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diff --git a/11673-h/11673-h.htm b/11673-h/11673-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbaf4ef --- /dev/null +++ b/11673-h/11673-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,826 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stickeen, by John Muir</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11673 ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="cover" /> +</div> + +<h1>Stickeen</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by John Muir</h2> + +<h4>1909</h4> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"> +TO<br /> +<big>HELEN MUIR</big><br /> +<br /> +Lover of wildness<br /> +this icy storm-story<br /> +is affectionately<br /> +dedicated +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +TO MY DOG BLANCO<br/> +BY J.G. HOLLAND +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +My dear dumb friend, low lying there,<br/> + A willing vassal at my feet;<br/> +Glad partner of my home and fare,<br/> + My shadow in the street;<br/><br/> +I look into your great brown eyes,<br/> + Where love and loyal homage shine,<br/> +And wonder where the difference lies<br/> + Between your soul and mine! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + . . . . . . . <br/><br/> +I scan the whole broad earth around<br/> + For that one heart which, leal and true,<br/> +Bears friendship without end or bound,<br/> + And find the prize in you. +</p> +<p class="letter"> + . . . . . . . <br/><br/> +Ah, Blanco! did I worship God<br/> + As truly as you worship me,<br/> +Or follow where my Master trod<br/> + With your humility:<br/><br/> +Did I sit fondly at His feet<br/> + As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,<br/> +And watch Him with a love as sweet,<br/> + My life would grow divine! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>STICKEEN</h2> + +<p> +In the summer of 1880 I set out from Fort Wrangel in a canoe to continue the +exploration of the icy region of southeastern Alaska, begun in the fall of +1879. After the necessary provisions, blankets, etc., had been collected and +stowed away, and my Indian crew were in their places ready to start, while a +crowd of their relatives and friends on the wharf were bidding them good-by and +good-luck, my companion, the Rev. S.H. Young, for whom we were waiting, at last +came aboard, followed by a little black dog, that immediately made himself at +home by curling up in a hollow among the baggage. I like dogs, but this one +seemed so small and worthless that I objected to his going, and asked the +missionary why he was taking him. +</p> + +<p> +“Such a little helpless creature will only be in the way,” I said; +“you had better pass him up to the Indian boys on the wharf, to be taken +home to play with the children. This trip is not likely to be good for +toy-dogs. The poor silly thing will be in rain and snow for weeks or months, +and will require care like a baby.” +</p> + +<p> +But his master assured me that he would be no trouble at all; that he was a +perfect wonder of a dog, could endure cold and hunger like a bear, swim like a +seal, and was wondrous wise and cunning, etc., making out a list of virtues to +show he might be the most interesting member of the party. +</p> + +<p> +Nobody could hope to unravel the lines of his ancestry. In all the wonderfully +mixed and varied dog-tribe I never saw any creature very much like him, though +in some of his sly, soft, gliding motions and gestures he brought the fox to +mind. He was short-legged and bunchy-bodied, and his hair, though smooth, was +long and silky and slightly waved, so that when the wind was at his back it +ruffled, making him look shaggy. At first sight his only noticeable feature was +his fine tail, which was about as airy and shady as a squirrel’s, and was +carried curling forward almost to his nose. On closer inspection you might +notice his thin sensitive ears, and sharp eyes with cunning tan-spots above +them. Mr. Young told me that when the little fellow was a pup about the size of +a woodrat he was presented to his wife by an Irish prospector at Sitka, and +that on his arrival at Fort Wrangel he was adopted with enthusiasm by the +Stickeen Indians as a sort of new good-luck totem, was named +“Stickeen” for the tribe, and became a universal favorite; petted, +protected, and admired wherever he went, and regarded as a mysterious fountain +of wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +On our trip he soon proved himself a queer character—odd, concealed, +independent, keeping invincibly quiet, and doing many little puzzling things +that piqued my curiosity. As we sailed week after week through the long +intricate channels and inlets among the innumerable islands and mountains of +the coast, he spent most of the dull days in sluggish ease, motionless, and +apparently as unobserving as if in deep sleep. But I discovered that somehow he +always knew what was going on. When the Indians were about to shoot at ducks or +seals, or when anything along the shore was exciting our attention, he would +rest his chin on the edge of the canoe and calmly look out like a dreamy-eyed +tourist. And when he heard us talking about making a landing, he immediately +roused himself to see what sort of a place we were coming to, and made ready to +jump overboard and swim ashore as soon as the canoe neared the beach. Then, +with a vigorous shake to get rid of the brine in his hair, he ran into the +woods to hunt small game. But though always the first out of the canoe, he was +always the last to get into it. When we were ready to start he could never be +found, and refused to come to our call. We soon found out, however, that though +we could not see him at such times, he saw us, and from the cover of the briers +and huckleberry bushes in the fringe of the woods was watching the canoe with +wary eye. For as soon as we were fairly off he came trotting down the beach, +plunged into the surf, and swam after us, knowing well that we would cease +rowing and take him in. When the contrary little vagabond came alongside, he +was lifted by the neck, held at arm’s length a moment to drip, and +dropped aboard. We tried to cure him of this trick by compelling him to swim a +long way, as if we had a mind to abandon him; but this did no good: the longer +the swim the better he seemed to like it. +</p> + +<p> +Though capable of great idleness, he never failed to be ready for all sorts of +adventures and excursions. One pitch-dark rainy night we landed about ten +o’clock at the mouth of a salmon stream when the water was +phosphorescent. The salmon were running, and the myriad fins of the onrushing +multitude were churning all the stream into a silvery glow, wonderfully +beautiful and impressive in the ebon darkness. To get a good view of the show I +set out with one of the Indians and sailed up through the midst of it to the +foot of a rapid about half a mile from camp, where the swift current dashing +over rocks made the luminous glow most glorious. Happening to look back down +the stream, while the Indian was catching a few of the struggling fish, I saw a +long spreading fan of light like the tail of a comet, which we thought must be +made by some big strange animal that was pursuing us. On it came with its +magnificent train, until we imagined we could see the monster’s head and +eyes; but it was only Stickeen, who, finding I had left the camp, came swimming +after me to see what was up. +</p> + +<p> +When we camped early, the best hunter of the crew usually went to the woods for +a deer, and Stickeen was sure to be at his heels, provided I had not gone out. +For, strange to say, though I never carried a gun, he always followed me, +forsaking the hunter and even his master to share my wanderings. The days that +were too stormy for sailing I spent in the woods, or on the adjacent mountains, +wherever my studies called me; and Stickeen always insisted on going with me, +however wild the weather, gliding like a fox through dripping huckleberry +bushes and thorny tangles of panax and rubus, scarce stirring their rain-laden +leaves; wading and wallowing through snow, swimming icy streams, skipping over +logs and rocks and the crevasses of glaciers with the patience and endurance of +a determined mountaineer, never tiring or getting discouraged. Once he followed +me over a glacier the surface of which was so crusty and rough that it cut his +feet until every step was marked with blood; but he trotted on with Indian +fortitude until I noticed his red track, and, taking pity on him, made him a +set of moccasins out of a handkerchief. However great his troubles he never +asked help or made any complaint, as if, like a philosopher, he had learned +that without hard work and suffering there could be no pleasure worth having. +</p> + +<p> +Yet none of us was able to make out what Stickeen was really good for. He +seemed to meet danger and hardships without anything like reason, insisted on +having his own way, never obeyed an order, and the hunter could never set him +on anything, or make him fetch the birds he shot. His equanimity was so steady +it seemed due to want of feeling; ordinary storms were pleasures to him, and as +for mere rain, he flourished in it like a vegetable. No matter what advances +you might make, scarce a glance or a tail-wag would you get for your pains. But +though he was apparently as cold as a glacier and about as impervious to fun, I +tried hard to make his acquaintance, guessing there must be something worth +while hidden beneath so much courage, endurance, and love of wild-weathery +adventure. No superannuated mastiff or bulldog grown old in office surpassed +this fluffy midget in stoic dignity. He sometimes reminded me of a small, +squat, unshakable desert cactus. For he never displayed a single trace of the +merry, tricksy, elfish fun of the terriers and collies that we all know, nor of +their touching affection and devotion. Like children, most small dogs beg to be +loved and allowed to love; but Stickeen seemed a very Diogenes, asking only to +be let alone: a true child of the wilderness, holding the even tenor of his +hidden life with the silence and serenity of nature. His strength of character +lay in his eyes. They looked as old as the hills, and as young, and as wild. I +never tired of looking into them: it was like looking into a landscape; but +they were small and rather deep-set, and had no explaining lines around them to +give out particulars. I was accustomed to look into the faces of plants and +animals, and I watched the little sphinx more and more keenly as an interesting +study. But there is no estimating the wit and wisdom concealed and latent in +our lower fellow mortals until made manifest by profound experiences; for it is +through suffering that dogs as well as saints are developed and made perfect. +</p> + +<p> +After exploring the Sumdum and Tahkoo fiords and their glaciers, we sailed +through Stephen’s Passage into Lynn Canal and thence through Icy Strait +into Cross Sound, searching for unexplored inlets leading toward the great +fountain ice-fields of the Fairweather Range. Here, while the tide was in our +favor, we were accompanied by a fleet of icebergs drifting out to the ocean +from Glacier Bay. Slowly we paddled around Vancouver’s Point, Wimbledon, +our frail canoe tossed like a feather on the massive heaving swells coming in +past Cape Spenser. For miles the sound is bounded by precipitous mural cliffs, +which, lashed with wave-spray and their heads hidden in clouds, looked terribly +threatening and stern. Had our canoe been crushed or upset we could have made +no landing here, for the cliffs, as high as those of Yosemite, sink sheer into +deep water. Eagerly we scanned the wall on the north side for the first sign of +an opening fiord or harbor, all of us anxious except Stickeen, who dozed in +peace or gazed dreamily at the tremendous precipices when he heard us talking +about them. At length we made the joyful discovery of the mouth of the inlet +now called “Taylor Bay,” and about five o’clock reached the +head of it and encamped in a spruce grove near the front of a large glacier. +</p> + +<p> +While camp was being made, Joe the hunter climbed the mountain wall on the east +side of the fiord in pursuit of wild goats, while Mr. Young and I went to the +glacier. We found that it is separated from the waters of the inlet by a +tide-washed moraine, and extends, an abrupt barrier, all the way across from +wall to wall of the inlet, a distance of about three miles. But our most +interesting discovery was that it had recently advanced, though again slightly +receding. A portion of the terminal moraine had been plowed up and shoved +forward, uprooting and overwhelming the woods on the east side. Many of the +trees were down and buried, or nearly so, others were leaning away from the +ice-cliffs, ready to fall, and some stood erect, with the bottom of the ice +plow still beneath their roots and its lofty crystal spires towering high above +their tops. The spectacle presented by these century-old trees standing close +beside a spiry wall of ice, with their branches almost touching it, was most +novel and striking. And when I climbed around the front, and a little way up +the west side of the glacier, I found that it had swelled and increased in +height and width in accordance with its advance, and carried away the outer +ranks of trees on its bank. +</p> + +<p> +On our way back to camp after these first observations I planned a far-and-wide +excursion for the morrow. I awoke early, called not only by the glacier, which +had been on my mind all night, but by a grand flood-storm. The wind was blowing +a gale from the north and the rain was flying with the clouds in a wide +passionate horizontal flood, as if it were all passing over the country instead +of falling on it. The main perennial streams were booming high above their +banks, and hundreds of new ones, roaring like the sea, almost covered the lofty +gray walls of the inlet with white cascades and falls. I had intended making a +cup of coffee and getting something like a breakfast before starting, but when +I heard the storm and looked out I made haste to join it; for many of +Nature’s finest lessons are to be found in her storms, and if careful to +keep in right relations with them, we may go safely abroad with them, rejoicing +in the grandeur and beauty of their works and ways, and chanting with the old +Norsemen, “The blast of the tempest aids our oars, the hurricane is our +servant and drives us whither we wish to go.” So, omitting breakfast, I +put a piece of bread in my pocket and hurried away. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Young and the Indians were asleep, and so, I hoped, was Stickeen; but I had +not gone a dozen rods before he left his bed in the tent and came boring +through the blast after me. That a man should welcome storms for their +exhilarating music and motion, and go forth to see God making landscapes, is +reasonable enough; but what fascination could there be in such tremendous +weather for a dog? Surely nothing akin to human enthusiasm for scenery or +geology. Anyhow, on he came, breakfastless, through the choking blast. I +stopped and did my best to turn him back. “Now don’t,” I +said, shouting to make myself heard in the storm, “now don’t, +Stickeen. What has got into your queer noddle now? You must be daft. This wild +day has nothing for you. There is no game abroad, nothing but weather. Go back +to camp and keep warm, get a good breakfast with your master, and be sensible +for once. I can’t carry you all day or feed you, and this storm will kill +you.” +</p> + +<p> +But Nature, it seems, was at the bottom of the affair, and she gains her ends +with dogs as well as with men, making us do as she likes, shoving and pulling +us along her ways, however rough, all but killing us at times in getting her +lessons driven hard home. After I had stopped again and again, shouting good +warning advice, I saw that he was not to be shaken off; as well might the earth +try to shake off the moon. I had once led his master into trouble, when he fell +on one of the topmost jags of a mountain and dislocated his arm; now the turn +of his humble companion was coming. The pitiful little wanderer just stood +there in the wind, drenched and blinking, saying doggedly, “Where thou +goest I will go.” So at last I told him to come on if he must, and gave +him a piece of the bread I had in my pocket; then we struggled on together, and +thus began the most memorable of all my wild days. +</p> + +<p> +The level flood, driving hard in our faces, thrashed and washed us wildly until +we got into the shelter of a grove on the east side of the glacier near the +front, where we stopped awhile for breath and to listen and look out. The +exploration of the glacier was my main object, but the wind was too high to +allow excursions over its open surface, where one might be dangerously shoved +while balancing for a jump on the brink of a crevasse. In the mean time the +storm was a fine study. Here the end of the glacier, descending an abrupt swell +of resisting rock about five hundred feet high, leans forward and falls in ice +cascades. And as the storm came down the glacier from the north, Stickeen and I +were beneath the main current of the blast, while favorably located to see and +hear it. What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the +washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm! +Detached wafts and swirls were coming through the woods, with music from the +leaves and branches and furrowed boles, and even from the splintered rocks and +ice-crags overhead, many of the tones soft and low and flute-like, as if each +leaf and tree, crag and spire were a tuned reed. A broad torrent, draining the +side of the glacier, now swollen by scores of new streams from the mountains, +was rolling boulders along its rocky channel, with thudding, bumping, muffled +sounds, rushing towards the bay with tremendous energy, as if in haste to get +out of the mountains; the waters above and beneath calling to each other, and +all to the ocean, their home. +</p> + +<p> +Looking southward from our shelter, we had this great torrent and the forested +mountain wall above it on our left, the spiry ice-crags on our right, and +smooth gray gloom ahead. I tried to draw the marvelous scene in my note-book, +but the rain blurred the page in spite of all my pains to shelter it, and the +sketch was almost worthless. When the wind began to abate, I traced the east +side of the glacier. All the trees standing on the edge of the woods were +barked and bruised, showing high-ice mark in a very telling way, while tens of +thousands of those that had stood for centuries on the bank of the glacier +farther out lay crushed and being crushed. In many places I could see down +fifty feet or so beneath the margin of the glacier-mill, where trunks from one +to two feet in diameter were being ground to pulp against outstanding rock-ribs +and bosses of the bank. +</p> + +<p> +About three miles above the front of the glacier I climbed to the surface of it +by means of axe-steps made easy for Stickeen. As far as the eye could reach, +the level, or nearly level, glacier stretched away indefinitely beneath the +gray sky, a seemingly boundless prairie of ice. The rain continued, and grew +colder, which I did not mind, but a dim snowy look in the drooping clouds made +me hesitate about venturing far from land. No trace of the west shore was +visible, and in case the clouds should settle and give snow, or the wind again +become violent, I feared getting caught in a tangle of crevasses. +Snow-crystals, the flowers of the mountain clouds, are frail, beautiful things, +but terrible when flying on storm-winds in darkening, benumbing swarms or when +welded together into glaciers full of deadly crevasses. Watching the weather, I +sauntered about on the crystal sea. For a mile or two out I found the ice +remarkably safe. The marginal crevasses were mostly narrow, while the few wider +ones were easily avoided by passing around them, and the clouds began to open +here and there. +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged, I at last pushed out for the other side; for Nature can make +us do anything she likes. At first we made rapid progress, and the sky was not +very threatening, while I took bearings occasionally with a pocket compass to +enable me to find my way back more surely in case the storm should become +blinding; but the structure lines of the glacier were my main guide. Toward the +west side we came to a closely crevassed section in which we had to make long, +narrow tacks and doublings, tracing the edges of tremendous transverse and +longitudinal crevasses, many of which were from twenty to thirty feet wide, and +perhaps a thousand feet deep—beautiful and awful. In working a way +through them I was severely cautious, but Stickeen came on as unhesitating as +the flying clouds. The widest crevasse that I could jump he would leap without +so much as halting to take a look at it. The weather was now making quick +changes, scattering bits of dazzling brightness through the wintry gloom; at +rare intervals, when the sun broke forth wholly free, the glacier was seen from +shore to shore with a bright array of encompassing mountains partly revealed, +wearing the clouds as garments, while the prairie bloomed and sparkled with +irised light from myriads of washed crystals. Then suddenly all the glorious +show would be darkened and blotted out. +</p> + +<p> +Stickeen seemed to care for none of these things, bright or dark, nor for the +crevasses, wells, moulins, or swift flashing streams into which he might fall. +The little adventurer was only about two years old, yet nothing seemed novel to +him, nothing daunted him. He showed neither caution nor curiosity, wonder nor +fear, but bravely trotted on as if glaciers were playgrounds. His stout, +muffled body seemed all one skipping muscle, and it was truly wonderful to see +how swiftly and to all appearance heedlessly he flashed across nerve-trying +chasms six or eight feet wide. His courage was so unwavering that it seemed to +be due to dullness of perception, as if he were only blindly bold; and I kept +warning him to be careful. For we had been close companions on so many +wilderness trips that I had formed the habit of talking to him as if he were a +boy and understood every word. +</p> + +<p> +We gained the west shore in about three hours; the width of the glacier here +being about seven miles. Then I pushed northward in order to see as far back as +possible into the fountains of the Fairweather Mountains, in case the clouds +should rise. The walking was easy along the margin of the forest, which, of +course, like that on the other side, had been invaded and crushed by the +swollen, overflowing glacier. In an hour or so, after passing a massive +headland, we came suddenly on a branch of the glacier, which, in the form of a +magnificent ice-cascade two miles wide, was pouring over the rim of the main +basin in a westerly direction, its surface broken into wave-shaped blades and +shattered blocks, suggesting the wildest updashing, heaving, plunging motion of +a great river cataract. Tracing it down three or four miles, I found that it +discharged into a lake, filling it with icebergs. +</p> + +<p> +I would gladly have followed the lake outlet to tide-water, but the day was +already far spent, and the threatening sky called for haste on the return trip +to get off the ice before dark. I decided therefore to go no farther, and, +after taking a general view of the wonderful region, turned back, hoping to see +it again under more favorable auspices. We made good speed up the cañon +of the great ice-torrent, and out on the main glacier until we had left the +west shore about two miles behind us. Here we got into a difficult network of +crevasses, the gathering clouds began to drop misty fringes, and soon the +dreaded snow came flying thick and fast. I now began to feel anxious about +finding a way in the blurring storm. Stickeen showed no trace of fear. He was +still the same silent, able little hero. I noticed, however, that after the +storm-darkness came on he kept close up behind me. The snow urged us to make +still greater haste, but at the same time hid our way. I pushed on as best I +could, jumping innumerable crevasses, and for every hundred rods or so of +direct advance traveling a mile in doubling up and down in the turmoil of +chasms and dislocated ice-blocks. After an hour or two of this work we came to +a series of longitudinal crevasses of appalling width, and almost straight and +regular in trend, like immense furrows. These I traced with firm nerve, excited +and strengthened by the danger, making wide jumps, poising cautiously on their +dizzy edges after cutting hollows for my feet before making the spring, to +avoid possible slipping or any uncertainty on the farther sides, where only one +trial is granted—exercise at once frightful and inspiring. Stickeen +followed seemingly without effort. +</p> + +<p> +Many a mile we thus traveled, mostly up and down, making but little real +headway in crossing, running instead of walking most of the time as the danger +of being compelled to spend the night on the glacier became threatening. +Stickeen seemed able for anything. Doubtless we could have weathered the storm +for one night, dancing on a flat spot to keep from freezing, and I faced the +threat without feeling anything like despair; but we were hungry and wet, and +the wind from the mountains was still thick with snow and bitterly cold, so of +course that night would have seemed a very long one. I could not see far enough +through the blurring snow to judge in which general direction the least +dangerous route lay, while the few dim, momentary glimpses I caught of +mountains through rifts in the flying clouds were far from encouraging either +as weather signs or as guides. I had simply to grope my way from crevasse to +crevasse, holding a general direction by the ice-structure, which was not to be +seen everywhere, and partly by the wind. Again and again I was put to my +mettle, but Stickeen followed easily, his nerve apparently growing more +unflinching as the danger increased. So it always is with mountaineers when +hard beset. Running hard and jumping, holding every minute of the remaining +daylight, poor as it was, precious, we doggedly persevered and tried to hope +that every difficult crevasse we overcame would prove to be the last of its +kind. But on the contrary, as we advanced they became more deadly trying. +</p> + +<p> +At length our way was barred by a very wide and straight crevasse, which I +traced rapidly northward a mile or so without finding a crossing or hope of +one; then down the glacier about as far, to where it united with another +uncrossable crevasse. In all this distance of perhaps two miles there was only +one place where I could possibly jump it, but the width of this jump was the +utmost I dared attempt, while the danger of slipping on the farther side was so +great that I was loath to try it. Furthermore, the side I was on was about a +foot higher than the other, and even with this advantage the crevasse seemed +dangerously wide. One is liable to underestimate the width of crevasses where +the magnitudes in general are great, I therefore stared at this one mighty +keenly, estimating its width and the shape of the edge on the farther side, +until I thought that I could jump it if necessary, but that in case I should be +compelled to jump back from the lower side I might fail. Now, a cautious +mountaineer seldom takes a step on unknown ground which seems at all dangerous +that he cannot retrace in case he should be stopped by unseen obstacles ahead. +This is the rule of mountaineers who live long, and, though in haste, I +compelled myself to sit down and calmly deliberate before I broke it. +</p> + +<p> +Retracing my devious path in imagination as if it were drawn on a chart, I saw +that I was recrossing the glacier a mile or two farther up stream than the +course pursued in the morning, and that I was now entangled in a section I had +not before seen. Should I risk this dangerous jump, or try to regain the woods +on the west shore, make a fire, and have only hunger to endure while waiting +for a new day? I had already crossed so broad a stretch of dangerous ice that I +saw it would be difficult to get back to the woods through the storm, before +dark, and the attempt would most likely result in a dismal night-dance on the +glacier; while just beyond the present barrier the surface seemed more +promising, and the east shore was now perhaps about as near as the west. I was +therefore eager to go on. But this wide jump was a dreadful obstacle. +</p> + +<p> +At length, because of the dangers already behind me, I determined to venture +against those that might be ahead, jumped and landed well, but with so little +to spare that I more than ever dreaded being compelled to take that jump back +from the lower side. Stickeen followed, making nothing of it, and we ran +eagerly forward, hoping we were leaving all our troubles behind. But within the +distance of a few hundred yards we were stopped by the widest crevasse yet +encountered. Of course I made haste to explore it, hoping all might yet be +remedied by finding a bridge or a way around either end. About three-fourths of +a mile upstream I found that it united with the one we had just crossed, as I +feared it would. Then, tracing it down, I found it joined the same crevasse at +the lower end also, maintaining throughout its whole course a width of forty to +fifty feet. Thus to my dismay I discovered that we were on a narrow island +about two miles long, with two barely possible ways of escape: one back by the +way we came, the other ahead by an almost inaccessible sliver-bridge that +crossed the great crevasse from near the middle of it! +</p> + +<p> +After this nerve-trying discovery I ran back to the sliver-bridge and +cautiously examined it. Crevasses, caused by strains from variations in the +rate of motion of different parts of the glacier and convexities in the +channel, are mere cracks when they first open, so narrow as hardly to admit the +blade of a pocket-knife, and gradually widen according to the extent of the +strain and the depth of the glacier. Now some of these cracks are interrupted, +like the cracks in wood, and in opening, the strip of ice between overlapping +ends is dragged out, and may maintain a continuous connection between the +sides, just as the two sides of a slivered crack in wood that is being split +are connected. Some crevasses remain open for months or even years, and by the +melting of their sides continue to increase in width long after the opening +strain has ceased; while the sliver-bridges, level on top at first and +perfectly safe, are at length melted to thin, vertical, knife-edged blades, the +upper portion being most exposed to the weather; and since the exposure is +greatest in the middle, they at length curve downward like the cables of +suspension bridges. This one was evidently very old, for it had been weathered +and wasted until it was the most dangerous and inaccessible that ever lay in my +way. The width of the crevasse was here about fifty feet, and the sliver +crossing diagonally was about seventy feet long; its thin knife-edge near the +middle was depressed twenty-five or thirty feet below the level of the glacier, +and the upcurving ends were attached to the sides eight or ten feet below the +brink. Getting down the nearly vertical wall to the end of the sliver and up +the other side were the main difficulties, and they seemed all but +insurmountable. Of the many perils encountered in my years of wandering on +mountains and glaciers none seemed so plain and stern and merciless as this. +And it was presented when we were wet to the skin and hungry, the sky dark with +quick driving snow, and the night near. But we were forced to face it. It was a +tremendous necessity. +</p> + +<p> +Beginning, not immediately above the sunken end of the bridge, but a little to +one side, I cut a deep hollow on the brink for my knees to rest in. Then, +leaning over, with my short-handled axe I cut a step sixteen or eighteen inches +below, which on account of the sheerness of the wall was necessarily shallow. +That step, however, was well made; its floor sloped slightly inward and formed +a good hold for my heels. Then, slipping cautiously upon it, and crouching as +low as possible, with my left side toward the wall, I steadied myself against +the wind with my left hand in a slight notch, while with the right I cut other +similar steps and notches in succession, guarding against losing balance by +glinting of the axe, or by wind-gusts, for life and death were in every stroke +and in the niceness of finish of every foothold. +</p> + +<p> +After the end of the bridge was reached I chipped it down until I had made a +level platform six or eight inches wide, and it was a trying thing to poise on +this little slippery platform while bending over to get safely astride of the +sliver. Crossing was then comparatively easy by chipping off the sharp edge +with short, careful strokes, and hitching forward an inch or two at a time, +keeping my balance with my knees pressed against the sides. The tremendous +abyss on either hand I studiously ignored. To me the edge of that blue sliver +was then all the world. But the most trying part of the adventure, after +working my way across inch by inch and chipping another small platform, was to +rise from the safe position astride and to cut a step-ladder in the nearly +vertical face of the wall,—chipping, climbing, holding on with feet and +fingers in mere notches. At such times one’s whole body is eye, and +common skill and fortitude are replaced by power beyond our call or knowledge. +Never before had I been so long under deadly strain. How I got up that cliff I +never could tell. The thing seemed to have been done by somebody else. I never +have held death in contempt, though in the course of my explorations I have +oftentimes felt that to meet one’s fate on a noble mountain, or in the +heart of a glacier, would be blessed as compared with death from disease, or +from some shabby lowland accident. But the best death, quick and crystal-pure, +set so glaringly open before us, is hard enough to face, even though we feel +gratefully sure that we have already had happiness enough for a dozen lives. +</p> + +<p> +But poor Stickeen, the wee, hairy, sleekit beastie, think of him! When I had +decided to dare the bridge, and while I was on my knees chipping a hollow on +the rounded brow above it, he came behind me, pushed his head past my shoulder, +looked down and across, scanned the sliver and its approaches with his +mysterious eyes, then looked me in the face with a startled air of surprise and +concern, and began to mutter and whine; saying as plainly as if speaking with +words, “Surely, you are not going into that awful place.” This was +the first time I had seen him gaze deliberately into a crevasse, or into my +face with an eager, speaking, troubled look. That he should have recognized and +appreciated the danger at the first glance showed wonderful sagacity. Never +before had the daring midget seemed to know that ice was slippery or that there +was any such thing as danger anywhere. His looks and tones of voice when he +began to complain and speak his fears were so human that I unconsciously talked +to him in sympathy as I would to a frightened boy, and in trying to calm his +fears perhaps in some measure moderated my own. “Hush your fears, my +boy,” I said, “we will get across safe, though it is not going to +be easy. No right way is easy in this rough world. We must risk our lives to +save them. At the worst we can only slip, and then how grand a grave we will +have, and by and by our nice bones will do good in the terminal moraine.” +</p> + +<p> +But my sermon was far from reassuring him: he began to cry, and after taking +another piercing look at the tremendous gulf, ran away in desperate excitement, +seeking some other crossing. By the time he got back, baffled of course, I had +made a step or two. I dared not look back, but he made himself heard; and when +he saw that I was certainly bent on crossing he cried aloud in despair. The +danger was enough to daunt anybody, but it seems wonderful that he should have +been able to weigh and appreciate it so justly. No mountaineer could have seen +it more quickly or judged it more wisely, discriminating between real and +apparent peril. +</p> + +<p> +When I gained the other side, he screamed louder than ever, and after running +back and forth in vain search for a way of escape, he would return to the brink +of the crevasse above the bridge, moaning and wailing as if in the bitterness +of death. Could this be the silent, philosophic Stickeen? I shouted +encouragement, telling him the bridge was not so bad as it looked, that I had +left it flat and safe for his feet, and he could walk it easily. But he was +afraid to try. Strange so small an animal should be capable of such big, wise +fears. I called again and again in a reassuring tone to come on and fear +nothing; that he could come if he would only try. He would hush for a moment, +look down again at the bridge, and shout his unshakable conviction that he +could never, never come that way; then lie back in despair, as if howling, +“O-o-oh! what a place! No-o-o, I can never go-o-o down there!” His +natural composure and courage had vanished utterly in a tumultuous storm of +fear. Had the danger been less, his distress would have seemed ridiculous. But +in this dismal, merciless abyss lay the shadow of death, and his heartrending +cries might well have called Heaven to his help. Perhaps they did. So hidden +before, he was now transparent, and one could see the workings of his heart and +mind like the movements of a clock out of its case. His voice and gestures, +hopes and fears, were so perfectly human that none could mistake them; while he +seemed to understand every word of mine. I was troubled at the thought of +having to leave him out all night, and of the danger of not finding him in the +morning. It seemed impossible to get him to venture. To compel him to try +through fear of being abandoned, I started off as if leaving him to his fate, +and disappeared back of a hummock; but this did no good; he only lay down and +moaned in utter hopeless misery. So, after hiding a few minutes, I went back to +the brink of the crevasse and in a severe tone of voice shouted across to him +that now I must certainly leave him, I could wait no longer, and that, if he +would not come, all I could promise was that I would return to seek him next +day. I warned him that if he went back to the woods the wolves would kill him, +and finished by urging him once more by words and gestures to come on, come on. +</p> + +<p> +He knew very well what I meant, and at last, with the courage of despair, +hushed and breathless, he crouched down on the brink in the hollow I had made +for my knees, pressed his body against the ice as if trying to get the +advantage of the friction of every hair, gazed into the first step, put his +little feet together and slid them slowly, slowly over the edge and down into +it, bunching all four in it and almost standing on his head. Then, without +lifting his feet, as well as I could see through the snow, he slowly worked +them over the edge of the step and down into the next and the next in +succession in the same way, and gained the end of the bridge. Then, lifting his +feet with the regularity and slowness of the vibrations of a seconds pendulum, +as if counting and measuring <em>one-two-three</em>, holding himself steady +against the gusty wind, and giving separate attention to each little step, he +gained the foot of the cliff, while I was on my knees leaning over to give him +a lift should he succeed in getting within reach of my arm. Here he halted in +dead silence, and it was here I feared he might fail, for dogs are poor +climbers. I had no cord. If I had had one, I would have dropped a noose over +his head and hauled him up. But while I was thinking whether an available cord +might be made out of clothing, he was looking keenly into the series of notched +steps and finger-holds I had made, as if counting them, and fixing the position +of each one of them in his mind. Then suddenly up he came in a springy rush, +hooking his paws into the steps and notches so quickly that I could not see how +it was done, and whizzed past my head, safe at last! +</p> + +<p> +And now came a scene! “Well done, well done, little boy! Brave +boy!” I cried, trying to catch and caress him; but he would not be +caught. Never before or since have I seen anything like so passionate a +revulsion from the depths of despair to exultant, triumphant, uncontrollable +joy. He flashed and darted hither and thither as if fairly demented, screaming +and shouting, swirling round and round in giddy loops and circles like a leaf +in a whirlwind, lying down, and rolling over and over, sidewise and heels over +head, and pouring forth a tumultuous flood of hysterical cries and sobs and +gasping mutterings. When I ran up to him to shake him, fearing he might die of +joy, he flashed off two or three hundred yards, his feet in a mist of motion; +then, turning suddenly, came back in a wild rush and launched himself at my +face, almost knocking me down, all the time screeching and screaming and +shouting as if saying, “Saved! saved! saved!” Then away again, +dropping suddenly at times with his feet in the air, trembling and fairly +sobbing. Such passionate emotion was enough to kill him. Moses’ stately +song of triumph after escaping the Egyptians and the Red Sea was nothing to it. +Who could have guessed the capacity of the dull, enduring little fellow for all +that most stirs this mortal frame? Nobody could have helped crying with him! +</p> + +<p> +But there is nothing like work for toning down excessive fear or joy. So I ran +ahead, calling him in as gruff a voice as I could command to come on and stop +his nonsense, for we had far to go and it would soon be dark. Neither of us +feared another trial like this. Heaven would surely count one enough for a +lifetime. The ice ahead was gashed by thousands of crevasses, but they were +common ones. The joy of deliverance burned in us like fire, and we ran without +fatigue, every muscle with immense rebound glorying in its strength. Stickeen +flew across everything in his way, and not till dark did he settle into his +normal fox-like trot. At last the cloudy mountains came in sight, and we soon +felt the solid rock beneath our feet, and were safe. Then came weakness. Danger +had vanished, and so had our strength. We tottered down the lateral moraine in +the dark, over boulders and tree trunks, through the bushes and devil-club +thickets of the grove where we had sheltered ourselves in the morning, and +across the level mud-slope of the terminal moraine. We reached camp about ten +o’clock, and found a big fire and a big supper. A party of Hoona Indians +had visited Mr. Young, bringing a gift of porpoise meat and wild strawberries, +and Hunter Joe had brought in a wild goat. But we lay down, too tired to eat +much, and soon fell into a troubled sleep. The man who said, “The harder +the toil, the sweeter the rest,” never was profoundly tired. Stickeen +kept springing up and muttering in his sleep, no doubt dreaming that he was +still on the brink of the crevasse; and so did I, that night and many others +long afterward, when I was overtired. +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter Stickeen was a changed dog. During the rest of the trip, instead of +holding aloof, he always lay by my side, tried to keep me constantly in sight, +and would hardly accept a morsel of food, however tempting, from any hand but +mine. At night, when all was quiet about the camp-fire, he would come to me and +rest his head on my knee with a look of devotion as if I were his god. And +often as he caught my eye he seemed to be trying to say, “Wasn’t +that an awful time we had together on the glacier?” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Nothing in after years has dimmed that Alaska storm-day. As I write it all +comes rushing and roaring to mind as if I were again in the heart of it. Again +I see the gray flying clouds with their rain-floods and snow, the ice-cliffs +towering above the shrinking forest, the majestic ice-cascade, the vast glacier +outspread before its white mountain fountains, and in the heart of it the +tremendous crevasse,—emblem of the valley of the shadow of +death,—low clouds trailing over it, the snow falling into it; and on its +brink I see little Stickeen, and I hear his cries for help and his shouts of +joy. I have known many dogs, and many a story I could tell of their wisdom and +devotion; but to none do I owe so much as to Stickeen. At first the least +promising and least known of my dog-friends, he suddenly became the best known +of them all. Our storm-battle for life brought him to light, and through him as +through a window I have ever since been looking with deeper sympathy into all +my fellow mortals. +</p> + +<p> +None of Stickeen’s friends knows what finally became of him. After my +work for the season was done I departed for California, and I never saw the +dear little fellow again. In reply to anxious inquiries his master wrote me +that in the summer of 1883 he was stolen by a tourist at Fort Wrangel and taken +away on a steamer. His fate is wrapped in mystery. Doubtless he has left this +world—crossed the last crevasse—and gone to another. But he will +not be forgotten. To me Stickeen is immortal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11673 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + diff --git a/11673-h/images/cover.jpg b/11673-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e02ca0 --- /dev/null +++ b/11673-h/images/cover.jpg |
