IN　A　FAR　COUNTRY。
  WHEN　A　MAN　JOURNEYS　into　a　far　country；　he　must　be　prepared　to
  forget　many　of　the　things　he　has　learned；　and　to　acquire　such
  customs　as　are　inherent　with　existence　in　the　new　land；　he　must
  abandon　the　old　ideals　and　the　old　gods；　and　oftentimes　he　must
  reverse　the　very　codes　by　which　his　conduct　has　hitherto　been
  shaped。　To　those　who　have　the　protean　faculty　of　adaptability；　the
  novelty　of　such　change　may　even　be　a　source　of　pleasure；　but　to
  those　who　happen　to　be　hardened　to　the　ruts　in　which　they　were
  created；　the　pressure　of　the　altered　environment　is　unbearable；　and
  they　chafe　in　body　and　in　spirit　under　the　new　restrictions　which　they
  do　not　understand。　This　chafing　is　bound　to　act　and　react；　producing
  divers　evils　and　leading　to　various　misfortunes。　It　were　better　for
  the　man　who　cannot　fit　himself　to　the　new　groove　to　return　to　his
  own　country；　if　he　delay　too　long；　he　will　surely　die。
  The　man　who　turns　his　back　upon　the　comforts　of　an　elder
  civilization；　to　face　the　savage　youth；　the　primordial　simplicity　of
  the　North；　may　estimate　success　at　an　inverse　ratio　to　the　quantity
  and　quality　of　his　hopelessly　fixed　habits。　He　will　soon　discover；
  if　he　be　a　fit　candidate；　that　the　material　habits　are　the　less
  important。　The　exchange　of　such　things　as　a　dainty　menu　for　rough
  fare；　of　the　stiff　leather　shoe　for　the　soft；　shapeless　moccasin；　of
  the　feather　bed　for　a　couch　in　the　snow；　is　after　all　a　very　easy
  matter。　But　his　pinch　will　come　in　learning　properly　to　shape　his
  mind's　attitude　toward　all　things；　and　especially　toward　his　fellow
  man。　For　the　courtesies　of　ordinary　life；　he　must　substitute
  unselfishness；　forbearance；　and　tolerance。　Thus；　and　thus　only；　can　he
  gain　that　pearl　of　great　price…　true　comradeship。　He　must　not　say
  'thank　you'；　he　must　mean　it　without　opening　his　mouth；　and　prove　it
  by　responding　in　kind。　In　short；　he　must　substitute　the　deed　for　the
  word；　the　spirit　for　the　letter。
  When　the　world　rang　with　the　tale　of　Arctic　gold；　and　the　lure　of
  the　North　gripped　the　heartstrings　of　men；　Carter　Weatherbee　threw
  up　his　snug　clerkship；　turned　the　half　of　his　savings　over　to　his
  wife；　and　with　the　remainder　bought　an　outfit。　There　was　no　romance　in
  his　nature…　the　bondage　of　commerce　had　crushed　all　that；　he　was
  simply　tired　of　the　ceaseless　grind；　and　wished　to　risk　great
  hazards　in　view　of　corresponding　returns。　Like　many　another　fool；
  disdaining　the　old　trails　used　by　the　Northland　pioneers　for　a　score
  of　years；　he　hurried　to　Edmonton　in　the　spring　of　the　year；　and　there；
  unluckily　for　his　soul's　welfare；　he　allied　himself　with　a　party　of
  men。
  There　was　nothing　unusual　about　this　party；　except　its　plans。　Even
  its　goal；　like　that　of　all　the　other　parties；　was　the　Klondike。　But
  the　route　it　had　mapped　out　to　attain　that　goal　took　away　the　breath
  of　the　hardiest　native；　born　and　bred　to　the　vicissitudes　of　the
  Northwest。　Even　Jacques　Baptiste；　born　of　a　Chippewa　woman　and　a
  renegade　voyageur　（having　raised　his　first　whimpers　in　a　deerskin
  lodge　north　of　the　sixty…fifth　parallel；　and　had　the　same　hushed　by
  blissful　sucks　of　raw　tallow）；　was　surprised。　Though　he　sold　his
  services　to　them　and　agreed　to　travel　even　to　the　never…opening　ice；
  he　shook　his　head　ominously　whenever　his　advice　was　asked。
  Percy　Cuthfert's　evil　star　must　have　been　in　the　ascendant；　for
  he；　too；　joined　this　company　of　argonauts。　He　was　an　ordinary　man；
  with　a　bank　account　as　deep　as　his　culture；　which　is　saying　a　good
  deal。　He　had　no　reason　to　embark　on　such　a　venture…　no　reason　in　the
  world　save　that　he　suffered　from　an　abnormal　development　of
  sentimentality。　He　mistook　this　for　the　true　spirit　of　romance　and
  adventure。　Many　another　man　has　done　the　like；　and　made　as　fatal　a
  mistake。
  The　first　break…up　of　spring　found　the　party　following　the　ice…run
  of　Elk　River。　It　was　an　imposing　fleet；　for　the　outfit　was　large；
  and　they　were　accompanied　by　a　disreputable　contingent　of　half…breed
  voyageurs　with　their　women　and　children。　Day　in　and　day　out；　they
  labored　with　the　bateaux　and　canoes；　fought　mosquitoes　and　other
  kindred　pests；　or　sweated　and　swore　at　the　portages。　Severe　toil
  like　this　lays　a　man　naked　to　the　very　roots　of　his　soul；　and　ere　Lake
  Athabasca　was　lost　in　the　south；　each　member　of　the　party　had
  hoisted　his　true　colors。
  The　two　shirks　and　chronic　grumblers　were　Carter　Weatherbee　and
  Percy　Cuthfert。　The　whole　party　complained　less　of　its　aches　and　pains
  than　did　either　of　them。　Not　once　did　they　volunteer　for　the
  thousand　and　one　petty　duties　of　the　camp。　A　bucket　of　water　to　be
  brought；　an　extra　armful　of　wood　to　be　chopped；　the　dishes　to　be
  washed　and　wiped；　a　search　to　be　made　through　the　outfit　for　some
  suddenly　indispensable　article…　and　these　two　effete　scions　of
  civilization　discovered　sprains　or　blisters　requiring　instant
  attention。　They　were　the　first　to　turn　in　at　night；　with　score　of
  tasks　yet　undone；　the　last　to　turn　out　in　the　morning；　when　the
  start　should　be　in　readiness　before　the　breakfast　was　begun。　They　were
  the　first　to　fall　to　at　mealtime；　the　last　to　have　a　hand　in　the
  cooking；　the　first　to　dive　for　a　slim　delicacy；　the　last　to　discover
  they　had　added　to　their　own　another　man's　share。　If　they　toiled　at　the
  oars；　they　slyly　cut　the　water　at　each　stroke　and　allowed　the　boat's
  momentum　to　float　up　the　blade。　They　thought　nobody　noticed；　but　their
  comrades　swore　under　their　breaths　and　grew　to　hate　them；　while
  Jacques　Baptiste　sneered　openly　and　damned　them　from　morning　till
  night。　But　Jacques　Baptiste　was　no　gentleman。
  At　the　Great　Slave；　Hudson　Bay　dogs　were　purchased；　and　the　fleet
  sank　to　the　guards　with　its　added　burden　of　dried　fish　and　pemican。
  Then　canoe　and　bateau　answered　to　the　swift　current　of　the
  Mackenzie；　and　they　plunged　into　the　Great　Barren　Ground。　Every
  likely…looking　'feeder'　was　prospected；　but　the　elusive　'pay…dirt'
  danced　ever　to　the　north。　At　the　Great　Bear；　overcome　by　the　common
  dread　of　the　Unknown　Lands；　their　voyageurs　began　to　desert；　and
  Fort　of　Good　Hope　saw　the　last　and　bravest　bending　to　the　towlines
  as　they　bucked　the　current　down　which　they　had　so　treacherously
  glided。　Jacques　Baptiste　alone　remained。　Had　he　not　sworn　to　travel
  even　to　the　never…opening　ice？
  The　lying　charts；　compiled　in　main　from　hearsay；　were　now　constantly
  consulted。　And　they　felt　the　need　of　hurry；　for　the　sun　had　already
  passed　its　northern　solstice　and　was　leading　the　winter　south　again。
  Skirting　the　shores　of　the　bay；　where　the　Mackenzie　disembogues　into
  the　Arctic　Ocean；　they　entered　the　mouth　of　the　Little　Peel　River。
  Then　began　the　arduous　up…stream　toil；　and　the　two　Incapables　fared
  worse　than　ever。　Towline　and　pole；　paddle　and　tumpline；　rapids　and
  portages…　such　tortures　served　to　give　the　one　a　deep　disgust　for
  great　hazards；　and　printed　for　the　other　a　fiery　text　on　the　true
  romance　of　adventure。　One　day　they　waxed　mutinous；　and　being　vilely
  cursed　by　Jacques　Baptiste；　turned；　as　worms　sometimes　will。　But　the
  half…breed　thrashed　the　twain；　and　sent　them；　bruised　and　bleeding；
  about　their　work。　It　was　the　first　time　either　had　been　manhandled。
  Abandoning　their　river　craft　at　the　headwaters　of　the　Little　Peel；
  they　consumed　the　rest　of　the　summer　in　the　great　portage　over　the
  Mackenzie　watershed　to　the　West　Rat。　This　little　stream　fed　the
  Porcupine；　which　in　turn　joined　the　Yukon　where　that　mighty　highway　of
  the　North　countermarches　on　the　Arctic　Circle。　But　they　had　lost　in
  the　race　with　winter；　and　one　day　they　tied　their　rafts　to　the　thick
  eddy…ice　and　hurried　their　goods　ashore。　That　night　the　river　jammed
  and　broke　several　times；　the　following　morning　it　had　fallen　asleep
  for　good。
  'We　can't　be　more'n　four　hundred　miles　from　the　Yukon；'　concluded
  Sloper；　multiplying　his　thumb　nails　by　the　scale　of　the　map。　The
  council；　in　which　the　two　Incapables　had　whined　to　excellent
  disadvantage；　was　drawing　to　a　close。
  'Hudson　Bay　Post；　long　time　ago。　No　use　um　now。'　Jacques
  Baptiste's　father　had　made　the　trip　for　the　Fur　Company　in　the　old
  days；　incidentally　marking　the　trail　with　a　couple　of　frozen　toes。
  Sufferin'　cracky！'　cried　another　of　the　party。　'No　whites？'
  'Nary　white；'　Sloper　sententiously　affirmed；　'but　it's　only　five
  hundred　more　up　the　Yukon　to　Dawson。　Call　it　a　rough　thousand　from
  here。'
  Weatherbee　and　Cuthfert　groaned　in　chorus。
  'How　long'll　that　take；　Baptiste？'
  The　half…breed　figured　for　a　moment。　'Workum　like　hell；　no　man
  play　out；　ten…　twenty…　forty…　fifty　days。　Um　babies　come'　（designating
  the　Incapables）；　'no　can　tell。　Mebbe　when　hell　freeze　over；　mebbe
  not　then。'
  The　manufacture　of　snowshoes　and　moccasins　ceased。　Somebody　called
  the　name　of　an　absent　member；　who　came　out　of　an　ancient　cabin　at
  the　edge　of　the　campfire　and　joined　them。　The　cabin　was　one　of　the
  many　mysteries　which　lurk　in　th