Charles and Hal wrangled whenever Mercedes gave them a chance. It was
the cherished belief of each that he did more than his share of the
work, and neither forbore to speak this belief at every opportunity.
Sometimes Mercedes sided with her husband, sometimes with her brother.
The result was a beautiful and unending family quarrel. Starting from a
dispute as to which should chop a few sticks for the fire (a dispute
which concerned only Charles and Hal), presently would be lugged in the
rest of the family, fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, people thousands
of miles away, and some of them dead. That Hal s views on art, or the
sort of society plays his mother s brother wrote, should have anything
to do with the chopping of a few sticks of firewood, passes
comprehension; nevertheless the quarrel was as likely to tend in that
direction as in the direction of Charles s political prejudices. And
that Charles s sister s tale-bearing tongue should be relevant to the
building of a Yukon fire, was apparent only to Mercedes, who
disburdened herself of copious opinions upon that topic, and
incidentally upon a few other traits unpleasantly peculiar to her
husband s family. In the meantime the fire remained unbuilt, the camp
half pitched, and the dogs unfed.
Mercedes nursed a special grievance the grievance of sex. She was
pretty and soft, and had been chivalrously treated all her days. But
the present treatment by her husband and brother was everything save
chivalrous. It was her custom to be helpless. They complained. Upon
which impeachment of what to her was her most essential
sex-prerogative, she made their lives unendurable. She no longer
considered the dogs, and because she was sore and tired, she persisted
in riding on the sled. She was pretty and soft, but she weighed one
hundred and twenty pounds a lusty last straw to the load dragged by the
weak and starving animals. She rode for days, till they fell in the
traces and the sled stood still. Charles and Hal begged her to get off
and walk, pleaded with her, entreated, the while she wept and
importuned Heaven with a recital of their brutality.
On one occasion they took her off the sled by main strength. They never
did it again. She let her legs go limp like a spoiled child, and sat
down on the trail. They went on their way, but she did not move. After
they had travelled three miles they unloaded the sled, came back for
her, and by main strength put her on the sled again.
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