Be kind to her, and send her back to the States as soon as you can. But fix it so she can come back- liable to get homesick, you know.

'And the youngster- it's drawn us closer, Kid. I only hope it is a boy. Think of it!- flesh of my flesh, Kid. He mustn't stop in this country. And if it's a girl, why, she can't. Sell my furs; they'll fetch at least five thousand, and I've got as much more with the company. And handle my interests with yours. I think that bench claim will show up. See that he gets a good schooling; and Kid, above all, don't let him come back. This country was not made for white men.

'I'm a gone man, Kid. Three or four sleeps at the best. You've got to go on. You must go on!

Page 4

Remember, it's my wife, it's my boy- O

God! I hope it's a boy! You can't stay by me- and I charge you, a dying man, to pull on.'

'Give me three days,' pleaded Malemute Kid. 'You may change for the better; something may turn up.'

'No.'

'Just three days.'

'You must pull on.'

'Two days.'

'It's my wife and my boy, Kid. You would not ask it.'

'One day.'

'No, no! I charge-'

'Only one day. We can shave it through on the grub, and I might knock over a moose.'

'No- all right; one day, but not a minute more. And, Kid, don't-don't leave me to face it alone. Just a shot, one pull on the trigger.

You understand. Think of it! Think of it! Flesh of my flesh, and I'll never live to see him!

'Send Ruth here. I want to say good-by and tell her that she must think of the boy and not wait till I'm dead. She might refuse to go with you if I didn't. Good-by, old man; good-by.

'Kid! I say- a- sink a hole above the pup, next to the slide. I panned out forty cents on my shovel there.

'And, Kid!' He stooped lower to catch the last faint words, the dying man's surrender of his pride. 'I'm sorry- for- you know-Carmen.'

Leaving the girl crying softly over her man, Malemute Kid slipped into his parka and snowshoes, tucked his rifle under his arm, and crept away into the forest.