The sailor worked rapidly. From the pile of dunnage where they had
pulled up the boat the preceding fall, he unearthed a pair of long oars.
These he lashed together, at nearly right angles, close to the ends of
the blades. Where the handles rested he kicked holes through the snow to
the sand. At the point of intersection he attached two guy-ropes, making
the end of one fast to a cake of beach-ice. The other guy he passed over
to Red Bill. "Here, me son, lay holt o' that and run it out."

And to his horror, Jan saw his gallows rise in the air. "No! no!" he
cried, recoiling and putting up his fists. "It is not goot! I vill not
hang! Come, you noddleheads! I vill lick you, all together, von after
der odder! I vill blay hell! I vill do eferydings! Und I vill die
pefore I hang!"

The sailor permitted the two other men to clinch with the mad creature.
They rolled and tossed about furiously, tearing up snow and tundra, their
fierce struggle writing a tragedy of human passion on the white sheet
spread by nature. And ever and anon a hand or foot of Jan emerged from
the tangle, to be gripped by Lawson and lashed fast with rope-yarns.
Pawing, clawing, blaspheming, he was conquered and bound, inch by inch,
and drawn to where the inexorable shears lay like a pair of gigantic
dividers on the snow. Red Bill adjusted the noose, placing the hangman's
knot properly under the left ear. Mr. Taylor and Lawson tailed onto the
running-guy, ready at the word to elevate the gallows. Bill lingered,
contemplating his work with artistic appreciation.

"Herr Gott! Vood you look at it!"

The horror in Jan's voice caused the rest to desist. The fallen tent had