Transcribed from the 1919 Mills and Boon edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org LOST FACE BY JACK LONDON AUTHOR OF “THE JACKET,” “THE VALLEY OF THE MOON,” ETC. * * * * * ENTIRELY UNABRIDGED * * * * * MILLS & BOON, LIMITED 49 RUPERT STREET LONDON, W. 1 * * * * * _First Published_ _1916_ _Second Impression_ _1917_ _Third Impression_ _1918_ _Fourth Impression_ _1919_ * * * * * _Copyright in the United States of America by Jack London_ CONTENTS PAGE LOST FACE 11 TRUST 29 TO BUILD A FIRE 47 THAT SPOT 71 FLUSH OF GOLD 85 THE PASSING OF MARCUS O’BRIEN 106 THE WIT OF PORPORTUK 124 LOST FACE It was the end. Subienkow had travelled a long trail of bitterness and horror, homing like a dove for the capitals of Europe, and here, farther away than ever, in Russian America, the trail ceased. He sat in the snow, arms tied behind him, waiting the torture. He stared curiously before him at a huge Cossack, prone in the snow, moaning in his pain. The men had finished handling the giant and turned him over to the women. That they exceeded the fiendishness of the men, the man’s cries attested. Subienkow looked on, and shuddered. He was not afraid to die. He had carried his life too long in his hands, on that weary trail from Warsaw to Nulato, to shudder at mere dying. But he objected to the torture. It offended his soul. And this offence, in turn, was not due to the mere pain he must endure, but to the sorry spectacle the pain would make of him. He knew that he would pray, and beg, and entreat, even as Big Ivan and the others that had gone before. This would not be nice. To pass out bravely and cleanly, with a smile and a jest—ah! that would have been the way. But to lose control, to have his soul upset by the pangs of the flesh, to screech and gibber like an ape, to become the veriest beast—ah, that was what was so terrible.