the　edge　of　the　campfire　and　joined　them。　The　cabin　was　one　of　the
  many　mysteries　which　lurk　in　the　vast　recesses　of　the　North。　Built
  when　and　by　whom；　no　man　could　tell。　Two　graves　in　the　open；　piled
  high　with　stones；　perhaps　contained　the　secret　of　those　early
  wanderers。　But　whose　hand　had　piled　the　stones？
  The　moment　had　come。　Jacques　Baptiste　paused　in　the　fitting　of　a
  harness　and　pinned　the　struggling　dog　in　the　snow。　The　cook　made
  mute　protest　for　delay；　threw　a　handful　of　bacon　into　a　noisy　pot　of
  beans；　then　came　to　attention。　Sloper　rose　to　his　feet。　His　body　was　a
  ludicrous　contrast　to　the　healthy　physiques　of　the　Incapables。
  Yellow　and　weak；　fleeing　from　a　South　American　fever…hole；　he　had
  not　broken　his　flight　across　the　zones；　and　was　still　able　to　toil
  with　men。　His　weight　was　probably　ninety　pounds；　with　the　heavy
  hunting　knife　thrown　in；　and　his　grizzled　hair　told　of　a　prime　which
  had　ceased　to　be。　The　fresh　young　muscles　of　either　Weatherbee　or
  Cuthfert　were　equal　to　ten　times　the　endeavor　of　his；　yet　he　could
  walk　them　into　the　earth　in　a　day's　journey。　And　all　this　day　he　had
  whipped　his　stronger　comrades　into　venturing　a　thousand　miles　of　the
  stiffest　hardship　man　can　conceive。　He　was　the　incarnation　of　the
  unrest　of　his　race；　and　the　old　Teutonic　stubbornness；　dashed　with　the
  quick　grasp　and　action　of　the　Yankee；　held　the　flesh　in　the　bondage　of
  the　spirit。
  'All　those　in　favor　of　going　on　with　the　dogs　as　soon　as　the　ice
  sets；　say　ay。'
  'Ay！'　rang　out　eight　voices…　voices　destined　to　string　a　trail　of
  oaths　along　many　a　hundred　miles　of　pain。
  'Contrary　minded？'
  'No！'　For　the　first　time　the　Incapables　were　united　without　some
  compromise　of　personal　interests。
  'And　what　are　you　going　to　do　about　it？'　Weatherbee　added
  belligerently。
  'Majority　rule！　Majority　rule！'　clamored　the　rest　of　the　party。
  'I　know　the　expedition　is　liable　to　fall　through　if　you　don't　come；'
  Sloper　replied　sweetly；　'but　I　guess；　if　we　try　real　hard；　we　can
  manage　to　do　without　you。　What　do　you　say；　boys？'
  The　sentiment　was　cheered　to　the　echo。
  'But　I　say；　you　know；'　Cuthfert　ventured　apprehensively；　'what's　a
  chap　like　me　to　do？'
  'Ain't　you　coming　with　us。'
  'No…　o。'
  'Then　do　as　you　damn　well　please。　We　won't　have　nothing　to　say。'
  'Kind　o'　calkilate　yuh　might　settle　it　with　that　canoodlin'
  pardner　of　yourn；'　suggested　a　heavy…going　Westerner　from　the　Dakotas；
  at　the　same　time　pointing　out　Weatherbee。　'He'll　be　shore　to　ask　yuh
  what　yur　a…goin'　to　do　when　it　comes　to　cookin'　an'　gatherin'　the
  wood。'
  'Then　we'll　consider　it　all　arranged；'　concluded　Sloper。　'We'll　pull
  out　tomorrow；　if　we　camp　within　five　miles…　just　to　get　everything
  in　running　order　and　remember　if　we've　forgotten　anything。'
  The　sleds　groaned　by　on　their　steel…shod　runners；　and　the　dogs
  strained　low　in　the　harnesses　in　which　they　were　born　to　die。
  Jacques　Baptiste　paused　by　the　side　of　Sloper　to　get　a　last　glimpse　of
  the　cabin。　The　smoke　curled　up　pathetically　from　the　Yukon
  stovepipe。　The　two　Incapables　were　watching　them　from　the　doorway。
  Sloper　laid　his　hand　on　the　other's　shoulder。
  'Jacques　Baptiste；　did　you　ever　hear　of　the　Kilkenny　cats？'
  The　half…breed　shook　his　head。
  'Well；　my　friend　and　good　comrade；　the　Kilkenny　cats　fought　till
  neither　hide；　nor　hair；　nor　yowl；　was　left。　You　understand？…　till
  nothing　was　left。　Very　good。　Now；　these　two　men　don't　like　work。
  They'll　be　all　alone　in　that　cabin　all　winter…　a　mighty　long；　dark
  winter。　Kilkenny　cats…　well？'
  The　Frenchman　in　Baptiste　shrugged　his　shoulders；　but　the　Indian
  in　him　was　silent。　Nevertheless；　it　was　an　eloquent　shrug；　pregnant
  with　prophecy。
  Things　prospered　in　the　little　cabin　at　first。　The　rough　badinage　of
  their　comrades　had　made　Weatherbee　and　Cuthfert　conscious　of　the
  mutual　responsibility　which　had　devolved　upon　them；　besides；　there　was
  not　so　much　work　after　all　for　two　healthy　men。　And　the　removal　of　the
  cruel　whiphand；　or　in　other　words　the　bulldozing　half…breed；　had
  brought　with　it　a　joyous　reaction。　At　first；　each　strove　to　outdo
  the　other；　and　they　performed　petty　tasks　with　an　unction　which
  would　have　opened　the　eyes　of　their　comrades　who　were　now　wearing
  out　bodies　and　souls　on　the　Long　Trail。
  All　care　was　banished。　The　forest；　which　shouldered　in　upon　them
  from　three　sides；　was　an　inexhaustible　woodyard。　A　few　yards　from
  their　door　slept　the　Porcupine；　and　a　hole　through　its　winter　robe
  formed　a　bubbling　spring　of　water；　crystal　clear　and　painfully　cold。
  But　they　soon　grew　to　find　fault　with　even　that。　The　hole　would
  persist　in　freezing　up；　and　thus　gave　them　many　a　miserable　hour　of
  ice…chopping。　The　unknown　builders　of　the　cabin　had　extended　the
  sidelogs　so　as　to　support　a　cache　at　the　rear。　In　this　was　stored
  the　bulk　of　the　party's　provisions。　Food　there　was；　without　stint；　for
  three　times　the　men　who　were　fated　to　live　upon　it。　But　the　most　of　it
  was　the　kind　which　built　up　brawn　and　sinew；　but　did　not　tickle　the
  palate。　True；　there　was　sugar　in　plenty　for　two　ordinary　men；　but
  these　two　were　little　else　than　children。　They　early　discovered　the
  virtues　of　hot　water　judiciously　saturated　with　sugar；　and　they
  prodigally　swam　their　flapjacks　and　soaked　their　crusts　in　the　rich；
  white　syrup。　Then　coffee　and　tea；　and　especially　the　dried　fruits；
  made　disastrous　inroads　upon　it。　The　first　words　they　had　were　over
  the　sugar　question。　And　it　is　a　really　serious　thing　when　two　men；
  wholly　dependent　upon　each　other　for　company；　begin　to　quarrel。
  Weatherbee　loved　to　discourse　blatantly　on　politics；　while　Cuthfert；
  who　had　been　prone　to　clip　his　coupons　and　let　the　commonwealth　jog　on
  as　best　it　might；　either　ignored　the　subject　or　delivered　himself　of
  startling　epigrams。　But　the　clerk　was　too　obtuse　to　appreciate　the
  clever　shaping　of　thought；　and　this　waste　of　ammunition　irritated
  Cuthfert。　He　had　been　used　to　blinding　people　by　his　brilliancy；　and
  it　worked　him　quite　a　hardship；　this　loss　of　an　audience。　He　felt
  personally　aggrieved　and　unconsciously　held　his　muttonhead　companion
  responsible　for　it。
  Save　existence；　they　had　nothing　in　common…　came　in　touch　on　no
  single　point。　Weatherbee　was　a　clerk　who　had　known　naught　but　clerking
  all　his　life；　Cuthfert　was　a　master　of　arts；　a　dabbler　in　oils；　and
  had　written　not　a　little。　The　one　was　a　lower…class　man　who　considered
  himself　a　gentleman；　and　the　other　was　a　gentleman　who　knew　himself　to
  be　such。　From　this　it　may　be　remarked　that　a　man　can　be　a　gentleman
  without　possessing　the　first　instinct　of　true　comradeship。　The　clerk
  was　as　sensuous　as　the　other　was　aesthetic；　and　his　love　adventures；
  told　at　great　length　and　chiefly　coined　from　his　imagination；　affected
  the　supersensitive　master　of　arts　in　the　same　way　as　so　many　whiffs　of
  sewer　gas。　He　deemed　the　clerk　a　filthy；　uncultured　brute；　whose　place
  was　in　the　muck　with　the　swine；　and　told　him　so；　and　he　was
  reciprocally　informed　that　he　was　a　milk…and…water　sissy　and　a　cad。
  Weatherbee　could　not　have　defined　'cad'　for　his　life；　but　it　satisfied
  its　purpose；　which　after　all　seems　the　main　point　in　life。
  Weatherbee　flatted　every　third　note　and　sang　such　songs　as　'The
  Boston　Burglar'　and　'the　Handsome　Cabin　Boy；'　for　hours　at　a　time；
  while　Cuthfert　wept　with　rage；　till　he　could　stand　it　no　longer　and
  fled　into　the　outer　cold。　But　there　was　no　escape。　The　intense　frost
  could　not　be　endured　for　long　at　a　time；　and　the　little　cabin
  crowded　them…　beds；　stove；　table；　and　all…　into　a　space　of　ten　by
  twelve。　The　very　presence　of　either　became　a　personal　affront　to　the
  other；　and　they　lapsed　into　sullen　silences　which　increased　in
  length　and　strength　as　the　days　went　by。　Occasionally；　the　flash　of　an
  eye　or　the　curl　of　a　lip　got　the　better　of　them；　though　they　strove　to
  wholly　ignore　each　other　during　these　mute　periods。　And　a　great　wonder
  sprang　up　in　the　breast　of　each；　as　to　how　God　had　ever　come　to　create
  the　other。
  With　little　to　do；　time　became　an　intolerable　burden　to　them。　This
  naturally　made　them　still　lazier。　They　sank　into　a　physical　lethargy
  which　there　was　no　escaping；　and　which　made　them　rebel　at　the
  performance　of　the　smallest　chore。　One　morning　when　it　was　his　turn　to
  cook　the　common　breakfast；　Weatherbee　rolled　out　of　his　blankets；
  and　to　the　snoring　of　his　companion；　lighted　first　the　slush…lamp
  and　then　the　fire。　The　kettles　were　frozen　hard；　and　there　was　no
  water　in　the　cabin　with　which　to　wash。　But　he　did　not　mind　that。
  Waiting　for　it　to　thaw；　he　sliced　the　bacon　and　plunged　into　the
  hateful　task　of　bread…making。　Cuthfert　had　been　slyly　watching　through
  his　half…closed　lids。　Consequently　there　was　a　scene；　in　which　they
  fervently　blessed　each　other；　and　agreed；　henceforth；　that　each　do　his
  own　cooking。　A　week　later；　Cuthfert　neglected　his　morning　ablutions；
  but　none　the　less　complacently　ate　the　meal　which　he　had　cook