Grist
THE MILLS OF THE GODS SET UP IN THE NORTHERN FASTNESS GRIND OUT PERILAND LOYALTY, FEAR AND COURAGE—AND THE TESTS THAT ARE TO TRY THE SOULSOF THOSE WHOSE DESTINY CALLS THEM TO THE LAND OF FROST AND GOLD.
He threw back his head and howled eerily. His muzzle lifted to thestars and the most mournful sound known to man poured from his throatand was echoed and reëchoed by the hooded cedars and the rocks abouthim. He could not have told you why he howled. Dogs are not prone tointrospection. But he knew that his master, who should be in the cabinyonder, would never come out again. He knew that the dying wisps ofsmoke from the chimney would never billow out in thick gray cloudsagain. And he knew that the other man—who had come out so hastily andgone swinging down the river trail—would never, never return.
Cheechako was chained. It had originally been a mark of disgrace, anunbearable humiliation to a malamute pup, but he did not mind it anylonger. His master had made sleeping quarters for him that were vastlywarmer than a snow-bed even in the coldest weather, and Cheechakowholeheartedly approved. He was comfortable, he was fed, and Carsonreleased him now and then to stretch his legs and swore at himaffectionately from time to time, and no reasonable dog will demandany more. Or so Cheechako viewed it, anyhow.
But now his muzzle tilted up. His eyes half-closed, and from histhroat those desolate and despairing howls poured forth.A-a-o-oooo-e-e! A-a-o-oooo-e-e! They were a dirge and a lament. Theywere sounds of grief and they were noises of despair. Cheechako couldnot explain their meaning at all, but when a man dies they springfull-bodied from that man’s dog’s throat.
The hooded cedars watched, and echoed back the sound. The rocks abouthim watched, and gave tongue stilly in a faint reflection of hissorrow. The river listened, and babbled absently of sympathy andrippled on. The river has seen too many men die to be disturbed. Thewilds listened. For many miles around the despairing, grief-strickenhowling reached. To tree and forest, and hill and valley, the thin andmuted wailing bore its message. Only the cabin seemed indifferent,though the tragedy was within it. Somewhere within the four log wallsCarson lay sprawled out. Cheechako knew that he was dead withoutknowing how he knew. There had been a shot. Later, the other man hadcome out hastily with a pack on his back. He had taken the river trailand disappeared.
And long into the night, until the pale moonlight faded and died,Cheechako howled his sorrow for a thing he did not understand. Of hisown predicament, the dog had yet no knowledge. It was natural to bechained. Food was brought when one was chained. That there was now noone to bring him food, that no one was likely to come, and that themost pertinacious of puppy teeth could not work through the chain thatbound him; these things did not disturb him. His head thrown back, hiseyes half-closed, he howled in an ecstasy of grief.
And while he gav