第7章 The Toil of Trace and Trail 雪道磨难

Thirty days from the time it left Dawson, the Salt Water Mail, with Buck and his mates at the fore, arrived at Skaguay. They were in a wretched state, worn out and worn down. Buck's one hundred and forty pounds had dwindled to one hundred and fifteen. The rest of his mates, though lighter dogs, had relatively lost more weight than he. Pike, the malingerer, who, in his lifetime of deceit, had often successfully feigned a hurt leg, was now limping in earnest. Sol-leks was limping, and Dub was suffering from a wrenched shoulder blade.

They were all terribly footsore. No spring or rebound was left in them. Their feet fell heavily on the trail, jarring their bodies and doubling the fatigue of a day's travel. There was nothing the matter with them except that they were dead tired. It was not the dead tiredness that comes through brief and excessive effort, from which recovery is a matter of hours; but it was the dead tiredness that comes through the slow and prolonged strength drainage of months of toil. There was no power of recuperation left, no reserve strength to call upon. It had been all used, the last least bit of it. Every muscle, every fiber, every cell, was tired, dead tired. And there was reason for it. In less than five months they had traveled twenty-five hundred miles, during the last eighteen hundred of which they had but five days’rest. When they arrived at Skaguay, they were apparently on their last legs. They could barely keep the traces taut, and on the down grades just managed to keep out of the way of the sled.

“Mush on, poor sore feets,”the driver encouraged them as they tottered down the main street of Skaguay.“Dis is de last. Den we get one long rest. Eh? For sure. One bully long rest.”

The drivers confidently expected a long stopover. Themselves, they had covered twelve hundred miles with two days’rest, and in the nature of reason and common justice they deserved an interval of loafing. But so many were the men who had rushed into the Klondike, and so many were the sweethearts, wives, and kin that had not rushed in, that the congested mail was taking on Alpine proportions; also, there were official orders. Fresh batches of Hudson Bay dogs were to take the places of those worthless for the trail. The worthless ones were to be got rid of, and, since dogs count for little against dollars, they were to be sold.

Three days passed, by which time Buck and his mates found how really tired and weak they were. Then, on the morning of the fourth day, two men from the States came along and bought them, harness and all, for a song. The men addressed each other as“Hal”and“Charles”. Charles was a middle-aged, lightish colored man, with weak and watery eyes and a mustache that twisted fiercely and vigorously up, giving the lie to the limply drooping lip it concealed. Hal was a youngster of nineteen or twenty, with a big Colt's revolver and a hunting knife strapped about him on a belt that fairly bristled with cartridges. This belt was the most salient thing about him. It advertised his callowness-a callowness sheer and unutterable. Both men were manifestly out of place, and why such as they should adventure the North is part of the mystery of things that passes understanding.

Buck heard the chaffering, saw the money pass between the man and the Government agent, and knew that the Scotch half-breed and the mail-train drivers were passing out of his life on the heels of Perrault and Francois and the others who had gone before. When driven with his mates to the new owners’camp, Buck saw a slipshod and slovenly affair,tent half-stretched, dishes unwashed, everything in disorder; also, he saw a woman.“Mercedes”the men called her. She was Charles's wife and Hal's sister-a nice family party.

Buck watched them apprehensively as they proceeded to take down the tent and load the sled. There was a great deal of effort about their manner, but no businesslike method. The tent was rolled into an awkward bundle three times as large as it should have been. The tin dishes were packed away unwashed. Mercedes continually fluttered in the way of her men and kept up an unbroken chattering of remonstrance and advice. When they put a clothes-sack on the front of the sled, she suggested it should go on the back; and when they had it put on the back, and covered it over with a couple of the bundles, she discovered overlooked articles which could abide nowhere else but in that very sack, and they unloaded again.

Three men from a neighboring tent came out and looked on, grinning and winking at one another.

“You've got a right smart load as it is,”said one of them;“and its not me should tell you your business, but I wouldn't tote that tent along if I was you.”

“Undreamed of!”cried Mercedes, throwing up her hands in dainty dismay.“However in the world could I manage without a tent?”

“It's springtime, and you won't get any more cold weather,”the man replied.

She shook her head decidedly, and Charles and Hal put the last odds and ends on top the mountainous load.

“Think it'll ride?”one of the men asked.

“Why shouldn't it?”Charles demanded rather shortly.

“Oh, that's all right, that's all right,”the man hastened meekly to say.“I was just a wondering, that is all. It seemed a mite top-heavy.”

Charles turned his back and drew the lashings down as well as he could, which was not in the least well.

“And of course the dogs can hike along all day with that contraption behind them,”affirmed a second of the men.

“Certainly,”said Hal, with freezing politeness, taking hold of the gee-pole with one hand and swinging his whip from the other.“Mush!”He shouted.“Mush on there!”

The dogs sprang against the breastbands, strained hard for a few moments, then relaxed. They were unable to move the sled.

“The lazy brutes, I'll show them,”he cried, preparing to lash out at them with the whip.

But Mercedes interfered, crying,“Oh, Hal, you mustn't,”as she caught hold of the whip and wrenched it from him.“The poor dears! Now you must promise you won't be harsh with them for the rest of the trip, or I won't go a step.”

“Precious lot you know about dogs,”her brother sneered,“and I wish you'd leave me alone. They're lazy, I tell you, and you've got to whip them to get anything out of them. That's their way. You ask anyone. Ask one of those men.”

Mercedes looked at them imploringly, untold repugnances at sight of pain written in her pretty face.

“They're weak as water, if you want to know,”came the reply from one of the men.“Plum tuckered out, that's what's the matter. They need a rest.”

“Rest be blanked,”said Hal, with his beardless lips; and Mercedes said,“Oh!”in pain and sorrow at the oath.

But she was a clannish creature, and rushed at once to the defense of her brother.“Never mind that man,”she said pointedly.“You're driving our dogs and you do what you think best with them.”

Again Hal's whip fell upon the dogs. They threw themselves against the breastbands, dug their feet into the packed snow, got down low to it, and put forth all their strength. The sled held as though it were an anchor. After two efforts, they stood still, panting. The whip was whistling savagely, when once more Mercedes interfered. She dropped on her knees before Buck, with tears in her eyes, and put her arms around his neck.

“You poor, poor dears,”she cried sympathetically,“why don't you pull hard? Then you wouldn't be whipped.”Buck did not like her, but he was feeling too miserable to resist her, taking it as a part of the day's miserable work.

One of the onlookers, who had been clenching his teeth to suppress hot speech, now spoke up:

“It's not that I care a whoop what becomes of you, but for the dogs’sakes I just want to tell you, you can help them a mighty lot by breaking out that sled. The runners are froze fast. Throw your weight against the gee-pole, right and left, and break it out.”

A third time the attempt was made, but this time, following the advice, Hal broke out the runners which had been frozen to the snow. The overloaded and unwieldy sled forged ahead, Buck and his mates struggling frantically under the rain of blows. A hundred yards ahead the path turned and sloped steeply into the main street. It would have required an experienced man to keep the top-heavy sled upright, and Hal was not such a man. As they swung on the turn the sled went over, spilling half its load through the loose lashings. The dogs never stopped. The lightened sled bounded on its side behind them. They were angry because of the ill treatment they had received and the unjust load. Buck was raging. He broke into a run, the team following his lead. Hal cried,“Whoa! Whoa!”But they gave no heed. He tripped and was pulled off his feet. The capsized sled ground over him, and the dogs dashed on up the street, adding to the gaiety of Skaguay as they scattered the remainder of the outfit along its chief thoroughfare.

Kind-hearted citizens caught the dogs and gathered up the scattered belongings. Also, they gave advice. Half the load and twice the dogs, if they ever expected to reach Dawson, was what was said. Hal and his sister and brother-in-law listened unwillingly, pitched tent, and overhauled the outfit. Canned goods were turned out that made men laugh, for canned goods on the Long Trail is a thing to dream about.“Blankets for a hotel,”quoth one of the men who laughed and helped.“Half as many is too much; get rid of them. Throw away that tent, and all those dishes-who's going to wash them, anyway? Good Lord, do you think you're traveling on a Pullman?”

And so it went, the inexorable elimination of the superfluous. Mercedes cried when her clothes-bags were dumped on the ground and article after article was thrown out. She cried in general, and she cried in particular over each discarded thing. She clasped hands about knees, rocking back and forth broken-heartedly. She averred she would not go an inch, not for a dozen Charleses. She appealed to everybody and to everything, finally wiping her eyes and proceeding to cast out even articles of apparel that were imperative necessaries. And in her zeal, when she had finished with her own, she attacked the belongings of her men and went through them like a tornado.

This accomplished, the outfit, though cut in half, was still a formidable bulk. Charles and Hal went out in the evening and bought six Outside dogs. They, added to the six of the original team, and Teek and Koona, the huskies obtained at the Rink Rapids on the record trip, brought the team up to fourteen. But the Outside dogs, though practically broken in since their landing, did not amount to much. Three were short-haired pointers, one was a Newfoundland, and the other two were mongrels of indeterminate breed. They did not seem to know anything, these newcomers. Buck and his comrades looked upon them with disgust, and though he speedily taught them their places and what not to do, he could not teach them what to do. They did not take kindly to trace and trail. With the exception of the two mongrels, they were bewildered and spirit-broken by the strange savage environment in which they found themselves and by the ill treatment they had received. The two mongrels were without spirit at all; bones were the only things breakable about them.

With the newcomers hopeless and forlorn, and the old team worn out by twenty-five hundred miles of continuous trail, the outlook was anything but bright. The two men, however, were quite cheerful. And they were proud, too. They were doing the thing in style, with fourteen dogs. They had seen other sleds depart over the Pass for Dawson, or come in from Dawson, but never had they seen a sled with so many as fourteen dogs. In the nature of Arctic travel there was a reason why fourteen dogs should not drag one sled, and that was that one sled could not carry the food for fourteen dogs. But Charles and Hal did not know this. They had worked the trip out with a pencil, so much to a dog, so many dogs, and so many days, Q.E.D. Mercedes looked over their shoulders and nodded comprehensively, it was all so very simple.

Late next morning Buck led the long team up the street. There was nothing lively about it, no snap or go in him and his fellows. They were starting dead weary. Four times he had covered the distance between Salt Water and Dawson, and the knowledge that, jaded and tired, he was facing the same trail once more, made him bitter. His heart was not in the work, nor was the heart of any dog. The Outsiders were timid and frightened, the Insiders without confidence in their masters.

Buck felt vaguely that there was no depending upon these two men and the woman. They did not know how to do anything, and as the days went by it became apparent that they could not learn. They were slack in all things, without order or discipline. It took them half the night to pitch a slovenly camp, and half the morning to break that camp and get the sled loaded in fashion so slovenly that for the rest of the day they were occupied in stopping and rearranging the load. Some days they did not make ten miles. On other days they were unable to get started at all. And on no day did they succeed in making more than half the distance used by the men as a basis in their dog-food computation.

It was inevitable that they should go short on dog food. But they hastened it by overfeeding, bringing the day nearer when underfeeding would commence. The Outsider dogs whose digestions had not been trained by chronic famine to make the most of little, had voracious appetites. And when, in addition to this, the worn-out huskies pulled weakly, Hal decided that the orthodox ration was too small. He doubled it. And to cap it all, when Mercedes, with tears in her pretty eyes and a quaver in her throat, could not cajole him into giving the dogs still more, she stole from the fish-sacks and fed them slyly. But is was not food that Buck and the huskies needed, but rest. And though they were making poor time, the heavy load they dragged sapped their strength severely.

Then came the underfeeding. Hal awoke one day to the fact that his dog food was half-gone and the distance only quarter covered; further, that for love or money no additional dog food was to be obtained. So he cut down even the orthodox ration and tried to increase the day's travel. His sister and brother-in-law seconded him; but they were frustrated by their heavy outfit and their own incompetence. It was a simple matter to give the dogs less food; but it was impossible to make the dogs travel faster, while their own inability to get under way earlier in the morning prevented them from traveling longer hours. Not only did they not know how to work dogs, but they did not know how to work themselves.

The first to go was Dub. Poor blundering thief that he was, always getting caught and punished, he had none the less been a faithful worker. His wrenched shoulder-blade, untreated and unrested, went from bad to worse, till finally Hal shot him with the big Colt's revolver. It is a saying of the country that an Outside dog starves to death on the ration of the husky, so the six Outside dogs under Buck could do no less than die on half the ration of the husky. The Newfoundland went first, followed by the three short-haired pointers, the two mongrels hanging more grittily on to life, but going in the end.

By this time all the amenities and gentleness of the Southland had fallen away from the three people. Shorn of its glamour and romance, Arctic travel became to them a reality too harsh for their manhood and womanhood. Mercedes ceased weeping over the dogs, being too occupied with weeping over herself and with quarreling with her husband and brother. To quarrel was the one thing they were never too weary to do. Their irritability arose out of their misery, increased with it, doubled upon it, out-distanced it. The wonderful patience of the trail which comes to men who toil hard and suffer sore, and remain sweet of speech and kindly, did not come to these two men and the woman. They had no inkling of such a patience. They were stiff and in pain; their muscles ached, their bones ached, their very hearts ached; and because of this they became sharp of speech, and hard words were first on their lips in the morning and last at night.

Charles and Hal wrangled whenever Mercedes gave them a chance. It was the cherished belief of each that he did more than his share of the work, and neither forbore to speak this belief at every opportunity. Sometimes Mercedes sided with her husband, sometimes with her brother. The result was a beautiful and unending family quarrel. Starting from a dispute as to which should chop a few sticks for the fire (a dispute which concerned only Charles and Hal), presently would be lugged in the rest of the family, fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, people thousands of miles away, and some of them dead. That Hal's views on art, or the sort of society plays his mother's brother wrote, should have anything to do with the chopping of a few sticks of firewood, passes comprehension; nevertheless the quarrel was as likely to tend in that direction as in the direction of Charles's political prejudices. And that Charles's sister's tale-bearing tongue should be relevant to the building of a Yukon fire, was apparent only to Mercedes, who disburdened herself of copious opinions upon that topic, and incidentally upon a few other traits unpleasantly peculiar to her husband's family. In the meantime the fire remained unbuilt, the camp half-pitched, and the dogs unfed.

Mercedes nursed a special grievance-the grievance of sex. She was pretty and soft, and had been chivalrously treated all her days. But the present treatment by her husband and brother was everything save chivalrous. It was her custom to be helpless. They complained. Upon which impeachment of what to her was her most essential sex prerogative, she made their lives unendurable. She no longer considered the dogs, and because she was sore and tired, she persisted in riding in the sled. She was pretty and soft, but she weighed one hundred and twenty pounds-a lusty last straw to the load dragged by the weak and starving animals. She rode for days, till they fell in the traces and the sled stood still. Charles and Hal begged her to get off and walk, pleaded with her, entreated, the while she wept and importuned Heaven with a recital of their brutality.

On one occasion they took her off the sled by main strength. They never did it again. She let her legs go limp like a spoiled child, and sat down on the trail. They went on their way, but she did not move. After they had traveled three miles they unloaded the sled, came back for her, and by main strength put her on the sled again.

In the excess of their own misery they were callous to the suffering of their animals.Hal's theory, which he practiced on others, was that one must get hardened. He had started out preaching it to his sister and brother-in-law. Failing there, he hammered it into the dogs with a club. At the Five Fingers the dog food gave out, and a toothless old squaw offered to trade them a few pounds of frozen horsehide for the Colt's revolver that kept the big hunting knife company at Hal's hip. A poor substitute for food was this hide, just as it had been stripped from the starved horses of the cattlemen six months back. In its frozen state it was more like strips of galvanized iron, and when a dog wrestled it into his stomach, it thawed into thin and unnutritious leathery strings and into a mass of short hair, irritating and indigestible.

And through it all Buck staggered along at the head of the team as in a nightmare. He pulled when he could; when he could no longer pull, he fell down and remained down till blows from whip or club drove him to his feet again. All the stiffness and gloss had gone out of his beautiful furry coat. The hair hung down, limp and draggled, or matted with dried blood where Hal's club had bruised him. His muscles had wasted away to knotty strings, and the flesh pads had disappeared, so that each rib and every bone in his frame were outlined cleanly through the loose hide that was wrinkled in folds of emptiness. It was heartbreaking, only Buck's heart was unbreakable. The man in the red sweater had proved that.

As it was with Buck, so was it with his mates. They were perambulating skeletons. There were seven all together, including him. In their very great misery they had become insensible to the bite of the lash or the bruise of the club. The pain of the beating was dull and distant, just as the things their eyes saw and their ears heard seemed dull and distant. They were not half-living, or quarter-living. They were simply so many bags of bones in which sparks of life fluttered faintly. When a halt was made, they dropped down in the traces like dead dogs, and the spark dimmed and paled and seemed to go out. And when the club or whip fell upon them, the spark fluttered feebly up, and they tottered to their feet and staggered on.

There came a day when Billee, the good-natured, fell and could not rise. Hal had traded off his revolver, so he took the axe and knocked Billee on the head as he lay in the traces, then cut the carcass out of the harness and dragged it to one side. Buck saw, and his mates saw, and they knew that this thing was very close to them. On the next day Koona went, and but five of them remained: Joe, too far gone to be malignant; Pike, crippled and limping, only half-conscious and not conscious enough longer to malinger; Sol-leks, the one-eyed, still faithful to the toil of trace and trail, and mournful in that he had so little strength with which to pull; Teek, who had not traveled so far that winter and who was now beaten more than the others because he was fresher; and Buck, still at the head of the team, but no longer enforcing discipline or striving to enforce it, blind with weakness half the time and keeping the trail by the loom of it and by the dim feel of his feet.

It was beautiful spring weather, but neither dogs nor humans were aware of it. Each day the sun rose earlier and set later. It was dawn by three in the morning, and twilight lingered till nine at night. The whole long day was a blaze of sunshine. The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life. This murmur arose from all the land, fraught with the joy of living. It came from the things that lived and moved again, things which had been as dead and which had not moved during the long months of frost. The sap was rising in the pines. The willows and aspens were bursting out in young buds. Shrubs and vines were putting on fresh garbs of green. Crickets sang in the nights, and in the days all manner of creeping, crawling things rustled forth into the sun. Partridges and woodpeckers were booming and knocking in the forest. Squirrels were chattering, birds singing, and overhead honked the wild fowl driving up from the south in cunning wedges that split the air.

From every hill slope came the trickle of water, the music of unseen fountains. All things were thawing, bending, snapping. The Yukon was straining to break loose the ice that bound it down. It ate away from beneath; the sun ate from above. Air-holes formed, fissures sprang and spread apart, while thin sections of ice fell through bodily into the river. And amid all this bursting, rending, throbbing of awakening life, under the blazing sun and through the soft-sighing breezes, like wayfarers to death, staggered the two men, the woman and the huskies.

With the dogs falling, Mercedes weeping and riding, Hal swearing innocuously, and Charles eyes wistfully watering, they staggered into John Thornton's camp at the mouth of the White River. When they halted, the dogs dropped down as though they had all been struck dead. Mercedes dried her eyes and looked at John Thornton. Charles sat down on a log to rest. He sat down very slowly and painstakingly, what of his great stiffness. Hal did the talking. John Thornton was whittling the last touches on an axe-handle he had made from a stick of birch. He whittled and listened, gave monosyllabic replies, and when it was asked, terse advice. He knew the breed, and he gave his advice in the certainty that it would not be followed.

“They told us up above that the bottom was dropping out of the trail and that the best thing for us to do was to lay over,”Hal said in response to Thornton's warning to take no more chances on the rotten ice.“They told us we couldn't make White River, and here we are.”This last with a sneering ring of triumph in it.

“And they told you true,”John Thornton answered.“The bottom's likely to drop out at any moment. Only fools, with the blind luck of fools, could have made it. I tell you straight, I wouldn't risk my carcass on that ice for all the gold in Alaska.”

“That's because you're not a fool, I suppose,”said Hal.“All the same, we'll go on to Dawson.”He uncoiled his whip.“Get up there, Buck! Hi! Get up there! Mush on!”

Thornton went on whittling. It was idle, he knew, to get between a fool and his folly;while two or three fools more or less would not alter the scheme of things.

But the team did not get up at the command. It had long since passed into the stage where blows were required to rouse it. The whip flashed out, here and there, on its merciless errands. John Thornton compressed his lips. Sol-leks was the first to crawl to his feet. Teek followed. Joe came next, yelping with pain. Pike made painful efforts. Twice he fell over, when half-up, and on the third attempt managed to rise. Buck made no effort. He lay quietly where he had fallen. The lash bit into him again and again, but he neither whined nor struggled. Several times Thornton started, as though to speak, but changed his mind. A moisture came into his eyes, and, as the whipping continued, he arose and walked irresolutely up and down.

This was the first time Buck had failed, in itself a sufficient reason to drive Hal into a rage. He exchanged the whip for the customary club. Buck refused to move under the rain of heavier blows which now fell upon him. Like his mates, he was barely able to get up, but, unlike them, He had made up his mind not to get up. He had a vague feeling of impending doom. This had been strong upon him when he pulled into the bank, and it had not departed from him. What of the thin and rotten ice he had felt under his feet all day, it seemed that he sensed disaster close at hand, out there ahead on the ice where his master was trying to drive him. He refused to stir. So greatly had he suffered, and so far gone was he, that the blows did not hurt much. And as they continued to fall upon him, the spark of life within flickered and went down. It was nearly out. He felt strangely numb. As though from a great distance, he was aware that he was being beaten. The last sensations of pain left him. He no longer felt anything, though very faintly he could hear the impact of the club upon his body. But it was no longer his body, it seemed so far away.

And then, suddenly, without warning, uttering a cry that was inarticulate and more like the cry of an animal, John Thornton sprang upon the man who wielded the club. Hal was hurled backward, as though struck by a falling tree. Mercedes screamed. Charles looked on wistfully, wiped his watery eyes, but did not get up because of his stiffness.

John Thornton stood over Buck, struggling to control himself, too convulsed with rage to speak.

“If you strike that dog again, I'll kill you,”he at last managed to say in a choking voice.“It's my dog,”Hal replied, wiping the blood from his mouth as he came back.“Get out of my way, or I'll fix you. I'm going to Dawson.”

Thornton stood between him and Buck and evinced no intention of getting out of the way. Hal drew his long hunting knife. Mercedes screamed, cried, laughed, and manifested the chaotic abandonment of hysteria. Thornton rapped Hal's knuckles with the axe-handle, knocking the knife to the ground. He rapped his knuckles again as he tried to pick it up. Then he stooped, picked it up himself, and with two strokes cut Buck's traces.

Hal had no fight left in him. Besides, his hands were full with his sister, or his arms, rather; while Buck was too near dead to be of further use in hauling the sled. A few minutes later they pulled out from the bank and down the river. Buck heard them go and raised his head to see. Pike was leading, Sol-leks was at the wheel, and between were Joe and Teek. They were limping and staggering. Mercedes was riding the loaded sled. Hal guided at the gee-pole, and Charles stumbled along in the rear.

As Buck watched them, Thornton knelt beside him and with rough, kindly hands searched for broken bones. By the time his search had disclosed nothing more than many bruises and a state of terrible starvation, the sled was a quarter of a mile away. Dog and man watched it crawling along over the ice. Suddenly, they saw its back end drop down, as into a rut, and the gee-pole, with Hal clinging to it, jerk into the air. Mercedes’scream came to their ears. They saw Charles turn one step to run back, Sand then a whole section of ice give way and dogs and humans disappear. A yawning hole was all that was to be seen. The bottom had dropped out of the trail.

John Thorton and Buck looked at each other.

“You poor devil,”said John Thornton and Buck licked his hand.

离开道森三十天后，由巴克和它的队友们做开路先锋的盐水邮班，到达了斯卡格镇。它们都可怜巴巴，筋疲力尽，狼狈不堪。巴克一百四十磅的体重已经逐渐减少到了一百一十五磅。尽管它的队友们体重较轻，但失去的体重相对比它还多。装病的派克一辈子都在装病，装腿受伤常常装得非常成功，现在是真的瘸了。索尔雷克斯也瘸了，达布因肩胛扭伤而痛苦。

它们的蹄子都疼得厉害，没有了弹力或回跳力。它们的蹄子沉重地落向雪道，会使它们的身体受到震动并成倍增加每天旅途的劳累。除了累得要死，它们没有任何毛病。这不是短时间用力过度产生的也不是几个小时就能恢复的极度疲劳，而是通过缓慢的长达几个月辛苦体力消耗的极度疲劳。没有剩下恢复的力量，没有了需要的储备力量。它们已经耗尽了最后的一点气力。每块肌肉、每根纤维、每个细胞都累，累得要死。这是有原因的。不到五个月，它们已经跑了二千五百英里，最后的一千八百英里行程中只休息过五天。它们到达斯卡格镇时，显然腿都抬不起来了，连缰绳都拉不直了，下坡时只是想设法避开雪橇。

“继续走，可怜的痛脚们，”当它们摇摇晃晃沿着斯加圭镇的大街走时，驾橇人鼓励它们说，“这是最后几步。然后，我们就能休息好长时间。呃？真的。好好休息很长时间。”

那些驾橇人充满自信地盼望来一次长久的中途停留。他们自己已经赶了一千二百英里路程，只休息了两天，所以理所当然应该闲逛一段时间。但是，涌入克朗代克地区的人很多，没有涌入的情人、妻子和亲人也很多，因此积压的邮件堆成了山，同时，还有一些公函。一批批来自哈得孙湾精力旺盛的狗就要取代那些无力上路的狗。这些没用的狗就要处理掉，因为狗跟美元相比无足轻重，所以把它们卖掉就行了。

三天过去了。此时，巴克和它的队友们发现它们实在是疲乏虚弱。接下来，第四天上午，两个美国人过来用区区几个小钱就把它们连同全套挽具全都买下了。这两个人彼此称呼“哈尔”和“查尔斯”。查尔斯是一个肤色略浅的中年人，一双水汪汪的眼睛，淡淡的眼光，胡子猛烈有力地翘起，遮住了软弱无力耷拉下来的嘴唇。哈尔是一个十九或二十岁的年轻人，身上束着皮带，皮带上别着一支柯尔特式大转轮手枪和一把猎刀，还鼓鼓囊囊地装满了子弹。这条皮带是他的身上最显眼的东西。这表明了他乳臭未干——彻头彻尾的乳臭未干。显然这两个人格格不入，他们为什么冒险来到北方有点让人莫名其妙，难以理解。

巴克听到他们讨价还价，看到钱在那个人和政府人员之间转手。于是，明白了，那个苏格兰混血儿和邮车驾橇人会随着佩罗和弗朗索瓦以及先前离去的其他人一样从它的生活中消失。当巴克和它的队友们被赶到新主人的营地后，它看到的是一件邋遢懒散的事儿——帐篷搭了一半，碟子没洗，一切都乱糟糟的，此外，它还看到一个女人。那两个男人叫她“梅塞德斯”。她是查尔斯的妻子，哈尔的姐姐——挺好的一家人。

在他们动手拆帐篷、装雪橇时，巴克担心地望着他们。他们干活的样子非常卖力，但毫无章法。本该卷好的帐篷卷成了难看的一堆，比原来大了两倍。锡盘没洗就收了起来。梅塞德斯不断跑来跑去，碍手碍脚，唠唠叨叨，说三道四。当他们把一包衣服放在雪橇前面时，她提议应该放在后面，而当他们把那个包放在后面，上面又堆了两三个包时，她发现漏掉了几件东西，这几件东西只能放进刚才那个包里，所以他们又卸了下来。

邻近一个帐篷里走出三个人，在旁边看着，咧嘴而笑，挤眉弄眼。

“你们装的东西真多啊，”其中一个说，“你们的事儿，不应该我告诉你们，但我要是你们，就不会带那顶帐篷了。”

“做梦也别想！”梅塞德斯动作优雅而又惊慌地举起双手喊道，“没有帐篷，我可怎么办？”

“都到春天了，天气不会再冷了。”那个人答道。

她果断地摇了摇头。于是，查尔斯和哈尔把最后的零碎东西堆到了小山似的雪橇上。

“你以为它会走得动吗？”又一个人问道。

“为什么不会？”查尔斯相当简略地反问道。

“噢，好了，好了，”那个人赶忙口气温和地说，“我刚才只是感到好奇，仅此而已。好像有点儿头重脚轻。”

查尔斯转过身，尽可能拉紧绑绳，但一点儿也不紧。

“那些狗拉着那些那奇妙玩意肯定能跑一整天。”另一个人断言说。

“当然。”哈尔冰冷而又礼貌地说，一只手握着驾驶杆，另一只手挥动鞭子。“走！”他喊道，“快走啊！”

那些狗一跃而起，胸带绷紧了好一会儿，然后又放松下来。它们拉不动这雪橇。

“懒畜生，我要给它们好看。”他叫喊着，准备拿鞭子抽打它们。

但是，梅塞德斯大叫着进行干涉：“噢，哈尔，你不能。”她抓住鞭子，从他手里夺了过来。“这些可怜的宝贝！现在你必须向我保证，你不能那对它们那样狠，否则我一步路也不走了。”

“你对狗真懂行，”她的弟弟冷笑说，“我希望你别管我的事儿。我告诉你，它们偷懒，你必须得抽打它们，它们才会卖力。它们就是这样。你去问问别人。问问那些人中的任何一个人。”

梅塞德斯用恳求的目光望着他们，漂亮的脸蛋上露出了难以言表、反感痛苦的表情。

“你要是想知道的话，那就是它们柔弱得像一摊水，”其中一个人答道，“累得筋疲力尽了，这才是问题的关键。它们需要休息。”

“休息个屁。”嘴上没毛的哈尔说。听到这句骂人话，梅塞德斯痛苦伤心地“噢”了一声。

但是，她是一个以家族为重的人，他马上奔去保护弟弟：“不用担心那个人，”她直截了当地说，“你赶的是我们的狗，你认为怎么最好就怎么干。”

哈尔的鞭子又落在了那些狗的身上。它们挺身顶着胸带，蹄子踩进了压实的雪地里，俯下身体，竭尽全力。雪橇像锚一样定住了。努力了两次后，它们静立在那里气喘吁吁。鞭子发出野蛮的呼啸，这时梅塞德斯又一次进行干涉。她跪在巴克面前，眼含泪水搂住它的脖子。

“你这可怜巴巴的宝贝，”她同情地哭道，“你为什么不用劲拉呀？那样你就不会挨鞭子了。”巴克不喜欢她，但它太难过了，无法拒绝她，把这看成是一天悲惨工作的一部分。

其中一个旁观者一直咬紧牙关不说过火话，现在大声说道：

“你们怎么样，我毫不在乎，但看在这群狗的份上，我只想告诉你们，你们撬活那个雪橇，就能帮它们大忙了。滑板冻住了。用力推驾驶杆，左右两边推，就撬活了。”

又尝试了第三次，但这次听从劝告，哈尔撬活了冻在雪里的滑板。这个超载笨重的雪橇向前移动了，巴克和它的队友们在雨点般的鞭打下拼命地拉着。前面一百码的地方，雪道转过弯，顺着陡坡进入大街。这需要一个经验丰富的人让这个头重脚轻的雪橇保持垂直，而哈尔不是这样的人。它们上弯道时，雪橇翻倒了，没绑牢固，一半东西都撒在了地上。狗从来没有停步。减轻重量的雪橇在它们身后侧跳着。它们之所以生气，是因为受到虐待和载的东西过重。巴克怒不可遏，撒腿跑了起来，狗队在它的带领下也跑了起来。哈尔大喊“停！停！”但是，它们都毫不理睬。哈尔绊了一下，被雪橇拖倒在地。翻倒的雪橇从他的身上压了过去，而那群狗冲上斯卡格镇的大街，把雪橇上剩下的行李撒得满街都是，给镇上增添了欢乐气氛。

心地善良的市民们拦住了那些狗，收拾好散落的东西，同时还提出了建议。他们说，要是他们希望到达道森，就要缩减一半行装，把狗增加一倍。哈尔和他的姐姐、姐夫听着很不情愿，支起帐篷，全面检查了一遍行装。

翻出来的罐装食品让人们大笑起来，因为罐装食品在长途旅行中是做梦都不敢想的东西。“毯子够开一个旅馆了，”一个笑着帮忙的人说，“少一半都太多了。处理了吧。把帐篷和所有那些器皿都扔掉吧——反正，谁会去洗它们呢？好家伙，你们以为这是坐卧铺车旅行吗？”

于是，他们才狠狠心处理掉多余的物品。当那些衣服袋倒在地上，一件接一件扔出去时，梅塞德斯哭了起来。她泛泛而哭，尤其是为扔掉的每件东西而哭。她两手抱住膝盖，伤心得前仰后合。她宣称，她一步都不会走了，即使为了十二个查尔斯也不走了。她向每个人、每件东西哭诉，最后擦了擦眼泪，动手扔起了东西，甚至连一些必不可少的衣服都扔了出去。她越扔越有劲，扔完自己的东西后，又龙卷风似的横扫起男人们的东西。

扔完东西之后，尽管行装减半，但还是可怕的一大堆。傍晚时分，哈尔和查尔斯出去买了六条狗回来。六名原队员加上六条外来狗，以及在林克湍滩那次创纪录旅行时得到的两条爱斯基摩狗蒂克和库纳，现在发展到了十四条狗。而尽管那六条外来狗来到以后就被制服了，但没有多大价值。三条是短毛猎狗，一条是纽芬兰狗，另外两条是品种不明的杂种狗。这些新来的狗，它们好像什么都不懂。巴克和它的伙伴们看到它们就反感，尽管巴克很快就让它们安分守己，告诉它们不该做什么，但就是教不会它们做什么。它们天生不喜欢拉雪橇。除了那两条杂种狗，环境残酷陌生，受到种种虐待，它们不知所措，心灰意冷。那两条杂种狗根本没有精神，只剩下了容易破碎的骨头。

新来者孤独凄凉、没有希望，老队员连续跑了两千五百英里，疲惫不堪，前景毫不光明。然而，那两个男人却兴高采烈，也趾高气扬。他们有十四条狗，做得非常成功。他们见过其他雪橇离开这里，翻过山口，驶向道森，也见过来自道森的雪橇，但从来没有见过一个雪橇有多达十四条狗。就北极旅行的性质而言，十四条狗不该拉一个雪橇有一个原因，那就是一个雪橇上带不了十四条狗吃的食物。但是，查尔斯和哈尔并不知道这一点。他们已经用铅笔计算好了行程，每条狗吃多少，有多少条狗，要走多少天，有待证明等。梅塞德斯越过他们的肩膀望着，领悟地点点头，一切都如此简单。

第二天上午晚些时候，巴克率领长长的队伍来到街上。巴克和它的那些伙伴有气无力、无精打采。它们出发时累得要死。盐湖和道森之间的这条路，巴克已经来回走过了四趟，了如指掌，腻了，也累了，再次面对同样一条路，感到难受。它的心思不在工作上，别的狗也没有心思。六条外来狗胆小害怕，原来那些队员对它们的这几位主人也没有信心。

巴克隐约感到根本无法依靠这两男一女。他们对干什么事儿都不懂，而且随着一天天过去，他们显然也学不会。他们对什么事儿都懒懒散散，毫无条理。他们扎一个马马虎虎的营帐要花半天，拔营和勉强马马虎虎装完雪橇要花半上午。因此，在一天剩下的时间里，他们都在忙着停下来重新整理雪橇。有些日子他们一天走不了十英里。还有些日子，他们根本无法上路。那两个男人以每天走的路程为根据算好狗粮，但它们没有一天能走上一半路程。

狗粮短缺，是不可避免的。但是，过量喂食加速了狗粮短缺，使狗粮不足的日子提前到来。只有经过慢性饥饿锻炼的消化能力，才会尽量利用少量食物，外来狗没有这些锻炼，所以具有贪吃的大胃口。除此以外，那些疲惫不堪的爱斯基摩狗拉得有气无力，哈尔认定这常规的狗粮定量太少了，就把定量增加了一倍。更有甚者，当梅塞德斯美丽的眼睛噙满泪水，喉咙发出颤音，也不能让他多给狗喂一些时，她就从鱼袋里偷东西，暗地里喂它们。但是，巴克和那些爱斯基摩狗需要的不是食物，而是休息。尽管它们跑得很慢，但它们拖着沉重货载严重地消耗了体力。

随后食物不足的日子就来了。有一天，哈尔醒来发现，狗粮消耗了一半，路只走了四分之一，此外，无论如何也搞不到额外的狗粮。于是，他削减了狗粮的常规定量，还要设法让狗每天多跑路。姐姐和姐夫支持他，但是，他们被沉重的行装和自己的无能弄得灰心丧气。少给狗食是一件简单的事儿，但是，让狗走得更快却不可能，同时他们自己早上也没有能力早点收拾好行装上路，所以无法延长走路时间。他们不仅不知道怎么让狗干活，也不知道怎么让自己干活。

第一个死去的是达布。它是一个可怜的笨贼，总被逮住，受到惩罚，但它仍然忠心耿耿地干活。它扭伤的肩胛没有得到休息和治疗，越来越糟，最后哈尔用科尔特式大转轮手枪射杀了它。这个地方有一个说法，就是外来狗按照爱斯基摩狗的定量就会饿死，所以巴克手下的六条外来狗只能吃爱斯基摩狗定量的一半。那条纽芬兰狗第一个饿死，随后是那三条短毛猎狗、那两条杂种狗顽强地又活了几天，但最后还是死了。

此时，这三个人已经失去了南方人所有的亲切和礼仪。北极旅行失去了魅力和浪漫，对他们这样的男女来说成为过于残酷的现实。梅塞德斯忙着为自己的事儿哭泣，忙着跟丈夫和弟弟争吵，不再为那些狗哭泣。只有吵架这件事，他们永远不会疲倦。他们因不幸而脾气暴躁，越是不幸，脾气就越暴躁，越是脾气暴躁，就越不幸，所以脾气暴躁大大超过了不幸。在雪地旅行的人具有惊人的耐性，他们苦干苦熬，仍然说话和气，待人亲切，这两男一女没有这些耐性。他们连丝毫这种耐性都没有。他们浑身僵硬、疼痛。肌肉疼，骨头疼，他们的心都在疼。因此，他们说话尖刻，从早到晚说出的话都非常难听。

只要梅塞德斯把机会给查尔斯和哈尔，他们就吵嘴。他们各自都怀着一种信念，认为自己干的超过了分内的工作，一有机会，谁都要表达这种信念。梅塞德斯有时站在丈夫这边，有时站在弟弟那边。结果成了一场精彩纷呈、没完没了的家庭纠纷。起先是为谁该去砍柴火争吵（只是查尔斯和哈尔之间的争吵），不久便把家里的其他人——父亲、母亲、叔伯、堂亲、表亲，以及几千里外的人——都拉了进来，有的都已经死了。哈尔对艺术或他舅舅写的什么社会剧的看法，居然会跟砍几根柴火扯上关系，让人不可思议。然而，争吵有可能趋向那个方面，也有可能指向查尔斯的政治偏见。查尔斯的姐姐搬弄是非的舌头应该跟育空营火的升起有关，显然只有梅塞德斯明白，她自己对这个话题大发议论，顺便还对婆家人一些让她不快的独有秉性大发议论。此时，火还没有生，帐篷搭了一半，狗也没有喂。

梅塞德斯怀有一种特别的委屈——女性的委屈。她漂亮温柔，整天都受到殷勤款待。但是，她的丈夫和弟弟现在对她毫不殷勤。她的习惯就是做出一副无助的样子。他们牢骚满腹。她最根本的女性特权就是指责，使他们的生活难以忍受。她不再考虑那些狗，因为她疼痛疲惫，坚持要坐雪橇。尽管她漂亮温柔，但她体重一百二十磅——要在那些虚弱饥饿的狗拉的货物上加装这一充满活力的最后沉重的负担。她坐了好几天雪橇，直至它们倒在雪道上，雪橇停住不动。查尔斯和哈尔求她下来走路，苦苦哀求，而她却哭天抹泪，诉说他们的野蛮。

有一次，他们用尽力气才把她从雪橇上拽下来。他们再也没有那样干过。她像一个宠坏的孩子两腿瘫坐在雪道上。他们继续向前走，但她没有动弹。他们走了三英里后，卸下雪橇，回来找她，用尽了力气又把她放到了雪橇上。

他们自己苦不堪言，所以对牲畜的苦漠不关心。哈尔对别人采取的理论就是，一个人心肠必须狠。他动身时向姐姐和姐夫宣扬过这个理论。他向他们宣扬失败后，就用棍棒把这种理论砸进了狗的脑海里。到了五指山，狗食分完了，一个没牙的印第安老太太提出用几磅冻马皮交换那支和大猎刀一起挂在哈尔臀间的科尔特式左轮手枪。这种皮是低劣的食物替代品，因为这马皮是六个月前从牧场主那些饿死的马身上剥下来的。它冻硬后更像是一条条白铁皮，当狗撕碎咽到肚里后，就化成了一根根缺少养分的细皮绳，再变成一团短毛，既刺激肠胃又难以消化。

巴克像在噩梦中一样，承受一切，摇摇晃晃地走在狗队前面领路。它拉得动时就拉，拉不动时就倒下来，躺在地上，直到鞭子或棍子又把它赶起来。它漂亮毛皮的弹性和光泽已经消失了。在哈尔打伤它的地方，毛发耷拉，软弱无力，拖得又脏又湿，与干血凝结在了一起。它的肌肉已经瘦成了一根根扭结的细绳，肉趾不见了，因此皮下空空，层层打褶，骨架上的每根肋骨和每根骨头透过松松垮垮的皮完全显露了出来。这令人心碎，只有巴克的心是牢不可破的。那个穿红毛衣的人已经证明了这一点。

巴克就是这样，它的伙伴们也是这样。它们都成了会走路的骨架。总共还有七条狗，包括巴克。它们处在极大的痛苦之中，对鞭抽或棒打已经麻木不仁。挨打的疼痛隐约模糊，就像它们耳闻目睹的那些东西都隐约模糊一样。它们剩下了半条命或四分之一条命。它们只是一袋袋的骨头，里面的生命闪着微弱的火花。雪橇停下后，它们就像死狗一样倒在雪道上，生命的火花暗淡苍白，仿佛就要熄灭了。而当棍子或鞭子落在它们的身上时，火花又微弱闪亮起来。于是，它们摇摇晃晃站起来，踉跄前行。

终于有一天，脾气温和的比勒倒下，爬不起来了。哈尔已经卖掉了左轮手枪。所以，当比勒倒在缰绳下时，他拿起斧头砍在比勒的头上，然后砍断它的缰绳，把尸体拖到了一边。巴克看到了，它的伙伴们也看到了，它们明白，这种事离自己很近。第二天，库纳也死去了，只剩下五条狗了：乔快不行了，也没有什么恶意了；派克一瘸一拐，只剩下了一半知觉，这知觉连装病都不够用了；独眼索尔雷克斯仍然忠心耿耿辛苦拉橇，对自己没有多少力气拉橇感到伤心；蒂克这年冬天跑得没有多远，劲头比较足，现在挨的打比谁都多；巴克仍在狗队前面走着，但不再加强纪律，或者说不再努力加强纪律，它常常因虚弱而两眼昏花，只能凭借雪道的蒙眬影子和蹄子的模糊触觉沿路前行。

这是美丽的春天，但人和狗都没有意识到这一点。每天，太阳升得更早，落得更晚。凌晨三点天已破晓，黄昏则一直逗留到晚上九点钟。整天都是阳光普照。冬天幽灵般可怕的寂静已经变成了伟大春天生命觉醒的喃喃细语。这种喃喃细语源自整个大地，充满生命的欢乐。它来自那些复活、又能运动的东西，这些东西仿佛死去一般，在漫漫长冬一动不动。松树渐渐地焕发出了生机。柳树和白杨吐出了嫩芽。灌木丛和藤蔓植物披上了新鲜的绿装。夜里蟋蟀欢唱，白天各种爬行动物飒飒作响急速爬到太阳地。鹧鸪在森林里咕咕咕叫着，啄木鸟在笃笃笃啄着。松鼠在吱吱叫，小鸟在歌唱，从南方飞来的大雁排成精巧的楔形划破长空，嘎嘎叫着从头顶飞过。

每个山坡都有潺潺流水，那是隐秘山泉奏出的乐曲。万物都在解冻、软化、噼啪作响。禁锢育空河的冰层正在奋力挣破。河水从下面销蚀了冰层，太阳从上面烤化了冰面。气孔成形，裂缝出现，越来越宽，薄冰面全部落入河中。在所有这迸发、爆裂和悸动的苏醒的生命中，在闪耀的太阳下，穿过轻声呼啸的风，两男一女和那些爱斯基摩狗蹒跚而行，就像走向死亡的行者。

那些狗一路摔倒，梅塞德斯哭哭啼啼坐在雪橇上，哈尔无关痛痒地骂着，查尔斯愁眉苦脸流着眼泪，他们跌跌撞撞地走进了位于白河河口约翰·桑顿的营地。他们停下来时，那些狗倒在地上，就像被打死了一般。梅塞德斯擦干眼睛，望着约翰·桑顿。查尔斯在一根圆木上坐下休息。他浑身僵硬，慢慢地、吃力地坐下来。哈尔攀谈起来。约翰·桑顿在用一根桦木棍做斧柄，正在削最后几刀。他一边削，一边听，发出单调的回应声，而且，哈尔提问时，他给几句扼要的忠告。他了解这种人，就是给了忠告，他们肯定也不会去遵循。

“在上面时，他们就告诉我们说，雪道的底层的冰会裂开，我们最好是延期，”桑顿告诫他们不要在融化的冰上冒险时，哈尔回答说，“他们告诉我们说，我们到不了白河，结果我们到了这里。”这最后一句带着胜利的嘲笑。

“他们对你们说的没错，”约翰·桑顿答道，“雪道的底层的冰随时都有可能化掉。只有傻瓜，只有盲目碰运气的傻瓜，才会走到这里。我对你们直说，就是为了阿拉斯加的所有金子，我也不会拿自己的生命在那种冰面上冒险。”

“我想，那是因为你不是傻瓜，”哈尔说，“无论如何我们还是要去道森。”他抖开鞭子。“起来，巴克！喂！起来了！走了！”

桑顿接着削了起来。他明白，干涉傻瓜干的蠢事没有价值，多两三个傻瓜，少两三个傻瓜，都无关大局。

但是，狗队听到命令没有起来。它们早已到了必须鞭打才能起身的地步。鞭子飞快地四处抽来抽去，执行无情的使命。约翰·桑顿紧闭嘴唇。索尔雷克斯第一个爬起身，接着是蒂克，随后是乔，它痛得汪汪直叫。派克做了艰苦努力。它两次起到一半都倒下了，第三次才努力站起来。巴克没有努力。它静静地卧在原来倒下的地方。鞭子一次又一次地抽打在它的身上，但它既没有哀鸣也没有挣扎。桑顿好几次站起身，好像要说什么，但都改变了主意。他的眼睛湿润了，而且，在持续鞭打时，他站起身，犹豫不决，走来走去。

这是巴克第一次没有站起来，这本身足够有理由让哈尔勃然大怒。他把鞭子换成了常用的棍子。现在雨点般更沉重的打击落在巴克的身上，它就是不动。像同伴们一样，它简直站不起来了，但又和它们不一样，它已经下定决心不起来了。它隐约感到死亡正在迫近。当它把雪橇拉上河岸时，这种感觉非常强烈，而且没有消失。它整天都感觉到蹄子下面的蜂窝冰很薄，它似乎意识到灾难近在咫尺，在前面的冰上，那里是它的主人正设法赶它去的地方。它拒绝移动。它万分痛苦，奄奄一息，所以殴打的疼痛对它算不了什么。棍子继续落在它身上的同时，生命的火花在它体内闪烁、熄灭，快要熄灭了。它有一种莫名其妙的麻木感，仿佛意识到自己正在距离很远的地方挨打。它最后的疼痛感消失了。它什么也感觉不到了，只能微微听到棍子落在骨头上的撞击声。但是，那不再是它自己的身体，似乎是那样遥远。

接着，突然，约翰·桑顿没有预兆发出了一声含混不清的叫喊，更像是动物发出的吼叫，扑向那个挥舞棍子的人。哈尔被猛地推得连连后退，就像被一棵倒下的树砸中一样。梅塞德斯尖叫起来。查尔斯愁眉苦脸地旁观着，擦了擦泪眼，但因为身体僵硬，没有起来。

约翰·桑顿站在巴克的身边，尽力控制自己，气得哆嗦，说不出话来。

“你要是再打那条狗，我就杀了你。”他哽咽地说道。

“这是我的狗，”哈尔一边往回走，一边擦着嘴上的血答道，“你给我滚开，否则我就要收拾你。我要去道森。”

桑顿站在哈尔和巴克之间，没有任何让路的意图。哈尔抽出了那把长猎刀。梅塞德斯尖叫，哭喊，大笑，歇斯底里，混乱不清，表现得非常任性。桑顿用斧柄敲了一下哈尔的指关节，把刀打落在地。当哈尔设法拾起刀时，桑顿又敲了一下哈尔的指关节。随后，他弯下腰，亲自拾起猎刀，两下割断了巴克身上的缰绳。

哈尔没有了斗志。此外，他的姐姐完全抓着他的两只手，准确地说是他的两条胳膊，巴克离死不远了，也用不着再拉橇了。几分钟后，他们离开河岸，沿河而走。巴克听到他们离去，抬起头看到，派克领头，索尔雷克斯驾橇，乔和蒂克走在中间。它们一瘸一拐，踉跄前行。梅塞德斯坐在载货的雪橇上。哈尔操着驾驶杆，查尔斯跌跌撞撞地跟在雪橇后面。

巴克注视着他们，桑顿跪在它的身边，用那双粗糙的手慈爱地摸寻断骨。他只发现了许多瘀伤和可怕的饥饿，此时雪橇离开了四分之一英里远。巴克和桑顿望着雪橇在冰上爬行。突然，他们看到雪橇的后端坠了下去，像是陷进了沟辙里，哈尔紧紧握着的驾驶杆猛地翘到了半空中。梅塞德斯的尖叫声传进了他们的耳朵。他们看到查尔斯转过身迈了一步想往回跑，随后整个一块冰塌了下去，人和狗都不见了踪影。看到的只是一个张着大口的冰窟窿。雪道底层的冰已经融化了。

约翰·桑顿和巴克互相看着对方。

“你这可怜的家伙。”约翰·桑顿说，巴克舔了舔他的手。