carousing, whether in the dark cave-mouth or by the fire of the
squatting-place, in the palaces of imperial Rome and the rock
strongholds of robber barons, or in the sky-aspiring hotels of
modern times and in the boozing-kens of sailor-town. Just so
were these men, empire-builders in the Arctic Light, boastful and
drunken and clamorous, winning surcease for a few wild moments
from the grim reality of their heroic toil. Modern heroes they,
and in nowise different from the heroes of old time. "Well,
fellows, I don't know what to say to you-all," Daylight began
lamely, striving still to control his whirling brain. "I think
I'll tell you-all a story. I had a pardner wunst, down in
Juneau. He come from North Caroliney, and he used to tell this
same story to me. It was down in the mountains in his country,
and it was a wedding. There they was, the family and all the
friends. The parson was just puttin' on the last touches, and he
says, 'They as the Lord have joined let no man put asunder.'

[3] Muc-luc: a water-tight, Eskimo boot, made from walrus-hide
and trimmed with fur.


"'Parson,' says the bridegroom, 'I rises to question your
grammar in that there sentence. I want this weddin' done right.'

"When the smoke clears away, the bride she looks around and sees
a dead parson, a dead bridegroom, a dead brother, two dead
uncles, and five dead wedding-guests.

"So she heaves a mighty strong sigh and says, 'Them new-fangled,
self-cocking revolvers sure has played hell with my prospects.'