Jack London

It was in all the papers at the time. Men searching in the Artic had found a yellow metal. Gold. A mad fever spread as far as word can travel, and thousands more rushed to the North to try their luck. These men needed dogs. Big dogs with strong muscles to pull their sleds.

This is a map of the Yukon. My son was always reading adventure stories, crazy about the news coming out of the Yukon. Wasn't the gold, he didn't care about that, it was the mountains. He spent all day looking at maps and pictures of the mountains, dreaming about was on the other side, places no one had been, wild places. We could go, you and me, see what's out there. What do you think?

There's a place in these mountains where a new breed of timber wolf roams, wiser than men or wolf, because of the dog that runs at the head of a pack. Now… they live without fear, raise their young and flourish.

Some say that's the legend. Not so. You see, I knew him once, when he was just a dog at a men side. And even all this land is his, every summer, when he comes down to the valley, he remembers kind hands and old masters... before he went to his own... became his own master... before he heard the call.

There's just gotta be a place up ahead where men ain't low-down and poker's played fair. If there weren't, what are all the songs about? I'll see y'all there. And we can sing together and shake our heads over all the meanness in the used-to-be.

Don't let my white duds and pleasant demeanor fool ya. I, too, have been known to violate the statutes of man… and not a few of the laws of the Almighty!

Sir, it seems that you're are a no better a judge of human beings than you are a specimen of one. Just on a brief inventory I'd say you could use yourself a shave and a better disposition. And lastly, if you don't my mind me aspersing your friends... a better class of drinking buddies.

I ain't got but the one bullet left. Sure hope I don't miss!

Let me see here. His heart would be on the left, but in the mirror it'd be on the right... of course, we is both facing the same way and the gun is upside down, so... Yeah, best not play it too fancy.

Cause for reflection!

Surly Joe, the gambler, he will gamble nevermore, his days of stud and hold'em they are done. It was long about last April, he stepped into this saloon, but he never really took to anyone! Surly Joe, Surly Joe! Oh, wherever he's damned and now, I don't know! He was slick but I was slicker, he was quick, but I was quicker, and the table stopped his ticker, Surly Joe! Surly Joe, Surly Joe! Won't be missed by anyone, will Surly Joe! Humankind he frowned upon, but not now, his face is gone! Guess your frowning days are over, oh Surly Joe! Surly Joe, Surly Joe! A cedilla on the "c" of Curly Joe! He was mean in days of yore, now they're moppin up the floor oh Surly Joe! Surly Joe, Surly Joe! Where the rest his face has got to, we don't know! He was never any fun, now his grumpy race has run, kisser blown to kingdom come oh Surly Joe!

I'm not a devious man by nature... but when you're unarmed, your tactics might gonna be downright Archimedean.

I'd like me a splash of whiskey to wash the trail dust off my gullet and keep my singing voice in fettle.

Misanthrope? I don't hate my fellow man, even when he's tiresome and surly and tries to cheat at poker. I figure that's just a human material, and him that finds in it cause for anger and dismay is just a fool for expecting better.

Another young fella with something to prove. I gotta set myself up in the undertaking business. Stop doing all the skill work so another man can profit. But then, do I want to wear a black suit?

A song never fails to ease my mind out here in the West, where the distances are great and the scenery monotonous. Additionally, my pleasing baritone seems to inspirit ol' Dan here and keep him in good heart during the day's measure of hoof clops. Ain't that right, Dan?

Maybe some of y'all have heard of me. Buster Scruggs, known to some as the San Saba Songbird. I got other handles, nicknames, appellations, and cognomens. But this one here I don't consider to be even halfway earned.

"Misanthrope"? I don't hate my fellow man, even when he's tiresome and surly and tries to cheat at poker. I figure that's just a human material, and him that finds in it cause for anger and dismay is just a fool for expecting better. Ain't that right, Dan?

I got to set myself up, in the undertaking business. Stop doing all the skill work, so another man can profit. But, then, do I want to wear a black suit?