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The Faith of Men
The Faith of Men
By Jack London
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The Faith of Men
A RELIC OF THE PLIOCENE
I wash my hands of him at the start。 I cannot father his tales； nor will
I be responsible for them。 I make these preliminary reservations； observe；
as a guard upon my own integrity。 I possess a certain definite position in
a small way； also a wife； and for the good name of the community that
honours my existence with its approval； and for the sake of her posterity
and mine； I cannot take the chances I once did； nor foster probabilities
with the careless improvidence of youth。 So； I repeat； I wash my hands
of him； this Nimrod； this mighty hunter； this homely； blue…eyed； freckle…
faced Thomas Stevens。
Having been honest to myself； and to whatever prospective olive
branches my wife may be pleased to tender me； I can now afford to be
generous。 I shall not criticize the tales told me by Thomas Stevens； and；
further； I shall withhold my judgment。 If it be asked why； I can only add
that judgment I have none。 Long have I pondered； weighed； and
balanced； but never have my conclusions been twice the sameforsooth！
because Thomas Stevens is a greater man than I。 If he have told truths；
well and good； if untruths； still well and good。 For who can prove？ or
who disprove？ I eliminate myself from the proposition； while those of
little faith may do as I have donego find the same Thomas Stevens； and
discuss to his face the various matters which； if fortune serve； I shall relate。
As to where he may be found？ The directions are simple： anywhere
between 53 north latitude and the Pole； on the one hand； and； on the other；
the likeliest hunting grounds that lie between the east coast of Siberia and
farthermost Labrador。 That he is there； somewhere； within that clearly
defined territory； I pledge the word of an honourable man whose
expectations entail straight speaking and right living。
Thomas Stevens may have toyed prodigiously with truth； but when we
first met （it were well to mark this point）； he wandered into my camp
when I thought myself a thousand miles beyond the outermost post of
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The Faith of Men
civilization。 At the sight of his human face； the first in weary months； I
could have sprung forward and folded him in my arms （and I am not by
any means a demonstrative man）； but to him his visit seemed the most
casual thing under the sun。 He just strolled into the light of my camp；
passed the time of day after the custom of men on beaten trails； threw my
snowshoes the one way and a couple of dogs the other； and so made room
for himself by the fire。 Said he'd just dropped in to borrow a pinch of soda
and to see if I had any decent tobacco。 He plucked forth an ancient pipe；
loaded it with painstaking care； and； without as much as by your leave；
whacked half the tobacco of my pouch into his。 Yes； the stuff was fairly
good。 He sighed with the contentment of the just； and literally absorbed
the smoke from the crisping yellow flakes； and it did my smoker's heart
good to behold him。
Hunter？ Trapper？ Prospector？ He shrugged his shoulders No；
just sort of knocking round a bit。 Had come up from the Great Slave
some time since； and was thinking of trapsing over into the Yukon country。
The factor of Koshim had spoken about the discoveries on the Klondike；
and he was of a mind to run over for a peep。 I noticed that he spoke of
the Klondike in the archaic vernacular； calling it the Reindeer Rivera
conceited custom that the Old Timers employ against the CHECHAQUAS
and all tenderfeet in general。 But he did it so naively and as such a matter
of course； that there was no sting； and I forgave him。 He also had it in
view； he said； before he crossed the divide into the Yukon； to make a little
run up Fort o' Good Hope way。
Now Fort o' Good Hope is a far journey to the north； over and beyond
the Circle； in a place where the feet of few men have trod； and when a
nondescript ragamuffin comes in out of the night； from nowhere in
particular； to sit by one's fire and discourse on such in terms of 〃trapsing〃
and 〃a little run；〃 it is fair time to rouse up and shake off the dream。
Wherefore I looked about me； saw the fly and； underneath； the pine
boughs spread for the sleeping furs； saw the grub sacks； the camera； the
frosty breaths of the dogs circling on the edge of the light； and； above； a
great streamer of the aurora； bridging the zenith from south…east to north…
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The Faith of Men
west。 I shivered。 There is a magic in the Northland night； that steals in
on one like fevers from malarial marshes。 You are clutched and downed
before you are aware。 Then I looked to the snowshoes； lying prone and
crossed where he had flung them。 Also I had an eye to my tobacco pouch。
Half； at least； of its goodly store had vamosed。 That settled it。 Fancy had
not tricked me after all。
Crazed with suffering； I thought； looking steadfastly at the man one
of those wild stampeders； strayed far from his bearings and wandering like
a lost soul through great vastnesses and unknown deeps。 Oh； well； let his
moods slip on； until； mayhap； he gathers his tangled wits together。 Who
knows？the mere sound of a fellow… creature's voice may bring all
straight again。
So I led him on in talk； and soon I marvelled； for he talked of game
and the ways thereof。 He had killed the Siberian wolf of westernmost
Alaska； and the chamois in the secret Rockies。 He averred he knew the
haunts where the last buffalo still roamed； that he had hung on the flanks
of the caribou when they ran by the hundred thousand； and slept in the
Great Barrens on the musk…ox's winter trail。
And I shifted my judgment accordingly （the first revision； but by no
account the last）； and deemed him a monumental effigy of truth。 Why it
was I know not； but the spirit moved me to repeat a tale told to me by a
man who had dwelt in the land too long to know better。 It was of the
great bear that hugs the steep slopes of St Elias； never descending to the
levels of the gentler inclines。 Now God so constituted this creature for its
hillside habitat that the legs of one side are all of a foot longer than those
of the other。 This is mighty convenient； as will be reality admitted。 So I
hunted this rare beast in my own name； told it in the first person； present
tense； painted the requisite locale； gave it the necessary garnishings and
touches of verisimilitude； and looked to see the man stunned by the recital。
Not he。 Had he doubted； I could have forgiven him。 Had he
objected； denying the dangers of such a hunt by virtue of the animal's
inability to turn about and go the other wayhad he done this； I say； I
could have taken him by the hand for the true sportsman that he was。
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Not he。 He sniffed； looked on me； and sniffed again； then gave my
tobacco due praise； thrust one foot into my lap； and bade me examine the
gear。 It was a MUCLUC of the Innuit pattern； sewed together with sinew
threads； and devoid of beads or furbelows。 But it was the skin itself that
was remarkable。 In that it was all of half an inch thick； it reminded me of
walrus…hide； but there the resemblance ceased； for no walrus ever bore so
marvellous a growth of hair。 On the side and ankles this hair was well…
nigh worn