The Rim of the Desert | Page 7

on the Tanana."
"My, yes," piped little Banks, and his eyes scintillated like chippings of

blue glacier ice. "Likely I do remember Tyee. Dave picked him up that
same trip he set me on my feet. He found him left to starve on the trail
with a broken leg. And he camped right there, pitched his tent for a
hospital, and went to whittling splints out of a piece of willow to set
that bone. 'I am sorry to keep you waiting,' he says to me, 'but he is a
mighty good dog. He would have done his level best to see the man
who deserted him through.' And he would. I'd bank my money on old
Tyee."
Tisdale nodded slowly. "But my chance to overtake David was before
he secured that team fifty miles on. And I pushed my dogs too hard.
When I reached the Aurora, they were nearly done for. I was forced to
rest them a day. That gave me time to look into Weatherbee's work. I
found that the creek where he had made his discovery ran through a
deep and narrow canyon, and it was clear to me that the boxed channel,
which was frozen solid then, was fed during the short summer by a
small glacier at the top of the gorge. To turn the high water from his
placer, he had made a bore of nearly one thousand feet and practically
through rock. I followed a bucket tramway he had rigged to lift the
dump and found a primitive lighting-plant underground. The whole
tunnel was completed, with the exception of a thin wall left to
safeguard against an early thaw in the stream, while the bore was being
equipped with a five-foot flume. You all know what that means,
hundreds of miles from navigation or a main traveled road. To get that
necessary lumber, he felled trees in a spruce grove up the ravine; every
board was hewn by hand. And about two-thirds of those sluice-boxes,
the bottoms fitted with riffles, were finished. Afterwards, at that camp
where he stopped for dogs, I learned that aside from a few days at long
intervals, when the two miners had exchanged their labor for some
engineering, he had made his improvements alone, single-handed. And
most of that flume was constructed in those slow months he waited to
hear from me."
Tisdale paused, and again his glance sought the faces of those who had
known David Weatherbee. But all the Circle was strung responsive.
Those who never had known Weatherbee understood the terrible
conditions he had braved; the body-wracking toil underground; the

soul-breaking solitude; the crowding silence that months earlier he had
felt the necessity to escape. In that picked company, the latent force in
each acknowledged the iron courage of the man; but it was Tisdale's
magnetic personality, the unstudied play of expression in his rugged
face, the undercurrent of emotion quickening through infinite tones of
his voice, that plumbed the depths and in every listener struck the
dominant chord. And, too, these men had bridged subconsciously those
vast distances between Tisdale's start from Nome in clear weather,
"with a moon in her second quarter," and that stop at the deserted mine,
when his dogs--powerful huskies, part wolf, since they were bred in the
Seward Peninsula--"were nearly done for." Long and inevitable periods
of dark there had been; perils of white blizzard, of black frost. They had
run familiarly the whole gamut of hardship and danger he himself must
have faced single-handed; and while full measure was accorded
Weatherbee, the greater tribute passed silently, unsought, to the man
who had traveled so far and so fast to rescue him.
"It ought to have been me," exclaimed Lucky Banks at last in his high
treble. "I was just down in the Iditarod country, less than three hundred
miles. I ought to have run up once in awhile to see how he was getting
along. But I never thought of Dave's needing help himself, and nobody
told me he was around. I'd ought to have kept track of him, though; it
was up to me. But go on, Hollis; go on. I bet you made up that day you
lost at the mine. My, yes, I bet you broke the record hitting that
fifty-mile camp."
Tisdale nodded, and for an instant the humor played lightly at the
corners of his eyes. "It took me just seven hours with an up-grade the
last twenty miles. You see, I had Weatherbee to break trail. He rested a
night at the camp and lost about three hours more, while they hunted a
missing husky to make up his team. Still he pushed out with nearly
eighteen hours start and four fresh dogs, with Tyee pulling a strong
lead; while I wasn't