own sight; but she gave no sign. The leader stood aside, and one by
one, and never more than one at a time, they made the perilous passage.
At the bend in the middle their weight forced the tree under, and they
felt for their footing, up to the ankles in the cold, driving torrent.
Even the little children made it without hesitancy, and then the dogs
whining and reluctant but urged on by the man. When the last had
crossed over, he turned to Frona.

"Um horse trail," he said, pointing up the mountain side. "Much better
you take um horse trail. More far; much better."

But she shook her head and waited till he reached the farther bank; for
she felt the call, not only upon her own pride, but upon the pride of
her race; and it was a greater demand than her demand, just as the race
was greater than she. So she put foot upon the log, and, with the eyes
of the alien people upon her, walked down into the foam-white swirl.


She came upon a man weeping by the side of the trail. His pack,
clumsily strapped, sprawled on the ground. He had taken off a shoe,
and one naked foot showed swollen and blistered.

"What is the matter?" she asked, halting before him.

He looked up at her, then down into the depths where the Dyea River cut
the gloomy darkness with its living silver. The tears still welled in
his eyes, and he sniffled.

"What is the matter?" she repeated. "Can I be of any help?"