The Adair County news., 1918-01-09

NAL had begged down several times
and Gordon had wasted much time and
spent a good deal of needed energy in
dragging it to frmer footing. This time
the pony refused to answer the whip.
Its master unloaded pack and saddle.
he tried coaXing; he tried the whip.
"Come, Old-Timer. One plunge, and
you'll make it yet" he urged.
The pack-horse turned upon MIN
dumb eyes of reprOach, struggled to
free its limbs from the mud, and sank
down helplessly. 1t had Travelled its
last yard on the long Alaska trails.
After the sound of the shot had died
away, Gordon struggled with the pack
to the nearest hummock. He cut holes
in a gunny-sack to fit his shoulders
and packed into it his blankets,
saucepan, the beans, the coffee, and
the diminished handful of -four. Into
it went, too, the three slices of bacon
that were left.
He hOisted the pack to his back and
slipped his arms through the Sits he
had made. Painfully he labOred for
ward over the quivering peat. Some
times he stumbled and went down into
the oozing mud, minded to stay there
and be done with the struggle. But
the urge of life drove him to his feet
again. 1t carried him for weary miles
after he despaired of ever covering
another hundred yards.
With old. half-forgOtten signals from
the football field he spurred his will.
Perhaps his mind was already begin
ming to wander, though through it all
he held steadily to the direction that
alone could save him.
When at last he went down to stay it
was in an exhaustion so complete that
not even his indOmitable will could
lash him to his feet again. For an
hour he lay in Il stupOr, never stirring
even to fight the swarm of mosquitoes
that buZZed about him.
Toward evening he sat up and undid
the pack from his back. The matches,
in a tin box wrapped carefully with
OilsRin. were still perfectly dry. Soon
he had fire going and coffee boiling
in the frying-pan. From the tin cup he
carried strung on his belt he drank
the coffee. 1t went through him like
strong liquor. He warmed some beans
and fried himself a slice of bacon,
SOpping up the grease with a cold bis
cult left over from the day before.
Again he slept for a few hours. He
had wound his watch mechanically and
II showed him four o'clock when he
took up the trail once more. In Seattle
and San Francisco people were still
| asleep and darkness was heavy over
the land. Here it had been day for
long time, ever since the summer sun,
hidden for a while behind the low, dis
tant hills. had come blazing forth again
in Il saddle between two peaks.
Gordon had reduced his pack by dis
carding a blanket, the frying-pan, and
all the clothing he was not wearing.
His rifle lay behind him in the swamp.
! He had cut TO q minimum of safety
what he was carrying. according to his
! judgment. But before long his last
| blanket was flung aside. He could not
afford to carry an extra pound, for he
knew he was running a race, the stakes
of which were life and death.
Afternoon found him still staggering
! forward. The swamps were now be-
| hind him. He had won through at last
| by the narrOwest margin possible. The
| ground was rising sharply toward the
mountains. Across the range some
where lay Kamatlah. But he was all
| in. With his food almost gone, wa
| ter supply uncertain, reserve strength
exhausted, the chances Of getting over
the divide to safety were practically
none.
He had come, so far as he could see,
to the end of the passage.