Sometimes they rise to their knees and fall forward，maybe four or five times before they can get to their feetagain and stagger two or three steps and fall. But alwaysdo they fall forward. Standing or kneeling， always do theyfall forward， gaining on the trail each time by the length oftheir bodies.
“Sometimes they crawl on hands and knees like animalsthat live in the forest. We go like snails， like snails that aredying we go so slow. And yet we go faster than the manwho is before us. For he， too， falls all the time， and thereis no Sitka Charley to lift him up. Now he is two hundredyards away. After a long time he is one hundred yards away.
“It is a funny sight. I want to laugh out loud， Ha！ ha！ justlike that， it is so funny. It is a race of dead men and deaddogs. It is like in a dream when you have a nightmare andrun away very fast for your life and go very slow. The manwho is with me is mad. The woman is mad. I am mad. Allthe world is mad， and I want to laugh， it is so funny.
“The stranger-man who is before us leaves his dogsbehind and goes on alone across the snow. After a longtime we come to the dogs. They lie helpless in the snow，their harness of blanket and canvas on them， the sledbehind them， and as we pass them they whine to us andcry like babies that are hungry.
“Then we， too， leave our dogs and go on alone across thesnow. The man and the woman are nearly gone， and theymoan and groan and sob， but they go on. I， too， go on. Ihave but one thought. It is to come up to the strangerman.
Then it is that I shall rest， and not until then shallI rest， and it seems that I must lie down and sleep for athousand years， I am so tired.
“The stranger-man is fifty yards away， all alone in thewhite snow. He falls and crawls， staggers， and falls andcrawls again. He is like an animal that is sore woundedand trying to run from the hunter. By and by he crawls onhands and knees. He no longer stands up. And the manand woman no longer stand up. They， too， crawl after himon hands and knees. But I stand up. Sometimes I fall， butalways do I stand up again.
“It is a strange thing to see. All about is the snow andthe silence， and through it crawl the man and the woman，and the stranger-man who goes before. On either side thesun are sun-dogs， so that there are three suns in the sky.
The frost-dust is like the dust of diamonds， and all theair is filled with it. Now the woman coughs， and lies stillin the snow until the fit has passed， when she crawls onagain. Now the man looks ahead， and he is blear-eyed aswith old age and must rub his eyes so that he can see thestranger-man. And now the stranger-man looks back overhis shoulder. And Sitka Charley， standing upright， maybefalls down and stands upright again.
“After a long time the stranger-man crawls no more.
He stands slowly upon his feet and rocks back and forth.
Also does he take off one mitten and wait with revolver inhis hand， rocking back and forth as he waits. His face isskin and bones and frozen black. It is a hungry face. Theeyes are deep-sunk in his head， and the lips are snarling.
The man and woman， too， get upon their feet and theygo toward him very slowly. And all about is the snow andthe silence. And in the sky are three suns， and all the air isflashing with the dust of diamonds.
“And thus it was that I， Sitka Charley， saw the babywolves make their kill. No word is spoken. Only does thestranger-man snarl with his hungry face. Also does he rockto and fro， his shoulders drooping， his knees bent， and hislegs wide apart so that he does not fall down. The manand the woman stop maybe fifty feet away. Their legs， too，are wide apart so that they do not fall down， and theirbodies rock to and fro. The stranger-man is very weak. Hisarm shakes， so that when he shoots at the man his bulletstrikes in the snow. The man cannot take off his mitten.
The stranger-man shoots at him again， and this time thebullet goes by in the air. Then the man takes the mittenin his teeth and pulls it off. But his hand is frozen and hecannot hold the revolver， and it fails in the snow. I look atthe woman. Her mitten is off， and the big Colt’s revolveris in her hand. Three times she shoot， quick， just like that.
The hungry face of the stranger-man is still snarling as hefalls forward into the snow.
“They do not look at the dead man. ‘Let us go on，’ theysay. And we go on. But now that they have found that forwhich they look， they are like dead. The last strength hasgone out of them. They can stand no more upon their feet.
They will not crawl， but desire only to close their eyes andsleep. I see not far away a place for camp. I kick them. Ihave my dog-whip， and I give them the lash of it. They cryaloud， but they must crawl. And they do crawl to the placefor camp. I build fire so that they will not freeze. Then Igo back for sled. Also， I kill the dogs of the stranger-manso that we may have food and not die. I put the man andwoman in blankets and they sleep. Sometimes I wake themand give them little bit of food. They are not awake， butthey take the food. The woman sleep one day and a half.
Then she wake up and go to sleep again. The man sleeptwo days and wake up and go to sleep again. After that wego down to the coast at St. Michaels. And when the icegoes out of Bering Sea， the man and woman go away ona steamship. But first they pay me my seven hundred andfifty dollars a month. Also， they make me a present of onethousand dollars. And that was the year that Sitka Charleygave much money to the Mission at Holy Cross.”
“But why did they kill the man？” I asked.
Sitka Charley delayed reply until he had lighted his pipe.
He glanced at the POLICE GAZETTE illustration andnodded his head at it familiarly. Then he said， speakingslowly and ponderingly：
“I have thought much. I do not know. It is somethingthat happened. It is a picture I remember. It is likelooking in at the window and seeing the man writing aletter. They came into my life and they went out of mylife， and the picture is as I have said， without beginning，the end without understanding.”
“You have painted many pictures in the telling，” I said.
“Ay，” he nodded his head. “But they were withoutbeginning and without end.”
“The last picture of all had an end，” I said.
“Ay，” he answered. “But what end？”
“It was a piece of life，” I said.
“Ay，” he answered. “It was a piece of life.”
