Gold-Seeking on the Dalton Trail
by Arthur R. Thompson · English · Gutenberg #46503 · 470,516 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Gold-Seeking on the Dalton Trail
Author: Arthur R. Thompson
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Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLD-SEEKING ON THE DALTON TRAIL ***
[Illustration: SLEDDING UP THE CHILKAT VALLEY]
GOLD-SEEKING
ON THE DALTON TRAIL
_BEING THE ADVENTURES OF TWO
NEW ENGLAND BOYS IN ALASKA
AND THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY_
BY
ARTHUR R. THOMPSON
Illustrated
BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1900
_Copyright, 1900_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
UNIVERSITY PRESS · JOHN WILSON AND SON · CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
TO
My Comrade of Many Camp-Fires
DEXTER WADLEIGH LEWIS
PREFACE
Among my first passions was that for exploration. The Unknown--that
region of mysteries lying upon the outskirts of commonplace
environment--drew me with a mighty attraction. My earliest
recollections are of wanderings into the domains of the neighbors, and
of excursions--not infrequently in direct contravention to parental
warnings--over fences, stone-walls, and roofs, and into cobwebbed
attics, fragrant hay-lofts, and swaying tree-tops. Of my favorite tree,
a sugar maple, I remember that, so thoroughly did I come to know every
one of its branches, I could climb up or down unhesitatingly with eyes
shut. At that advanced stage of acquaintance, however, it followed
naturally that the mysteriousness, and hence the subtle attractiveness,
of my friend the maple was considerably lessened.
By degrees the boundary line of the unknown was pushed back into
surrounding fields. Wonderful caves were hollowed in sandy banks.
Small pools, to the imaginative eyes of the six-year-old, became
lakes abounding with delightful adventures. The wintry alternations
of freezing and thawing were processes to be observed with closest
attention and never-failing interest. Nature displayed some new charm
with every mood.
There came a day when I looked beyond the fields, when even the river,
sluggish and muddy in summer, a broad, clear torrent in spring, was
known from end to end. Then it was that the range of low mountains--to
me sublime in loftiness--at the western horizon held my fascinated
gaze. To journey thither on foot became ambition's end and aim. This
feat, at first regarded as undoubtedly beyond the powers of man unaided
by horse and carry-all (the thing had once been done in that manner on
the occasion of a picnic), was at length proved possible.
What next? Like Alexander, I sought new worlds. Nothing less than real
camping out could satisfy that hitherto unappeasable longing. This
dream was realized in due season among the mountains of New Hampshire;
but the craving, far from losing its keenness, was whetted. Of late it
has been fed, but never satiated, by wider rovings on land and sea.
Perhaps it is in the blood and can never be eliminated.
Believing that this restlessness, accompanied by the love of
adventure and out-of-door life, is natural to every boy, I have
had in mind particularly in the writing of this narrative those
thousands of boys in our cities who are bound within a restricted,
and it may be unromantic, sphere of activity. To them I have wished
to give a glimpse of trail life, not with a view to increasing their
restlessness,--for I have not veiled discomforts and discouragements in
relating enjoyments,--but to enlarge their horizon,--to give them, in
imagination at least, mountain air and appetites, journeys by lake and
river, and an acquaintance with men and conditions as they now exist
in the great Northwest.
The Dalton trail, last year but little known, may soon become a much
travelled highway. With a United States garrison at Pyramid, and the
village of Klukwan a bone of contention between the governments of this
country and Canada, the region which it traverses is coming more and
more into notice. I would only add that natural features, scenery, and
people, have been described faithfully, however inadequately, and the
story throughout is based upon real happenings. Should any of my young
readers pass over the trail to-day in the footsteps of David and Roly,
they would find, save for possible vandalism of Indians or whites, the
cabins on the North Alsek and in the Kah Sha gorge just as they are
pictured, and they could be sure of a welcome from Lucky, Long Peter,
and Coffee Jack.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A LETTER FROM ALASKA 1
II. BUYING AN OUTFIT 7
III. FROM SEATTLE TO PYRAMID HARBOR 18
IV. THE FIRST CAMP 28
V. THE GREAT NUGGET, AND HOW UNCLE WILL HEARD OF IT 38
VI. ROLY IS HURT 47
VII. CAMP AT THE CAVE 54
VIII. SLEDDING 60
IX. KLUKWAN AND THE FORDS 69
X. A PORCUPINE-HUNT AT PLEASANT CAMP 77
XI. THE MYSTERIOUS THIRTY-SIX 88
XII. THE SUMMIT OF CHILKAT PASS 101
XIII. DALTON'S POST 112
XIV. FROM THE STIK VILLAGE TO LAKE DASAR-DEE-ASH 120
XV. STAKING CLAIMS 127
XVI. A CONFLAGRATION 135
XVII. THROUGH THE ICE 142
XVIII. BUILDING THE CABIN 149
XIX. THE FIRST PROSPECT-HOLE 157
XX. ROLY GOES DUCK-HUNTING 166
XXI. LAST DAYS AT PENNOCK'S POST 175
XXII. A HARD JOURNEY 182
XXIII. THE LAKE AFFORDS TWO MEALS AND A PERILOUS CROSSING 192
XXIV. DAVID GETS HIS BEAR-SKIN 201
XXV. MORAN'S CAMP 210
XXVI. HOW THE GREAT NUGGET NEARLY COST THE BRADFORDS DEAR 216
XXVII. AN INDIAN CREMATION 223
XXVIII. THE PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES 231
XXIX. LOST IN THE MOUNTAINS 238
XXX. WASHING OUT THE GOLD 248
XXXI. DAVID MAKES A BOAT-JOURNEY 256
XXXII. CHAMPLAIN'S LANDING 264
XXXIII. ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS 272
XXXIV. RAIDED BY A WOLF 279
XXXV. A LONG MARCH, WITH A SURPRISE AT THE END OF IT 289
XXXVI. HOW DAVID MET THE OFFENDER AND WAS PREVENTED FROM
SPEAKING HIS MIND 297
XXXVII. HOMEWARD BOUND 306
XXXVIII. A CARIBOU, AND HOW IT WAS KILLED 314
XXXIX. DANGERS OF THE SUMMER FORDS 321
XL. SUNDAY IN KLUKWAN 331
XLI. THE ROBBERS AT LAST 339
XLII. PYRAMID, SKAGWAY, AND DYEA.--CONCLUSION 348
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
SLEDDING UP THE CHILKAT VALLEY _Frontispiece_
PYRAMID HARBOR, PYRAMID MOUNTAIN IN THE DISTANCE 26
MAP OF THE DALTON TRAIL 28
A CURIOUS PHENOMENON BESIDE THE TRAIL 89
THE CAMP OF THE MYSTERIOUS THIRTY-SIX 93
"PRESENTLY SOME LITTLE YELLOW SPECKS WERE UNCOVERED" 131
CHILDREN OF THE WILDERNESS 192
RAFTING DOWN THE NORTH ALSEK 265
A HERD OF CATTLE.--YUKON DIVIDE IN THE DISTANCE 267
FORDING THE KLAHEENA 325
"SALMON BY THE THOUSAND" 349
GOLD-SEEKING
ON
THE DALTON TRAIL
CHAPTER I
A LETTER FROM ALASKA
In a large, old-fashioned dwelling which overlooked from its hillside
perch a beautiful city of Connecticut, the Bradford family was
assembled for the evening meal. It was early in February, and the wind,
which now and then whirled the snowflakes against the window-panes,
made the pretty dining-room seem doubly cozy. But Mrs. Bradford
shivered as she poured the tea.
"Just think of poor Will," she said, "away off in that frozen
wilderness! Oh, if we could only know that he is safe and well!" and
the gentle lady's brown eyes sought her husband's face as if for
reassurance.
Mr. Bradford was a tall, strongly built man of forty-five, with
light-brown hair and mustache, and features that betrayed much care
and responsibility. Upon him as treasurer had fallen a great share
of the burden of bringing a large manufacturing establishment through
two years of financial depression, and his admirable constitution had
weakened under the strain. But now a twinkle came into his gray eyes as
he said, "My dear, I hardly think Will is suffering. At least he wasn't
a month ago."
"Why, how do you know?" asked Mrs. Bradford. "Has he written at last?"
For answer Mr. Bradford drew from the depths of an inside pocket a
number of letters, from which he selected one whose envelope was torn
and travel-stained. It bore a Canadian and an American postage stamp,
as if the sender had been uncertain in which country it would be
mailed, and wished to prepare it against either contingency.
At sight of the foreign stamp Ralph,--or "Roly," as he had been known
ever since a certain playmate had called him "Roly-poly" because of his
plumpness,--aged fifteen, was awake in an instant. Up to that moment
his energies had been entirely absorbed in the laudable business of
dulling a very keen appetite, but it quickly became evident that his
instincts as a stamp collector were even keener. He had paused in the
act of raising a bit of bread to his mouth, and made such a comical
figure with his lips expectantly wide apart that his younger sister
Helen, a little maid of nine, was betrayed into a sudden and violent
fit of laughter, in which, in spite of the superior dignity of eighteen
years, their brother David was compelled to join.
"Yes," said Mr. Bradford, "I received a letter from Will this
afternoon. Suppose I read it aloud." Absolute quiet being magically
restored, he proceeded as follows:--
RAINY HOLLOW, CHILKAT PASS, Jan. 9, 1898.
DEAR BROTHER CHARLES,--I am storm-bound at this place, and waiting for
an opportunity to cross the summit, so what better can I do than write
the letter so long deferred?
I have been as far west as the Cook Inlet region, and have acquired
some good coal properties. While there I heard from excellent
authorities that rich gold placers have been discovered on the Dalton
trail, which leads from Pyramid Harbor to Dawson City, at a point about
two hundred miles inland. I thought it best to investigate the truth of
this rumor, and am now on the way to the designated locality, with an
Indian guide and dog-team.
Now, as you know, I was able to take claims for you as well as for
myself in the Cook Inlet country, by the powers of attorney which you
sent me, but in the Canadian territory to which I am going the law does
not allow this, and you can only secure a claim by purchase, or by
being here in person to take it up.
I don't suppose you are in a position to buy claims; but it struck
me, Charles, that it would be a grand good thing if you could leave
that work of yours awhile and rough it in these mountains. You looked
worn out when I saw you last, and you need a change. This is a rugged
country, but a healthful one if a man takes care of himself, and
nothing would do you more good than to take my advice and come. Why not
bring the boys along? Too much schooling isn't good for growing lads,
and they will lose nothing in the long run.
Come prepared to stay six months. I will write our friend Kingsley at
Seattle in regard to your outfit, and will send him directions for
the journey. Start at once, for I think there'll be a rush in this
direction very soon.
You'll be surprised to find how comfortable you can be in your tent
on the snow, even with the mercury below zero. Trust the directions I
shall send to Kingsley, and I'll guarantee you against the suffering
you read of, most of which is the result of ignorance and carelessness.
I send this letter out by an Indian who leaves here to-morrow.
With love to you all, I am,
Your brother,
WILLIAM C. BRADFORD.
"Uncle Will's a brick!" exclaimed Roly, promptly. "Of course we shall
go." Whereupon Helen burst into tears because she was not a boy. David
managed to preserve outward calmness, but his eyes sparkled as he
thought of the wonders he might soon see. As for Mrs. Bradford, she
scarcely knew whether to be sad or glad. She was willing to believe her
enthusiastic brother-in-law would not urge his own relatives to face
unreasonable dangers. But to think of being separated from them half a
year! After all, she could do no better than leave the matter to her
husband.
"Well, Charles," she said quite calmly, "what do you propose to do?"
David and Roly trembled in their seats, while Mr. Bradford regarded
them thoughtfully.
"I am inclined," he said at last, "to think favorably of Will's
proposal, so far as it concerns myself."
At the word "favorably" both boys jumped, but when they heard the last
of the sentence they looked very wretched and crestfallen. They did not
understand the whole of Uncle Will's letter, but there was absolutely
no doubt that he had suggested their coming. David ventured to remind
his father that they were both a year in advance of most boys of their
age in their school-work.
This argument appeared to have weight with Mr. Bradford. He reflected,
too, on the many youthful adventures of his own in the Adirondack
woods, which he had often narrated in their hearing. It was but natural
that they should wish to go. He was bound to admit that they had
studied carefully and well, and had fairly earned an outing. David,
dark-haired and brown-eyed like his mother, had reached the age of
rapid growth. He was shooting up like a weed, and his face was paler
than it should be. Roly was of light complexion, and round and ruddy.
Nothing more could be desired of him in the matter of health, yet his
father knew how keenly he would feel the disappointment if his brother
were permitted to go and he were left behind.
Mr. Bradford looked inquiringly at his wife. "Can you spare them?" he
asked.
It was a hard question. Mrs. Bradford would have preferred to keep the
boys at home, but she had travelled extensively before her marriage,
and knew the value of travel. She was ambitious for her sons and
wished them to have every advantage. But it was not without a flood of
affectionate tears that she consented at last to let them go.
The matter being thus decided, at a sitting, as it were, the evening
was spent in a study of maps and guide-books; and long after they went
to bed the boys lay awake and talked over their good fortune.
CHAPTER II
BUYING AN OUTFIT
In spite of his brother's injunction to hurry, Mr. Bradford was unable
to complete his arrangements until the first of March.
Mrs. Bradford's heart sank as she said "Good-by" to the three, and
watched the train roll away in the distance. Helen, too, was quite awed
by the solemnity of the occasion, but was comforted by the thought that
her Aunt Charlotte was coming in the absence of the rest of the family.
As for the boys, their spirits rose quickly after the sad moments of
parting, it being the pleasant privilege of youth to see only bright
skies ahead, and to leave responsibility to wiser brains. Neither David
nor Roly had been beyond New York, and the next few days were filled
with novel sights and experiences.
How strange it seemed to sit down to one of the little tables in the
dining-car, with its white spread and dainty dishes, and calmly make a
meal while being whirled through the country at sixty miles an hour!
But that was nothing to the sensation of lying in bed in a long,
dimly lighted sleeping-car which seemed to be flying through space.
What a delicious sense of motion! What power and speed the swaying on
the curves betrayed! Now they hear the hollow roar of a bridge, then
presently the deadened sound of the firm ground again; and they know
they are passing through a village when they recognize the clattering
echoes from freight-cars on a siding. And now the electric lights of
a large town gleam through the windows, and the train slows down and
stops. There is a babel of voices, the rumble of a truck along the
platform, the clink of a hammer against the car-wheels, and at last the
distant "All aboard!" and they are off again.
It was a long, long journey, and the boys realized as never before
the length and resources of their country. They crossed the snowy
prairies of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, made a flying change of cars
at Chicago, passed through Wisconsin in a night, and found themselves
at St. Paul on the Mississippi, where, in the course of their rambles
about the city, David petitioned for a camera,--a petition which Mr.
Bradford willingly granted.
They crossed Minnesota that night, and North Dakota with its prairies
and Bad Lands the next day.
At Mandan the boys discovered near the station a taxidermist's shop in
which were finely mounted heads of moose, antelope, and buffalo,--the
latter worth two hundred dollars apiece. Stuffed but very lifelike
foxes looked craftily out from every corner, and gorgeous birds of
various species were perched all about. There were wonderful Indian
relics, too,--bows and arrows, headdresses of feathers, brightly beaded
moccasins, and great clubs of stone with wooden handles.
Through Montana and Idaho the surface of the country was diversified by
the spurs and peaks of the Rocky Mountains, while in Washington they
passed alternately through fertile tracts dotted with ranches, and
barren, sandy plains where only the gray sage-bushes thrived.
As in the Rockies, two engines were required to draw the heavy train
up the slopes of the Cascade Range. Through a whole afternoon the
scenery was of the most beautiful description. They wound about the
forest-covered heights, now through a dark tunnel or a snowshed, now
along the edge of a precipice from which they could see the winding
valley far below and the snow-crowned peaks beyond. The change from the
sandy barrens to the deep snows and rich forests of the mountains was
as refreshing as it was sudden. Darkness was falling over the landscape
when the highest point of the pass was gained. The laborious puffing
and panting of the engines ceased, and the train ran swiftly down the
grades by the simple force of gravitation. Late that evening, after a
brief stop at Tacoma, they rumbled into Seattle,--six days from New
York.
Mr. Kingsley, who had been notified by telegraph of the time of
arrival, awaited the Bradfords on the platform. He shook Mr.
Bradford's hand warmly. They had been chums in their boyhood days, and
many years had passed since they had seen each other. The boys were
then introduced, and he greeted them cordially. He insisted that they
should stay at his home while they were in the city, and led the way to
a carriage, first cautioning Mr. Bradford against pickpockets, of whom
there were many in town at that time.
They were driven rapidly through lighted business streets, then up
several steep hills, and presently the carriage stopped before a
pleasant house, surrounded by a wide lawn with shrubs and shade trees,
some of which were putting forth green buds. Here Mrs. Kingsley and her
daughter Flora, aged fifteen, received the travellers.
David was awakened from a most refreshing slumber next morning by the
songs of birds outside his window. He roused Roly, and together they
jumped up and looked out. Below them to the west lay the city, and
beyond it sparkled the waters of Puget Sound. Beyond the Sound towered
a range of majestic snowy peaks which, they afterward learned, were
the Olympic Mountains. Turning to the south window, they saw in the
southeast the graceful form of Mount Rainier looming over fourteen
thousand feet into the clouds. It was a glorious morning, bright and
balmy.
At the breakfast table Mr. Kingsley said he had received full
directions regarding their needs on the trail, together with a rough
map of the country through which they were to travel. He was a jolly,
red-faced man, and the boys were sorry he was not going to accompany
them. He declared, however, when Mr. Bradford suggested it, that he was
too stout to walk so far, and wouldn't be hired to go until he could
ride in a railroad-car.
The entire day was devoted to the purchase of the outfit. As soon as
breakfast was over, Mr. Bradford and the boys, in company with Mr.
Kingsley, boarded a cable-car, which soon carried them down a hill
so steep that it was only with great difficulty that the passengers,
especially those unaccustomed to the performance, kept themselves from
sliding in a heap to the front of the car. Roly thought the sensation a
good deal like tobogganing, except that they did not go so fast.
There was a liveliness and stir in the crowds which thronged the
business streets, betokening the excitement due to the recent gold
discoveries. Hundreds of roughly dressed men crowded into the
outfitting establishments. Many of them were picturesque in yellow
Mackinaw coats, broad-brimmed felt hats, and knee boots. They came from
every State in the Union, but all had a common purpose, and seemed for
the most part strong, brave, good-tempered fellows, ready to laugh at
hardships and able to overcome all sorts of difficulties.
Entering one of the large stores recommended by Mr. Kingsley, Mr.
Bradford opened negotiations for the necessary clothing, aided by the
list which his brother had prepared. Suits of heavy black Mackinaw were
selected, and as time was precious and fit not important, Mr. Bradford
and David were provided for from the ready-made stock. Roly was just
too small for the smallest suit in the store, but the proprietor
promised to make him a suit of the right material and have it ready in
two days. Stout canvas coats and blue overalls were then selected, and
underwear both heavy and light. Blue flannel shirts, rubber gloves for
the work of panning, heavy woollen caps, stockings and mittens, stout
shoes, and broad-brimmed felt hats were added. Then came rubber boots
reaching to the hips, and rubber "packs" for use with the snow-shoes.
Creepers, consisting of leather soles studded with sharp spikes, for
travel over ice, completed the list of footwear.
Owing to the lateness of the season, it was considered best to take
no furs, and very thick blankets and down quilts were substituted for
sleeping-bags. Two small mosquito-proof tents and one larger tent were
next secured.
The morning's work was completed by the selection of various small
articles such as towels, handkerchiefs, mosquito netting to fit over
their hats, toilet articles, a sewing kit, and dark glasses to protect
the eyes from the glare of the snow. They had brought a partial supply
of these things from home, owing to the forethought of good Mrs.
Bradford.
That afternoon the boys were given their freedom, as they could be of
no assistance to their father in the purchase of the hardware. At Mrs.
Kingsley's suggestion, with Flora for a guide, they took a cable-car to
Lake Washington, east of the city, where a great land-slide had wrecked
many houses.
When they returned it was nearly supper-time. Mr. Bradford had
completed his purchases, and the goods had been delivered at the house.
The boys could hardly wait for supper to be over, so eager were they
to rush out into the storeroom and inspect the new supplies, but at
last they were free to go. There stood three pairs of fine snow-shoes
made in Michigan. Mr. Kingsley slyly remarked that he would like to
be present when they first tried to use them, but when Mr. Bradford
observed that he had already been invited, the jolly gentleman
laughed and said he supposed, if he accepted, he would have to be a
participator in the gymnastics instead of a spectator, which might
interfere with his enjoyment of the occasion.
Mr. Bradford now took from its canvas case a double-barrelled shot-gun
of excellent workmanship and very light weight, which he handed to
David. The latter thought at once of the bear-skin which he had already
resolved to bring back to Flora, to whom he had taken a great fancy.
What a delight it would be to own the beautiful weapon now in his
hands! He had no idea that his father was about to test his sense of
fairness.
"I intend," said Mr. Bradford, "to give this gun to one of you boys.
Now, Dave, which do you think ought to have it?"
David found his desire and his generosity at once engaged in a
struggle. He had asked for a camera and received it. Ought he to have
all the good things? Thanks to his affection for Roly and his strong
sense of right, the struggle was brief.
"I think, sir," he replied after a moment, "that if you believe Roly is
old enough and careful enough, he ought to have it," and to prove his
sincerity he immediately turned the gun over to that delighted youth,
who was no less pleased than Mr. Bradford at this outcome. The latter
stepped to the corner of the room and presently returned, holding
something behind his back.
"Since you have made the right decision," said he, smiling, "I'm very
glad to give you this," and he handed to David a fine rifle.
David could hardly realize his good fortune, but he thanked his father
again and again and expressed his pleasure as well as he was able.
Mrs. Kingsley asked Mr. Bradford if he did not fear they would shoot
themselves or somebody else, to which that gentleman replied that
he should personally instruct them in the use of the weapons, and
take care that they were competent and careful before he allowed them
to hunt by themselves. As for himself, he expected to carry only a
revolver.
Outside the door stood three strong sleds, one about six feet long and
the others two feet shorter, which were to carry their supplies. Then
there were bread-tins, a frying-pan, and aluminum kettles and cups,
very light in weight, and made to nest one within another, thus taking
up the smallest possible space. The plates, forks, and spoons were also
of aluminum; but the knives, which required greater strength and a keen
edge, were of steel. There were three handsome hunting-knives and belts.
As his brother had a portable sheet-iron stove, as well as a whip-saw
and other tools, Mr. Bradford omitted those articles, but thought it
best to provide an axe for himself and hatchets for the boys, some
rope, a shovel, a pick, a gold-pan, compasses, fishing-lines and flies,
and a supply of medicines.
A rainstorm set in on the following day, but the boys were not to be
kept in the house. They visited a shipyard where eighteen light-draught
steamers were in process of construction for the Yukon River. Then at
Roly's suggestion they went down to the wharves, where countless great
sea-gulls flew to and fro, dipping occasionally to pick up stray bits
of food. Here they were just in time to witness the arrival of the
ocean steamer "Walla Walla," from San Francisco, with hundreds of
Klondikers on board,--a motley collection of rough-looking men, and not
a few women. They also saw an antiquated steamer with a very loud bass
whistle and a great stern paddle-wheel which churned up the water at a
furious rate.
While the boys were thus occupied, Mr. Bradford had been busy with the
food supply, and reported at the supper table that he had completed the
work, and the provisions had been sent down to the "Farallon,"--the
steamer which was to carry the little party northward. Being desired
by the boys to make known what sort of fare they might expect on the
trail, he read the list of the articles of food, the amount in each
case being estimated as sufficient for six months.
Mr. Kingsley asked if it was not the rule of the Canadian mounted
police to turn back at the boundary line all persons who did not have a
year's supplies, to which Mr. Bradford replied that such was the case
on the Chilkoot and White Pass trails from Dyea and Skagway, but he
understood that so few miners had yet gone in by the Dalton trail from
Pyramid Harbor through the Chilkat River valley that the police had not
yet established a post upon that trail.
The provisions upon Mr. Bradford's list included bacon, salt pork,
ham, flour, corn meal, rolled oats, beans, rice, crystallized eggs;
evaporated fruits such as apples, peaches, apricots, plums, and
prunes; evaporated vegetables, including potatoes, onions, cabbages,
and soup vegetables; raisins, canned butter, hard-tack, baking powder,
sugar, salt, pepper, concentrated vinegar, mustard, tea, coffee, cocoa,
condensed milk, and beef tablets.
With such a variety the boys felt sure they could live very
comfortably, and were surprised that so many fruits and vegetables, and
even butter and eggs, could be had in such convenient forms.
CHAPTER III
FROM SEATTLE TO PYRAMID HARBOR
Late in the afternoon of the following day, the 9th of March, the
travellers embarked on the "Farallon," commanded by the genial Captain
Roberts. The "Farallon" was not as graceful a vessel as the Eastern
steamers to which the boys were accustomed, but she appeared to be
stanch and seaworthy,--qualities eminently to be desired in view of the
six days' voyage of a thousand miles which lay before her.
Her decks were now thronged with hopeful Klondikers of all ages and
descriptions, the majority men, though there were a few brave women who
preferred roughing it with their husbands to staying behind in physical
comfort, but alone. On the bow temporary stalls had been built for a
score of horses intended for use in the coast towns or on the trails.
As the wharf receded David caught a glimpse of a girlish figure and a
face framed in wavy light hair, among the crowd. Flora saw him at the
same moment and waved her handkerchief. How pretty and winsome she
looked! David vowed then and there to bring her that bear-skin at all
hazards. At last, when he could see her no longer, he turned toward
the stateroom on the upper deck abaft the pilot-house, where his father
was stowing away the brown canvas bags which contained their clothing
and such small articles as they would need on the trail.
We must pass rapidly over the events of the voyage, filled though it
was with experiences quite new to the Bradfords. At Victoria, the
pleasant little capital of British Columbia, situated on the southern
point of Vancouver Island, where the steamer remained half a day, Mr.
Bradford procured two mining licenses which gave himself and David the
right to locate claims in Canadian territory, cut timber, and take game
and fish. These licenses cost ten dollars apiece, and no claim could be
legally staked without one. Poor Roly, not having reached the required
age of eighteen, could take neither license nor claim. This business
completed, they wandered through the city, David securing a picture of
the magnificent Parliament building then just finished.
Two days later, after passing up the sheltered Gulf of Georgia and
crossing the broad, blue expanse of Queen Charlotte's Sound, the
steamer entered a narrow waterway between islands on the west and
the mainland of British Columbia on the east. Here the scenery was
of the most bold and rugged description, reminding the travellers of
the Hudson where it breaks through the Catskills. On either side rose
immense mountain masses, covered below to the water's edge with a
virgin forest of spruce, cedar, and hemlock, while from the bleak,
treeless summits the snow could sometimes be seen blowing into the air
like smoke.
"What a pity," exclaimed Mr. Bradford to David and Roly, as they stood
upon the deck gazing about them in admiration, "that the grandeur and
beauty of this coast are so little known! We've been travelling for
hours through this paradise without seeing a hotel, or a cottage, or
even a log-cabin, and yet I believe it will not be long before tourists
will throng to this region. Now there," said he, pointing to a level
plateau on the top of a forest-covered ridge which rose a hundred feet
above the water,--"there is an ideal site for a hotel. It commands a
view of the strait both north and south, and of the mountains in every
direction. No doubt there is a lake in that hollow beyond it, and the
waterfall yonder is its outlet. I should like to spend a summer right
here."
That evening they emerged into Dixon's Entrance, where the open Pacific
tossed them about for several hours until they came again into the lee
of islands. Morning found them at Saxman, a village of the extreme
southern end of Alaska, where the "Farallon" stopped to take on a
passenger.
At Ketchikan, a few miles beyond, there was a good wharf and a
considerable settlement, and here the Bradfords saw for the first
time a raven, which the boys mistook for a crow. Here, too, they first
beheld an Indian totem-pole,--a great tree-trunk carved into grotesque
shapes of beast and bird, and strange caricatures of the human
countenance, all of which doubtless had a significance relating to the
tribe, family, and achievements of the deceased chieftain whose memory
it perpetuated.
David, with the enthusiasm of an amateur, attempted to photograph this
strange column, but as the day was dark and a damp snow was falling, he
failed to obtain first-rate results.
At ten in the evening the lights of Wrangel, or Fort Wrangel, as it is
often called, being a United States military post, came into view. Late
as it was, the Bradfords decided to go ashore, for this was one of the
larger Alaskan towns. The wharf was unlighted save by the steamer's
lamps, but they picked their way without much difficulty. Most of the
townspeople seemed to have retired, and only the saloons and dance
halls showed signs of life. From these places the travellers heard the
strains of a fiddle, or the worn, hard voice of some poor girl doomed
to sing to a throng of rough men amid the glare of lights and the fumes
of beer and bad tobacco.
There were many evidences that the gold excitement had brought a large
if transient population to Wrangel. New frame buildings were in process
of erection all along what appeared to be the main street, which was,
however, utterly impassable for any kind of wheeled vehicle, being a
deep ditch far below the level of the board walk which skirted it. In
this hollow what little light there was revealed logs, lumber, boats,
and mud, and it was evident that at high tide the water filled it. The
buildings were raised on piles to the level of the future highway.
The Bradfords followed the walk with the utmost caution, for some of
the boards were missing and others were broken, and in the darkness an
ankle might be sprained or a leg fractured by one false step. The boys
took turns in going ahead, the leader warning those behind of holes and
pitfalls.
After proceeding thus gingerly for nearly half a mile and passing
several elaborate totem-poles, they found themselves well out of the
business portion of the town and in the midst of a collection of tents
interspersed with cheap frame structures. Here and there on tents and
houses they could dimly distinguish flaming advertisements of museums
and various catch-penny shows, but none of them were open at that
hour. The board walk seemed to lead no farther, so the three carefully
and slowly retraced their steps to the steamer, where a lively scene
presented itself.
Three incandescent lights backed by a powerful reflector had been
rigged on board to illumine the forward deck and hold, from which
freight was being discharged upon the wharf. Captain Roberts informed
them that one hundred tons of freight were to be left at Wrangel, and a
number of the horses and dogs.
"Ah!" said Roly, "I'm glad some of the horses are to go ashore here.
They haven't had a chance to lie down since we left Seattle."
"No," said David; "and I saw two this morning so tired that they went
to sleep standing up. Their eyes were shut, and their heads kept
drooping, drooping, and then popping up again like Mr. Dobson's when he
goes to sleep in church."
Roly laughed. "I only hope," said he, "the poor brutes will have no
worse time on the trail."
Just as dawn was breaking over the town, the "Farallon" took advantage
of high tide to pass through Wrangel Narrows,--a tortuous channel
between low, wooded shores, where the scenery, though of a subdued
character, was exceedingly beautiful. A bark and a barkentine were
aground in this dangerous passage, though buoys and lighthouses were
plentiful; but the steamer emerged safely in due time into broader
waters, and the day passed without special incident until evening, when
they had passed the latitude of Sitka, the Alaskan capital, on Baranoff
Island to the west.
Not long after supper Mr. Bradford and David were reading in the
stateroom and Roly was sitting on the iron grating, through which a
pleasant warmth arose from the engine-room, when they all heard a
bumping sound and felt the steamer tremble. A second later there came
another bump. Instantly bells rang and the engine stopped, while Roly
jumped from the grating, and running to the bridge peered forward into
the darkness. He could see nothing in that direction, nor could Mr.
Bradford and David, who were quickly beside him; but the next moment
a huge block of ice and several smaller fragments grazed along the
steamer's side, and were dimly illuminated by her lights. Then they
understood what had happened.
"She's hit one o' them small icebergs out o' Glacier Bay," they heard
a man say on the deck below them. "There's many of 'em hereabouts, I'm
told, but they ain't big enough to do damage."
"Not if she hits 'em square," said another voice.
Captain Roberts, however, thought it best to be cautious, especially as
he had just broken the bell-wire and could only communicate with the
engine-room by speaking-tube. He sent a man to the bow of the vessel to
watch for ice, and ordered half-speed ahead.
In a few hours they had reached Juneau. It was so late that the
Bradfords did not leave the ship, but they could see by the lights
that Juneau was larger than Wrangel, and contained not a few wooden
buildings of very respectable size and appearance. It was a mystery
how the town could grow any more, however, except straight up in the
air like New York, for it was surrounded by water on two sides, and on
the others by huge barriers of rock two thousand feet high. Across the
strait a few straggling lights disclosed the location of Douglass City
and the famous Treadwell gold mines.
The following day was mild, but the scenery became more Arctic. The
steamer passed up the long inlet known as the Lynn Canal, on either
side of which rose bold peaks crowned with brilliant snow. Glaciers
flowed through the valleys between them,--great frozen rivers which no
summer sun could melt. Of these, one of the largest and most graceful
was the Davidson glacier on the western side of the strait. Ducks were
seen here in countless numbers. Porpoises rolled and played about the
vessel, and Roly caught sight of a seal which bobbed above the water at
intervals.
As they were now nearing the end of the voyage, Mr. Bradford and the
boys wrote letters to send back by the purser. Early in the afternoon
the course was changed slightly to the west, and the steamer entered
Pyramid Harbor, a beautiful circular sheet of water, flanked on the
south by high mountains. Near its eastern side rose a pointed mound of
pyramidal shape, to which the harbor owed its name.
On the southwest shore, under the shadow of the mountains, lay the
little settlement, prominent in which was an extensive salmon cannery.
In front of the cannery two wharves projected toward the bay,--one
high above the beach, designed for use at high tide; the other a
slender affair, longer and lower.
"There must be very high tides here," said Mr. Bradford, observing the
wharves.
"Yes," answered a tall, brown-whiskered man who stood near. "Twenty
foot, if I ain't mistaken. Reminds me o' the Bay o' Fundy, only there
they gen'rally build only one wharf an' give it two stories."
The boys recognized in the speaker the man whom they had heard
discoursing of icebergs on the previous evening.
"The cannery doesn't seem to be running," observed Mr. Bradford.
"No," replied the other; "I b'lieve they only run it in summer. There
ain't no salmon this time o' year."
Mr. Bradford told David to see that everything was ready for landing,
and to bring the clothing bags out upon the deck. The steamer had
blown her whistle as she entered the harbor, and two men could be seen
walking down toward the end of the lower wharf. Mr. Bradford turned his
field-glass upon them. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of surprise
and handed the glass to Roly.
"Do you know either of those men?" he asked.
"Why," said Roly, after he had scrutinized them a moment, "the second
one looks like--no, it can't be. I declare, though, it does look like
him! Yes, it _is_ Uncle Will! But what a big beard he has!"
[Illustration: PYRAMID HARBOR, PYRAMID MOUNTAIN IN THE DISTANCE]
David, hearing these exclamations, came running out of the stateroom,
and joyfully verified the identification. There could be no doubt that
Uncle Will was there, but what had brought him was more than they could
conjecture.
CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST CAMP
The "Farallon" was slowly and carefully brought to the end of the lower
wharf, though the water was so shallow that her screw stirred up the
mud.
Roly and David signalled with their caps and soon attracted Uncle
Will's attention, and that gentleman waved his arms delightedly the
moment he saw them. Meanwhile the cannery watchman had made fast the
steamer's bow and stern lines, the latter to the piling of the higher
wharf, and the other to a large rock on the beach. A few minutes later
the Bradfords had jumped ashore, and the crew had piled their sleds,
provisions, and belongings of all kinds in a promiscuous heap on the
wharf. They were the only passengers to disembark there, for the Dalton
trail was little used. The "Farallon" presently drew in her lines and
backed away with a parting blast of her whistle, to continue her voyage
a few miles farther up Lynn Canal to the head of navigation, whither
the rest of her passengers were bound, some intending to go to the
Klondike by the White Pass trail from Skagway, and others preferring
the Chilkoot trail from Dyea.
[Illustration]
"I didn't expect to find you here, Will," said Mr. Bradford, as he
warmly grasped his brother's hand, "but I'm all the more glad to see
you."
"And I'm delighted to be here to welcome you, Charles. I'll tell you
how it happened when we have a moment to spare. You've brought the
boys, I see. That's right. They'll enjoy the life, and it'll do them
good. Why, I hardly knew David here, he's grown so tall! We'll soon
have some tan on that pale face of his. As for Roly," and he eyed that
healthy specimen of a boy, "about all he seems to need is hard labor
and a bread-and-water diet."
Roly laughed, for he saw the twinkle in his uncle's eye, and had no
fears that such a course of training would be inflicted,--or at least
the bread-and-water part of it.
"Is that good mother of yours well, Roly, and the little girl?" asked
Uncle Will.
"Yes," said Roly.
"And how about the 'Maine?'" continued his uncle, turning to Mr.
Bradford. "I have just heard that she has been blown up at Havana.
Shall we have a war?"
"I hope not," said Mr. Bradford. "It may happen, but such a contest
wouldn't last long."
Uncle Will was of the same opinion. "And now," said he, taking command
of the little party by the tacit consent of all, since he best knew
what was to be done, "let us throw off our coats and carry these goods
to a place of safety. The tide has turned and will soon cover the end
of this wharf. We must get everything up to the level of the cannery
buildings. This is a country of work,--good hard honest labor, of which
no man need be ashamed."
So saying, he stripped off his outer coat and, throwing it over a post,
picked up a fifty-pound bag of flour and swung it lightly across one
shoulder, calling to his brother to place a second bag on the other.
Having thus obtained his hundred-pound load, he started up the incline
to the cannery. Mr. Bradford now followed him, David swinging up the
second bag to his father's shoulder. David took a single bag, finding
that he could not manage two, and Roly staggered along with another.
On the next trip Mr. Bradford advised Roly to bring a bag of dried
apricots, which was lighter, and thus, each carrying what he could, all
the supplies were at length stowed safely above high-water mark.
"Next," said Uncle Will, as he resumed his coat and wiped the
perspiration from his forehead, "we must have these goods taken over
to my camping-place on the west shore of the harbor. Suppose you boys
stand guard while your father and I see if we can get a boat. All
you'll have to do will be to keep the Indian dogs away from the bacon."
The boys assented to this proposal, and the two men walked away in the
direction of the Indian village, which lay not far from the cannery
toward the harbor's mouth, where the watchman said they might find a
canoe.
They had been gone but a few minutes when several Indian men and boys
approached, dressed in the clothing of civilization, but quite ragged
withal, followed by a number of wolfish dogs, which lost no time in
running up to the pile of provisions as soon as they scented the meat.
David promptly sent a snowball at the largest cur with such good effect
that he beat a hasty retreat, while the others, seeing his flight and
hearing his howls, for the snowball had struck him in the nose, slunk
away and sat down at a respectful distance to await developments.
The Indians now came up and with much curiosity began to inspect the
goods. They seemed to take no offence at the treatment of the dogs,
much to the relief of the boys, who half expected they would consider
it a declaration of hostilities.
"Me Chilkat Indian," said one of the older men, addressing David and
pointing to himself.
David nodded to show that he understood.
"Where you go?" asked the Indian.
David did not know that the place to which they were bound had any
name, but he remembered how his uncle had dated his letter, so he said,
"Rainy Hollow."
"Ugh!" grunted the Indian. "Rainy Hollow there," and he pointed to the
north. "You go get gold?"
"Yes," said David.
"Me go too?"
"I don't know," replied David. "Ask my father." He motioned toward
a large black two-masted canoe which now made its appearance from
the direction of the village. One of the natives and Uncle Will were
paddling, while Mr. Bradford was sitting in the stern and steering.
The Indian turned and scrutinized the craft. "Chief's canoe," said he.
"Him chief's son."
The canoe, which was quite an elaborate affair, built of wood, with a
high projecting prow and stern, was presently brought alongside the
wharf, the end of which was already submerged by the rising tide. The
occupants jumped out, and the Indian tied the painter to the piling.
"Now, boys," shouted Uncle Will, "off with your coats again, and we'll
soon have the goods on board."
They had hardly begun the work when the old Indian approached Uncle
Will and renewed his plea, but the white man shook his head and said,
"Plenty Indian. Long Peter go." Which lingo the old fellow understood
perfectly.
Large as the canoe was, when all the goods were on board, together with
the three men and the boys, it was down nearly to the water's edge.
There was no wind, however, and the course lay near the shore under the
shelter of the mountains.
"There," said Uncle Will, in a tone of relief, as he resumed his
paddle, "now we shall be clear of the dogs. They're a great nuisance
wherever there's an Indian settlement. I've no doubt they would have
kept us awake all night here prowling around the supplies."
"Where are we to camp?" asked David.
"Look along there on the west beach," replied his uncle. "You can see
my tent now. It's about half a mile away."
The boys looked with interest at the spot which was to be their first
camping-place. Behind the tent was a dark spruce forest which spread
back nearly on a level for a short distance, and then mounted the
steep, snowy slopes of the mountains. Before long the canoe grated
against the small stones near the beach, the Indian jumped out
regardless of the water, and carried Uncle Will and then the boys
ashore on his back. Uncle Will went at once to his tent, and soon
reappeared wearing long rubber boots. Mr. Bradford passed the goods
out from the canoe, Uncle Will and the Indian carried them ashore, and
there David and Roly received them and took them up the beach above
the high-tide mark of driftwood and seaweed. When this work had been
accomplished, the Indian was paid and dismissed and was soon paddling
back to the settlement.
"Now, boys," said Mr. Bradford, "do you know how to pitch your tent?"
"No," said David, "but we'd like to try it. I guess we can manage it
after a few trials. Our tent is like Uncle Will's, isn't it?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Bradford. "You can study on that awhile, or watch me
pitch mine."
"There's no need of getting yours out at all, Charles, unless you want
to," put in his brother. "My Indian has his own tent back there in the
woods, and you can bunk with me."
So it was decided that only the boys' tent should be raised, and they
set about it at once, while their father cut some dry spruce boughs on
which to pile the supplies.
On examining their uncle's tent they found that it consisted of two
parts,--the main tent, really a complete tent in itself and rendered
mosquito-proof by having a floor of canvas continuous with the walls,
and an entrance which could be tightly closed by a puckering string;
and, secondly, the fly or extra roof above the tent proper. Ventilation
was obtained by openings covered with mosquito netting at the peak in
front and rear.
The tent stood on the beach between the line of snow and the high-tide
mark. Underneath it, on the stones, was a thick layer of small spruce
boughs. There was no possibility of driving stakes into the stony
ground, and the guy-ropes were tied around a prostrate tree-trunk on
each side, these side logs being about five inches in diameter and
fifteen feet long. There was a straight and slender ridgepole, to
which the roof-ropes were attached, and this ridgepole rested upon
two crotched poles at each end of the tent, set wide apart with the
crotched ends uppermost and interlocked.
After noting all these things, the boys sought out their tent from the
pile of goods and unrolled it to get some idea of its size. They found
that it was much smaller than their uncle's tent and had no walls, the
roof part sloping to the ground and connecting directly with the floor.
"We won't need such long poles as Uncle's tent has," said David, "nor
such heavy side logs either. Suppose you cut a lot of spruce boughs to
put underneath, and I'll cut the poles and logs."
Roly assented at once, and the two set off for the woods with their
hatchets. There was abundance of spruce, but David had considerable
difficulty in finding saplings or bushes which would afford crotched
poles of the proper size. He found it a slow and laborious task, too,
when he attempted to cut down two larger trees for the side or anchor
poles, and was finally obliged to return to the camp for an axe,--a
tool which Mr. Bradford let him have with some misgivings and many
words of caution. Having succeeded in cutting the poles and spruce
boughs, they were obliged to make several trips back and forth before
all the material was brought to the beach, the deep snow greatly
impeding their progress.
As they were starting out for the last time, a tall young Indian, with
cheeks more plump than an Indian's usually are, shuffled along toward
them on snow-shoes, drawing a long sled loaded with wood. He smiled
good-naturedly when he saw them.
"Me Long Peter," said he,--"Chilkat Injun. Go with Mr. B'adford. You go
with Mr. B'adford?"
"Yes," replied David, who concluded that this was the Indian his uncle
had mentioned. So the three returned to camp together.
Savory odors were now wafted about from the camp-fire where Uncle Will
was getting supper, and the boys hastened their work in order to be
ready when he called. They succeeded in untangling the tent-ropes, and
after a few mistakes and frequent examinations of the larger tent,
their own little dwelling was set up near the other, on a soft bed of
fragrant spruce. Then with a piece of soap and a towel from one of the
clothing bags they went down to the water's edge to wash.
Presently Uncle Will shouted, "Muck-muck!" and the boys looked around
inquiringly to see what he meant. "Supper-r!" he called in the same
cheery tone. There was no mistaking the meaning of _that_, and the
little party speedily gathered around the fire, where Uncle Will
informed them that "Muck-muck" was the Indian term for "Something to
eat," and was generally adopted on the trail as a call to meals.
The aluminum plates and cups were handed around, and Uncle Will
distributed crisp bacon and potato and rice, while Mr. Bradford opened
a box of hard-tack. David meanwhile made himself useful by filling the
cups with coffee, and passing the sugar and condensed milk. As for Long
Peter and Roly, finding nothing better to do, they attacked the viands
at once with appetites sharpened by labor.
"I declare!" exclaimed Mr. Bradford, as soon as he too was ready, "I
haven't been so hungry since I was a boy in the Adirondacks. What
memories the smell of that bacon calls up!"
He took a seat on a log which Roly had drawn up before the fire, and
presently called for a second helping.
"That's right, Charles," said his brother. "It does me good to see you
eat like that. Well, well! the boys are ready for more, too. I see I
shall have to fry another mess of bacon. Never mind, though! That means
just so much less to carry on the trail." And their good-natured cook
forthwith cut off half a dozen generous slices with his hunting knife
and soon served them crisp and hot.
When the meal was finished, the dishes washed by Long Peter, and fresh
wood piled on the fire, Uncle Will deftly lighted his pipe with a
glowing ember, then turned to the others, who had comfortably seated
themselves around the crackling logs, and declared his readiness to
explain his presence at Pyramid Harbor.
CHAPTER V
THE GREAT NUGGET, AND HOW UNCLE WILL HEARD OF IT
"Let me see, Charles," he began; "I was at Rainy Hollow when I wrote to
you, wasn't I?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Bradford.
"And I told you of the rumors of rich strikes about two hundred miles
in on this trail?"
"Yes."
"Well, my intention was to go straight to that spot with all possible
speed; but as Robbie Burns puts it,
'The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley.'
I met with an accident, and it's fortunate that I did, for when I
reached this place yesterday I found that the stories of gold had
leaked out, and already a well equipped party of more than thirty men
had just landed here. To be exact, there are thirty-six of them; and
owing to the absolute secrecy which they maintain regarding their
destination, they are already known as the Mysterious Thirty-six. I
have tried to induce two or three of them to talk, but they declared
they knew no more about their plans than I did. Only their leader
knows where they are going, and what they are to do. Now, I am
perfectly convinced that these men are bound for the very spot I wrote
you about, and we must get ahead of them, if we are to have the pick
of the claims. They are camped now about three miles up the valley,
waiting for a party of Indians who are to help them with their sleds.
"It's fortunate I had to return to the coast, for you might not have
realized the necessity of outstripping them. Besides that, I have
cached most of my goods a hundred and forty miles up the trail, and
come back empty-handed, so for that distance Long Peter and I can help
you with your outfit, and we can give them a good race."
"Won't that be fun?" cried Roly, excitedly. "I should just like to give
them the slip!"
David had a better idea of what it meant. "You won't feel so much like
racing, I guess," said he, "after a few miles of it. But, Uncle," he
added, "did you say you had cashed your goods? You haven't sold out,
have you?"
"Oh, no!" answered Uncle Will. "The word I used was 'cached,' which, in
the language of the trail, signifies that I left my goods temporarily
beside the way. A 'cache,' if we consider the French word 'cacher,'
would mean goods concealed or covered up; but the idea of concealment
is not prominent in the miner's use of the term, and in fact there is
generally no attempt at concealment. It would be death in this country
to be convicted of stealing such supplies, and few Indians or whites
would venture to disturb them."
"I understand now," said David, "and beg pardon for interrupting. And
now what was the accident you mentioned?"
Uncle Will took a few strong puffs on his pipe, and blew the smoke away
in rings meditatively. Presently he proceeded.
"I won't stop to tell you much about my journey, for you will soon pass
over the same ground. Rainy Hollow, where I wrote the letter, is about
sixty miles from here, near the summit of Chilkat Pass. I pushed on
from that point through a grand mountainous country. Day after day I
trudged through snowy valleys and over frozen rivers until I reached
Dalton's trading-post, the location of which, about a hundred and
twenty miles from the coast, you have doubtless noticed on the maps.
"There I rested a day, and fell into conversation with a young German,
Al King by name, who told me he had spent all of last summer in
prospecting on the coast, and had recently explored the region around
Dalton's. He had taken a claim on a stream called Shorty Creek, about
thirty miles away and somewhat to the west of the main trail, and
thought a man could make about ten dollars a day there, working alone;
but I have no doubt, from what he told me of the character of the
gulch, that operations on a larger scale would pay extremely well,
and I resolved to turn aside for a look at the place on my way north.
I convinced myself that he had heard nothing of the rumors which had
brought me into the region, and had not visited the spot to which I was
going, and I thought it best to tell him nothing then, though I hope,
if all goes well, to do him a good turn later.
"After leaving Dalton's Post, we--that is, Long Peter and I--continued
as far as Klukshu Lake, the point at which we were to turn from the
main trail and make a flying trip over to Shorty Creek, which was about
fifteen miles distant by the winter route, I should judge.
"We were cooking our supper among the willows near the foot of the lake
when we heard the sound of a gun toward the north, followed by a cry.
We both jumped up and ran to the shore, in order to get a clear view
up the lake. Half a mile away near the east bank we could see what was
apparently a man lying on the ice, with a smaller person bending over
him, while a dog was running and barking around the two.
"On reaching the place, we found that the prostrate man was a young
Indian of the Stik tribe, whose village lies near Dalton's Post. His
younger brother, a lad of about fourteen, was with him. Long Peter
recognized them both.
"We saw at once that Lucky, the older one, had been shot. As we
afterward learned, he had left his shot-gun standing against a log on
the shore while he went out on the ice to fish. While he was cutting a
hole, the dog upset the gun and discharged it, and poor unlucky Lucky
had received most of the shot below the left knee.
"His small brother, who was called Coffee Jack, was trying to stanch
the flow of blood when we came up, and Lucky was quite coolly giving
directions. I bound a handkerchief tightly about the wound, and we
helped the unfortunate fellow to our camp, where we made him as
comfortable as possible. On the following day, I succeeded in picking
most of the shot out of his leg,--an operation which he bore with true
Indian fortitude. Then came the question of what to do with him.
"Long Peter was for leaving him right there in care of Coffee Jack. You
see, there's not much love lost between the Chilkats and the Stiks. The
two tribes used to be continually at war, for the Chilkats wouldn't
let the Stiks come out to the coast without a fight. And though the
presence of the whites prevents actual war at present, the members of
the rival tribes have very little to say to each other, remembering the
old feud.
"I was quite unwilling, however, to leave Lucky until I had assured
myself that his wound was healing properly, so we remained there
with him a week. At the end of that time, as all went well, I made
preparations to continue on the journey, intending to leave provisions
enough to last the two brothers until they could return to their
village, for they had with them, at the time of the accident, a very
small supply of dried salmon, and that was already consumed.
"There are two log shanties near the foot of Klukshu Lake. One was in
good repair, and the door was fastened with a padlock. I suppose some
white man--Dalton, perhaps--keeps supplies there. The other was open
to any one who cared to enter, and though the roof was gone, the hut
afforded fairly good shelter. Into this hut we carried Lucky, after
repairing the roof as well as we could, and cutting some firewood, for
it was intensely cold. With a good fire blazing in the centre of the
room and Coffee Jack at hand, there was no fear that Lucky would suffer
with cold, even though the mercury froze in the tube, as in fact it did
a little later in my pocket thermometer when I hung it on my tent-pole
one night.
"When all was ready, and Long Peter and I had packed our goods on
our sleds, I went into the hut to say good-by to the brothers. Lucky
beckoned me to come closer. When I had done so, Coffee Jack shut the
door behind me. I thought from their actions that they had something to
say, and didn't wish Long Peter to hear it, which proved to be the case.
"Having made sure that Peter was at a distance, Lucky said in a low
tone, 'You good man. You help me. You give me muck-muck. Now me help
you. Me find big nug--what you call 'em--nuggit--Kah Sha River--big as
my head--four moons. Me show you when snow go away--no find him now.'"
Here Roly interrupted to ask if Lucky's head was as big as four moons.
"Oh, no!" replied Uncle Will, smiling. "He meant that it was four
months ago when he found the big nugget. The only month the Indians
know is the period between one full moon and another, which is about
thirty days.
"After some further conversation with Lucky," continued Uncle Will, "I
made out that he had discovered, not a loose nugget, but what I judge
is a remarkable outcropping of gold ore in the solid rock. He had no
means of breaking out any of the rock, and so had nothing by which
to prove his statements, but I have every reason to believe him. Now
the Kah Sha River is the stream into which Shorty Creek flows, so the
discovery must be in the neighborhood of King's claim. Lucky said that
the snow was very deep in the gorge where the nugget is, and it would
be hidden for two moons. He promised to meet me at the proper season,
and go with me to the spot.
"Long Peter and I then started on our journey; but we had gone only a
short distance toward the lake when, in descending a steep bank, all
the upright supports on one side of my sled gave way, some of them
being split beyond repair, and the iron braces broken. The uprights on
the other side were badly wrenched and weakened at the same time, and
further progress that day was out of the question. We therefore took
everything back to the hut, and cached the goods there. I found it
impossible to repair the sled. It was an old one which I never ought to
have bought, but I was in a hurry when I started into the country, and
took the first one I saw.
"There was nothing to do but return for a strong sled. I could get
none at the trading-post, and so came all the way back, and the more
readily, because I knew it was time you reached here if you were
coming. Long Peter's sled we brought with us, and now I must go over to
Dyea or Skagway and get one for myself. Then we shall be in first-rate
trim."
"Well, boys," said Mr. Bradford, as Uncle Will finished, "it looks as
if we had work ahead, and plenty of it. Better turn in now and get all
the sleep you can."
The boys accordingly rose and departed toward their tent. David crawled
into that small dwelling first, and Roly handed him a rubber blanket,
which he doubled and laid on the canvas floor. Then a down quilt was
similarly folded and placed upon the rubber blanket. The heavy woolen
blankets followed, and finally the other quilt. Into this warm nest the
boys crept, after removing their shoes and coats and rolling the latter
into the form of a pillow. Two minutes later they were sound asleep.
CHAPTER VI
ROLY IS HURT
The camp was early astir. Mr. Bradford examined the thermometer which
he had left outside the tent, and found that it registered twenty-seven
degrees above zero.
"I expected much colder weather here," he remarked, as they were eating
their breakfast of oatmeal, ham, biscuits, and coffee. "We must hurry,
or the snow will melt under our sleds."
"Oh, there's no fear of that yet," said Uncle Will, reassuringly. "You
see, we still get the influence of the Japanese current of the Pacific,
which warms this whole coast. We shall find it colder in the interior.
At the same time, we have a long distance to go, and the warm weather
will be upon us all too soon. Let me see, this is the sixteenth of
March. To-day I must take a sail-boat, and go over to Skagway for a
sled. It's hardly possible that I can return until late to-morrow, with
the best of luck."
"Can we do anything to hasten matters in the mean time?" asked Mr.
Bradford.
"Yes," replied his brother. "To-day you and the boys might take the
axes and hatchets to the cannery and have them ground. It's a great
saving of time and labor to have the edged tools sharp. Long Peter will
look after the camp while you are gone. And to-morrow I advise you to
hire that Indian's canoe again, and take everything but the tents to
the cave about three miles above here. Peter knows where it is. If
the Mysterious Thirty-six are camped there, you can leave the goods a
little this side and cover them with oiled canvas."
Immediately after breakfast, in pursuance of these plans, the whole
party except the Indian, made their way along the beach to the cannery,
where Uncle Will was fortunate enough to secure the services of a
boatman just arrived in his sloop from Chilkat across the harbor. The
breeze was favorable, and the little vessel was presently speeding
along the south shore, soon passing out of sight around the point.
The grinding of the axes occupied an hour or more, after which the
three walked over to the Indian village, where they were given a noisy
welcome by a score of dogs. The houses were rude affairs, built of hewn
boards and logs, but affording much better shelter than the wigwams
which the boys had always associated with Indian life. They had seen
a few wigwams near the railroad in the State of Washington, but here
there were none. In attire, too, these Indians seemed to have copied
the white people. Two or three women who were cooking fish outside
of one of the larger houses, wore neat hoods, dresses and shoes, but
others had greasy red handkerchiefs tied over their heads, and wore
torn moccasins and dilapidated skirts.
"I wonder," said David, "if it is true that the Indian women do all the
work. I have heard so."
"No," answered Mr. Bradford, "the men hunt and fish, and work for the
whites on the trails, but the women do all the domestic drudgery, even
to the cutting of the firewood. The men have rather the best of it,
for they enjoy a variety and are idle about half the time, while the
work of the women never ceases. It's a good deal the same, however,
the world over. I have been in parts of Europe where the wives worked
in the fields, and even dug cellars for new buildings, while their
husbands, I presume, were engaged in the sterner but less wearing
duties of army life. Here comes a poor old drudge now."
The boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw an old squaw
staggering along toward the village, with a heavy spruce log on her
shoulder. She had brought it a quarter of a mile from the hillside back
of the cannery. While they watched her, they saw her slip on a bit of
icy ground and fall, the log fortunately rolling to one side. With one
quick impulse David and Roly ran to help her.
She had risen to her feet as they approached, and was making
ineffectual efforts to raise the log. The boys picked it up in a
twinkling,--it was not much of a load for them,--and having settled it
firmly on their shoulders, they looked inquiringly at the woman, who
appeared much surprised at their action, and indeed seemed to fear that
they were going to make off with their prize. David, however, motioned
to her to go ahead, and gave her to understand that they would follow.
In this manner they reached a small cabin a few rods distant, where the
log was dropped on a pile of chips near the door.
An old Indian sat on a stump beside the house, smoking his pipe
complacently. He had witnessed the whole proceeding, but had not
offered to lift a finger to help his poor old wife, much to the
indignation of the brothers.
Mr. Bradford warmly commended his sons when they returned, adding, "I'm
glad to see you differed from the old native yonder, who was ashamed to
do a woman's work."
"We didn't stop to think much about it," said Roly, "but I guess we
should have helped her just the same if we had."
They returned to camp about noon, and Mr. Bradford prepared the dinner,
as Long Peter was not a competent cook. In the preparation of fish and
game the Chilkat was an expert, but such dainties as hot biscuits,
baked in Uncle Will's Yukon stove, were beyond his powers, and an
omelet of crystallized eggs caused him to open his mouth, not only in
expectation, but in astonishment.
After dinner David and Roly were intending to visit the railroad
excavation, a quarter of a mile beyond the camp, on the northwest shore
of the harbor. A dozen men were cutting through a strip of high land
which crossed the line of the proposed road. The work had been going on
but a few days, during which the trees had been cleared away, and the
snow and earth removed from the underlying rock. It was the intention
of the capitalists, so the cannery watchman had informed the boys, to
extend the railroad clear to Dawson along the line of the Dalton trail,
but he doubted if they would ever complete it, for a rival road was
being constructed from Skagway. The excavation was plainly visible from
the Bradfords' camp.
"Hurry up, Roly," shouted David, who was eager to start. "The workmen
are all in a bunch up there in the hole."
Roly hastily swallowed the remnants of a biscuit, and finished a cup
of tea which he had set in a snowbank to cool. Then he ran down to the
beach where David stood. The workmen were now seen to leave the spot
where they had been collected. They walked rapidly to their shanty,
which stood not far from the hole, and one man who had not started with
the others came running after them.
"I believe they are going to fire a blast," said David, and called his
father and Long Peter to come and see the explosion.
All the workmen had now taken shelter behind their shanty, and they
were none too soon. A great cloud of earth and smoke, mingled with
fragments of rock and timbers, puffed suddenly out from the bank,
followed by a mighty detonation that echoed from peak to peak of the
neighboring mountains. A moment later the Bradfords heard two or three
stones strike around them.
Mr. Bradford instantly realized that, great as the distance was, they
were not out of danger. As he turned to warn the boys, there was a thud
and a cry, and Roly sank to the beach, pressing his hand to his chest.
In a twinkling his father and David were at his side. The poor boy
could not speak, but moaned faintly once or twice. His face was white,
and he hardly seemed to breathe, but retained his consciousness. They
lifted him tenderly and laid him in the large tent, where Mr. Bradford
gave him brandy, felt his pulse, and then unbuttoned the heavy Mackinaw
overcoat, the inner coat, and the underclothing. As he bared the boy's
breast, he could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and pity.
Through all that thick clothing the stone had left its mark,--a great
red bruise on the fair skin, and so great was the swelling that he
feared a rib had been broken. Such happily was not the case, and Mr.
Bradford heaved a sigh of relief as soon as he had satisfied himself
on that point.
"It--it knocked the wind out of me," said Roly, faintly, when at last
he could speak.
"I should think it would have," said Mr. Bradford, with emphasis. "It
would have killed you if it had struck you on the other side or in the
head. Thank God it was no worse!"
Long Peter, who had been poking around on the beach where Roly had
stood, came up to the tent with a fragment of rock, which he handed
to Mr. Bradford. It was the mischief-maker without a doubt. One side
was smoothly rounded, but the other was rough and jagged, showing that
it had been violently broken from the parent rock. It was but half as
large as a man's fist, and Roly found great difficulty in believing
that so small a stone could have dealt such a blow.
CHAPTER VII
CAMP AT THE CAVE
Uncle Will did not return on the following afternoon or evening, and
the watchers attributed his tardiness to contrary winds. All the second
day as well they looked for him in vain. Nor could the little party at
Pyramid Harbor accomplish the work they had planned. Roly was in good
trim again, excepting a very sore chest, but the Indian canoe which had
transported their goods was now on the far side of the harbor, and no
other was to be had. Furthermore, the trail followed the beach, which
was free from snow, and unfit for sledding. There was nothing to do
but wait for Uncle Will and the boat he had hired. In the mean time,
letters were written in the hope of an opportunity of mailing them.
Early on the third morning, they saw the little white sail enter the
harbor's mouth. Breakfast was hurriedly finished, and by the time the
boat's keel grated on the stones the tents were down, dishes packed,
and everything ready for embarkation.
The sloop had a capacious cabin, which took up so much of the available
space that it was found impossible to put more than one sled on board.
She could carry the other supplies, however, and one passenger in
addition to the boatman. Uncle Will invited his brother to be the
passenger, saying that for himself he would be glad of a chance to
stretch his legs on shore.
Mr. Bradford therefore climbed into the boat and seated himself on
a sack of rice, while the others waded into the water in their high
rubber boots, and pushed the heavily laden vessel away from the beach.
Then they took up their march along the water's edge, dragging their
empty sleds after them.
In some places it was possible to take advantage of the snow where the
ground above the beach was level and clear of trees, but for the most
part it was hard travelling, the sleds apparently weighing more and
more as they proceeded. Roly found himself looking around more than
once, under the impression that some one for a joke had added a rock to
his load, but he was always mistaken.
"Whew!" he gasped, as he stopped to wipe the perspiration from his
face. "If an empty sled is so hard to pull over these stones, I don't
see how we are ever going to draw a loaded one."
"It's a good deal easier to draw a loaded sled on the snow-crust," said
Uncle Will, encouragingly, "than it is to overcome the friction of a
light weight here. To-morrow we shall be on the ice, which is even
better than the crust."
"How far are we going to-day?" asked David.
"About three miles. We shall not try to go beyond the cave."
The attention of the boys was attracted by the noise of a waterfall
which they could see imperfectly through the trees. The water dashed
over a perpendicular cliff about one hundred feet high, and was almost
enclosed by a sparkling structure of ice.
All this while the boat was in plain view, sailing on a course parallel
to theirs, at a distance of half a mile. It had now outstripped them,
and Uncle Will said it ought to turn in soon toward the shore. It
became evident before long, however, that the craft was in trouble.
She was well out from the land, but seemed to be stationary. The shore
party, slowly as they moved, now steadily gained on her, and at length
they could see the two occupants standing on the bow and thrusting oars
or poles into the water in different places.
"She's aground!" exclaimed Uncle Will, after a moment's observation;
"and the tide's going out. This is a pretty fix!"
"Can we do anything?" asked David, eager to go to the rescue.
"Oh! we might as well go on to the cave. It's not far now. We'll leave
the sleds there, and then see what can be done. I don't think we can
wade out to the boat yet, for there are two or three channels this side
of her." So on they plodded once more.
The cave was a great hole in the base of a cliff, and would comfortably
contain a score of men, being ten feet high, fifteen feet deep, and
eight feet wide. The boys wondered if it had ever been the haunt of
robbers or pirates,--a fancy which the still smouldering embers of a
camp-fire left by the Mysterious Thirty-six seemed to bear out. Indeed,
Roly examined the interior carefully, half expecting to see the glimmer
of gold coins in the darker crevices, but he found only a piece of
canvas which might have been part of a money-bag. A closer examination
showed that it was plentifully sprinkled with flour, and probably had
never been used for anything more romantic. In all directions the snow
had been trampled hard, and numerous bits of rope, and a tin can or two
which no keen-eyed Indian had yet appropriated, showed how recently the
place had been deserted.
Along the beach was a row of crotched poles, most of them still
upright, where the numerous tents had stood. David pointed these out to
Roly delightedly, observing that poles and spruce boughs in abundance
were ready cut for them.
The receding tide had now uncovered miles of mud flats, and Uncle
Will declared himself ready to try to reach the boat. Long Peter was
left at the cave to cut firewood, but the boys preferred to accompany
their uncle, and started off in high spirits. They advanced with
some difficulty, for the mud was often adhesive, clogging their
boots at every step until they came to sandier stretches. At all the
channels, most of which were easily crossed, although the water was
running swiftly seaward, Uncle Will took the lead, prodding the ground
carefully with a pole as he walked, to guard against quicksands. In
this manner they reached a deep channel a few rods from the stranded
sloop.
Mr. Bradford and the boatman had been watching their progress from the
other side of this channel, to which point they had brought bacon,
hard-tack, and some cooking utensils, in order that dinner might be
prepared as soon as they could cross. This being at last accomplished,
the supplies were distributed among the whole party, and they made
their way to camp.
It was late in the evening when the goods were all snugly stowed in the
cave, the boat having been brought up at high tide. The boatman sailed
away before the water receded, carrying with him a package of letters
which he promised to mail at Chilkat post-office. Hardly had he gone
when a damp snow began to fall, with promise of a disagreeable night.
Roly thought it would be fun to sleep under the rocky roof of the
cavern; but the smoke from the camp-fire persistently filled the place,
and he was obliged to give up the idea. How strange it seemed to the
boys to lie there so comfortably under the blankets in the tent and
hear the snowflakes tap upon the canvas! The fitful gusts that swept
past their frail dwelling threatened to overthrow it, but the anchor
logs were heavy and the tent was strong, and it offered so perfect a
shelter that, had the occupants not heard the wind, they would not have
known it was blowing. They were too wearied with the day's work to
lie long awake, even amid novel surroundings, and soon their regular
breathing gave evidence of the deep, refreshing sleep which follows
out-of-door labor.
CHAPTER VIII
SLEDDING
The following day was Sunday, and they rested in camp.
Saturday night's storm had ceased before daybreak, and fortunately
but an inch of snow had fallen,--not enough to interfere with their
progress. The tents were brushed clean of the feathery flakes early on
Monday morning, before being taken down and folded for the journey.
Breakfast over, Uncle Will declared that no time must be lost in
loading up the sleds. It had been decided that for the first day David
should draw a load of one hundred and seventy-five pounds, and Roly one
hundred and fifty. The remainder was to be evenly distributed between
the three long sleds drawn by Mr. Bradford, Uncle Will, and Long
Peter, each of whom would have about four hundred and fifty pounds.
Such a load could only be drawn where the trail followed ice or level
snow-crust. In soft snow or on hills, Uncle Will said they would have
to take half a load forward and then return for the rest. The boys were
sure they could haul heavier loads than those assigned to them; but
their elders preferred not to overtax their strength, feeling that
growing lads ought not to go to the extreme of exhaustion.
David selected for his load his clothing bag, which weighed fifty
pounds, two fifty-pound sacks of flour, a wide flat box of spices,
and his rifle and snow-shoes. While his uncle showed him how to
distribute the articles to the best advantage, and bind them securely
with a lashing-rope passed through the side loops of the sled and
over and around the load in various directions, Roly proceeded, with
the assurance of youth, to load his sled unaided. He first put on two
twenty-five pound boxes of hard-tack, then his clothing bag and a sack
of flour, followed by his shot-gun and snow-shoes, and tied them all on
as securely as he could. When his uncle had finished his instructions
to David, he was surprised to find Roly's sled already loaded and
lashed.
"There, Uncle Will," said Roly, proudly, as that gentleman approached,
"I've done it alone. You won't have to waste any time on me."
"Ah!" said Uncle Will, "so I see." But Roly did not notice the
amusement in his eyes as he surveyed the work.
"Now, boys," he continued, after a moment, "there's one thing more, and
you can be doing it while the rest of us are lashing our loads. Do you
see those two iron rings just above the forward end of the sled-runner
on the right side?"
"Yes," answered David and Roly.
"Well, they are intended to hold the 'gee-pole' in place. Do you know
what a gee-pole is?"
The boys had never heard of the contrivance in question.
"It is a pole," explained their uncle, "about seven feet long, which
extends forward from the right side of the sled, and serves as an aid
in guiding. If you should try to guide your sled with the drag-rope
alone, you would find that it would swerve on every uneven spot, and
slip sideways on a slope, and dig its nose into the sides of the
trail where the snow is soft; but with your right hand on a firm-set
gee-pole, you will be able to steady your sled and guide it accurately
where the trail is rough or rutty. The sled will answer to the lightest
touch on the gee-pole. You can cut four of the poles in that thicket on
the hillside yonder, and fit them into the rings. I believe Long Peter
has already supplied himself with one."
Roly and David, after several minutes' search, found four straight
saplings of the required length and thickness, and cut them down with
their hatchets. The large ends they trimmed to the right size, and
inserted them through the rings of the sleds, making them firm by
driving chips wedgewise between the iron and the wood.
At eight o'clock all was ready, and the procession started with Long
Peter in the lead. Behind them lay the mud flats, with the shining
water in the distance. Before them to the northward stretched a
broad and level expanse of snow, with here and there a patch of ice
swept clean by the wind. The snow was almost as hard as the ice, and
afforded a good running surface for the sleds. On either side of this
broad valley of the Chilkat rose high, wooded hills, and behind them
glittering peaks from which the snow would not entirely disappear even
in midsummer, so Long Peter informed them.
For this kind of travelling the spiked "creepers" were a necessity,
enabling the feet to obtain a firm hold on the alternate lanes of
ice and icy snow. They were worn beneath the rubber shoe-packs, and
fastened to the feet by leathern thongs.
They had not proceeded far, when they came to a low ridge or bank,
so steep that Uncle Will was obliged to go to the assistance of the
Indian. When the first load had been forced up the incline, the Indian
returned with Uncle Will, and the two pushed up the second sled. Mr.
Bradford and David followed with the third, the former pulling on the
drag-rope, and his son pushing on the rear of the load. David was able
to draw his own light load up the slope without assistance, and Roly
came close behind him.
Unfortunately for Roly, he did not attack the ridge directly but
diagonally, which brought one sled-runner higher than the other. In an
instant over went the sled upon its side.
"What's the matter, Roly?" shouted Uncle Will, who had been watching
from the other side of the bank.
"My sled's upset," answered Roly, ruefully, "and the load is all loose."
"And why should your sled have upset when none of the others did?"
"I suppose it was because I didn't go up the hill straight."
"That's only a part of the reason," said Uncle Will, good-naturedly,
as he came up and scanned the pile. "I expected this very thing. Don't
you see why? You put the cracker boxes, the lightest part of your load,
underneath, and the heavy flour sack and clothing bag above. The whole
affair is top-heavy. And everything is loosened by the fall, because
you did not cinch your lashing-rope. Now let us load up properly. First
put the two bags on the sled, then the boxes on top of them--so. Now
the load doesn't _look_ as well as it did, before, nor seem quite so
capable of maintaining its balance, but you will find that, as a matter
of fact, it will ride much better.
"Pass the lashing-rope over or around each article separately, and
then back and forth over the whole load, cinching it at each side
loop as you pass it through. Now, should your final knot loosen, it
will not affect the whole load, but the boxes on top, and the trouble
can be remedied instantly, the cinches holding the rest of the load
firm all the while. It is not always a waste of time, my lad, to take
instructions when they are first offered, but I wanted you to have a
practical demonstration of the results of poor loading. Now we shall
get along famously."
At noon, when they halted for a luncheon of cold salt pork previously
cooked, hard-tack, and cold, clear water from a spring on the eastern
hill under which they were resting, Uncle Will estimated that they had
covered nine miles,--an excellent morning's work. They had crossed the
Chilkat River once at least, and possibly several times, but as river
and gravel flat were here alike covered with ice and snow, they were
unable to distinguish the one from the other.
"I couldn't eat such a piece of fat pork at home to save my life!"
declared Roly, as he took a huge bite from a generous slice. "It would
make me sick."
"I rather think it would," said David; "but here nothing seems to hurt
us. How good and sweet it tastes! My! but I'm hungry."
"And I too," said Mr. Bradford. "I can feel my old-time strength coming
back with every breath of this air. In a week or two, Will, I shall be
as rugged as you are."
"I've no doubt of it," said his brother; "and your beard is getting a
beautiful start, too. The boys won't be able to tell us apart after a
little."
"Never fear, Uncle," laughed David. "Unless you give up smoking, or
Father begins it, we shall have no difficulty. You and your pipe are
inseparable."
"True enough," said Uncle Will. "My pipe is home and wife and children
to me." He lighted a match, and was soon puffing away with great
satisfaction.
"How far are we to go this afternoon?" inquired Roly, abruptly.
"Are you tired?" asked his uncle, before he answered.
"No," said Roly, stoutly. "I could keep on all day, if the country is
as level as this."
"Well, then," said his uncle, "we'll try to make nine miles more. But
if you get very tired, don't hesitate to say so."
After an hour's rest they proceeded, halting at intervals, as they had
done during the morning. While travelling they were too warm to wear
the Mackinaw coats, and these were thrown across the loads, but at
every halt they were resumed to prevent too rapid cooling. At times
they saw the "creeper" marks of the Mysterious Thirty-six, and Uncle
Will said he felt sure that the large party left the cave on the very
morning of the day they--the Bradfords--had reached it. If that were
the case, he thought they could be overtaken soon, for, as a rule, a
small party could move more rapidly than a large one.
Late in the afternoon, the treeless expanse of the river-bottom became
narrowed by broken ground covered with a forest which encroached from
the west. The trail followed by the Indian led them into the midst of
this forest, taking the course of a small stream which wound through
it. In places, no ice had formed along the bank, and the bottom of the
brook could be seen to consist of a rusty red mud. Long Peter drank
very sparingly of this water, and cautioned the others, saying several
times, "No good, no good."
"Why isn't it good?" asked Roly, to whom the water looked clear enough.
"It may be swamp water," answered his uncle, "or it may be heavily
charged with minerals. Perhaps it would not hurt you, but it is always
best to follow the advice of the natives in such matters. They are
careful to choose only pure streams or springs for drinking purposes,
and this brook appears to be impregnated with bog iron, so probably the
water comes from some stagnant pond."
Soon after five o'clock, when Mr. Bradford and the boys were growing
very weary, and even Uncle Will, who was accustomed to the work, had
admitted that the march was a long one, Long Peter gave a satisfied
grunt and pointed forward. The others looked, and saw a row of
tent-poles on a low bluff. They had reached the spot where the
Thirty-six had spent the previous night.
"Good!" exclaimed Uncle Will. "We've made as long a march as they
did, sure enough, though we haven't come more than seven miles this
afternoon. We will camp right here, and thank the mysterious gentlemen
for the use of their poles and boughs."
On the succeeding day, there was a well-defined trail, much cut up
by the heavy sleds of the party ahead, for the snow was now deep and
rather soft. In spite of the excellent manner in which the three long
sleds were loaded, and the care with which they were drawn, upsets
occurred quite frequently, and even the light loads of Roly and
David sometimes overturned in the deeper ruts. Re-lashing was seldom
necessary, however, thanks to the instructions of Uncle Will.
As the sun mounted higher, the snow became softer, and progress
increasingly difficult. To deviate from the beaten path was to sink
hopelessly, while to remain in it was to encounter hollows and ruts,
from which two men could hardly extricate a single sled. They were
constantly obliged to help each other, and at last Uncle Will gave
orders to wait until the snow hardened again in the afternoon. By
nightfall, they had covered about nine miles, reaching a point opposite
the Indian village of Klukwan, which lay on the eastern bank of the
river. Here again they found a deserted camp.
CHAPTER IX
KLUKWAN AND THE FORDS
The boys had been too thoroughly fatigued to closely observe the
settlement of Klukwan by the waning light of the afternoon, but in the
morning they gazed with interest at the village across the Chilkat. The
shore was lined with canoes of various sorts and sizes, and the river
at this point was free from ice. They could hear the barking of dogs,
and see men, women, and children moving about among the houses, which
extended along the shore in a nearly straight line for a quarter of a
mile. There were, perhaps, a score of buildings in all, most of them
not unlike two-story New England farmhouses, neatly painted and well
preserved.
"You would hardly believe that such a village contains no white
inhabitants, would you?" said Uncle Will, who, with Mr. Bradford, now
joined the boys on the river-bank.
"No," replied David. "How does it happen that the Indians own such good
houses?"
"I'm told," said Uncle Will, "that this was a Russian post before
the United States bought Alaska in 1867. The Russian traders built
the houses; and when the territory was sold, they moved out and
the Chilkats moved in. And not only are the Indians well housed,
but, through the influence of the traders and missionaries, they
have adopted the dress and, to a large extent, the manners of
civilization. One of them even owns a horse and cart, which he drives
across the flats, carrying on a kind of express business between Old
Village--which is the meaning of the Indian word 'Klukwan'--and Pyramid
Harbor."
Roly had been staring at a curious figure directly opposite. It
appeared to represent the head and fore-legs of a frog, surrounded by a
circle of black paint, the whole being portrayed upon several upright
boards which stood side by side.
"What in the world is that thing?" he asked, when his uncle had
finished. "It reminds me of the African dodger at the circus last
summer. A colored man put his head through a hole in a sheet, and if
you hit him you got a cigar,--and I did hit him, but the proprietor
said I was too small to smoke, so he gave me a stick of candy."
The others laughed, and David proposed that Roly should throw a
snowball at the frog, and see what he would get.
"That would hardly do," said Uncle Will, "even if he could throw so
far, for this is no African dodger, but a totem-figure, similar to
those on the totem-poles. The ashes of some Indian of the family which
has the frog as its symbol are entombed in a little house behind those
boards, and Roly would be more likely to get a bullet than a stick of
candy if he injured that image."
On turning back from the river-bank, they found Long Peter looking
intently at a group of people a short distance to the north.
"White people--two men--two women!" he exclaimed, as they approached.
"Women?" repeated Mr. Bradford, incredulously; "this is a queer place
for white women."
"So it is," said Uncle Will. "They must have come from that disabled
steamer, bound for Copper River, which landed her passengers at Pyramid
Harbor a fortnight ago. I met a few of her people on this trail when I
came out to the coast, but didn't see this party. They must have camped
off the regular trail, and have evidently travelled very slowly. I
think they are on this side of the Salmon River, which empties into the
Chilkat opposite the north end of the village."
Uncle Will's theory proved the true one. The Bradfords, having made
everything ready for the day's march, soon covered the short distance
which separated them from the party ahead, which consisted of two young
men, a tall and rather slender young woman, and a matronly person whom
they at first supposed to be the mother of the others. After pleasantly
greeting the new-comers, however, and noting their expression of
surprise and interest, the elder woman took it upon herself to offer an
explanation.
"I don't wonder, gentlemen," said she, "that you are surprised to see
ladies in such a place as this, though I do not doubt there are many
on the more frequented trails. We were bound for Copper River; but our
steamer proved unseaworthy, and was obliged to land her passengers
at Pyramid Harbor. There were rumors of gold on this trail, so we
determined to reach the spot if possible."
"I admire your pluck, madam," said Uncle Will, gallantly.
"But wasn't it a rather rash undertaking?" suggested Mr. Bradford.
"Yes, I admit it was. In fact, we didn't let our friends and neighbors
back in Ohio know what we intended; because if we had, and then failed,
we should be the laughing-stock of our town. All our friends thought we
were making a pleasure trip to the Pacific coast."
"Well, well!" exclaimed Mr. Bradford. "And this is a family party,
then?" and he wondered what his wife would think of making such a trip.
"Yes, practically so. I am Mrs. Shirley. These are my nephews and my
niece."
"And we are all Bradfords, except the Indian," said Mr. Bradford, in
return for this information.
"But how in the world do you manage to move your supplies with only two
men and no Indians or dogs?" asked Uncle Will.
"Oh, my niece and I help with the sleds. We have to make a good many
trips, though, over the same ground, for we have a year's provisions
with us. It is very slow work, especially since one of the boys is
quite disabled. He cut his foot badly with an axe a few days ago."
Uncle Will looked at the bandaged foot, and asked if it had been
properly cared for.
"Yes," replied the young man, "thanks to my aunt."
"Very fortunately," said that lady, "I am a physician, and so was able
to dress the wound. There was a medical man with a large party which
recently passed, who offered his services, but they were not needed."
"And how do you expect to cross this wide river?" asked Mr. Bradford.
"Oh, my uninjured nephew has been carrying the goods over piece-meal.
It is simply a matter of time and perseverance. Three days ago, we
had stopped at the first of those shallow streams which you must have
passed yesterday, when we were overtaken by that numerous company of
white men and Indians. They made light work of the fording, carrying
their sleds over bodily, loads and all, as many men taking hold as
could find room; and when their own loads were across, they generously
came back for ours. Finally a big, strong man whom they called Paul,
took my niece, my injured nephew, and myself over on his back, one
after another,--and they did the same thing for us at the other streams
that day; but before we reached this river they were out of sight."
"Well," said Uncle Will, "we mustn't let them outdo us. It's surely our
turn now, and we shall be very glad to help you, madam."
"Thank you," replied Mrs. Shirley, gratefully. "I am very unwilling
to cause you extra labor and delay, but in our present unfortunate
situation I can not refuse assistance."
Preparations were at once begun for crossing Salmon River. The
Bradfords took from each of their long sleds half its load. Then Long
Peter, facing forward, firmly grasped the front of his sled, while
Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will, one on each side, held to the ends of a
shovel thrust under the forward part above the runners. David and Roly
took the ends of another shovel similarly placed under the rear end,
and the only able-bodied man of the other party, who insisted on doing
his share, grasped the sled from behind. In this manner they lifted
their load, and started down the snowy bank into the water, which was
shallow at first, but grew deeper as they neared the opposite shore.
It was quite necessary that all should keep step, but as they entered
the deeper water David and Roly found it difficult to do this, for
the current was very strong, and almost forced their feet from beneath
them. The icy water surged and bubbled higher and higher against their
rubber boots,--a fact which the boys noticed with some dismay. At
length they entered the lowest part of the channel, where the depth of
the stream was about two feet and a half.
"There!" exclaimed Roly, ruefully, as he took a step forward and braced
himself as well as he could against the current, "the water came into
my boots that time. There it goes again. O-o-h! but it's cold."
"Aren't you glad you came?" said David, provokingly.
"Y-yes," stoutly stammered Roly, who saw that his brother was also wet,
and resolved that he, too, would make light of the wetting. "But I
didn't expect ice-water bathing."
A moment more and they were out of the river and up on the further
bank, where they set down the sled and paused to recover their breath.
The men, being taller and wearing higher boots, had escaped dry-shod,
but the boys felt anything but comfortable.
"Never mind the water, boys," said Uncle Will, cheerfully. "It won't
hurt you to get wet in this country. Pour the water out of your boots,
if there's much in them, for you needn't go back again. Just stay right
here and load up the sleds as fast as we bring them over."
The men swished back through the water, carrying the empty sled for
the other half of its load. In half an hour all the supplies of both
parties had been brought across.
"Now, Mrs. Shirley," said Uncle Will, with a smile, "have you any
preference as to the manner of transportation? I trust I'm as strong as
the kind-hearted Paul."
"I've no doubt of that," replied Mrs. Shirley, with a slight trace of
embarrassment. "But really, if another way could be found, I should
prefer it. You have an unloaded sled on the other side,--could you not
take us over on that?"
"Yes," said Uncle Will, "we can."
The sled was promptly sent for, and upon its arrival Mrs. Shirley
requested her niece to go first. The young woman accordingly seated
herself upon it, grasped the sides firmly, and was borne lightly over
the river by the four men. Her brother went next, and finally her aunt.
The two parties remained together all that day, as there were other
channels to be crossed, and a few miles farther a second great river,
the Klaheena, also flowing into the Chilkat from the west. It was
nightfall before the fording was completed and the way lay clear before
them.
CHAPTER X
A PORCUPINE-HUNT AT PLEASANT CAMP
As the Bradfords were able to travel more rapidly than Mrs. Shirley and
her companions, the two parties separated on the following day. The
trail turned to the west, ascending the gradual incline of the Klaheena
River valley--a valley similar in character to that of the Chilkat--to
a point called Pleasant Camp.
Although the distance from Klukwan to Pleasant Camp was about the
same as that from Pyramid Harbor to Klukwan, they were five days
in covering it, since for much of the way the snow was soft, and
progress correspondingly difficult. There was no more ice to travel
upon, and the snow-crust would not bear them during the warmer part
of the day. In fact, they could seldom walk upon it at all without
their snow-shoes, the use of which the boys learned after a few hours'
practice,--not, however, without some of those gymnastic performances
predicted by the genial Mr. Kingsley.
They crossed one wide but shallow stream by throwing brush into the
water, which raised the sleds enough to keep the loads dry. At another
point a considerable delay was caused by a steep hill which the trail
mounted at one side of the valley in order to avoid a difficult ford.
Uncle Will pointed out a tree at the top of this hill, the bark of
which was worn off in a circle a few feet above the ground, remarking
that the Mysterious Thirty-six had evidently rigged a block and tackle
there, and drawn up their sleds by a long rope. After following a
rough, wooded ridge for perhaps a quarter of a mile, the trail led down
again to the river flats.
Each day brought them nearer the great range of snowy mountains, at the
foot of which lay Pleasant Camp. There they would turn to the right and
cross the mountains, which were in British territory, by the Chilkat
Pass. The boys thought they had never seen a more beautiful valley than
that of the Klaheena. In every direction were glistening peaks, their
bases clothed with green spruce forests, which here and there spread
out over the levels near the river, where they showed a sprinkling of
bare-boughed poplars, willows, and alders.
At one of their camps, where a small stream known as Boulder Creek
flowed into the Klaheena from the north, the weather turned suddenly
cold, with a bitter wind which the huge camp-fire hardly tempered.
It was so cold in the tent that the boys slept in their Mackinaw
coats, which usually they removed and rolled up for pillows. Nestling
deep down into the blankets, they were warm enough, except when one
or the other turned over, disturbing the coverlets, and drawing a
blast of cold air over their necks and shoulders. They did not take
the precaution to pull their caps over their ears, relying on the
protection of the blankets, but unfortunately, while they slept, their
heads became entirely uncovered. Both boys found their ears slightly
frost-bitten and very painful in the morning.
When they attempted to draw on their shoe-packs, which had been left
outside the tent, the leather tops and lacings were frozen so stiffly
that it was necessary to thaw them out before a fire. Mr. Bradford's
pocket thermometer registered three degrees below zero when they crept
out into the crisp morning air and with numb fingers took down the
tents and made ready the sleds.
"This is about as chilly as we shall have it," said Uncle Will, as he
deftly turned the bacon in the frying-pan; "and it's nothing to what I
had on my first trip in. Fifty below is a nice bit colder than three.
It's too late in the season for any more of that, and I'm not sorry. We
shall be unlucky though, if we don't reach the Alsek River before the
ice breaks up, for cross-country travelling in that region is a hard
proposition."
"How far away is the Alsek?" asked David.
"About thirty miles on the other side of the Pass."
"And where do you suppose the mysterious gentlemen are now?"
"Oh, they are doubtless working up toward the summit. If they cross
first, we can hardly hope to catch them, for I have no doubt the Alsek
ice is firm yet, and on that they can move as fast as we can."
"Why is it we haven't overtaken them?" inquired Roly.
"I suspect they don't stop on Sundays as we have."
"Then it's not a fair race," said Roly. "They have an advantage over
us."
"Only an apparent one," observed Mr. Bradford. "They are likely to wear
themselves out with such unremitting labor. We shall see."
Two days later Pleasant Camp was reached, and the sleds were drawn up
from the river flats to the top of a low plateau covered with a fine
forest, mostly of spruce. To the west and north rose the massive white
summits of the Coast Range, like giants guarding the gateways to the
interior.
A small party of Indians who had camped there were about to leave when
the Bradfords arrived. Their household goods, consisting of blankets,
kettles, pans, dried salmon, and a gun or two, were packed upon sleds,
several of which were drawn by small, weak-looking dogs. There was one
very old Indian who drew a light load upon a sled, while his wife, who
was younger and stronger, bore a considerable burden upon her back. Her
face was blackened to protect the skin from the blistering glare of
sun and snow. The only other woman in the party carried on her back
a baby warmly rolled in a blanket. She wore a sort of hood, a skirt
which reached to the knees, and deer-skin leggings and moccasins, and
travelled easily over the drifts on light, narrow snow-shoes of native
manufacture.
When these Indians had disappeared up the mountain trail, Long Peter,
who had cast admiring glances at David's rifle and Roly's shot-gun
whenever the boys had removed them from their cases, came forward with
a tempting proposal.
"You come with me," said he to the boys. "Plenty porc'pine here. Take
guns and snow-shoes. Porc'pine much good."
The boys were on their feet in an instant at the prospect of a
porcupine-hunt. At last they were to have an opportunity to test their
new weapons. But first they must obtain permission to go.
"Aren't you too tired?" asked Mr. Bradford, when they bore down upon
that gentleman.
"Oh, no!" shouted both together.
"Well then, you may go; but I think I'll go with you. I've no doubt
you've listened very carefully to all my instructions, but you'll be
pretty sure to be absent-minded in the excitement of the hunt. Do you
remember the first rule, David?"
"Yes," said David. "Never point a gun, loaded or unloaded, at yourself
or any one else."
"Correct," said Mr. Bradford. "What was the second rule, Roly?"
"Never leave a loaded gun where it can fall down, or be thrown down, or
disturbed in any way."
"Right again. It was a violation of that rule which caused Lucky to
be shot at Klukshu Lake, as your uncle told us. Now, David, the third
rule."
"Unload the gun before climbing over fences, walls, and fallen trees,
or entering thickets, or rough or slippery ground."
"Good," said Mr. Bradford. "That is a rule which is often disregarded,
and neglect of it has caused many accidents. You won't find any fences
here, but there will be plenty of rough ground and fallen timber. The
fourth rule, Roly."
"Let me see," said Roly, biting his lip with vexation as he tried in
vain to recall it. "Oh, yes! I remember it now. Wherever possible, keep
the hammers at half-cock."
"Now," said Mr. Bradford, "if you will bear those few rules in mind,
you need not trouble yourselves about any others at present. Get your
snow-shoes and guns and a few cartridges, and I'll be ready when you
are."
The boys started off with high anticipations a few minutes later, led
by the Indian, and followed by their father. They all wore snow-shoes,
for in the forest back of the camp, where the snow had not alternately
frozen and thawed as it had in the open valley, there was very little
crust over the deep drifts. They wound in and out among the spruces,
the Indian carefully examining the snow for tracks as he shuffled
lightly along at a pace which the others could keep only with the
greatest exertion, for their snow-shoes were heavier and wider than
his, and they were not yet skilled. They had not gone a quarter of a
mile when Long Peter paused at a fresh track which crossed their course
at right angles, and led toward a little gully where there were several
young spruce-trees with thick branches.
"Good," said he, and immediately started on the animal's trail.
Roly became excited at once, and in swerving to the left to follow
the Indian, he forgot to manage his snow-shoes with the care that is
necessary, stepping upon his left snow-shoe with the right one, so that
he could not raise the left foot for the next step. In an instant,
carried forward by his own momentum, he plunged head-first into the
soft, white, yielding drift, which closed over his head and shoulders.
David, who was close behind, struggled in vain to choke a peal of
laughter, and was thankful that Roly was not likely to hear it with his
head in the snow. Long Peter, who had no scruples, laughed long after
Roly had emerged. They all rushed to aid the struggling youngster, who
was so hampered by the big shoes that there seemed no possibility of
his regaining his feet until they were disencumbered. David, after
warning his brother not to kick, quickly loosened the moose-hide thongs
and removed the snow-shoes, which done, the fallen youth picked himself
up, and brushed the snow out of his eyes, mouth, and neck.
"Whew!" he sputtered; "how did I happen to do that?"
"You turned the corner with the wrong foot," said his father. "Where's
your gun?"
The gun was nowhere to be seen until Long Peter fished it up out of the
snow, where it had fallen underneath its owner.
"Is it loaded?" asked Mr. Bradford.
Roly thanked his stars that he could answer "No," and added, "I took
this to be rough ground."
"You were right, Roly," said his father, much pleased. "There was no
need to carry a loaded gun here, for you always have plenty of time
in shooting at this kind of game. You can readily see what kind of an
accident might have happened. Now wipe off the gun as well as you can,
and let's see where this track leads."
They passed down into the gully, where many of the trees had been
stripped of their bark and killed by the little animals. After
following it a few rods, they turned up the farther bank, where the
Indian paused at the foot of a dense spruce. All about the base of the
tree were the porcupine tracks, but they did not appear beyond.
"Porc'pine here," said the red man, circling around the tree and gazing
intently into its bushy top. A moment later he exclaimed, "I see him!
You, Dave, bring rifle here."
David slipped a cartridge into his gun, and looked where the Indian
pointed. He could see a dark body close to the tree-trunk among
the upper branches. As he raised his rifle to his shoulder, he was
surprised to find himself trembling violently.
"Well, well, Dave!" exclaimed his father, noticing his nervousness,
"you've got the buck fever over a porcupine, sure enough. Hadn't you
better let me shoot him?"
"Oh, no! I'm all right," said David, bracing up mentally if not
physically, and pulling the trigger.
A few spruce needles and twigs rattled down as the shot rang out, but
the porcupine was apparently unscathed.
"No good," said Long Peter. "You no hit him."
"You fired too high," observed Mr. Bradford, "and you shut your eyes.
Keep at least one eye open, and be sure it's the one you sight with.
Aim low and don't jerk."
Roly petitioned to be allowed the second shot; but his father, seeing
that David was much chagrined, ruled that he should have another
chance. Carefully observing directions, David fared better at the
second trial. Through the smoke as he fired, he saw the porcupine
come tumbling heavily down from branch to branch till it dropped into
the snow and lay there motionless. It was quite dead, and Long Peter,
with a grunt of satisfaction, took it up gingerly by the feet, taking
care not to be pricked by the sharp quills which bristled all over the
animal's back.
"Hurrah!" cried Roly, "now we shall have fresh meat."
"Yes," said Mr. Bradford, "a porcupine stew will be a welcome change
from bacon,--but we ought to get one more at least. Long Peter here
could eat the whole of this at one sitting without any trouble at all,
eh, Peter?"
The Indian smacked his lips, and his eyes glistened, for the prickly
little animals are considered such a delicacy by the natives, that they
will gorge themselves even to sickness when they have the opportunity.
A second porcupine was treed not far from the first. Roly brought it
down at the first shot,--a feat which would certainly have puffed
him with pride, had he not retained a vivid remembrance of his late
inglorious downfall.
They returned to camp in triumph, and found supper waiting. The
porcupines were thrown into the fire, that the quills might burn
away, Uncle Will remarking that such chickens needed a great deal
of singeing. Long Peter prepared them for the stew, and they were
served up in fine style on the following morning, with rice and soup
vegetables. The meat had a distinct flavor of spruce bark, the food of
the animal; but it was not at all disagreeable, and the stew was voted
an unqualified success.
CHAPTER XI
THE MYSTERIOUS THIRTY-SIX
For nearly a week, the little party struggled with the most difficult
portion of the trail. At Pleasant Camp they had reached an elevation of
about five hundred feet above the sea, but the rise had been so gradual
through the forty-five miles of river valleys that it had hardly been
noticed. From that point, however, it was all mountain work, and they
had to ascend three thousand feet more in about fifteen miles, to gain
the summit of the Chilkat Pass and the high interior plateau. The trail
often led uphill only to lead provokingly down again on the other
side, so that the gain was thrown away, and had to be earned all over
again. Then, too, the snowdrifts increased the roughness of the path.
It was out of the question to move full loads under such conditions,
and half-loads were taken forward a few miles and cached one day, and
the remainder brought up the next. Some of the slopes were so steep
that even the ice-creepers barely gave the sled-pullers a foothold, and
often the sheer weight of the loads dragged them back again and again.
[Illustration: A CURIOUS PHENOMENON BESIDE THE TRAIL]
Under this terrible strain their feet grew sore, and the frequent
dipping of the gee-poles, as the sleds dove into the hollows, gave them
cruelly lame backs. To make matters worse, the tugging on the ropes,
coupled with the usual dampness of their mittens, caused the skin of
their fingers to crack deeply and painfully at the joints. Many times
the sleds overturned, or jammed against stumps and roots. Altogether it
was a severe and thorough training for the boys in patience, endurance,
and perseverance.
"What will become of Mrs. Shirley's party here, I wonder," said Roly,
after a hard day's work.
"If they are wise," replied Uncle Will, "they'll stop at Pleasant Camp.
The two young men can make a dash in for claims when the lame one has
recovered, but those ladies can never stand this kind of work."
David declared that never before had he appreciated the picture in his
room at home, of Napoleon's soldiers dragging cannon over the Alps.
He was quite sure he would groan with genuine sympathy when he saw it
again. In the mean time, in spite of all discomforts, he was daily
securing beautiful and interesting views of mountains and valleys, of
camps and the sledding, and of all the unique phases of his outdoor
life.
At one point, he photographed a curious phenomenon beside the trail.
The stump of a tree bore upon its top a great skull-shaped mass of
snow, while underneath on every side the flakes had been packed
against the bark by the wind, the whole forming a colossal figure of a
human head and neck, which appeared as if carved in purest marble.
Now and then they observed traces of the company ahead. Sometimes it
was a broken gee-pole, again a deserted camping-ground or fireplace,
and frequently bits of rope, empty cracker boxes and tins, or a freshly
"blazed" or notched tree to indicate the trail. But the Thirty-six
themselves were as elusive as if they all wore seven-league boots, and
the Bradfords never caught sight of them during these days, no matter
how hard they worked.
In the forest through which they were travelling, spruce gum of fine
quality could be picked from many of the trees, and the boys found it
useful as a preventive of thirst in a country where open springs were
far between. Often, too, they carried beef tablets in their pockets,
and these served to alleviate hunger as well as thirst,--for so severe
was the work, and so stimulating to the appetite the mountain air, that
they were fairly faint between meals.
Once, while on the march, they were startled by a deep rumbling, which
seemed to come from the bowels of the earth. Uncle Will said that this
was the sound of an avalanche on the high mountains across the Klaheena
valley.
Porcupines were so numerous as to be obtainable as often as needed, but
Roly one day discovered a new kind of game. He espied a large dark bird
sitting on a low branch of a spruce near the trail, and called Uncle
Will's attention to it.
"Ah!" exclaimed the latter, "that's a spruce partridge, and very good
eating. Is your revolver loaded, Charles?"
The guns were packed in their cases on the sleds, but Mr. Bradford's
revolver was loaded and ready. He took careful aim at the partridge and
fired. The bird, not thirty feet away, merely cocked its head to one
side, and calmly eyed the discomfited marksman.
"Missed," said Mr. Bradford. "Suppose you try a shot, Roly. I've been
out of practice too long."
"Yes," said Roly, "let me try. But why didn't the partridge fly away?
They're awfully 'scary' at home."
"This is not the ruffed grouse, or partridge, of New England,"
explained his father, "but a different species. It is often called
the 'fool hen,' because it is so stupid. You might fire a dozen times
without inducing it to fly, and you can go up quite close to it if you
wish. It's more sportsmanlike, though, to give the bird a chance."
Roly accordingly stood where he was, fired, and missed. Uncle Will then
brought down the bird with his revolver, and later, David and Roly
plucked and dressed it, with some assistance from Long Peter, and
cooked it for their supper.
David awoke, one morning, to find his younger brother observing him
with a curious expression in his eyes, the cause of which he was at a
loss to discover.
"What in the world is the matter with your face, Dave?" said Roly, as
soon as he saw that his tent-mate was awake.
"Matter with my face?" repeated David, sleepily. "Why, nothing. What
makes you think so?"
"You don't look a bit natural," said Roly.
"Oh, come!" muttered David. "What are you talking about? I'm all right,
I tell you;" and he gazed drowsily up at the canvas above him, through
which the morning light filtered.
"Oh! you are, are you?" said Roly. "Well, I advise you to look in a
mirror before you go outside, that's all."
But David neglected the warning. His appearance, when he crawled
forth from the tent, was the signal for a loud burst of laughter from
Long Peter, who was making the fire, and this, more than anything
else, convinced the boy that something was really wrong. He retreated
into the tent and consulted a small pocket looking-glass, whereby he
discovered that his countenance was as black as the ace of spades.
"April Fool!" shouted the irrepressible Roly, with great glee, and
dived head-first out of the tent to escape a flying shoe. "My dear
brother, permit me to inform you that this is the First of April." This
last explanatory speech was delivered with telling effect from a safe
distance.
[Illustration: THE CAMP OF THE MYSTERIOUS THIRTY-SIX]
David was at first much vexed, but having washed his face, he joined at
last in the laugh against himself.
Taking the idea from the blackened faces of the Indian women, Roly had
carefully gone over his sleeping brother's face with soot from the
bottom of a kettle. The youngster confessed, however, that, owing to
anxiety lest David should awaken first, his fun had cost him half his
night's sleep. It brought upon him, too, some words of counsel from his
father, who reminded him that practical joking often provoked serious
ill-feeling, and it was only owing to David's good sense that it had
not done so in the present instance.
That day's march was a short one. Early in the afternoon they saw a
thin blue column of smoke rising through the trees ahead, and a few
minutes later, to their unbounded delight, they entered the camp of
the Mysterious Thirty-six, whose tents were scattered through the
grove wherever the snow was level, or a tree or bank afforded shelter.
Such members of the company as they saw greeted them pleasantly, and
congratulated Uncle Will on making so rapid a journey. They could
far better afford to be distanced by the small Bradford party than
the Bradfords by them, and showed no trace of ill-humor. Uncle Will
declared, however, as the Bradfords were pitching their camp in the
edge of the timber, that it was too early to crow yet.
"What place is this?" asked Roly, as he fetched a kettleful of water
from the one open spot in a brook everywhere else buried deep under the
snow.
Uncle Will hung the kettle over the fire and answered, "Rainy Hollow."
"Ah!" exclaimed the boy, with sudden recollection, "this is where you
wrote your letter."
"Yes," said his uncle, "and the place was well named. It storms here
most of the time, consequently the crossing of the summit is usually
difficult and often quite dangerous. We are close to the summit now,
and this is the last of the timber."
"And how far is it across the summit?"
"About twenty miles to the timber on the other side."
After supper the boys paid a visit to the large camp, having a desire
to see how the Mysterious Thirty-six looked and lived. As they entered
the camp the familiar "Muck-muck" was shouted from the entrance of a
large cooking-tent by a jolly, red-faced man, whose general appearance,
together with a big spoon which he waved dramatically above a kettle
of beans, indicated that he was the cook. The call was taken up in
various directions, and repeated to the farthest tents, and presently
white men and Indians appeared from every side and took their places
indiscriminately in a line before the tent. Each carried an aluminum
plate and cup, with knife, fork, and spoon. As fast as they were
served, the men either seated themselves on logs and boxes, or stood
in groups, eating their beans, bacon, and biscuits, and drinking their
hot tea with great relish. The boys saw several sly young Indians
finish their rations almost at a gulp, lick their plates clean, and
immediately re-enter the line, by which trick they received a double
portion, the cook being evidently unable to distinguish them from
new-comers.
When all had been served, a white man approached the tent and asked,
"Do we get a second helping to-night, Jack? I'm as hungry as I was
before. Appetite's just getting whetted."
"No, Si, my boy, there's nothing left. Only one round,--that's the
orders to-night."
"H-m," said Si. "I'll bet those Indians didn't go hungry, though. I saw
one of 'em go back into the line."
"Well," said the cook, "the Cap'n will have to see to it, then. I can't
watch 'em all."
"I suppose not," said Si. "It's a shame, though." He looked around
to satisfy himself that the leader was not within hearing. "I'd have
pitched that Indian into a snowbank if it wasn't directly against
orders. The Cap'n says we're to have no rows with the redskins, or
they'll leave us, so we've got to be sweet an' nice to the rascals. By
the way, Jack, has anybody spoken for that kettle?"
"You're first on that," replied the cook, handing out one of the bean
kettles, in the bottom of which clung some half-burned scrapings. "Get
all the satisfaction you can out of it, old man."
"Trust me for that," said Si, calling to a friend to come and share his
prize.
Several others came up to ask for a second helping, but they were
disappointed,--all except the one who followed Si. He received the
other bean kettle.
"I'm glad we don't have to figure so closely," said David. "It must be
pretty tough to go to bed hungry after a hard day's work."
"That's what it is!" exclaimed a young man who stood near, and
overheard David's remark. "If they doubled our present rations it
wouldn't be too much, considering the work we have to do in these
mountains. I've had only two really satisfying meals since we left
Pyramid Harbor, and those consisted of porcupine stew."
"Why don't they give you more, then?" asked Roly.
"Oh! I suppose it's because we can't carry much food on these sleds,
and what we have must last until June, when pack trains of horses can
bring us more. Would you boys like to look around the camp?"
"Yes, indeed," answered David.
"Well," said their guide, who, as they learned, came from their own
State, "let's have a look at the fireplace."
This was near the cook-tent, and consisted of a circular hollow at
the foot of a tall spruce. At the bottom of the cavity a bright
fire blazed, and several kettles were hung over it by forked sticks
suspended from a horizontal pole, which was supported at each end at
the proper height by a crotched stake.
"There was quite a hole here when we came," said the young man, "and
we enlarged it with our shovels, and deepened it until we reached the
ground. The heat of the fire has made it still larger. You can get a
good idea of the depth of the snow from this hole, for, as you see, the
head of the man who stands in there by the fire doesn't reach within a
foot of the surface. There's about twice as much snow here as there was
in the valley."
They next visited the dwelling tents, which were exactly like the
diminutive tent of David and Roly, each barely accommodating two men;
but here in some cases four men had joined, and by spreading their two
tents and the two flies over a framework of poles, they secured a sort
of canvas hut which was quite roomy, and sheltered the occupants from
the wind on three sides, while a fire of logs before the open fourth
side made the improvised dwelling comfortable and cheerful, and served
also to dry the moccasins, coats, and blankets which had become damp on
the march.
In the distance they now heard some one calling off a list of names.
Their friend listened intently.
"There," said he, with a woful face, "I'm wanted. I suppose it's my
turn on guard to-night."
"Do you have to stand guard?" asked David, with some surprise. "We
never do. What is there to guard against?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," said the young man, replying to the latter
question. "Perhaps our Indians would meddle with the supplies, or it
may be the rule was made in the interest of the cooks, for the last
guard calls them up in the morning. Then, besides, there are generally
beans to be boiled at night, and the guards do that, and, of course,"
he added with a grimace and a smack of the lips, "we have to sample
those beans to know when they are done. That's the one redeeming
feature of guard duty."
The boys laughed, and declared the guards were not to be blamed under
the circumstances.
"How long is your watch?" asked Roly.
"Two hours. We draw lots for choice of watches. There are so many of
us that the turn doesn't come round to the same man oftener than once
a week, but it is pretty hard then to be pulled out of the blankets in
the middle of the night after a long day's labor. Well, I must leave
you. Good-bye!" and he was off to see about the guard duty.
The boys returned to their camp, passing on the way the large tent of
the Indians, who were singing a weird, monotonous native chant, varied
by the occasional insertion of religious hymns which they had picked up
at Haines' Mission. Uncle Will was telling his brother the information
he had gathered in the neighboring camp.
"They arrived here yesterday," he was saying, "so their leader told me,
and to-day they carried part of their goods forward five miles, where
they cached them. The men returned from that trip just before we came.
To-morrow they plan to take another and longer journey, moving their
remaining supplies ten miles and then returning here. That will be a
good twenty-mile march, and it will use them up so that I think they'll
have to rest one day at least. Their leader, who was willing enough to
talk about his present plans, said that as soon as possible after they
had made the second cache, they would take an early start from here,
and try to reach the timber on the other side the same day. You see
they'll have virtually nothing to carry except tents and blankets until
they reach their first cache, which they will pick up, leaving the
second untouched. In other words, they will travel five miles with very
light loads, and then fifteen with half-loads,--twenty miles in all.
They will return from that advanced camp the next day to their second
cache and take that forward."
"I suppose," said Mr. Bradford, "we shall have to employ the same
tactics to some extent. We can't carry forward our whole outfit in one
march."
"That's true," answered his brother. "I think it would be wise to first
carry half-loads ten miles. If the boys give out before we get back,
we'll draw them. I'm convinced that if we're to beat the big party,
we must do it here, and work as we never worked before. One thing I'm
thankful for,--our loads are lighter than theirs, for you see we've
already taken provisions for myself and Long Peter as far as Klukshu
Lake, and we two are now moving a share of yours. Besides, these
fellows have an unusual amount of clothing and other truck in their
clothing bags, and a great deal of heavy hardware. What did you learn
from their Indians, Peter?"
Long Peter smiled and looked wise. "Injuns say they no go to-morrow.
Big snow come. White men no keep together; some get lost. No wood for
fire. But we go if no wind. Me know t'ail [trail]."
This was a long speech for Long Peter, and it meant much. The morrow
would decide the race.
CHAPTER XII
THE SUMMIT OF CHILKAT PASS
The prediction of snow was fulfilled to the letter. When the Bradfords
awoke, they found the air thick with feathery flakes, which came gently
and noiselessly down on tent and tree and drift. Already the green
boughs of the spruces were heavily laden. In Mr. Bradford's thermometer
the mercury stood at twenty-five degrees above zero.
Long Peter noted the direction of the wind, which was so light as
hardly to be perceptible. Then he examined the snowflakes, which were
damp and large, indicating that the cloud currents of the air were not
intensely cold.
"We can go," said he to Uncle Will.
Breakfast hurriedly disposed of, the sleds were loaded with half
the supplies, oiled canvas being bound over the goods to keep them
dry. Uncle Will knew that Long Peter was one of the most experienced
pathfinders in his tribe, and would not undertake the march if he were
not well able to bring them through in safety. By seven o'clock they
were on their way, the Indian leading and treading a path with his
narrow, turned-up snow-shoes. The others followed easily in his track,
all wearing snow-shoes, for otherwise they would have broken through
the thin crust of the old snow, and the sleds would frequently have
been stalled.
As they had camped in the edge of the woods, they were quickly out
of sight of the trees, and traversing a barren, snowy waste which
presented a gentle upward incline. The falling snow cut off the distant
prospect, and in the absence of all landmarks the Indian was guided
solely by the slope of the ground and the direction of the wind. Uncle
Will, however, verified his course from time to time by a small compass.
After travelling thus about a mile, they arrived at the edge of a bank
or bluff, which sloped steeply down to a level space fifty feet below.
"Devil's Slide," said the Indian to Uncle Will, in a tone of
satisfaction.
"Yes," replied the latter. "I remember this place and its curious name
very well."
"I don't see how we are going to get these loads down," said Roly.
"It's awfully steep."
Long Peter, so far as his own sled was concerned, quickly solved that
problem. He drew his load to the edge of the bluff, and then, with
apparent recklessness, threw himself upon it just as it toppled over
the brink. The others held their breath while man and sled went down,
as Roly said afterward, "like greased lightning;" but the runners cut
through the snow at the bottom of the hill, and the outfit brought up
safely.
Mr. Bradford declared that might do for Long Peter, but _he_ didn't
care to risk it. He accordingly let his sled go alone, which it did
gracefully enough until half-way down, when it swerved, upset, and
rolled over and over, the gee-pole finally sticking in the snow and
ending its wild career. It was necessary to repack the whole load.
Uncle Will's sled fared better. As for the boys, they ventured to coast
down as Long Peter had done, and reached the bottom in a whirl of snow
without any mishap.
Near the foot of the slide they entered a narrow ravine,--the bed of a
mountain brook now buried deep under the drifts,--and followed it up
for a mile or two, emerging at length upon an almost level expanse,
which Uncle Will said was one of the highest places on the pass.
"Indeed," said he, "we may as well call this the summit, although for
many miles we shall continue at about this height. There is a shallow
lake in the little hollow ahead, Long Peter tells me, but you wouldn't
guess it to look at this unbroken snow-field."
On their right they could now dimly see, through the falling flakes, an
abrupt mountain peak, whose lower slopes they were already skirting.
Its top was cut into several sharp points like saw-teeth. Uncle Will
informed his friends that it was one of the best landmarks on the pass,
being visible in fair weather for miles in either direction,--in fact,
it was such a steadfast, reliable peak that it had earned the name,
"Mount Stay-there." To the left was a low ridge of rounded hills,
beyond which nothing could be seen in the thick air. It was here
that the Bradfords discovered the first, or five-mile cache of the
Mysterious Thirty-six,--a huge pile of boxes and sacks protected from
the weather by oiled canvas.
Drawing their sleds into the lee of the goods, they seated themselves
for a brief and much needed rest, for both of the boys were complaining
of their backs, and Mr. Bradford suffered considerably in the same way.
Their feet, too, protested with almost equal insistence against the
present journey, coming as it did hard upon the excessive strain of the
preceding week. No one thought of calling himself disabled, however,
and the pain was borne patiently, and for the most part silently. The
soreness in their faces and fingers continued too, but that was a minor
evil.
Roly presently turned his head and listened intently. "What is that
noise?" he asked,--"that clucking which sounds so near? I can't see
anything, though I've heard it several times."
"You'll have to look sharp to see those visitors," answered Uncle
Will. "What you hear is the call of the ptarmigan, a bird which in
summer is brown, but in winter is white as the snow."
"So we're in a ptarmigan country, are we?" said Mr. Bradford. "I
believe that bird is considered quite a delicacy."
"There's nothing finer," said his brother. "We shall have plenty of
ptarmigan from now on."
"What do the birds live on?" asked David. "I don't see anything but
snow here."
His uncle replied that there were places where the wind kept the ground
bare, allowing the birds to pick seeds from the grasses, and buds from
the willows.
"There!" exclaimed Roly, who had been gazing steadily into the storm,
"I see two of them on the little knoll yonder. They're not quite as big
as the spruce partridge."
The boys wished to add them to the larder, but as revolvers were the
only available weapons, and it would not do to stray away from the
party, Mr. Bradford vetoed the proposition, saying that they would
undoubtedly have better opportunities.
"What a funny note they have!" said Roly. "I do believe they are
calling Long Peter. Listen, now. 'Peter, Peter, Peter; come over, come
over.'"
The others agreed that this was a very fair interpretation, and
the Indian exclaimed, "Me come over bime-by; make ptarmigan
sick,"--whereat they were all amused, and for the moment forgot their
pain and discomfort.
It would not do, however, to rest too long, for they were becoming
chilled, and stiff in every joint. With much limping until renewed
exercise had limbered their sore muscles, the little band resumed the
march, making brief halts when their breath gave out on the hills, but
gaining ground the rest of the time slowly but steadily. Long Peter
turned to the left from the base of Mount Stay-there, and for several
miles followed the northeastern slope of a range of low, rounded hills,
descending gradually until he reached the valley of a brook which Uncle
Will said must be one of the sources of the Chilkat, since it flowed to
the south. The brook was buried under the snow for the most part, but
near noon an open place was discovered, to which, with mouths parched
from toil, they all rushed, for there had been no water to drink since
leaving the brook at Rainy Hollow, and eating snow was prohibited,
owing to repeated warnings from the Indian that it would "make sick."
Had it not been for the beef tablets, they would have suffered more
than they did.
Here they ate a cold repast of salt pork and hard-tack, and never did
food taste better than those thick slices of fat meat. The dry, tough
crackers, too, now that there was water in plenty, seemed sweeter than
the sweetest morsel at home. Thus do hunger and hard work transform
the rudest fare.
After the meal, and a half-hour's rest, the snow became increasingly
sticky, clogging beneath their snow-shoes in hard, icy masses, and
making those articles extremely heavy, so that it was necessary to halt
often and rap off the frozen particles. The boys were getting very
tired, and in spite of their light loads were fain, time and again,
to pause for breath and a rest. Hour after hour hardly a word was
spoken, no one having any surplus energy to expend in that way. David
was really more exhausted than Roly, for though the older, he was the
weaker, owing to his rapid growth; but, with an elder brother's pride,
he would have dropped rather than complain first. So for the greater
part of the afternoon he struggled on in silence, scarcely able to
drag one foot after the other, but pluckily dogging his father's sled,
though at last his head swam so that he fairly wavered as he walked.
Poor fellow! he realized, as never before, how light in reality were
the tasks of home and school, which had seemed so often distasteful and
hard. He thought of his mother and Helen by the comfortable fireside,
and then of a bright-haired girl waving her handkerchief to him from
the wharf,--and then he knew no more.
It was a cry from Roly which gave the others the first intimation of
David's collapse. Roly had been close behind him, bringing up the rear
of the procession, and had seen his brother pitch forward like a log
into the snow and lie there motionless. Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will ran
back in alarm, and while the former placed a coat under David's head
and rubbed his forehead with snow, the other, after feeling his pulse,
drew forth a flask of brandy, which he carried for such emergencies,
and poured a little between the boy's lips. It was several minutes
before he opened his eyes and asked where he was, and what was the
matter.
Seeing that he was reviving, the others held a hurried consultation.
It was now about four o'clock. Uncle Will and Long Peter, both of whom
were well fitted to judge, were of the opinion that in spite of many
rests and a snail-like progress, they had fully covered ten miles, as
they had planned to do. The return journey with empty sleds was still
before them, and must be accomplished before nightfall. Long Peter
moreover looked skyward, and shook his head ominously.
"Wind come bime-by," said he. "We stop here--make cache--go back quick.
Too much wind no good!"
"That's just what we've got to do," said Uncle Will, observing the
signs of the storm's increase. "Off with the goods, and don't lose a
minute!"
Boxes and bags were hurriedly loosed from the lashings, and piled in
a high heap, so that the topmost ones would remain visible above the
deepest snow-fall. The cache was then covered with oiled canvas held
in place by boxes, loose ropes were gathered up and fastened upon the
sleds, and all was ready.
Now came the question of what to do with David, who was sitting up,
faint and dazed, but undaunted. He insisted that he could walk in a few
moments, but the others would not hear of it, for no sooner did he try
to rise than he fell back again weak and dizzy. It was decided that he
should lie upon a long sled and be drawn by the three men in turn, at
least for an hour or two, until he recovered more fully.
In this manner, therefore, they started at once to retrace their steps,
Mr. Bradford taking the first turn at drawing his disabled son. The
snowflakes were whirling and driving now before the rising gusts,
and the air felt colder. David was accordingly wrapped in the heavy
coats of the others, he being the only one who could not keep warm by
exercise.
The rest and the ride refreshed him greatly, so that at the open brook
where they had lunched, he declared, after a drink of cold water, that
he would not be drawn any farther. He threw off the coats impatiently,
not forgetting, however, to thank his faithful friends, and standing
up, found himself strong enough to walk. Uncle Will now insisted that
Roly should ride for a while, though that youth, tired as he was, did
not think it necessary, and only yielded with reluctance. So wearied
was he, however, that no sooner had he stretched himself on the sled
than he fell fast asleep, and rode in that manner much farther than he
had intended, the others having no heart to wake him.
The valleys and slopes were comparatively easy to identify and follow
with the aid of Uncle Will's compass, until Mount Stay-there was
reached, but by that time it was between six and seven o'clock, and
darkness was settling down. Meanwhile, the wind had increased, and the
snow was drifting. It was very evident now why the Indians dreaded a
storm on the summit. Terrible indeed would it be, to become confused in
such a place! Here was no hospice of St. Bernard, sending out its men
and dogs to the rescue, but only a howling, uninhabited, frozen waste
for miles.
For a little while yet, the Bradfords were in no danger of losing their
way. It was not difficult to find the head of the ravine which they had
ascended that morning, and it led them straight to the Devil's Slide.
But the last mile from there to camp lay across the bleak, wind-swept
upland. They were never in more need of the compass than now, but,
alas! they could no longer see it.
With great difficulty matches were lighted at intervals, and though
these were invariably blown out directly, they enabled the party to
determine their course. Side by side and close together they walked, in
order that no one might lag behind or be lost in the blinding storm.
It was a wild experience, and one which the boys will never forget, nor
their elders either, for that matter.
Suddenly they heard the Indian exclaim, "Trees!"
They had struck the timber line at last, some distance from their camp,
but presently, having ascertained their whereabouts, they covered the
remaining interval, and with glad hearts flung themselves into the
tents.
CHAPTER XIII
DALTON'S POST
The storm continued all the next day, which was Sunday, and both
parties remained in camp, the Bradfords according to their custom, and
the others because of the weather.
"We stole a good march on them yesterday," said Uncle Will at
breakfast, "and I believe we shall come out ahead. While they are
making their ten-mile cache and returning here, we can make a straight
march and camp on the other side. We shall be just one day ahead of
them then, and I think we can hold that lead. At the same time, we must
not overtax the boys. I would rather lose all the gold in the universe
than injure their health."
The plan suggested by Uncle Will was carried out, and camp was pitched
in due time among the straggling spruces beyond the pass. Nothing
worth mention occurred on that march, save the discovery of a sulphur
spring at a place called Mosquito Flats, and the shooting of several
ptarmigan, from which was concocted a delicious stew with real
dumplings and gravy.
Being far too tired after their long tramp to search for tent-poles
and soft boughs in such an unpromising place, the boys decided not
to raise their tent. Instead they laid it flat upon the snow, spread
the blankets and down quilts upon it, and covered the whole with the
rubber blanket. They turned in soon after supper, curling far under
the coverlets, in which they arranged a small opening for breathing
purposes, and slept warmly and well. What was their surprise, when they
awoke, to find that snow had fallen during the night and covered them,
so that the ptarmigan, seeing only a white mound, were clucking and
calling almost within arm's reach. So tame were these birds that even
when the boys jumped up and shook the snow from their bed, they only
flew to a distance of twenty or thirty feet, where they paused to eye
the strangers curiously.
The Bradfords brought in their cache that day, in spite of violent
snow-squalls which evidently prevented the Thirty-six from making their
final dash across the summit. Thus they gained another day in the race.
They were now at a place called Glacier Camp, near the headwaters
of the Alsek River, which flows first to the north for fifty miles,
then makes a great sweep to the west past Dalton's trading-post and
the village of the Stiks, and finally, turning to the south, cuts
the massive St. Elias Range, and enters the Pacific at Dry Bay. They
were glad to take advantage of the smooth and level surface of this
river, with its alternate patches of ice and firm snow, but there were
considerable stretches where, to avoid the windings of the stream, the
trail took the shortest course through the woods, in spite of soft snow
and the many irregularities of the ground.
For a week they travelled in this manner through the varied scenery
of the Alsek valley, now traversing wide plains, now passing sublime
mountains and frowning cliffs, and meeting with sundry new experiences.
On one occasion they enjoyed the novel sensation of feeling their
high-piled sleds blown merrily over glare ice by a strong south wind.
When this impetuous ally took hold, Roly longed for a pair of skates,
that he might glide easily in front of his sled. As it was, his spiked
ice-creepers dug in at every step, the sled was continually on his
heels, and all the gliding he could do was in his imagination.
David had imprudently neglected to wear his dark snow-glasses, and
the sun being now high and the snow dazzling, he was attacked with
snow-blindness,--a malady no doubt aggravated by the pungent smoke
of the camp-fires. When he sat down to supper one evening, he found
it difficult to keep his eyes open. Prickly pains darted through the
eyeballs, and the vision was seriously impaired. On the following day
he could hardly see to walk, in spite of the glasses which now--too
late--he wore. Fortunately Mr. Bradford had included in the medical
stores an eye-wash for this painful affection, and after two or three
days' treatment the inflammation subsided, and normal vision returned.
Hardly a day passed in which the travellers succeeded in keeping
entirely dry. To go to sleep in wet stockings was the customary thing;
they were sure to dry during the night from the bodily warmth, and no
one thought of taking cold. On one memorable march a damp, clinging
snow fell in enormous flakes, which melted upon their coats, soaked
through, and finally ran down into their shoes, and it required a
roaring fire that night to restore the little company to a fair degree
of comfort.
None too soon they arrived at Dalton's Post, one hundred and twenty
miles from the coast, for signs had not been wanting that the ice was
about to go out of the streams.
How novel it seemed to stand under a roof once more! How delightful
to sit down in a chair beside a roaring stove and bid defiance to the
elements! This little settlement, so far from anywhere in particular,
was a very oasis of civilization.
The storekeeper, Mr. Martin, usually called "Ike," was a small, wiry
man, whose black hair was sprinkled with gray. He was very glad to see
the new-comers, and welcomed them hospitably, inquiring whence they
came and what was the news in the outside world. For months he had
been the only white man at the trading-post, Jack Dalton, the owner,
being absent on a journey to the coast. The advent of prospectors now
and then was the only break in his monotonous existence.
On entering the substantial log store, the boys surveyed the interior
with interest. It was not unlike that of a country store at home,
the shelves being piled high with calicoes and ginghams, shoes,
hats, tin pans, plates, and cups, while from the roof-beams depended
kettles, pails, steel traps, guns, and snow-shoes. Ike informed them
that he kept a small stock of flour, bacon, rice, sugar, and other
provisions, in a storehouse near at hand, and that the establishment
traded principally with the Stik Indians, whose village lay nearly a
mile down-stream to the west. The natives paid for the goods, either
with money earned by packing on the trail, or with the skins of bears,
foxes, and other fur-bearing animals.
"What do you charge for your goods?" asked David, after his father
and uncle had departed to select a camping-place. He had heard of the
exorbitant prices of the Klondike.
"It depends a good deal on supply an' demand, same as anywhere else,"
answered Ike. "But we commonly give the Indians a lower rate than
white men. You see, the Indians are our regular customers, an' it's
for our int'rest to give them the preference. They have to depend on
us entirely for many of the necessaries of life, while white men
should not come in here without bringing what they need. Just now we're
running short o' flour,--wouldn't sell a fifty-pound sack to a white
man for less than twenty-five dollars. There hain't been trade enough
with whites up to this year to make it worth while to carry a big
stock, for, as you probably know by this time, it's a hard job to get
supplies over the summit."
"Have you heard about the big party behind us?" asked Roly.
"Yes, Al King told me about them the other day, when he passed here."
"Will you sell provisions to them?" asked David. "They've been on short
rations right along."
"Not in large amounts. They must look out for themselves. If they
should want a few sweets to munch on, we might let them have raisins at
fifty cents a pound, or candy at one dollar."
"Candy?" repeated Roly, eagerly. "Just let me see some if you please,
Mr. Martin."
The storekeeper laughed, and produced a cheap, mixed grade,--the best
he had, of which luxury the boys bought quite a quantity.
While Roly was describing how the Thirty-six had been distanced on the
summit, two Indian women entered and addressed the storekeeper in the
native language, with which he seemed perfectly familiar. He rose, and
going behind the counter, weighed out some salt, answering meantime a
number of questions which seemed to have reference to the boys, at whom
the women glanced occasionally.
"They wanted to know all about you," said Ike, when his customers had
gone. "They belong to Lucky's family. Your uncle knows Lucky, don't he?"
"Yes," said David. "Uncle Will took care of him when he was shot. Is he
well again?"
"Oh, yes! Off trapping now somewhere in the woods. He's a shrewd one,
that Lucky. Brings in more furs than any other man in the tribe. He's
a tall, wiry chap, with big cheek-bones an' little foxy eyes, an' the
reg'lar Indian virtues an' vices. He's brave, an' he's enduring, an'
a splendid hunter, but he's sly an' lazy. Little Coffee Jack, his
brother, is going to be just like him."
"There's Father calling us," said David, presently. "They probably want
water. Where do you get it, Mr. Martin?"
"You'll find a hole cut in the river ice," answered the storekeeper,
"if you follow the path straight out from the door. You can't miss it.
You want to be careful, though."
Having procured kettles at the camp, the boys easily found the path,
and the hole to which it led. So great was the combined thickness of
snow and ice that the opening was about five feet deep, wide at the
top, but narrowing toward the bottom. A sort of shelf or ledge had
been hacked out about half-way down, upon which the person drawing the
water could stand, and as an additional safeguard a pole had been set
horizontally across the hole. So rapid was the current that the water
did not rise in the hole, but fairly flew beneath it.
"I don't wonder Mr. Martin told us to be careful," said David, with a
shudder. "One slip on that icy ledge, and down you'd go into the dark
water and under the ice in a jiffy."
"Just think," observed Roly, "if Mr. Martin had ever fallen like that
when he was here alone, no one would ever know what had become of him.
The hole would soon get filled up, and his disappearance would be
the kind of a mystery you read about. Probably the Indians would be
suspected."
"Yes," said David, "I've no doubt of it. But now let's get the water.
You stand up here, and I'll do the dipping. You see," he added,
concealing with an air of mock pride the real responsibility he felt,
"superior age makes it my duty to take the post of danger,"--with which
heroic burst he scrambled quickly but carefully down and filled the
kettles without accident, though they were nearly jerked from his hands
by the force of the current. It is safe to say, however, that had Uncle
Will known the dangerous character of the water-hole, which only Long
Peter had visited on his earlier trip, he would have fetched the water
himself.
CHAPTER XIV
FROM THE STIK VILLAGE TO LAKE DASAR-DEE-ASH
The Bradfords passed through the Stik village early the next day, after
leaving letters with the storekeeper to be sent back when opportunity
offered. This Indian settlement consisted of about a dozen houses,
some built of rough logs, others of hewn boards. A few possessed the
luxury of glass windows. Over the door of one of the more pretentious
was nailed a board on which was painted the name of the chief, John Kah
Sha. The Indians, many of whom appeared abjectly dirty and ignorant,
gazed stolidly for the most part at the travellers, but a few nodded
and smiled as they passed, and called away the swarm of curs which
yelped or fawned at their heels.
Beyond the village the trail turned north and left the river valley,
ascending eight hundred feet by a sharp ridge to the top of a great
table-land. The snow had melted from the ridge, and it was necessary to
unpack the sleds and carry up the goods piece-meal,--an operation which
required many trips and the severest labor, and occupied the entire
day.
In the nick of time Lucky appeared with his younger brother, and having
begged to be allowed to accompany the party,--a request which Uncle
Will granted at once,--he fell to work with such energy and good-will
that the boys were inclined to think the storekeeper had erred in
calling him lazy. Coffee Jack, too, struggled with flour sacks nearly
as heavy as himself, and won golden opinions from everybody. The truth
is, an Indian is every whit as ready as a white man to show gratitude
for kindness.
Reaching the brow of the hill breathless and warm after the first
ascent, the Bradfords threw their loads upon the ground and paused to
rest and look back. A wonderful panorama was outspread before them.
Green spruce forests were sprinkled over the snowy surface of the Alsek
valley and its bordering plateaus. Below them lay the Indian village,
while to the east in a clearing rose a column of blue smoke from the
chimney of the trading-post. They could trace the river for many miles
in its great curve to the south, where on the far horizon glittered the
mighty summits of the St. Elias Range. To the southeast, perhaps ten
miles away, loomed a grand cluster of unnamed mountains, and another
to the southwest, while, to perfectly balance the picture, similar
isolated mountain groups appeared over the tree-tops in the northeast
and northwest.
It was here that a trim, long-tailed bird was first observed, whose
plumage was mostly black, and whose note was loud rather than musical.
Uncle Will said it was a magpie, a bird which, in captivity, can be
taught like the parrot to imitate the human voice. Another bird, of
a gray color, made its appearance at dinner-time, and showed a great
fondness for bacon rinds, coming close up to the party to snatch the
coveted morsels. This was the butcher-bird or shrike, very common in
all the northwestern country, and an arrant thief when there is meat in
sight.
Sledding was resumed next morning. The enlistment of Lucky and Coffee
Jack had swelled their number to seven, and without increasing the
loads to be carried added to the working force, so that in spite of the
softness of the snow good progress was made. Lucky had brought an old
sled, cast aside by some prospector; but as it was too weak to carry
a full load, Uncle Will relegated it to Coffee Jack with one hundred
pounds, while Lucky drew the sleds of the others by turns.
The boys soon had occasion to observe the shrewdness of their young
Indian friend. The gee-pole of Coffee Jack's sled broke on a steep
down-grade, and he was obliged to halt for repairs. The Indians
invariably take much pride in their powers as swift, strong packers and
sledders, especially when in the company of white men, and Coffee Jack
was now at his wits' end to maintain his position and keep the young
pale-faces behind him. He rose to the emergency, however.
"You got hatchet?" he asked innocently, as David approached. "Sled
broke."
"Yes," said David, handing over that article and sitting down
good-naturedly on his sled while the Indian boy went to cut a new
pole. He supposed that as soon as Coffee Jack had secured the pole and
driven it into place, he would return the hatchet, without waiting to
re-fasten the drag-rope and lashings, which it had been necessary to
loosen.
This, however, was just what Coffee Jack did not propose to do. Seeing,
as he had hoped would be the case, that David had stopped to wait for
the hatchet, and Roly had stopped rather than make so long a détour out
of the trail through the deep snow, he pretended to need the hatchet
after the pole was in place, giving a rap here and a tap there, and all
the while adroitly fastening the ropes in place again.
But Yankees have a reputation for shrewdness as well as Indians, and
David and Roly were quick to perceive Coffee Jack's trick. While the
Indian boy's back was turned, the two exchanged signals; then David
quietly turned out of the trail, passed Coffee Jack's sled, though only
with considerable difficulty, and came into the trail again, closely
followed by Roly.
Perceiving that his plans were discovered and frustrated, and
realizing that he had met his match, Coffee Jack laughed and
surrendered the hatchet.
During the next few days, while they were ascending the comparatively
narrow valley of Klukshu River, a small stream emptying into the Alsek
above Dalton's Post, winter made his last dying effort. It was now the
middle of April, and the sun was so high that the snow softened greatly
at midday. It had become impossible to make satisfactory progress
except by rising at two o'clock in the morning and starting as soon
as there was light. For three successive nights the mercury sank to
zero, and the air was so keen and frosty that their fingers were nearly
frozen when, in the early dawn-light, they removed their mittens to
loosen the knots of the tent-ropes; yet by noon it was invariably so
warm that the snow was melting and the sleds stuck fast.
The Klukshu River was not so thoroughly ice-bound as the Alsek, and,
already swollen with the melting snows, it had broken its fetters in
many places, so that it was impossible to follow the stream itself.
Twice, however, the trail crossed it,--first from west to east by a jam
of tree-trunks and débris, and then back again by a narrow span of ice
which cracked ominously and threatened to go down-stream, even as they
passed over it.
Here they met Grant Baldwin, Al King's partner,--a young man not much
older than David, who was travelling alone to the coast with a sled
drawn by two dogs.
At length, after many a tussle with hills and willow thickets and
stumps and roots and ruts, all of which seemed in league to oppose
them, the Bradfords reached the lower end of Klukshu Lake, a long but
narrow body of water at the eastern side of a broad valley. Except a
small spot near the outlet, it was covered with ice and snow. Four
miles to the west among others rose a peak so perfectly conical as to
serve for an excellent landmark, while to the northwest and ten miles
away they could see the extensive mountain system in which lay Al
King's claim.
Uncle Will at once examined the cache which he had left in the deserted
Indian shack. Finding it intact and in good condition, he determined
to keep it there for the present, and the whole party pushed on up
the lake, which proved to be about four miles long, curving to the
east at its upper end. Here a long hill was surmounted in the same
manner as at the Stik village, after which a trail through the woods
brought them over a divide to a larger lake called Dasar-dee-ash, whose
outlet, in contrast to that of Klukshu, flowed from the northern end.
This lake was solidly frozen as far as the eye could see, its surface
being a succession of snowy windrows separated by streaks of ice. The
grand mountain chain which they had seen in the distance rose from its
western edge, while the opposite shore sloped gently back in wooded
hills. Mr. Bradford estimated that the lake was fifteen miles long, and
about twelve broad at its widest part.
That evening the Bradfords in council decided that the three Indians
should bring up Uncle Will's cache on the morrow, they, in the mean
time, making a flying visit to Shorty Creek for the purpose of staking
claims. To be sure, the Kah Sha River and all its tributary creeks,
Shorty included, would be buried deep under snow and ice, and claims
would have to be chosen at random, but even this was better than
ignoring a district where gold was known to be. Later, when they had
visited their principal goal, some thirty miles distant, they could
return, hunt for Lucky's big nugget, and see what kind of claims they
had drawn from the Shorty Creek grab-bag.
CHAPTER XV
STAKING CLAIMS
A day's delay was occasioned by a snow-storm, but the second morning
opened bright, and the Indians early departed on their errand. The
Bradfords started soon afterward, crossing a bay of the lake and
making for the western shore at a point near the southern base of the
mountains. A valley, mostly wooded and several miles in width, extended
straight back in that direction; and after following it about six
miles, Uncle Will, who had previously questioned Lucky as to the route,
turned to the right toward a deep gap which now came into view. This
was the gorge of the Kah Sha River,--a stream named after the old chief
of the Stiks.
They had made fairly rapid progress, having brought but one sled with
food for two days, tents, blankets, cooking outfit, two axes, and a
gold-pan. It was necessary, however, to wear snow-shoes the entire
distance. This in itself was fatiguing, and rests were frequent.
Near the mouth of the gorge they came out of the woods into a wide,
clear space, which, later in the season, when the snow was gone, they
found to be due to an immense deposit of stones and gravel thrown
out by the stream through many generations. This open tract led them
directly to the gorge, and presently they passed in between high bluffs
of sand and gravel, which soon gave way in places to abrupt cliffs of
dark, slaty rock several hundred feet in height. The river could be
heard dashing impatiently over its stony bed under huge banks of snow,
which had drifted in upon it to so great a depth that the water could
seldom be seen. It was a wild and wonderful canyon such as the boys had
never dreamed of, and they felt the spirit of adventure rise within
them as they realized that this was a land of gold. Who could tell what
treasures lay at last beneath their feet? They could hardly refrain
from scrutinizing every rock for the gleam of yellow metal. They gazed
long and earnestly at the bare patches of sand on the slopes, till
at length they were obliged to confess that it looked quite like the
barren sand of New England.
Their elders only smiled on perceiving their enthusiasm, warning them,
however, not to go close to the cliffs; and hardly had the word been
spoken when, as if to emphasize the warning, a mass of crumbling rock
fell with a roar just behind them.
Two or three miles of this kind of travelling brought them to Al King's
tent, which stood to the left of the stream on a small level plot. On
the opposite side a rocky wall rose straight from the water's edge a
hundred feet and cut off all view, so that it seemed to the boys a
rather dreary spot. Yet here, as they presently learned, one lone man
had passed the entire winter, with no better shelter than a tent.
This man was the recorder of the district, Tom Moore by name, a
grizzled veteran of many a hard campaign of mining and prospecting. His
tent was near that of Al King. On a tree before it had been nailed a
slab from a box, bearing the inscription, "Recorder, Last Chance Mining
District, T. Moore."
The Bradfords received a hearty welcome from Al King and the recorder,
the latter, by reason of his long exile, taking especial delight in the
sight of new faces. King's fine dog "Bess" was even more demonstrative
in her welcome than the two men, and bounded from one to another of the
little group, licking their hands and receiving their caresses.
In company with Moore and King, who volunteered to guide them, they
passed the mouth of Shorty Creek,--so named from the Indian who
discovered gold there,--a small brook flowing in from the left. Neither
of the guides thought it worth while to stop there, for the best
claims were already taken. They believed that Alder Creek, a larger
tributary above on the same side, now offered the better chance, and
the Bradfords were quite willing to take their advice, since there
appeared no motive for deception. Up Alder Creek they accordingly
went, through a valley wider and less rugged than the Kah Sha gorge
and leading toward a shapely mountain about two miles away, where the
valley divided, that to the right being known as Union Gulch.
Here they found a discovery claim, located the previous year by the
miner who first found gold on that creek. By right of discovery he had
claimed five hundred feet of the valley, or twice the length of an
ordinary claim, and naturally he had chosen what he believed to be the
most promising spot. The stake which marked the upper end of his claim
was the stump of a poplar tree which had been cut off about five feet
from the ground. It stood on the bank of Alder Creek just above its
junction with Union Gulch. For a foot below the top it had been squared
with an axe, and on the smooth white wood was written in pencil,
"Discovery Claim, five hundred feet, down stream. J. Barry, September
4, 1897." There was also a stake which marked the lower end of the
claim.
Uncle Will looked the ground over carefully. Below Union Gulch was a
level expanse of gravel ten feet higher than the stream and covered
with snow except along the edge of the bank. This gravel rested upon
solid rock at about the level of the water. He took the gold-pan and
set out, with Mr. Bradford, the recorder, and King, on a tour of
investigation, bidding the boys cut stakes similar to those on the
discovery claim. David and Roly would have preferred to go with their
elders, but being accustomed to obey orders without question they set
off at once on the less romantic quest for straight young poplars.
Occasionally, however, they paused to watch the gold-seekers down the
valley.
[Illustration: "Presently some little yellow specks were uncovered"]
The stakes having been cut and trimmed, the boys brought them all down
to the discovery claim. They were four in number, sufficient for three
adjoining claims.
"What luck, Uncle Will?" shouted Roly, as they ran to join the others.
"Plenty of colors," answered that gentleman, smiling. "I've no doubt I
could get more if I had brought a shovel. The gravel is frozen so hard
that I can't scrape much together."
"What are colors?" asked David.
"Colors," explained his uncle, "are little thin flakes of gold, as
distinguished from heavier pieces called grains or nuggets. Look in the
pan here, and you'll see what colors are."
In the bottom of the pan lay a small quantity of dark sand, which Uncle
Will told them was called "black sand" and consisted mainly of iron.
Dipping up a little water, he allowed it to wash back and forth over
the black sand, and presently some little yellow specks were uncovered.
These were the colors of gold, which, being relatively heavier than
even the iron, had sifted down to the very bottom.
"Hurrah!" cried Roly, joyfully, as he caught sight of them, adding with
more force than elegance, "that's the stuff!"
David, maturer and less boisterous, was not a whit less pleased. He
expressed a desire to see how the panning was done.
Uncle Will accordingly drew on his rubber gloves to protect his hands
from the icy water, rinsed out the pan, and with some difficulty
scraped together with the head of an axe a panful of dirt and gravel
from the bank as near bed-rock as possible, explaining that the most
gold was found as a rule at the lowest possible point. He carried the
gravel to the edge of the stream, where he allowed the water to flow
in, not too swiftly, upon it. He now rinsed off and threw out the
larger stones, after which he took the pan in both hands and shook it
vigorously for a few seconds with a circular motion, finally letting
the water flow rapidly out, carrying with it some lighter portions of
earth and gravel. Then with his hands he pushed out of the pan the
upper part of its contents to the depth of about half an inch.
Roly was alarmed at once. "Look out, Uncle," said he. "You'll lose some
of the gold, won't you?"
"Not a bit," said Uncle Will, complacently. "When I shook the pan the
gold went down, aided by the water. There isn't a single color in the
top of this gravel now."
So saying, he shook the pan again as before, and pushed off a little
more of the contents, and sometimes he allowed the water to flow in
and out several times, carrying with it on each occasion the lighter
particles. In this way the amount of gravel was gradually reduced, and
in less than ten minutes there remained apparently only a quantity of
black sand and a few pebbles. The latter, Uncle Will deftly removed
with his thumb. Then he proceeded to reduce the amount of black sand,
using greater caution than before, and letting the water flow very
gently in and out.
Presently a yellow speck was uncovered, then another and another, to
the great delight of the boys; and, best of all, a little nugget of the
size of buckshot made its appearance, which Uncle Will said might be
worth fifteen cents.
All this was highly encouraging, for the Bradfords had not counted
on a gold district here when the expedition was planned. It only
remained to set up the stakes and write the names and dates thereon.
As the discovery claim included only the upper end of the bank where
the nugget was found, Uncle Will took two hundred and fifty feet next
below, followed by Mr. Bradford and David in turn. Roly, as we have
said, was under eighteen, and had no license.
"There," said Uncle Will, when all was finished and the stakes firmly
braced with stones, "I believe we've taken the cream of the creek. The
Thirty-six will probably stake the six claims next below, then they
will have to leave the next ten for the Canadian Government and begin
again below that, and so on. There's no telling what would have been
left for us if we hadn't come first."
"That's so," said Tom Moore, with a grin. "I guess ye'd 'a' ben up on
the glacier or down in Dasar-dee-ash Lake."
The party camped that night near the tents of King and the recorder,
the latter entering the claims in due form and collecting ten dollars
per claim, according to law.
CHAPTER XVI
A CONFLAGRATION
When the Bradfords returned to Lake Dasar-dee-ash, they found Lucky,
Long Peter, and Coffee Jack awaiting them with all the supplies. The
course lay across the lake to its outlet, a stream bearing the Indian
name of "Kaska Wulsh," but generally known as the north branch of the
Alsek, since, after flowing north for fifty miles, it turned to the
west and south like the other branch, which it joined many miles below
Dalton's Post.
After a consultation it was decided to cache a part of Mr. Bradford's
supplies, and all of Uncle Will's except certain tools, on the western
shore, within six miles of Kah Sha gorge, for they would eventually
return to look after the Alder Creek claims, and it was, besides,
advisable to lighten the loads and hasten forward before the snow and
ice were gone. Uncle Will accordingly took Lucky and Long Peter and
set out across the bay of the lake with three sled-loads, leaving his
brother and the boys to rest after their labors. Late in the evening he
returned and reported that he had built a strong platform of saplings
high up between three trees and enclosed on all sides. There he had
left the goods covered with oiled canvas, and felt confident that they
would be safe alike from dogs, wild beasts, and stormy weather.
It was now thought best to dismiss Long Peter, since the remaining
thirty-five miles consisted of level lake and river, and furthermore
it was necessary to husband the provisions. The Indian seemed sorry to
part with his white friends, but took the matter good-naturedly, the
more so, perhaps, since he was confident of finding employment with
the Mysterious Thirty-six, who could not be far behind. He left on the
following morning, happy with a present of a fine hunting-knife in
addition to his wages. Uncle Will wished to buy his sled, in order that
Lucky might use it, but Long Peter was unwilling to part with it, and
Lucky was obliged as before to take turns with the sleds of the others
and act as general assistant.
The surface of the lake proved more unfavorable for sledding than was
anticipated. Exposed as they were to the uninterrupted glare of the
sun, the snowy ridges were soft and slushy except at night. To make
matters worse, a north wind blew strongly in their faces. Toward noon
they descried several black specks on the ice to the rearward, which
gained steadily upon them, and were at length seen to be three men,
a sled, and a team of dogs. The men proved to be the leader of the
Thirty-six, a miner named Cannon, and a very tall native known as
Indian Jack, the owner and driver of the dogs.
The "Cap'n," as the leader was called, gave no hint as to his
destination, but Uncle Will surmised that he was going forward to
look over the ground upon which he proposed to locate his men. He was
willing to say, however, that the rest of his party would turn aside to
Kah Sha River, as the Bradfords had done, and that they ought to reach
there in about three days. Several of his men were sick or exhausted,
one was suffering from a sprained ankle, two were snow-blind, another
had been cut with an axe, and still another had blood-poisoning in a
finger. He thought they might lose a day or two from these causes.
Without waiting to talk further, he gave the word to the Indian, who
in turn cried out "Chuck!" to the dogs, and away they went as fast as
they could walk, much faster indeed than the Bradfords could follow.
The Indian guided the sled by the gee-pole, but the dogs did all the
pulling, and tugged vigorously as if they quite enjoyed it,--David
meantime catching a picture of the whole outfit as it went by, with the
Dasar-dee-ash Mountains for a background.
Not more than four miles had been covered when camp was pitched on the
eastern shore that afternoon. As the night promised to be comparatively
warm and fine, Roly proposed to his father that they should make a big
canvas hut with two tents as some of the Thirty-six had done at Rainy
Hollow. Neither Mr. Bradford nor Uncle Will objected to humoring the
boy, and the hut was set up forthwith on a framework of poles, with
the open end to the south away from the wind. The blanket beds of the
four occupants were then laid in place side by side upon spruce boughs
strewn on the snow.
When supper had been disposed of, a roaring fire was built before
the open side of the hut, filling the place with a cheerful warmth
and glow, and the four reclined comfortably on the blankets, telling
stories and watching the curling smoke and crackling flames, until Mr.
Bradford declared that if they did not turn in, they would surely sleep
overtime in the morning, for there was neither cock nor clock to arouse
them here. Something else there was, however, which proved quite as
effectual, and roused them long before daybreak.
Roly was dreaming that he was at home and sitting by the kitchen stove.
Suddenly, he thought, the lids flew off, and the flames rose in a
bright column to the ceiling, while sparks fell all over him and about
the room. He tried to rise and alarm the household, but some strange
power held him fast, and he could neither stir nor cry out. The next
instant he felt a thump in the ribs and awoke with a sense of choking,
to hear his uncle exclaiming excitedly, "Wake up! wake up! everybody!
We're all afire here! Quick, quick, Charley! Take your hat or coat or
anything, and beat down the flames. David, Roly, get out of this in a
hurry!"
The boys grasped the situation in an instant. The wind had turned to
the south while they slept, and a flying spark had set fire to the
canvas over their heads. The dry cloth was now flaming up brightly,
while burning pieces were falling on the blankets. They jumped up,
seized their caps, and fell to work with a will to help their father
and uncle, who were beating away desperately at the blazing side and
roof.
It was quick, breathless work. Not only must they prevent the spread of
the flames overhead, but they must also take care of the bedding and
whatever clothing was in the hut. David, after extinguishing the fire
immediately around him, dropped his cap and pulled both blankets and
clothing in a heap out into the snow, where he spread them all out,
carefully quenched the sparks, and then ran back to the hut, where the
flames were presently brought under control. This was not accomplished,
however, until nearly half the roof and all of one side were gone.
The fire-fighters, panting and exhausted, gazed ruefully at the ruins.
It was too dark now to ascertain the exact amount of the damage, but
there could be no doubt it was very serious. No one, however, was
disposed to cry over spilled milk; and Uncle Will, who had known many
disasters of various sorts in the course of his rough experience,
even laughed grimly and declared that what he regretted most was the
singeing of his beard, of which he had lost fully two inches. Both men
complimented the boys on their efficient work, which contributed to a
large degree toward the saving of the contents of the hut, as well as
that part of the hut itself which remained.
"I believe Lucky and Coffee Jack slept through it all," said Mr.
Bradford, peering through the darkness toward the beach, where the
Indians had pitched their rude tent.
As he spoke, there was a crackling and a flash of light behind the hut.
Not three feet from the rear of the structure rose a tall dead spruce.
Fire from the burning canvas had been communicated to a dry vine
leading into a net-work of small branches at the foot of this tree, and
a tiny flame, silent and unseen, had been stealthily creeping toward
this mass of tinder.
"Down with the hut, boys!" cried Uncle Will, instantly realizing the
new danger. "Quick, before it gets too hot! Never mind the tree,--you
can't put _that_ fire out!"
This last was addressed to Roly, who had promptly attacked the burning
branches with his cap, but only succeeded in tearing that article on
the twigs without much effect on the flames.
Knots were untied with nervous haste, and where they proved refractory
they were cut. That part of the canvas nearest the tree was first
folded over out of harm's way, and soon the whole was loosened and
dragged to a distance, and none too soon. The fire ran up the dry twigs
with startling rapidity and a roar that presently aroused those sound
sleepers, Lucky and Coffee Jack, who came running up in surprise.
The tree quickly became a gigantic torch which lighted up the country
for miles, and sent a dense column of white smoke rolling skyward. By
good luck there were no other trees close enough to be in danger, and
the whole party withdrew to a comfortable distance, as soon as the hut
was safe, to watch the brilliant spectacle. The best part of it was
soon over, for the branches were presently burned away, but portions of
the trunk flamed and smoked for hours. Nobody but the Indians thought
of sleeping any more that night. The boys curled up in their blankets
where they could watch the tree; while Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will,
wrapped in their heavy coats, sat on a log near by,--the former telling
stories of Adirondack fires, the latter, who never seemed to have smoke
enough, puffing away at his pipe.
CHAPTER XVII
THROUGH THE ICE
With daylight it was seen that the tent of David and Roly, which had
formed the western end of the hut, was almost wholly destroyed; but
with the exception of several holes in a corner of the fly, the large
tent had escaped injury. This outcome was fortunate, for an extra small
tent had been provided. As for the bedding, the fine gray blankets were
not harmed in the least, but the down quilts, which had been spread
over them, suffered numerous punctures from the falling sparks, so that
the feathers flew in clouds whenever the quilts were moved, and it was
necessary to sew up the holes before setting out on the day's march.
The outlet of the lake, which they reached at noon, was a stream fifty
feet in width, and passed at first through a swampy region. Here, in
the tall dry marsh-grass, there were pools of open water. Camp was made
on a bluff,--the first high land beyond the swamp. A warm south breeze
blew steadily, and Uncle Will said it was doubtless the wind known in
the Pacific States as the "chinook." It might be expected to continue
without intermission for two or three weeks, and would make a quick
end of the sledding. Already the southern slopes of the hills were
bare, and many of them were green with killikinick, a low plant with
red berries and small evergreen leaves, not unlike those of garden box.
"I'm sorry for our mysterious friends," said Mr. Bradford, as he
finished pitching the large tent. "They'll be stranded on bare ground
pretty soon."
"That's so," said Uncle Will. "They'll cross the lake all right, but
I think the ice will go out of this river in two or three days. We're
none too soon ourselves. Hello! the wild geese have come." He pointed
to a dozen great gray birds, flying in a wedge-shaped flock, and
crying, "Honk! honk!"
"They're coming down," exclaimed Roly, excitedly. "Mayn't I go over
there, Father? I'm sure I could shoot some of them."
"Yes," replied Mr. Bradford; "but I'll go with you, because the ice is
treacherous in the swamp, and, besides, you are not quite expert yet in
the use of the gun."
"Bring us the fattest bird in the flock," shouted Uncle Will, as they
departed; "and we'll have a royal supper." So saying, he fell to
mending the gee-pole of his sled. With David's assistance, the pole was
soon as good as new.
"Now," said Uncle Will, "where's your rifle, Dave?"
"Packed on my sled."
"Go and get it. I saw some ducks in a stretch of open water back here,
and maybe we can do a little hunting on our own account."
This proposal tickled David immensely. He brought the rifle and a
handful of cartridges, and the two set off in a direction not quite
parallel to that taken by Mr. Bradford and Roly. A half-mile walk
brought them in sight of the ducks, five of them, near the icy edge of
a small opening; and by lying flat on the ice, they were able to creep
and slide toward them under cover of a clump of tall reeds. At length
Uncle Will whispered to David to take careful aim at one of them and
fire.
David was already sighting along the gun-barrel--his finger on the
trigger--when the report of Roly's shot-gun rang out behind a small
thicket of willows. The ducks at once took flight, to David's great
disappointment, but at the same moment the geese appeared, flying in a
confused manner directly toward their ambush.
"Quick, Dave, give me the gun," cried Uncle Will.
David instantly passed it over, and wonderingly watched his uncle as he
tossed it up to his shoulder.
"Bang!" went the rifle, and down tumbled a big bird from the centre of
the flock,--as fine a fat goose as ever graced a table. David fairly
danced with delight.
"There!" said Uncle Will, with a merry twinkle in his eye; "I'll wager
that this was the very goose Roly meant to kill."
"Don't you think he shot any, then?" asked David.
"I fancy the chances are he didn't."
And so it proved, when the four hunters reunited and compared notes.
David described his uncle's marksmanship with great enthusiasm, and Mr.
Bradford and Roly were quite ready to admit the brilliance of the feat.
In two places, next morning, the stream, on whose frozen surface they
travelled, broadened into lakelets, where progress over the smooth ice
was rapid and easy, but as soon as these were passed and the stream
narrowed again, difficulties appeared. Water was beginning to flow over
the ice through numerous cracks, and as the day advanced, many openings
had to be avoided. Often the centre of the river was wholly free from
ice, only a narrow strip remaining along each bank. In such cases,
they proceeded with great caution. The banks themselves were usually
impassable, by reason of thickets and trees, and the ice-strips offered
the only highway, but they were tilted at such an angle that the sleds
were constantly slipping sideways toward the water. At the worst spots
the united efforts of the party were required to move each load safely
past.
At length a point was reached, where they seemed absolutely blocked.
The firm ice on one side abruptly ended on a curve of the stream, and
it was necessary to cross to the other side. There was ice in the
centre at this point, but evidently too weak to bear a man's weight.
The boys could see no solution of the problem, except that of retracing
their steps. But the ice in the centre had been weak for a long
distance, and nobody wished to go back over such a weary course on the
slim chance of finding a crossing. It was Mr. Bradford who overcame
this emergency.
"Let us build a brush bridge," suggested he. "I believe it would
distribute our weight, and make the passage safe."
"The very thing," said Uncle Will, approvingly. "Strange I didn't think
of so simple a scheme."
All hands fell to work at once, chopping down willows and alders. Two
strong poplar saplings were laid across the weak ice three feet apart,
and the brush was thrown thickly over them. The Indians tested this
rude bridge, and the others followed, all passing over in safety.
But they were not destined to unbroken good fortune. It was soon
necessary to cross to the east bank again. This time, although there
were three inches of water on the ice in mid-stream, the ice itself
appeared to be reinforced by a second layer which had been thrust
beneath it. Coffee Jack and Lucky examined the situation with care,
then crossed with two sleds. Roly, David, and Mr. Bradford followed
without mishap. Then Uncle Will, the heaviest of the party, attempted
to do likewise; but in the very centre of the river the rotten ice
gave way without a moment's warning, and down went man and sled into
the cold, muddy water. It was deep, too,--so deep that Uncle Will
did not touch the bottom,--and as for the sled, only the tip of the
gee-pole remained above the surface. Fortunately, the current here was
not swift.
"Stand back, boys!" commanded Mr. Bradford, who saw in an instant the
thing to be done. Rushing to the shore, he cut a long willow with one
sweep of his knife, then, running to the edge of the hole, where his
brother had managed to support himself by treading water and grasping
the broken ice-cakes, he held out the end of the branch. Uncle Will
caught this, and was pulled to the edge of the strong shore-ice, where
he was seized by willing hands and drawn forth, his teeth chattering,
but his usual undaunted smile still in evidence as he remarked, "They
s-say it's a good th-thing to keep c-c-cool in case of accident.
N-nobody can say I'm not c-cool!"
This unexpected sally drew a burst of merriment from the boys, who, now
that the danger was over, were quite ready to appreciate the humorous
side of the incident. They admired their uncle more than ever for his
happy way of making light of discomforts.
But the sled and its precious provisions were still in the water, and
no time must be lost in rescuing them. How to do it, was the question.
The gee-pole was too far from the strong ice to be reached. If the thin
ice, against which it rested, were broken, it would probably sink out
of sight altogether.
Lucky finally fished up the drag-rope by means of a long pole, and
thus the sled was drawn toward the shore ice. All now took hold, and
their combined strength sufficed to haul it out of the water. Its load
was quickly unpacked, the sacks of flour were set on end in the sun
to drain and dry, as the dampness had not penetrated more than half
an inch through the canvas, and the contents of the clothing bag were
spread upon a log. A bag of sugar was the only total loss. Meantime,
a huge fire was built on the bank, in the warmth of which Uncle Will
changed his clothing.
Further progress that day was unadvisable, and indeed, Uncle Will
declared that if they had covered seven miles, as he believed was the
case, they were practically at their journey's end.
CHAPTER XVIII
BUILDING THE CABIN
A tour of investigation convinced Mr. Bradford that Frying-Pan Creek,
the stream for which they were searching, flowed into the river from
the right, not a quarter of a mile distant. Lucky was familiar with all
the streams of the region, but he was often unable to identify them
by English names, and, in this instance, the white men were obliged
to base their conclusions on a description of the district previously
given to Uncle Will.
The goods were moved forward overland to a low hill which sloped
gradually to the creek on one side, and fronted the river in a
fifty-foot bluff on the other. Here there was abundance of spruce
timber, much of which, though still standing, had been killed by a
forest fire, and was perfectly seasoned.
Nearly a mile to the west, across the river, was a long granite cliff,
a thousand feet or more in height, which limited the view in that
direction. To the north, as they looked down the valley, they beheld
two mountains fifteen miles away, between which the river flowed. The
western one rose sharply three thousand feet, the other, much greater
in bulk, four thousand. The Indians called these elevations Father and
Son, but the western had come to be known among white men as Mount
Bratnober, while the other was soon to be named Mount Champlain, after
a member of the Thirty-six who climbed it. From Mount Champlain on the
north, a range of lesser peaks extended clear around to the southeast,
bounding the valley on that side, and it was among these mountains
that Frying-Pan Creek had its source, five miles distant. With so many
landmarks, they felt no doubt about their position.
Uncle Will declared that at the earliest moment they must set off to
the headwaters of the creek on a prospecting trip, but to go while ice
and snow remained would hardly be advisable, so long as the Thirty-six
were not in sight. It was therefore decided to begin a log cabin. The
boys, who had always cherished a longing to live in the woods in a
house of their own building, hailed this project with enthusiasm, while
Mr. Bradford observed that they would now appreciate the situation and
circumstances of their ancestors in the wilderness of New England.
First a site must be chosen, dry, level, and sheltered from strong
winds. Several places were examined, but only one of these satisfied
every requirement. It was a small plot of level ground, free from
trees, near the top of the hill where it sloped to the creek. To the
south and west, the hill-top sheltered it, while to the northwest and
north stood tall, dense spruce-trees. Eastward the country was more
open, and creek, valley, and mountains were in plain view. The cabin
was to face in this direction. Its dimensions on the ground were to be
eighteen by twenty feet.
So large a structure would hardly have been planned, had it not been
for the wealth of light, dry timber around them. The weight of green
logs of the required size would have taxed their strength most sorely.
Lucky and Coffee Jack were set at work clearing the ground of snow,
of which but little remained; while Mr. Bradford and his brother took
their axes, and began to fell the straightest of the dead spruces.
The boys trimmed off such branches and stubs as survived. Whenever a
trunk was nearly cut through on one side, the choppers would give the
warning, and, when the way was clear, a few strokes on the other side
brought down the forest giant with a crash.
To drag the logs to the chosen spot was harder and took more time than
the felling. Then the ends had t
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