Astotheshantyitself，Canutehadbuiltitwithoutaidofanykind，forwhenhefirstsquattedalongthebanksofRattlesnakeCreektherewasnotahumanbeingwithintwentymiles。Itwasbuiltoflogssplitinhalves，thechinksstoppedwithmudandplaster。Theroofwascoveredwithearthandwassupportedbyonegiganticbeamcurvedintheshapeofaroundarch。Itwasalmostimpossiblethatanytreehadevergrowninthatshape。TheNorwegiansusedtosaythatCanutehadtakenthelogacrosshiskneeandbentitintotheshapehewished。Thereweretworooms，orrathertherewasoneroomwithapartitionmadeofashsaplingsinterwovenandboundtogetherlikebigstrawbasketwork。Inonecornertherewasacookstove，rustedandbroken。Intheotherabedmadeofunplanedplanksandpoles。itwasfullyeightfeetlong，anduponitwasaheapofdarkbedclothing。Therewasachairandabenchofcolossalproportions。

　　Therewasanordinarykitchencupboardwithafewcrackeddirtydishesinit，andbesideitonatallboxatinwashbasin。Underthebedwasapileofpintflasks，somebroken，somewhole，allempty。Onthewoodboxlayapairofshoesofalmostincredibledimensions。Onthewallhungasaddle，agun，andsomeraggedclothing，conspicuousamongwhichwasasuitofdarkcloth，apparentlynew，withapapercollarcarefullywrappedinaredsilkhandkerchiefandpinnedtothesleeve。Overthedoorhungawolfandabadgerskin，andonthedooritselfabraceofthirtyorfortysnakeskinswhosenoisytailsrattledominouslyeverytimeitopened。Thestrangestthingsintheshantywerethewidewindowsills。Atfirstglancetheylookedasthoughtheyhadbeenruthlesslyhackedandmutilatedwithahatchet，butoncloserinspectionallthenotchesandholesinthewoodtookformandshape。Thereseemedtobeaseriesofpictures。Theywere，inaroughway，artistic，butthefigureswereheavyandlabored，asthoughtheyhadbeencutveryslowlyandwithveryawkwardinstruments。Thereweremenplowingwithlittlehornedimpssittingontheirshouldersandontheirhorses’heads。Thereweremenprayingwithaskullhangingovertheirheadsandlittledemonsbehindthemmockingtheirattitudes。Thereweremenfightingwithbigserpents，andskeletonsdancingtogether。Allaboutthesepictureswerebloomingvinesandfoliagesuchasnevergrewinthisworld，andcoiledamongthebranchesofthevinestherewasalwaysthescalybodyofaserpent，andbehindeveryflowertherewasaserpent’shead。ItwasaveritableDanceofDeathbyonewhohadfeltitssting。Inthewoodboxlaysomeboards，andeveryinchofthemwascutupinthesamemanner。Sometimestheworkwasveryrudeandcareless，andlookedasthoughthehandoftheworkmanhadtrembled。Itwouldsometimeshavebeenhardtodistinguishthemenfromtheirevilgeniusesbutforonefact，themenwerealwaysgraveandwereeithertoilingorpraying，whilethedevilswerealwayssmilinganddancing。Severaloftheseboardshadbeensplitforkindlinganditwasevidentthattheartistdidnotvaluehisworkhighly。

　　ItwasthefirstdayofwinterontheDivide。Canutestumbledintohisshantycarryingabasketof。cobs，andafterfillingthestove，satdownonastoolandcrouchedhissevenfootframeoverthefire，staringdrearilyoutofthewindowatthewidegraysky。Heknewbyhearteveryindividualclumpofbunchgrassinthemilesofredshaggyprairiethatstretchedbeforehiscabin。Heknewitinallthedeceitfullovelinessofitsearlysummer，inallthebitterbarrennessofitsautumn。HehadseenitsmittenbyalltheplaguesofEgypt。Hehadseenitparchedbydrought，andsoggedbyrain，beatenbyhail，andsweptbyfire，andinthegrasshopperyearshehadseeniteatenasbareandcleanasbonesthatthevultureshaveleft。Afterthegreatfireshehadseenitstretchformilesandmiles，blackandsmokingasthefloorofhell。

　　Heroseslowlyandcrossedtheroom，dragginghisbigfeetheavilyasthoughtheywereburdenstohim。Helookedoutofthewindowintothehogcorralandsawthepigsburyingthemselvesinthestrawbeforetheshed。Theleadengraycloudswerebeginningtospillthemselves，andthesnowflakesweresettlingdownoverthewhiteleprouspatchesoffrozenearthwherethehogshadgnawedeventhesodaway。Heshudderedandbegantowalk，tramplingheavilywithhisungainlyfeet。HewasthewreckoftenwintersontheDivideandheknewwhatthatmeant。MenfearthewintersoftheDivideasachildfearsnightorasmenintheNorthSeasfearthestilldarkcoldofthepolartwilight。Hiseyesfelluponhisgun，andhetookitdownfromthewallandlookeditover。Hesatdownontheedgeofhisbedandheldthebarreltowardshisface，lettinghisforeheadrestuponit，andlaidhisfingeronthetrigger。Hewasperfectlycalm，therewasneitherpassionnordespairinhisface，butthethoughtfullookofamanwhoisconsidering。Presentlyhelaiddownthegun，andreachingintothecupboard，drewoutapintbottleofrawwhitealcohol。Liftingittohislips，hedrankgreedily。Hewashedhisfaceinthetinbasinandcombedhisroughhairandshaggyblondbeard。Thenhestoodinuncertaintybeforethesuitofdarkclothesthathungonthewall。Forthefiftiethtimehetooktheminhishandsandtriedtosummoncouragetoputthemon。Hetookthepapercollarthatwaspinnedtothesleeveofthecoatandcautiouslyslippeditunderhisroughbeard，lookingwithtimidexpectancyintothecracked，splashedglassthathungoverthebench。Withashortlaughhethrewitdownonthebed，andpullingonhisoldblackhat，hewentout，strikingoffacrossthelevel。

　　Itwasaphysicalnecessityforhimtogetawayfromhiscabinonceinawhile。Hehadbeentherefortenyears，diggingandplowingandsowing，andreapingwhatlittlethehailandthehotwindsandthefrostslefthimtoreap。InsanityandsuicideareverycommonthingsontheDivide。Theycomeonlikeanepidemicinthehotwindseason。ThosescorchingdustywindsthatblowupoverthebluffsfromKansasseemtodryupthebloodinmen’sveinsastheydothesapinthecornleaves。Whenevertheyellowscorchcreepsdownoverthetenderinsideleavesabouttheear，thenthecoronersprepareforactiveduty；fortheoilofthecountryisburnedoutanditdoesnottakelongfortheflametoeatupthewick。ItcausesnogreatsensationtherewhenaDaneisfoundswingingtohisownwindmilltower，andmostofthePolesaftertheyhavebecometoocarelessanddiscouragedtoshavethemselveskeeptheirrazorstocuttheirthroatswith。

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