Greener than spruce

by Herbert Farris

GREENER THAN SPRUCE

Greener than Spruce

By Herbert Farris

Author of “Plenty Grub an’ Plenty Gold,” etc.

“Maybe greener men have hit Alasky—but I doubt it!”

The speaker, a rheumy-eyed, old veteran of the trails, spoke thus disparagingly of young Harris Benton. The old-timer’s perpetual “sun-grin” expanded visibly as he watched Benton’s parka-clad figure disappear around a bend in the river trail.

“Wonder how long he’ll last,” the old fellow speculated, turning to the group on the river bank. “I’ll bet I’ve showed him a dozen times how to tie his snowshoes to his feet, an’ I’ve told him little things about pitchin’ his tent and makin’ camp, till I’m black in the face. It’ll be three-four weeks yet before mushin’ll be any good, but I’ve got a right good notion to load up the old Yukon sled an’ take out after that young chechahco.”

“An’ why?”

The old-timer had paused for that query. The question certainly gave pith and point to the clever thing on the tip of his tongue. The remark would have lost its savor in the telling; the retort, however, was pungent.