Chapter 28

WHAT remains to be told will not take long. Hardshipsnaturally increased as the means of bearing them diminished.

　　I have said the salmon held out for many days. We cut it instrips, and dried it as well as we could; but the flies andmaggots robbed us of a large portion of it. At length wewere reduced to two small hams; nothing else except a littletea. Guessing the distance we had yet to go, and taking intoaccount our slow rate of travelling, I calculated the numberof days which, with the greatest economy, these could be madeto last. Allowing only one meal a day, and that of thescantiest, I scored the hams as a cook scores a leg of roastpork, determined under no circumstances to exceed the dailyration.

　　No little discipline was requisite to adhere to thisresolution. Samson broke down under the exposure andprivation; superadded dysentery rendered him all buthelpless, and even affected his mind. The whole labour ofthe camp then devolved on me. I never roused him in themorning till the mules were packed - with all but his blanketand the pannikin for his tea - and until I had saddled hishorse for him. Not till we halted at night did we get ourration of ham. This he ate, or rather bolted, raw, like awild beast. My share I never touched till after I lay downto sleep. And so tired have I been, that once or twice Iwoke in the morning with my hand at my mouth, the unswallowedmorsel between my teeth. For three weeks we went on in thisway, never exchanging a word. I cannot say how I might havebehaved had Fred been in Samson's place. I hope I shouldhave been at least humane. But I was labouring for my life,and was not over tender-hearted.

　　Certainly there was enough to try the patience of a betterman. Take an instance. Unable one morning to find my ownhorse, I saddled his and started him off, so as not to wastetime, with his spare animal and the three mules. It sohappened that our line of march was rather tortuous, owing tosome hills we had to round. Still, as there were highmountains in the distance which we were making for, it seemedimpossible that anyone could miss his way. It was twentyminutes, perhaps, before I found my horse; this would givehim about a mile or more start of me. I hurried on, butfailed to overtake him. At the end of an hour I rode to thetop of a hill which commanded a view of the course he shouldhave taken. Not a moving speck was to be seen. I knew thenthat he had gone astray. But in which direction?

　　My heart sank within me. The provisions and blankets werewith him. I do not think that at any point of my journey Ihad ever felt fear - panic that is - till now. Starvationstared me in the face. My wits refused to suggest a line ofaction. I was stunned. I felt then what I have often feltsince, what I still feel, that it is possible to wrestlesuccessfully with every difficulty that man has overcome, butnot with that supreme difficulty - man's stupidity. It didnot then occur to me to give a name to the impatience thatseeks to gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles.

　　I turned back, retraced my steps till I came to the track ofthe mules. Luckily the ground retained the footprints,though sometimes these would be lost for a hundred yards orso. Just as I anticipated - Samson had wound round the baseof the very first hill he came to; then, instead ofcorrecting the deviation, and steering for the mountains, hadsimply followed his nose, and was now travelling due east, -in other words, was going back over our track of the daybefore. It was past noon when I overtook him, so that aprecious day's labour was lost.

　　I said little, but that little was a sentence of death.

　　'After to-day,' I began, 'we will travel separately.'

　　At first he seemed hardly to take in my meaning. I explainedit.

　　'As well as I can make out, before we get to the Dalles,where we ought to find the American outposts, we have onlyabout 150 miles to go. This should not take more than eightor nine days. I can do it in a week alone, but not with you.

　　I have come to the conclusion that with you I may not be ableto do it at all. We have still those mountains' - pointingto the Blue Mountain range in the distance - 'to cross. Theyare covered with snow, as you see. We may find themtroublesome. In any case our food will only last eight ornine days more, even at the present rate. You shall have thelargest half of what is left, for you require more than I do.

　　But I cannot, and will not, sacrifice my life for your sake.

　　I have made up my mind to leave you.'

　　It must always be a terrible thing for a judge to pass thesentence of death. But then he is fulfilling a duty, merelycarrying out a law which is not of his making. Moreover, hehas no option - the responsibility rests with the jury; lastof all, the sufferer is a criminal. Between the judge's caseand mine there was no analogy. My act was a purely selfishone - justifiable I still think, though certainly notmagnanimous. I was quite aware of this at the time, but astarving man is not burdened with generosity.

　　I dismounted, and, without unsaddling the mules, took offtheir packs, now reduced to a few pounds, which was all thewretched, raw-backed, and half-dead, animals could staggerunder; and, putting my blanket, the remains of a ham, and alittle packet of tea - some eight or ten tea-spoonfuls - onone mule, I again prepared to mount my horse and depart.

　　I took, as it were, a sneaking glance at Samson. He wassitting upon the ground, with his face between his knees,sobbing.

　　At three-and-twenty the heart of a man, or of a woman - ifeither has any, which, of course, may be doubtful - is apt toplay the dynamite with his or her resolves. Water-drops haveever been formidable weapons of the latter, as we all know;and, not being so accustomed to them then as I have becomesince, the sight of the poor devil's abject woe anddestitution, the thought that illness and suffering were thecauses, the secret whisper that my act was a cowardly one,forced me to follow the lines of least resistance, and submitto the decrees of destiny.

　　One more page from my 'Ride,' and the reader will, I think,have a fair conception of its general character. For thelast two hours the ascent of the Blue Mountains had been verysteep. We were in a thick pine forest. There was a track -probably made by Indians. Near the summit we found a springof beautiful water. Here we halted for the night. It was asnug spot. But, alas! there was nothing for the animals toeat except pine needles. We lighted our fire against thegreat up-torn roots of a fallen tree; and, though it wasfreezing hard, we piled on such masses of dead boughs thatthe huge blaze seemed to warm the surrounding atmosphere.

　　I must here give the words of my journal, for one exclamationin it has a sort of schoolboy ring that recalls the buoyancyof youthful spirits, the spirits indeed to which in earlylife we owe our enterprise and perseverance:

　　'As I was dozing off, a pack of hungry wolves that hadscented us out set up the most infernal chorus ever heard.

　　In vain I pulled the frozen buffalo-robe over my head, andtried to get to sleep. The demons drew nearer and nearer,howling, snarling, fighting, moaning, and making a row in theperfect stillness which reigned around, as if hell itselfwere loose. For some time I bore it with patience. Atlength, jumping up, I yelled in a voice that made the valleyring: You devils! will you be quiet? The appeal wasimmediately answered by silence; but hearing them tuning upfor a second concert, I threw some wood on the blazing fireand once more retired to my lair. For a few minutes I layawake to admire a brilliant Aurora Borealis shooting out itsstreams of electric light. Then, turning over on my side, Inever moved again till dawn.'

　　The first objects that caught my eye were the animals. Theywere huddled together within a couple of yards of where welay. It was a horrible sight. Two out of the three mules,and Samson's horse, had been attacked by the wolves. Theflanks of the horse were terribly torn, and the entrails ofboth the mules were partially hanging out. Though all threewere still standing with their backs arched, they wererapidly dying from loss of blood. My dear little '

　　Strawberry' - as we called him to match William's 'Cream' andmy mare were both intact.

　　A few days after this, Samson's remaining horse gave out. Ihad to surrender what remained of my poor beast in order toget my companion through. The last fifty miles of thejourney I performed on foot; sometimes carrying my rifle torelieve the staggering little mule of a few pounds extraweight. At long last the Dalles hove in sight. And our cry,'The tents! the tents!' echoed the joyous 'Thalassa!

　　Thalassa!' of the weary Greeks.