"Look here," Liverpool shut him off."I don't know what's in your mind.I don't want to know.I want you to know what's in my mind.Ifthere's any slip-up, if old dad gets turned back by the police, I'm going to pick out the first quiet bit of landscape and take you ashore on it.And then I'm going to beat you up to the Queen's taste.Get me, and get me hard.It ain't going to be any half-way beating, but a real, two-legged, two-fisted, he-man beating.I don't expect I'll kill you, but I'll come damn near to half-killing you.""But what can I do?" Charles almost whimpered.
"Just one thing," was Liverpool's final word."You just pray.You pray so hard that old dad gets by the police that he does get by.That's all.Go back to your blankets."Before they gained Lake Le Barge, the land was sheeted with snow that would not melt for half a year.Nor could they lay their boat at will against the bank, for the rim-ice was already forming.Inside the mouth of the river, just ere it entered Lake Le Barge, they found a hundred storm- bound boats of the argonauts.Out of the north, across the full sweep of the great lake, blew an unending snow gale.Three mornings they put out and fought it and the cresting seas it drove that turned to ice as they fell in- board.While the others broke their hearts at the oars, Old Tarwater managed to keep up just sufficient circulation to survive by chopping ice and throwing it overboard.
Each day for three days, beaten to helplessness, they turned tail on the battle and ran back into the sheltering river.By the fourth day, the hundred boats had increased to three hundred, and the two thousand argonauts on board knew that the great gale heralded the freeze-up of Le Barge.Beyond, the rapid rivers would continue to run for days, but unless they got beyond, and immediately, they were doomed to be frozen in for six months to come.
"This day we go through," Liverpool announced."We turn back for nothing.And those of us that dies at the oars will live again and go on pulling."And they went through, winning half the length of the lake by nightfall and pulling on through all the night hours as the wind went down, falling asleep at the oars and being rapped awake by Liverpool, toiling on through an age-long nightmare while the stars came out and the surface of the laketurned to the unruffledness of a sheet of paper and froze skin-ice that tinkled like broken glass as their oar-blades shattered it.
As day broke clear and cold, they entered the river, with behind them a sea of ice.Liverpool examined his aged passenger and found him helpless and almost gone.When he rounded the boat to against the rim- ice to build a fire and warm up Tarwater inside and out, Charles protested against such loss of time.
"This ain't business, so don't you come horning in," Liverpool informed him."I'm running the boat trip.So you just climb out and chop firewood, and plenty of it.I'll take care of dad.You, Anson, make a fire on the bank.And you, Bill, set up the Yukon stove in the boat.Old dad ain't as young as the rest of us, and for the rest of this voyage he's going to have a fire on board to sit by."All of which came to pass; and the boat, in the grip of the current, like a river steamer with smoke rising from the two joints of stove-pipe, grounded on shoals, hung up on split currents, and charged rapids and canyons, as it drove deeper into the Northland winter.The Big and Little Salmon rivers were throwing mush-ice into the main river as they passed, and, below the riffles, anchor- ice arose from the river bottom and coated the surface with crystal scum.Night and day the rim-ice grew, till, in quiet places, it extended out a hundred yards from shore.And Old Tarwater, with all his clothes on, sat by the stove and kept the fire going.Night and day, not daring to stop for fear of the imminent freeze- up, they dared to run, an increasing mushiness of ice running with them.
"What ho, old hearty?" Liverpool would call out at times."Cheer O," Old Tarwater had learned to respond.
"What can I ever do for you, son, in payment?" Tarwater, stoking the fire, would sometimes ask Liverpool, beating now one released hand and now the other as he fought for circulation where he steered in the freezing stern-sheets.
"Just break out that regular song of yours, old Forty-Niner," was the invariable reply.
And Tarwater would lift his voice in the cackling chant, as he lifted it at the end, when the boat swung in through driving cake- ice and mooredto the Dawson City bank, and all waterfront Dawson pricked its ears to hear the triumphant paean:
Like Argus of the ancient times, We leave this modern Greece, Tum- tum, tum-tum, tum, tum, tum-tum, To shear the Golden Fleece,Charles did it, but he did it so discreetly that none of his party, least of all the sailor, ever learned of it.He saw two great open barges being filled up with men, and, on inquiry, learned that these were grubless ones being rounded up and sent down the Yukon by the Committee of Safety.The barges were to be towed by the last little steamboat in Dawson, and the hope was that Fort Yukon, where lay the stranded steamboats, would be gained before the river froze.At any rate, no matter what happened to them, Dawson would be relieved of their grub-consuming presence.So to the Committee of Safety Charles went, privily to drop a flea in its ear concerning Tarwater's grubless, moneyless, and aged condition.Tarwater was one of the last gathered in, and when Young Liverpool returned to the boat, from the bank he saw the barges in a run of cake-ice, disappearing around the bend below Moose-hide Mountain.
