"Nary bite," John Tarwater answered."Where's your outfit?Ahead?""Nary outfit.""Expect to buy your grub on the Inside?""Nary a dollar to buy it with, friend.Which ain't so important as a warm bite of breakfast right now."In Anson's camp, a quarter of a mile on, Tarwater found a slender, red- whiskered young man of thirty cursing over a fire of wet willow wood.Introduced as Charles, he transferred his scowl and wrath to Tarwater, who, genially oblivious, devoted himself to the fire, took advantage of the chill morning breeze to create a draught which the other had left stupidly blocked by stones, and soon developed less smoke and more flame.The third member of the party, Bill Wilson, or Big Bill as they called him, came in with a hundred-and-forty-pound pack; and what Tarwater esteemed to be a very rotten breakfast was dished out by Charles.The mush was half cooked and mostly burnt, the bacon was charred carbon, and the coffee was unspeakable.
Immediately the meal was wolfed down the three partners took theirempty pack-straps and headed down trail to where the remainder of their outfit lay at the last camp a mile away.And old Tarwater became busy.He washed the dishes, foraged dry wood, mended a broken pack-strap, put an edge on the butcher-knife and camp-axe, and repacked the picks and shovels into a more carryable parcel.
What had impressed him during the brief breakfast was the sort of awe in which Anson and Big Bill stood of Charles.Once, during the morning, while Anson took a breathing spell after bringing in another hundred- pound pack, Tarwater delicately hinted his impression.
"You see, it's this way," Anson said."We've divided our leadership.We've got specialities.Now I'm a carpenter.When we get to Lake Linderman, and the trees are chopped and whipsawed into planks, I'll boss the building of the boat.Big Bill is a logger and miner.So he'll boss getting out the logs and all mining operations.Most of our outfit's ahead.We went broke paying the Indians to pack that much of it to the top of Chilcoot.Our last partner is up there with it, moving it along by himself down the other side.His name's Liverpool, and he's a sailor.So, when the boat's built, he's the boss of the outfit to navigate the lakes and rapids to Klondike.
"And Charles - this Mr.Crayton - what might his speciality be?" Tarwater asked.
"He's the business man.When it comes to business and organization he's boss.""Hum," Tarwater pondered."Very lucky to get such a bunch of specialities into one outfit.""More than luck," Anson agreed."It was all accident, too.Each of us started alone.We met on the steamer coming up from San Francisco, and formed the party.- Well, I got to be goin'.Charles is liable to get kicking because I ain't packin' my share' just the same, you can't expect a hundred-pound man to pack as much as a hundred-and-sixty-pounder.""Stick around and cook us something for dinner," Charles, on his next load in and noting the effects of the old man's handiness, told Tarwater.
And Tarwater cooked a dinner that was a dinner, washed the dishes, had real pork and beans for supper, and bread baked in a frying-pan thatwas so delectable than the three partners nearly foundered themselves on it.Supper dishes washed, he cut shavings and kindling for a quick and certain breakfast fire, showed Anson a trick with foot-gear that was invaluable to any hiker, sang his "Like Argus of the Ancient Times," and told them of the great emigration across the Plains in Forty-nine.
"My goodness, the first cheerful and hearty-like camp since we hit the beach," Big Bill remarked as he knocked out his pipe and began pulling off his shoes for bed.
"Kind of made things easy, boys, eh?"Tarwater queried genially.
All nodded."Well, then, I got a proposition, boys.You can take it or leave it, but just listen kindly to it.You're in a hurry to get in before the freeze-up.Half the time is wasted over the cooking by one of you that he might be puttin' in packin' outfit.If I do the cookin' for you, you all'll get on that much faster.Also, the cookin' 'll be better, and that'll make you pack better.And I can pack quite a bit myself in between times, quite a bit, yes, sir, quite a bit."Big Bill and Anson were just beginning to nod their heads in agreement, when Charles stopped them.
"What do you expect of us in return?" he demanded of the old man."Oh, I leave it up to the boys.""That ain't business," Charles reprimanded sharply."You made the proposition.Now finish it.""Well, it's this way - "
"You expect us to feed you all winter, eh?" Charles interrupted.
"No, siree, I don't.All I reckon is a passage to Klondike in your boat would be mighty square of you.""You haven't an ounce of grub, old man.You'll starve to death when you get there.""I've been feedin' some long time pretty successful," Old Tarwater replied, a whimsical light in his eyes."I'm seventy, and ain't starved to death never yet.""Will you sign a paper to the effect that you shift for yourself as soon as you get to Dawson?" the business one demanded.
"Oh, sure," was the response.
Again Charles checked his two partners' expressions of satisfaction with the arrangement.
"One other thing, old man.We're a party of four, and we all have a vote on questions like this.Young Liverpool is ahead with the main outfit.He's got a say so, and he isn't here to say it.""What kind of a party might he be?" Tarwater inquired."He's a rough-neck sailor, and he's got a quick, bad temper." "Some turbulent," Anson contributed.
"And the way he can cuss is simply God-awful," Big Bill testified."But he's square," Big Bill added.
Anson nodded heartily to this appraisal.
