The God of His Fathers: Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London
page 59 of 182 (32%)
page 59 of 182 (32%)
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"Did I? No more was I--that is--yes, by Gawd! I was. And as good a woman as ever cooked grub for a man." "Slipped her moorings?" Dick symbolized infinity with a wave of his hand. "Ay." "Childbirth," he added, after a moment's pause. The beans bubbled rowdily on the front lid, and he pushed the pot back to a cooler surface. After that he investigated the biscuits, tested them with a splinter of wood, and placed them aside under cover of a damp cloth. Dick, after the manner of his kind, stifled his interest and waited silently. "A different woman to Molly. Siwash." Dick nodded his understanding. "Not so proud and wilful, but stick by a fellow through thick and thin. Sling a paddle with the next and starve as contentedly as Job. Go for'ard when the sloop's nose was more often under than not, and take in sail like a man. Went prospecting once, up Teslin way, past Surprise Lake and the Little Yellow-Head. Grub gave out, and we ate the dogs. Dogs gave out, and we ate harnesses, moccasins, and furs. Never a whimper; never a pick-me-up-and-carry-me. Before we went she said look out for grub, but when it happened, never a I-told-you-so. 'Never mind, Tommy,' she'd say, day after day, that weak she could bare lift a snow- shoe and her feet raw with the work. 'Never mind. I'd sooner be flat- bellied of hunger and be your woman, Tommy, than have a _potlach_ every day and be Chief George's _klooch_.' George was chief of the Chilcoots, |
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