The Idaho Republican. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1904-1932, 1919-03-07


a3 and the old gods, and
ASA oftentimes he must re-
verse the very code by
which his conduct has hitherto been
shaped. To those who have the
tprotean faculty Of adaptabillty the
novelty Of such change may even
be a source Of pleasure, but to
those who happen to be hardened
to the ruts in which they were created
the pressure Of the altered environ
tment is unbearable, and they chafe In
body and in spirit under the new re-
strict1ons which they do not under
stand. This chatting is bound to ACT
and react, producing divers evils and
leading to various misfortunes. !,
were better for the man who cannot fl
himself to the new groove to return ia
his own country. If he delay too long
he will surely die.
When the world rang with the tale
OF arctic gold and the lure of the north
gripped the heartstrings Of men Car.
ter Weatherbee threw up his snug
clerkship, turned half of his savings
over to his wife and with the remain
der bought an outfit. There was no
romance in his nature. The bondage
Of commerce had crushed all that He
was simply tired of the ceaseless grind
and wished to risk great hazards in
view of corresponding returns. Like
many another fool, disdaining the old
trails used by the northland pioneers
for score of years, he hurried to Ed
monitor in the spring Of the year, and
there, unluckily for his souls welfare,
he allied himself with party of men.
There was nothing unusual about
this party, except its plans. Even its
goal, like that Of all other parties, was
the Klondike. But the route it had
mapped out to attain that goal took
away the breath of the hardest native,
born and bred to the vicissitudes of
the northwest. Even Jacques Baptiste,
born Of Chippewa woman and rem
egade voyageur (having raised his first
whimpers in deerskin lodge north of
the sixty-flfth parallel and had the
same hushed by blissful sucks Of raw
tallow), was surprised. Though he
sold his services to them and agreed
to travel even to the never opening
ice, he shook his head ominously when
ever his advice was asked.
Percy Cuthfert's evil star must have
been in the ascendant, for he, too,
Joined this country of argonauts. He
was an ordinary man, with bank &C
count as deep as his culture, which is
saying good DEAL He had no reason
to embark on such a venture-nO rea-
son in the world, save that he suffered
from an abnormal development of SEN
timentality. He mistook this for the
true spirit Of romance and adventure.
L-any another man has done the like
and made as fatal mistake.
The first breakup Of spring found
the party following the ice run Of Elk
river. 1t was an imposing fleet, for
the outfit was large, and they were &C.
companied by a disreputable contin-
gent of half breed voyageurs with their
women and children. Day in and day
out they labored with the bateaux and
canoes, fought mosquitoes and other
kindred pests or sweated and swore at
the portages. Severe toll like this lays
a man naked to the very roots Of his
soul, and ere Lake Athabasca was lost
In the south each member Of the party
had hOisted his true colors.
The two shirks and chronic grum-
blers were Carter Weatherbee and Per-
cy Cuthfert. The whole party COM
planned less Of its aches and pains than
did either of them. Not once did they
volunteer for the thousand and one
petty duties Of the camp. They thought |
nobody noticed, but their comrades
swore under their breaths and grew to |
hate them, while Jacques Baptiste |
sneered openly and damned them from
morning till night. But Jacques Bap-
tiste was no gentleman.
At the Great Slave Hudson bay dogs
were purchased, and the feet sank to
the guards with its added burden Of
dried fish and pemmican. Then canoe
and bateau answered to the swift cur
rent Of the Mackenzie, and they plung-.
ed into the Great Barren Ground. Ev-
cry likely looking feeder" was pros
pected, but the elusive ''pay dirt
danced ever to the north. At the Great
Bear, overcome by the common dread
Of the unknown lands, their voyageurs
began to desert, and Fort of Good
Hope saw the last and bravest bending
to the tow lines as they bucked the
current down which they had so treach-
erously glided. Jacques Baptiste alone
Had he not sworn to travel
wen to the never opening ice?
Abandoning their river craft at the
Of the Little Peel, they
consumed the rest of the summer In
he great portage over the Mackenzie
to the West Rat. This lit
lie stream fed the Porcupine, which in
urn joined the Yukon where that
mighty highway Of the north counter
marches on the Arctic Circle. But they
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