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hard…bitten; who had been buried so deeply inside the Circle that

they did not know there was a Klondike Strike。  The news he brought

them was their first word of it。  They lived on an almost straight…

meat diet of moose; caribou; and smoked salmon; eked out with wild

berries and somewhat succulent wild roots they had stocked up with

in the summer。  They had forgotten the taste of coffee; made fire

with a burning glass; carried live fire…sticks with them wherever

they travelled; and in their pipes smoked dry leaves that bit the

tongue and were pungent to the nostrils。



Three years before; they had prospected from the head…reaches of

the Koyokuk northward and clear across to the mouth of the

Mackenzie on the Arctic Ocean。  Here; on the whaleships; they had

beheld their last white men and equipped themselves with the last

white man's grub; consisting principally of salt and smoking

tobacco。  Striking south and west on the long traverse to the

junction of the Yukon and Porcupine at Fort Yukon; they had found

gold on this creek and remained over to work the ground。



They hailed the advent of Tarwater with joy; never tired of

listening to his tales of Forty…Nine; and rechristened him Old

Hero。  Also; with tea made from spruce needles; with concoctions

brewed from the inner willow bark; and with sour and bitter roots

and bulbs from the ground; they dosed his scurvy out of him; so

that he ceased limping and began to lay on flesh over his bony

framework。  Further; they saw no reason at all why he should not

gather a rich treasure of gold from the ground。



〃Don't know about all of three hundred thousand;〃 they told him one

morning; at breakfast; ere they departed to their work; 〃but how'd

a hundred thousand do; Old Hero?  That's what we figure a claim is

worth; the ground being badly spotted; and we've already staked

your location notices。〃



〃Well; boys;〃 Old Tarwater answered; 〃and thanking you kindly; all

I can say is that a hundred thousand will do nicely; and very

nicely; for a starter。  Of course; I ain't goin' to stop till I get

the full three hundred thousand。  That's what I come into the

country for。〃



They laughed and applauded his ambition and reckoned they'd have to

hunt a richer creek for him。  And Old Hero reckoned that as the

spring came on and he grew spryer; he'd have to get out and do a

little snooping around himself。



〃For all anybody knows;〃 he said; pointing to a hillside across the

creek bottom; 〃the moss under the snow there may be plumb rooted in

nugget gold。〃



He said no more; but as the sun rose higher and the days grew

longer and warmer; he gazed often across the creek at the definite

bench…formation half way up the hill。  And; one day; when the thaw

was in full swing; he crossed the stream and climbed to the bench。

Exposed patches of ground had already thawed an inch deep。  On one

such patch he stopped; gathered a bunch of moss in his big gnarled

hands; and ripped it out by the roots。  The sun smouldered on dully

glistening yellow。  He shook the handful of moss; and coarse

nuggets; like gravel; fell to the ground。  It was the Golden Fleece

ready for the shearing。



Not entirely unremembered in Alaskan annals is the summer stampede

of 1898 from Fort Yukon to the bench diggings of Tarwater Hill。

And when Tarwater sold his holdings to the Bowdie interests for a

sheer half…million and faced for California; he rode a mule over a

new…cut trail; with convenient road houses along the way; clear to

the steamboat landing at Fort Yukon。



At the first meal on the ocean…going steamship out of St。 Michaels;

a waiter; greyish…haired; pain…ravaged of face; scurvy…twisted of

body; served him。  Old Tarwater was compelled to look him over

twice in order to make certain he was Charles Crayton。



〃Got it bad; eh; son?〃 Tarwater queried。



〃Just my luck;〃 the other complained; after recognition and

greeting。  〃Only one of the party that the scurvy attacked。  I've

been through hell。  The other three are all at work and healthy;

getting grub…stake to prospect up White River this winter。  Anson's

earning twenty…five a day at carpentering; Liverpool getting twenty

logging for the saw…mill; and Big Bill's getting forty a day as

chief sawyer。  I tried my best; and if it hadn't been for scurvy 。

。 。〃



〃Sure; son; you done your best; which ain't much; you being

naturally irritable and hard from too much business。  Now I'll tell

you what。  You ain't fit to work crippled up this way。  I'll pay

your passage with the captain in kind remembrance of the voyage you

gave me; and you can lay up and take it easy the rest of the trip。

And what are your circumstances when you land at San Francisco?〃



Charles Crayton shrugged his shoulders。



〃Tell you what;〃 Tarwater continued。  〃There's work on the ranch

for you till you can start business again。〃



〃I could manage your business for you … 〃 Charles began eagerly。



〃No; siree;〃 Tarwater declared emphatically。  〃But there's always

post…holes to dig; and cordwood to chop; and the climate's fine 。 。

。 〃



Tarwater arrived home a true prodigal grandfather for whom the

fatted calf was killed and ready。  But first; ere he sat down at

table; he must stroll out and around。  And sons and daughters of

his flesh and of the law needs must go with him fulsomely eating

out of the gnarled old hand that had half a million to disburse。

He led the way; and no opinion he slyly uttered was preposterous or

impossible enough to draw dissent from his following。  Pausing by

the ruined water wheel which he had built from the standing timber;

his face beamed as he gazed across the stretches of Tarwater

Valley; and on and up the far heights to the summit of Tarwater

Mountain … now all his again。



A thought came to him that made him avert his face and blow his

nose in order to hide the twinkle in his eyes。  Still attended by

the entire family; he strolled on to the dilapidated barn。  He

picked up an age…weathered single…tree from the ground。



〃William;〃 he said。  〃Remember that little conversation we had just

before I started to Klondike?  Sure; William; you remember。  You

told me I was crazy。  And I said my father'd have walloped the tar

out of me with a single…tree if I'd spoke to him that way。〃



〃Aw; but that was only foolin';〃 William temporized。



William was a grizzled man of forty…five; and his wife and grown

sons stood in the group; curiously watching Grandfather Tarwater

take off his coat and hand it to Mary to hold。



〃William … come here;〃 he commanded imperatively。



No matter how reluctantly; William came。



〃Just a taste; William; son; of what my father give me often

enough;〃 Old Tarwater crooned; as he laid on his son's back and

shoulders with the single…tree。  〃Observe; I ain't hitting you on

the head。  My father had a gosh…wollickin' temper and never drew

the line at heads when he went after tar。 … Don't jerk your elbows

back that way!  You're likely to get a crack on one by accident。

And just tell me one thing; William; son:  is there nary notion in

your head that I'm crazy?〃



〃No!〃 William yelped out in pain; as he danced about。  〃You ain't

crazy; father of course you ain't crazy!〃



〃You said it;〃 Old Tarwater remarked sententiously; tossing the

single…tree aside and starting to struggle into his coat。



〃Now let's all go in and eat。〃



Glen Ellen; California;

SEPTEMBER 14; 1916。









STORY:  THE PRINCESS









A FIRE burned cheerfully in the jungle camp; and beside the fire

lolled a cheerful…seeming though horrible…appearing man。  This was

a hobo jungle; pitched in a thin strip of woods that lay between a

railroad embankment and the bank of a river。  But no hobo was the

man。  So deep…sunk was he in the social abyss that a proper hobo

would not sit by the same fire with him。  A gay…cat; who is an

ignorant new…comer on the 〃Road;〃 might sit with such as he; but

only long enough to learn better。  Even low down bindle…stiffs and

stew…bums; after a once…over; would have passed this man by。  A

genuine hobo; a couple of punks; or a bunch of tender…yeared road…

kids might have gone through his rags for any stray pennies or

nickels and kicked him out into the darkness。  Even an alki…stiff

would have reckoned himself immeasurably superior。



For this man was that hybrid of tramp…land; an alki…stiff that has

degenerated into a stew…bum; with so little self…respect that he

will never 〃boil…up;〃 and with so little pride that he will eat out

of a garbage can。  He was truly horrible…appearing。  He might have

been sixty years of age; he might have been ninety。  His garments

might have been discarded by a rag…picker。  Beside him; an unrolled

bundle showed itself as consisting of a ragged overcoat and

containing an empty and smoke…blackened tomato can; an empty and

battered condensed milk can; some dog…meat partly 

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