LOVE OF LIFE
and other stories
by
JACK LONDON
author of “the call of the wild,” “people
of the abyss,” etc., etc.
New York
published for
THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS COMPANY
by the macmillan company
London: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.
1913
All rights reserved
Copyright, 1906,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1907. Reprinted December, 1907;December, 1911. October, 1913.
LOVE OF LIFE
“This out of all will remain—
They have lived and have tossed:
So much of the game will be gain,
Though the gold of the dice has beenlost.”
They limped painfully down the bank, and once the foremost ofthe two men staggered among the rough-strewn rocks. Theywere tired and weak, and their faces had the drawn expression ofpatience which comes of hardship long endured. They wereheavily burdened with blanket packs which were strapped to theirshoulders. Head-straps, passing across the forehead, helpedsupport these packs. Each man carried a rifle. Theywalked in a stooped posture, the shoulders well forward, the headstill farther forward, the eyes bent upon the ground.
“I wish we had just about two of them cartridgesthat’s layin’ in that cache of ourn,” said thesecond man.
His voice was utterly and drearily expressionless. Hespoke without enthusiasm; and the first man, limping into themilky stream that foamed over the rocks, vouchsafed no reply.
The other man followed at his heels. They did not removetheir foot-gear, though the water was icy cold—so cold thattheir ankles ached and their feet went numb. In places thewater dashed against their knees, and both men staggered forfooting.
The man who followed slipped on a smooth boulder, nearly fell,but recovered himself with a violent effort, at the same timeuttering a sharp exclamation of pain. He seemed faint anddizzy and put out his free hand while he reeled, as thoughseeking support against the air. When he had steadiedhimself he stepped forward, but reeled again and nearlyfell. Then he stood still and looked at the other man, whohad never turned his head.
The man stood still for fully a minute, as though debatingwith himself. Then he called out:
“I say, Bill, I’ve sprained my ankle.”
Bill staggered on through the milky water. He did notlook around. The man watched him go, and though his facewas expressionless as ever, his eyes were like the eyes of awounded deer.
The other man limped up the farther bank and continuedstraight on without looking back. The man in the streamwatched him. His lips trembled a little, so that the roughthatch of brown hair which covered them was visiblyagitated. His tongue even strayed out to moisten them.
“Bill!” he cried out.
It was the pleading cry of a strong man in distress, butBill’s head did not turn. The man watched him go,l