, past the clump of snow-laden willows where the starving horses that had worked their way down huddled for shelter, to

ght about goin'.