large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/sun_dog_trail_london_jwt_64kb_196
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/sun_dog_trail_london_jwt_64kb
English
506
Their eyes are toil mad and hunger mad, and burn like fire deep in their heads. Their faces are like the faces of people who have died of hunger, and their cheeks are black with the dead flesh of many freezings. 'Let us go on,' says the man. THEIR EYES ARE TOIL MAD AND HUNGER MAD AND BURN LIKE FIRE DEEP IN THEIR HEADS THEIR FACES ARE LIKE THE FACES OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED OF HUNGER AND THEIR CHEEKS ARE BLACK WITH THE DEAD FLESH OF MANY FREEZINGS LET US GO ON SAYS THE MAN
hy does Sitka Charley live? I ask myself. Why does Sitka Charley work hard, and go hungry, and have all this pain? For seven hundred and fifty dollars a month, I make the answer, and I know it is a foolish answer. Also is it a true answer. And after that never again do I care for money. For that day a large wisdom came to me. There was a great light, and I saw clear, and I knew that it was not for money that a man must live, but for a happiness that no man can give, or buy, or sell, and that is beyond all value of all money in the world. "In the morning we come upon the last-night camp of the man who is before us. It is a poor camp, the kind a man makes who is hungry and without strength. On the snow there are pieces of blanket and of canvas, and I know what has happened. His dogs have eaten their harness, and he has made new harness out of his blankets. The man and woman stare hard at what is to be seen, and as I look at them my back feels the chill as of a cold wind against the skin. Y I HAVE STRANGE THOUGHTS WHY DOES SITKA CHARLI LIVE I ASKED MYSELF WHY DOES SITKA CHARLIE WORK HARD AND GO HUNGRY AND HAVE ALL THIS PAIN FOR SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS A MONTH I MAKE THE ANSWER AND I KNOW IT IS A FOOLISH ANSWER ALSO IS IT A TRUE ANSWER AND AFTER THAT NEVER AGAIN DO I CARE FOR MONEY FOR THAT DAY A LARGE WISDOM CAME TO ME THERE WAS A GREAT LIGHT AND I SAW CLEAR AND I KNEW THAT IT WAS NOT FOR MONEY THAT A MAN MUST LIVE BUT FOR A HAPPINESS THAT NO MAN CAN GIVE OR BUY OR SELL AND THAT IS BEYOND ALL VALUE OF ALL MONEY IN THE WORLD IN THE MORNING WE COME UPON THE LAST NIGHT CAMP OF THE MAN WHO IS BEFORE US IT IS A POOR CAMP THE KIND A MAN MAKES WHO IS HUNGRY AND WITHOUT STRENGTH ON THE SNOW THERE ARE PIECES OF BLANKET AND OF CANVAS AND I KNOW WHAT HAS HAPPENED HIS DOGS HAVE EATEN THEIR HARNESS AND HE HAS MADE NEW HARNESS OUT OF HIS BLANKETS THE MAN AND WOMAN STARE HARD AT WHAT IS TO BE SEEN AND AS I LOOK AT THEM MY BACK FEELS THE CHILL AS OF A COLD WIND AGAINST THE SKIN
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