least bit; and day by day but half her share had she eaten. The other
half had gone into the well-filled pouch.

"And she said: 'This is the end of the trail for Passuk; but your trail,
Charley, leads on and on, over the great Chilcoot, down to Haines Mission
and the sea. And it leads on and on, by the light of many suns, over
unknown lands and strange waters, and it is full of years and honors and
great glories. It leads you to the lodges of many women, and good women,
but it will never lead you to a greater love than the love of Passuk.'

"And I knew the woman spoke true. But a madness came upon me, and I
threw the well-filled pouch from me, and swore that my trail had reached
an end, till her tired eyes grew soft with tears, and she said: 'Among
men has Sitka Charley walked in honor, and ever has his word been true.
Does he forget that honor now, and talk vain words by the Caribou
Crossing? Does he remember no more the men of Forty Mile, who gave him
of their grub the best, of their dogs the pick? Ever has Passuk been
proud of her man. Let him lift himself up, gird on his snowshoes, and
begone, that she may still keep her pride.'

"And when she grew cold in my arms I arose, and sought out the
well-filled pouch, and girt on my snowshoes, and staggered along the
trail; for there was a weakness in my knees, and my head was dizzy, and
in my ears there was a roaring, and a flashing of fire upon my eyes. The
forgotten trails of boyhood came back to me. I sat by the full pots of
the _potlach_ feast, and raised my voice in song, and danced to the
chanting of the men and maidens and the booming of the walrus drums. And
Passuk held my hand and walked by my side. When I laid down to sleep,
she waked me. When I stumbled and fell, she raised me. When I wandered
in the deep snow, she led me back to the trail. And in this wise, like a