The ice goes out

by Frank Richardson Pierce

The Ice Goes Out

By FRANK RICHARDSON PIERCE

A story of Alaska, in which honest men and crooks propose, but inscrutable Nature disposes

The hand of winter was on the Northcountry. The sap had not started to run. Valley, stream and mountain, in the grip of the ice, lay like something dead.

And then it changed. Slowly the sun began to swing north, and long before the sap began to run, or the first flight of birds, men began discussing the ice pool.

The ice pool!

Not January 1, but the break-up, marked the beginning of the Northern year. Welch and several others would handle it this year. They had handled it for several years and given satisfaction. The ice pool was the great sporting event that survived. The Nome Sweepstakes and other dog racing events had lost their importance; had dwindled as Nome itself had dwindled. But the break-up each spring was the nearest thing to a lottery that remained under the American flag.

Sometime late in April or early in May the ice went out. Men sent in their money and with it the day, hour, minute and even second they believed the ice would go. Luck governed the contest, for no man could tell the exact hour. The man coming nearest to the moment of the break-up won the pot, less the expense of holding the event.

Leach spilled the contents of his poke on the rough cabin table.