"All the same, we'll go on to Dawson." He uncoiled his whip.

"Get up there, Buck! Hi! Get up there! Mush on!" Thornton went on whittling.

It was idle, he knew, to get between a fool and his folly; while two or three fools more or less would not alter the scheme of things.
But the team did not get up at the command.

It had long since passed into the stage where blows were required to rouse it.

The whip flashed out, here and there, on its merciless errands.