CHAPTER XXVIII

CHAPTER XXVIIITHE PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOESHaving learned that he would find upon a tree near Klukshu Lake directions for following the new trail to Shorty Creek, as the district was popularly called, Mr. Bradford determined to return by the Dalton trail to the lake, as the relief party of the Thirty-six had done. Here and there along the way they saw traces of the winter's travel. Broken sleds and gee-poles, stumps of trees, and the ashes of camp-fires recalled the memory of labors amid the ice and snow which now, in the heat of summer, seemed like a dream.Up to this time the mosquitoes had been rather large, but neither numerous nor aggressive. But now on a sudden came myriads of small ones, evidently a new crop, voracious, persistent, overwhelming. They swarmed up from every marsh until their combined singing made a continuous murmur in the trees, and the travellers, who were without head-nets, were forced to protect their necks with handkerchiefs, and their faces with small branches, which they must needs wave to and fro incessantly.Camp was pitched near the Klukshu River, where two ancient and abandoned Indian houses stood, in a level valley mostly free from trees. The low bushes in the neighborhood allowed the breeze free play, and it was hoped that here the mosquitoes would be less numerous. There was no getting away from them entirely, however, and a fire was speedily built in order that the smoke might aid in discouraging the pests.The two houses, which they had noticed as they passed in April, were constructed of hewn boards gray with age. Such a wealth of ready fuel in a spot so poor in timber had proved irresistible alike to prospectors and Indians, and the entire roof of one hut and much of the roof of the other had gone up in camp-fire smoke. Mr. Bradford was averse, however, to further despoiling either structure, and directed Roly and Coffee Jack to gather up only such loose boards and odd pieces as were lying about on the ground.While roasting several red squirrels brought down with a revolver, they were startled by a sudden snort in the bushes near by, followed by a crackling of twigs as some heavy animal made off precipitately. The three jumped to their feet and searched through the thicket in that direction, but could see nothing of the beast which had caused the alarm. There could be little doubt, however, that it was a bear."If we're going to have visitors of that kind," saidMr. Bradford, as he returned his revolver to his belt, "we'll pitch the tent in one of the houses. I don't anticipate any trouble, but bears are brimful of curiosity, and it's just as well to put ourselves and our belongings out of their reach."This suggestion pleased Roly, whose imagination, boylike, seized eagerly upon the idea of converting the better of the two houses into a fort and barricading it against the enemy. He collected an abundance of soft shrubbery and spread it upon the floor of the hut, while Mr. Bradford, keeping a sharp lookout for the unwelcome prowler, cut some tent-poles on a distant hillside.When all was ready, the tent was set up within the hut, and, being mosquito-proof, it promised a complete refuge from at least one foe. A sufficient number of boards was now appropriated from the other cabin to cover the portion of the roof above the tent. Then the packs were brought in, and finally Roly arranged a door of boards. This done, the fort was declared impregnable, and the tired travellers turned in, well assured of complete security.Coffee Jack had brought no tent, and as there was no extra space in that of his companions, he rolled himself in his blanket, head and all, till he seemed to invite suffocation, and lay down on a bed of leaves in a corner of the cabin, where he slept comfortablyenough, except that his breathing was heavy and labored for lack of air.The mosquitoes were even more numerous next day, and the travellers were obliged to keep in motion. Flowers were springing up on every side. There were strawberry blossoms, which awakened great hopes. There were violets and forget-me-nots and yarrow, and almost touching elbows with the flowers of spring flamed the autumnal golden-rod, so brief in that high latitude was the season of warmth.The Indian boy pointed out with delight a large-leaved plant with a hollow, juicy stalk, which grew abundantly in shady places, exclaiming, "Muck-muck! Good! Make strong!" Seeing him eagerly stripping the stringy fibres from the stalks and eating the soft inner part, Mr. Bradford and Roly followed his example, and found that the flavor was of a medicinal sort, but sweet and not unpleasant. The leaves were shaped somewhat like those of a maple tree, but were of lighter green. Coffee Jack could give no name to the plant."Its flavor reminds me a little of celery," said Roly."Yes," said Mr. Bradford; "but in some respects the plant more resembles rhubarb, and as that is, I believe, a native of Asia, this may be a variety which has crossed Behring Strait. If the taste were sour, I should be pretty certain of it."Camped at the foot of Klukshu Lake on a pleasant knoll east of the river, they found Reitz and Johnson, two of their friends of Pennock's Post. Reitz said they were stationed there to catch salmon for the main party on the Kah Sha River, and from what they could learn from the natives the fish ought to come up-stream very soon.A family of Indians were quartered on the low ground west of the river near the cabin in which the wounded Lucky had been left in the winter. They also were awaiting the salmon, which constitutes the chief food of the Alaskan tribes."How would you like to spend a week with us, Roly?" asked Reitz, as the three were about to continue their journey. "You enjoy fishing, don't you?"Roly answered that he would like to stay very well, and his father readily consented. "You can take this tent," said the latter. "It's only ten miles to Moran's Camp, and I guess you can find your way there when the week's up.""Oh, yes!" declared Roly, without hesitation. "I'll get along all right." He added, as he counted a score of mosquitoes killed at one slap, "If you get a chance to send my head-net down, I guess I can use it.""We'll try to," said Mr. Bradford, as he and the Indian boy re-crossed the river on a mass of débris.No sooner had Coffee Jack exchanged a few wordswith the Indian family than he fell into a fit of the sulks. He cast more than one fond glance at a little Indian girl of about his own age, and Mr. Bradford heard the father of the family repeat the word "potlash" several times. As this term signifies a feast, it was clear that Coffee Jack had been invited to dine.Mr. Bradford had determined to push on a few miles in order to reach the Kah Sha gorge early next morning before the time of high water. But when he undertook to find the trail, which was here invisible across a level deposit of small stones, he found himself baffled."Where's the Shorty Creek trail, Coffee Jack?" he asked."Shorty Kick t'ail?" said Coffee, with well-feigned innocence. "I dunno."Now, Coffee Jack had been uniformly treated with kindness, and was certain to be so long as he deserved it, but when he said, "I dunno," Mr. Bradford had every reason to think he was stretching the truth and presuming upon his own good-nature. In view of the falsehood he resolved to teach the boy his duty. It would never do to let him override the will of his employer."You don't know?" repeated Mr. Bradford, with the frown and voice of a thunder-cloud. "Tell me where that trail is, quick!"As he said this, he raised his stick so threateningly over Coffee Jack's head that the boy, fearing instant annihilation, produced the information with incredible speed."Shorty Kick t'ail there," said he, pointing to the edge of a grove of great balm-of-Gilead trees, to which he led the way without another word.At the first stream, perhaps two miles beyond, Coffee Jack declared that there was no more water for five miles. He had evidently obtained information regarding the new trail from the Indian at the foot of the lake, and as Mr. Bradford did not believe the lad would lie again, he halted for the night. The white man all the while had a tender place in his heart for the young Indian lover, and when the boy asked permission to go back, he readily gave it. So Coffee Jack, delighted, ran swiftly down the trail toward the dusky little maiden and the "potlash."CHAPTER XXIXLOST IN THE MOUNTAINSFor several days after Roly's arrival at Klukshu Lake all efforts to catch fish were unavailing. The weather was now warm and dry, and the thick, smoky atmosphere indicated an extensive forest fire at no great distance. The salmon had not appeared, and there was no sign of brook trout in this part of the Klukshu River, consequently the energies of the campers were directed toward the lake. A raft was built, by the aid of which lines were set in deep water near the outlet, the hooks baited with raw bacon,—but not a fish was caught.A small party of Canadian mounted police—fine, stalwart fellows—appeared at this time on their way to Five Finger Rapids, and the hearts of the exiled fishermen were rejoiced. Their arrival meant that horses could now come in from the coast, and Reitz and Johnson began to look eagerly for the first instalment of supplies for the Thirty-six. Several prospectors with small pack trains followed the police, and invariably camped on a dry meadow at the foot of the lake. The tinkle of the bell of the leading horse sometimesfloated up to the knoll where the tents of Roly and his companions stood, and conjured up memories of pastures far away. Had the prospectors only known it and cared to take the trouble, they would have found far better pasturage on the hillsides above the timber line, where the grasses grew tall and luxuriant.A happy thought on the part of Roly was the means of solving the fishing problem. Bacon was evidently worthless as bait, there was not an angle-worm in the country so far as he knew, and grasshoppers were seldom seen; but he had noticed shoals of young fish like minnows in the outlet, and thought that if they could be caught they would make excellent bait. The others thought so too, and Reitz contrived an ingenious scoop-net out of a willow branch and some mosquito netting, which proved very effective.Roly's week would be up on the following day. It was agreed that in the morning a supreme effort should be made by the three, and as Moran's Camp lay directly in his path, Roly volunteered to carry the fish if they should be successful.At an early hour he rolled his tent and blankets into a pack and set off with his friends, who had provided a luncheon and a plentiful supply of minnows. The main trail followed the east shore, but there was another along the western which connected about half-way up the lake with the new trail to Shorty Creek.At the junction of the two was the tree upon which the directions had been written.The party passed this tree and continued along the lake, their objective point being a certain rocky shore where they hoped to find deep water. Having reached this spot, they lost no time in cutting slender poles of poplar and attaching the lines. Floats, or bobs, were made from bits of wood, and the baited hook was allowed to sink ten or twelve feet.It was some time before the finny inhabitants of the depths discovered the tempting morsels thrown out to them, but at last Roly's float began to tremble in a way that could not be attributed to the wavelets, and the next instant down it went under the clear water. Now was the time to strike, and the boy raised his pole with a quick firm jerk.The fish was securely hooked, and proved both strong and gamy; but as soon as it tired, it was drawn gradually toward the shore and up near the surface of the water. It was a four-pound lake trout and a beauty. Roly landed the prize with the assistance of his friends, and stowed it safely away in the shade of the rocks in an empty flour sack.At the very next nibble, however, fortune turned against him. The fish broke the line and carried away his only hook; and as his companions had but one hook apiece, he was forced to abandon the sport. Before thefish stopped biting, the two men had caught four trout, all of about the same size.Having lunched, and dressed the fish, the three agreed about two o'clock that Roly ought to start, especially as the first thunder-storm of the season was growling and threatening in the mountains to the east. With fish, tent, and blankets, and David's camera, which he had carried upon this excursion, he had a load of about thirty pounds, which Reitz carried for him as far as the guide-tree.The inscription on the tree was written in pencil on a space freed from bark, and stated that by holding a course two points north of west for a mile a clear trail would be found."Have you a compass, Roly?" asked Johnson."Yes.""Well, then, strike off here and keep the direction carefully, and you won't have any trouble. There's a stretch of burnt and fallen timber where the trail has been wiped out, but beyond that it's a plain path.""And remember to keep the trout you caught," added Reitz, as he said good-by.Roly started off in good spirits. He had his uncle's revolver with him, but there was little reason to apprehend danger from wild beasts. If he let them alone, they would be pretty certain to return the favor. As to finding the way, he knew the general direction inwhich the Kah Sha gorge lay, for he could occasionally catch a glimpse of the Dasar-dee-ash Mountains eight miles to the northwest. Nearer, not more than two miles away, loomed the familiar Conical Mountain, and to the right of it another summit, the two forming the northernmost elevations of an extensive mountain system running far back toward Dalton's Post.From the directions on the tree the boy conceived the idea that his route lay between Conical Mountain and its right-hand neighbor, in a narrow pass which he could see very distinctly. So, without depending longer on the compass, he fixed his course at once toward this gap, struggling through a new growth of bushes and stepping over or crawling under the fallen trees as best he could. A fresh breeze along the lake had kept away the mosquitoes while he had been on the rocks; but here it was more sheltered, and the little pests, attracted by the smell of the fish, swarmed about him and nearly drove him frantic, for he was still without a head-net and gloves.An hour of this slow and difficult travel brought him into the growing forest, and he kept his eyes open for the path. Denser and denser the woods became until it was hardly possible to force a passage. In a little swampy glen he found the prints of a bear's great paw on the moss, but what caused him much more anxiety was the sight, welcome as it was, of alittle brook. Reitz had told him that for nearly five miles from the guide-tree there was no water on the trail. Yet here was water! Plainly, then, he had made some error and had lost his way.Roly was not easily frightened, but the thought of wandering through that lonely forest longer than was absolutely necessary was anything but pleasing. To be sure, he would not starve, for he had the fish, but it was disquieting to be off the trail. He would have liked to sit down a few minutes to consider the situation, but the mosquitoes would not let him rest. He could only pause long enough to take a deep draught from the brook, then on he must go again, and do his reflecting as he walked.He now came upon a path fairly well defined, which led, without a doubt, straight into the pass before him. This was probably the trail he sought. At any rate, its general direction was assuring, and he reasoned that it must bring him out on the other side of the mountains in plain view of the Kah Sha gorge, which he could then reach by crossing four miles of valley. So he followed the path, which appeared little used, and presently came to the brow of a high, shelving bank.The steep side of Conical Mountain, patched with old snow-banks, towered on his left, while the end mountain of the chain rose to the right. Before him in the hollow was a level, grassy amphitheatre, on thefarther side of which opened out a narrow passage, also grassy and treeless. The absolute seclusion of the place made it an admirable retreat for wild game and, indeed, for robbers, and the imaginative Roly looked carefully around before he ventured to descend into it. There was not a living creature to be seen. The path crossed the circular meadow and followed the narrow pass beyond, and as it was level, firm, and unobstructed, the boy walked rapidly.He had proceeded in this way nearly a mile between the slopes of the two mountains, when he came upon a beautiful lakelet whose placid waters filled the valley—now somewhat wider—from side to side. In the shallow water near the shore he could see several small fish basking just below the surface. As for the trail, it had disappeared, and there was no trace of it along either side of the water. Indeed, the steep ridges looked quite impassable, from which he concluded that the path had been made by Indians or wild game, or both, whose objective point was the lake. There could be little doubt that he was the first white person who had penetrated here,—a thought which quite tickled his fancy, so he photographed the lake in proof of this bit of original exploration.He was now obliged to return through the defile, fully convinced that the new trail passed around the outer mountain. Goaded on by swarms of mosquitoesand compelled to wave a leafy branch continually across his heated face, he struck the trail at last, and soon afterward found a sparkling brook at the foot of a high hill. If this was the water mentioned by Reitz, he had come only half the direct distance, in spite of his long, tiresome tramp. He drank, then pressed forward through a region of bogs and woods, crossed a muddy stream on a log, and set off across the four miles of valley. Here the walking was good. The gorge was now plainly in view, and he thought his labors nearly at an end.Unfortunately, it was the wrong time of day to ford the Kah Sha. It had been warm for a week, and the water was high again. Besides, the stream was now swollen with the meltings of the day. Roly could hear an ominous roar long before he could see the river.He encountered it first in the woods, where it spread out into so many channels that each was comparatively shallow. Some of these he crossed on logs, and others he waded without getting very wet, but when he came out upon the open stretch of gravel the outlook was far from encouraging. Compressed into one or two principal channels and filling its banks to the brim, the river was thundering madly down from the gorge. Not a log was in sight, and yet the stream must be crossed three or four times to reach Moran's Camp.Roly's heart sank as he gazed on the hurrying torrent,but he resolved to make the attempt. He therefore returned to the edge of the woods and cut a stout pole with which to try the depth of the water and brace himself against the current. His rubber boots, if his father had left them in the willows, were on the other side of the stream, so it was useless to think of keeping dry.Carefully selecting a point where the stream ran in two channels, the boy waded into the first and smaller of the two. The water came to his knees, but with the assistance of the pole he crossed in safety. On trying the other, however, he found the volume of water much greater. The current almost whirled his feet from beneath him at every step. The icy water surged higher and higher till it was far above his knees, and now it was wellnigh impossible to hold the pole firmly down to the bottom. He felt the stones roll against his feet as the flood swept them along, and, worst of all, the deepest part was not yet passed. The bed of the stream shelved plainly down. To go on would be folly. It was nearly as difficult to go back, but he managed to turn slowly and dizzily and reach the shore he had just left. Tired and wet, he longed to rest, but even here his insect tormentors had followed.There was but one thing to do. He must climb the hills on the side of the gorge and work his way along at a height of three or four hundred feet until he couldscramble down to the camp. It was a rough ascent through bushes and over fallen timber, and the boy was utterly spent when at last he caught a glimpse of the little cabin and the white tents of the Thirty-six far below.He had been steadily tramping from two o'clock in the afternoon, and it was now nine in the evening. But he had obstinately clung to the fish with which he had been intrusted, knowing how welcome they would be to the dwellers by the river. It is needless to say that Roly was received with open arms by Moran and his men, who gave him dry clothes and a hearty supper, and many compliments on his pluck and perseverance. A place was cleared for his blanket-bed in one of the tents, and nothing would do next morning but he must share with his friends a delicious breakfast of fried trout before setting out for Alder Creek.CHAPTER XXXWASHING OUT THE GOLD"Hello! you've brought us a trout, have you?" cried Uncle Will, cheerily, as he untied Roly's pack. The boy had succeeded in reaching Alder Creek during the morning period of low water."Yes," said Roly, and related his experiences to the interested group."You got along better at this end of the journey than I feared you would," said his father. "I expected you yesterday, and when I saw how high the water would be, I went down to the mouth of the gorge to help you, but there were no signs of you at seven o'clock.""You must come and see the rocker and sluice-boxes as soon as you're rested," said David. "We've not been idle here since you went away, I can tell you."Accordingly, after dinner Roly, armored at last with head-net and gloves, went out with David and Uncle Will to inspect the mining operations at the foot of the bank beside the creek.We have already described panning, the crudest manner of separating gold from gravel. The applianceswhich Uncle Will and his helpers had now constructed were capable of doing much more work than the pan in a given time, yet required the expenditure of comparatively little labor. Uncle Will first called Roly's attention to the rocker, which at that moment was standing idle at the side of the stream."The rocker, or cradle," he explained, "consists of a deep box set upon rounded rockers so that it can be swayed from side to side. Within the box are several inclined planes at different heights, covered with canvas and so arranged that water and gravel flowing down the upper one will pass from its lower edge through an aperture to the top of the one below, and from that to the next, until finally the stream issues near the bottom of the machine. Across these planes at intervals are nailed small strips of wood called riffles. A sieve is fitted to the top of the box, its bottom being made of a sheet of tin punched with numerous holes half an inch in diameter. Now let us see it work."So saying, he placed the rocker under the end of a wooden trough set in the bank at a height of three feet. A ditch had been hollowed along the bank to this trough from a point higher up the stream, and David now lowered a similar trough into the water at the upper end. This allowed a stream to come into the ditch from the creek. As soon as the water began to pour into thesieve of the rocker, Coffee Jack, whom Uncle Will had summoned, threw into it a shovelful of gravel from the bottom of the bank."Now you see," said Uncle Will, as he gently rocked the machine from side to side, "the water carries the sand and smaller pebbles, including the particles of gold, down through those holes and over the riffles on the inclined planes. The gold is so heavy that it lodges against the riffles, but the water, swashing from side to side as it flows down, carries most of the sand and gravel over the riffles and out at the bottom. The operation is almost instantaneous in the rocker, and gravel can be shovelled in quite rapidly, whereas it would take perhaps ten minutes to wash out a very little in a pan. When the sieve becomes choked, it is lifted up and the stones thrown out."Coffee Jack shovelled mechanically, as if all this fuss about the yellow metal were quite beyond his appreciation. In a few minutes Uncle Will released him and sent him back to help Lucky at the sluice."Now we'll take a look at the results," said Uncle Will, as he removed the sieve, picked out the riffles, which were loosely nailed, and carefully took up the canvas which covered the inclined planes. All the sand and gravel which remained upon the canvas he rinsed off into a pan and proceeded to wash it out at the stream after the usual method of panning. Rolywas delighted to see two little yellow nuggets appear, besides many small flakes and grains."There," said Uncle Will, as he finished, "you see we have here the yield of several panfuls, and it has taken but a few minutes to secure it. The rocker is a handy machine to carry from place to place wherever, by panning, we find the gold most abundant.""But what would you do without the ditch?""We should pour in water from a pail. Now let us examine the sluice-boxes."Uncle Will led the way down the stream to the point where Lucky and Coffee Jack were at work. A second ditch, similar to the first, had been prepared for the sluicing; and the boxes, three in number, were set in the lower end of it, each consisting of a bottom board about twelve feet long and a foot wide, and two side boards of the same dimensions. The lower end of the first or upper box was reduced in width sufficiently to allow it to fit into the upper end of the second box, the latter fitting in like manner into the third, which extended slightly over the creek. All the boxes were inclined enough so that the water from the ditch would flow through them quite rapidly. Instead of transverse riffles, two sets of poles were laid lengthwise in the bottom of each box, each set having a length of about five and a half feet and consisting of three poles held an inch apart by pieces of wood nailed across their ends.Into the upper end of the upper box Lucky was shovelling gravel, which was immediately swept through the three boxes by the strong current of water. Coffee Jack, shovel in hand, kept the larger stones moving when they threatened to choke up the boxes. At the lower end a stream of muddy water and gravel was constantly discharged into the creek, the impetuous current of which bore it instantly away."Sluicing," said Uncle Will, "is another step forward in placer—or gravel—mining, since the sluice will handle more material than even the rocker. It is the favorite method on a claim of this character.""And how is the gold caught here?" asked Roly."It falls down between the poles, and is held there by its own weight and the cross-pieces.""You must have had to do a lot of whip-sawing to make so many boards," observed the boy."Indeed we did," replied his uncle. "That was the hardest part of the work. We built a saw-pit—that raised log platform over yonder—and there we did the sawing, Lucky standing on top of the log and holding the saw from above, while I was under the platform to guide it on the down stroke. I rather had the worst of it, for the sawdust came into my eyes. When your father returned from Dalton's, he took a turn at it, which gave me time to make the rocker.""How often do you take the gold out of the sluice-boxes?" asked Roly."We may as well clear the boxes now," answered his uncle. "It's three days since we began operations."Accordingly, the two Indians were sent off to cut firewood, and Uncle Will and Mr. Bradford, having despatched David to the head of the ditch to shut off the water, shovelled out of the boxes the stones and gravel which had lodged above the poles. Then, removing the poles, they scraped and washed into a pan at the lower end all which remained. There was a heaping panful.Uncle Will washed it out at a quiet eddy of the creek, while the others gathered around with suppressed excitement, for estimates of the value of this claim could be based upon the results. Little by little the gravel was reduced until the black sand and yellow particles alone remained. A portion of the sand Uncle Will was able to wash away by careful manipulating, but when he could safely continue the operation no longer, he brought a magnet into use, which quickly gathered up all the remaining specks of iron. A goodly mass of yellow metal shone in the bottom of the pan, which, when weighed, was found to be worth about sixty dollars. Among the little gold nuggets were discovered two larger ones of pure native copper. On the surface they were of a greenish hue, but when whittled with a knife their true character appeared."That isn't exactly Klondike richness," said Uncle Will, as he held up to view the pan and its contents, "but I doubt if we've found the richest part of this claim. We've been working in what is called bench gravel on the rim-rock. I wish we could get down to the low bed-rock near the present channel of the stream. We might find a first-rate pay-streak there.""Can't we do it?" asked Roly."I fear not. We've tried it, and the Thirty-six have tried it; but the minute you go below the level of the stream, the water comes through the loose gravel faster than you can throw it out. For this reason the Thirty-six are working almost entirely in the gravel along the hillsides in former channels of the river. They've begun two tunnels through the gravel on the rim-rock about fifty feet above the present stream.""Well," remarked Mr. Bradford, cheerfully, "even if we can't make more than twenty dollars a day, we can pay a good part of the expenses of our trip before the end of the season.""That's true," said his brother. "And, besides, we've only to make another set of sluice-boxes to double our income. Lucky and Coffee Jack can work this one profitably, and you and I can take care of another, while the boys can work with the rocker almost anywhere. I haven't a doubt that we shall do far better than thousands who are now crowding over the White and Chilkootpasses. Why, I feel amply repaid for all my labors by just looking at you, Charles. I never saw you in better health."Mr. Bradford laughed and rubbed his arm doubtfully. "Maybe Ilookwell," said he, "but what a place this is for rheumatism! Evenings and mornings when the air is chill I can hardly move.""Yes," said Uncle Will, "I can sympathize with you there. I feel it more or less myself, and I understand that two or three of the big party are fairly laid up with it. But I don't think we shall carry it home."CHAPTER XXXIDAVID MAKES A BOAT-JOURNEYLate in June, when the leaves were full-grown and the grass and flowers luxuriant, there came a storm of rain which turned into a damp snow. About two inches fell, and remained on the ground several hours. The hardy vegetation seemed to suffer no injury, and indeed the storm proved quite a godsend, for it discouraged the mosquitoes, and they were unable to rally again in such numbers and with such vigor as before.By the middle of July the Bradfords had two sluices in operation, and were taking out from thirty to fifty dollars a day. The Thirty-six were working with varying success on the hillsides. Their first supply train of horses had arrived with provisions and the mail, including a few Seattle newspapers only three weeks old.About this time the leader of the Thirty-six invited David to join a small party which he was going to take north on an exploring trip. He needed a young fellow, he said, to take charge of a cabin at Champlain's Landing, twenty-five miles north of Pennock's Post, for a week or two, until one of Moran's men could be spared.David begged to be allowed to go, since he was not imperatively needed at Alder Creek, and his father consented, believing that the experience would be valuable as a training in self-reliance. He warned his son, however, that he might be very homesick and lonely. As David had never been homesick in his life, that malady had no terrors for him, and he declared that he was quite willing to take the risk.Thus it happened that he found himself one afternoon starting down the gorge from Moran's Camp in company with the captain, a civil engineer named Dunn, who had recently arrived, and Greenwood, who had been a cook in the army. Three others had already set out with horses to make the journey overland, while the captain's party was to proceed by boat down Lake Dasar-dee-ash and its outlet river to the Landing. There the parties would unite and continue the journey by land, leaving David at the cabin.At the shore of the lake Paul Champlain was encamped. He was that member of the Thirty-six who had selected on the north branch of the Alsek the landing place called by his name, and had built the storehouse there, while Pennock's party and the Bradfords, on the same stream, were building Pennock's Post. He was a Michigan man of French descent, possessing a thorough knowledge of woodcraft and a magnificent physique. By the captain's directions he had hiredand brought up the boat which had been built near this point earlier in the season.Hardly had the tents been pitched on a gravelly open space overlooking the water, when a cold and drenching rainstorm came on. A fire was kindled with difficulty, around which the shivering party gathered to cook and eat their evening meal. Rubber blankets and oiled canvas were pressed into service to protect them from the storm, but there was no keeping entirely dry in such a downpour. Around the small tent which had been assigned to David, the ground was so level that the water was presently standing an inch deep, and only by hastily digging a ditch was he able to prevent it from being flooded. As it was, he found a comparatively dry spot along the centre of his blanket-bed when he crawled in out of the rain, and having rolled up his damp coat for a pillow, he went to sleep in a twinkling in spite of all discomforts.By morning the sky cleared, tents were struck, provisions and goods of all kinds were put aboard the little craft, and soon they were sailing merrily northward before the wind, the captain at the helm, Champlain holding the sheet in his hand that he might let it go instantly in case of a squall, Mr. Dunn on the centre seat, and Greenwood and David sitting forward near the slender mast. Occasionally they were obliged to bail, but considering the fact that there wasnot a drop of paint on the boat, she was remarkably seaworthy.It was a glorious morning. A fresh, bracing wind blew from the south. The cloud-flecked mountains loomed sharp and blue around the lake, and the great range on the western shore was especially grand and imposing. David discovered beneath one of its glaciers, several thousand feet above the lake, what appeared to be a yawning cave as big as a house, and the captain's glass brought it out more distinctly. Here was a natural wonder fairly begging to be visited, and right well would David have liked to explore its mysteries; but time was precious to the voyagers, and they held their course steadily to the north, crossing the mouth of a great bay which extended several miles eastward. There was a similar bay to the west, but the lake narrowed again as they approached the outlet. At noon they landed for dinner in a little cove, which they named Shelter Bay, and there, the wind deserting them, they had recourse to the oars and rowed the short distance to the river, after which the current assisted them. The water was here so clear that they could see the fish as they darted away from the shadow of the oars. Several yellow-legged plover were shot along the banks, but no attempt was made to bag ducks, as it was their breeding season.Early in the evening they reached the sandy bluff near Pennock's cabin and moored the boat to a tree.The cabin was now deserted by human beings, but when David opened the door a fat ground-squirrel scurried across the floor and ran out through a hole under the side log. It seemed too bad that such a stanch dwelling should be given over to neglect, but such is often the case in a new country. The travellers did not sleep in it, for the mosquitoes were in possession. They pitched their insect-proof tents by the side of the river and passed the night in comfort.But before they turned in, Champlain and David took trout flies and lines and sauntered down the stream to try to discover what kind of fish they had seen. They cut rude willow poles and fished carefully but in vain until they came to the mouth of Frying-Pan Creek. Here the current of the brook cleared for a space the now muddy river water, and Champlain had a rise almost immediately. A few seconds later he landed a delicately spotted, gamy fish about eight inches long, which he recognized as a grayling. The sport became exciting at once, and David soon had half a dozen catches to his credit. When the anglers could no longer induce a rise, they marched back to camp in triumph with a handsome string.The voyage was continued next day. Champlain entertained his companions with an account of his successful moose-hunt a few weeks previous, which had relieved the hunger of the northernmost party of theThirty-six. Then he told of the difficulties he and others had overcome in rafting the goods from their great cache and Pennock's Post down to the Landing. He had shot an otter on one of his journeys along the stream, but said he had seen hardly a trace of beavers.The river now became extremely tortuous. Greenwood wondered how it could make so many loops without tying itself into a knot, and expressed a decided preference for walking as a means of getting to the Landing. As he was taking his turn at rowing at that moment, it was easy to account for his sudden feeling in the matter.By skilful use of helm and paddle Champlain guided the boat through a number of rocky stretches in safety, but he was not to be invariably so successful. David, who had been intently gazing forward, suddenly shouted a warning. Five or six boulders lay in the stream so nearly submerged that they could hardly be discerned from a distance, while others just below the surface betrayed their position only by eddies. Champlain put all his strength into the paddle, but in that current the heavy boat could be swerved but little. A dangerous eddy was barely avoided, but beyond and directly in their path a ragged rock appeared. How the paddle flashed! And how the rowers struggled! But in a moment it was evident that the boat must strike.Crunch! went her side against the rock. She careened as she stopped, and the current piled up againsther, while her passengers fully expected shipwreck and instinctively measured the distance to the shore. But the force of the stream, instead of swamping the stout little craft, swept her past the obstruction, and all breathed freely once more. By great good fortune not the least damage had been sustained.Early in the afternoon they passed between Father and Son, otherwise known as Mount Champlain and Mount Bratnober respectively. The pass was about a mile wide, with perpendicular cliffs several thousand feet high on either side. In this wild place they found the forest recently burned, and in one spot near the base of Mount Bratnober smoke was still rising. It was this great conflagration, covering thousands of acres, which had filled the atmosphere with smoke a few weeks before and caused the sun to look like a blood-red ball as it sank in the west. Champlain related how, in company with a Canadian government surveyor, he had climbed the mountain which had received his name. He was sure they could have seen Mount St. Elias in the west had not clouds obscured the view. They noticed a flock of mountain sheep, but did not get near enough for a shot.The voyage was presently enlivened by a race with a brood of little ducks which Mother Mallard had taken out for an airing,—or "watering," as David put it. There were a dozen of the little fellows not two weeksout of the shell, and what a splashing they set up when they saw the strange, oared craft bearing down upon them! The mother duck quacked anxiously from the rear of her flotilla and urged the youngsters forward at the top of their speed, which proved just about equal to that of the boat.The little ducks could not fly, and the river was so narrow that at first they dared not swerve toward either shore, but flapped and paddled and splashed straight down the river. Not until they became utterly exhausted did they seek the bank. Then one by one, as a convenient log or hole appeared, they dropped away from the others and hid themselves while the terrible monster went by. The old duck paid not the slightest attention to these stragglers, but continued with that part of her brood which was still in danger, turning her head from side to side and talking vigorously in duck language to her terrified children.Finally only one duckling remained in the middle of the river, probably at once the strongest and most foolish of the brood. He did not know enough to follow the example of his brothers and sisters, but kept splashing along until he could flee no longer. Then he too sought the friendly bank. And now, having seen all her brood safely disposed, the brave mother-bird made use of her wings, rising in a graceful sweep and turning back up-stream to gather her scattered family.CHAPTER XXXIICHAMPLAIN'S LANDINGIt was well into the evening, though before sunset, when Champlain assured his fellow-voyagers that the Landing was near. Soon afterward, they saw two men appear on the brow of a sandy bluff ahead. These proved to be Hovey and Herrick, who were in charge of the camp. They had heard voices and the plash of oars, and had hurried out to see who was approaching, waving their hats and shouting a welcome as soon as they recognized their friends. The boat was brought close to the narrow beach, and the captain, Dunn, and Greenwood disembarked, leaving Champlain and David to row around to the other side of the bluff, where the craft could be more securely moored.David was now accustomed to the interminable windings of the river, and took it quite as a matter of course that the stream, after flowing a quarter of a mile to the left or southwest from the bluff, turned capriciously back to within fifty yards of the spot where the three had landed. The bluff itself was thus a narrow, high neck of land connecting a low, wooded point with what we may call the mainland east of the river.i290Rafting down the North AlsekWith oars and paddle, the crew of two soon rounded the point, and approached the bluff once more. Here the river turned abruptly northwest, and in the bay formed by its curve lay a flotilla of log rafts. To one of these the boat was made fast, and the occupants sprang ashore and made their way up the slope.David looked with interest at the place which for a fortnight was to be his home. The top of the bluff was about thirty feet wide, and covered with short grass. It was as level as a floor, except along its southeastern edge, where a ridge of sand six or eight feet high, and fringed with spruces, offered a natural protection for a cook-tent and a sleeping-tent. Champlain, who had discovered this spot, took pride in pointing out to David its advantages."It's the finest place in this valley for a camp or a fort," he declared, with a Frenchman's enthusiasm. "Every time I look at it, I almost wish there was an Indian war, and I had a good garrison here. You see, it's defended on three sides by the river, which is too deep for fording, and can only be crossed with canoes or logs, or by swimming. From the top of the bluff we have a clear view for an eighth of a mile both up and down the stream. If the enemy came down the river, the ridge of sand behind the tents is a natural breastwork for riflemen; while if they approached from the other direction, the defenders would simply lie down a little back fromthe edge of the bluff on that side, and give them a good peppering.""And what if they came from the land side?" asked David, who began to wonder if an attack were within the bounds of possibility."We should put a stockade of logs across the neck of land on that side," answered Champlain. "Already I have built a strong log house. Come and see it."He led the way landward from the narrow part of the bluff to a point about a hundred yards up-stream, where David now beheld the neat little cabin in which the supplies were stored. It had a door of boards, evidently constructed from the material of a coffee-box, but there was no window, either because no more boards were to be had, or because the cabin was less vulnerable with but a single opening in its heavy walls. The door was fitted with good hinges and a padlock. Forest enclosed the cabin, except on the side from which they had come, and toward the river; and off among the trees wound a path which joined the main trail about fifty rods away."You won't have to fight Indians, my lad," said Champlain, who was aware that his imaginative talk might cause David some uneasiness; "and as for bears, you don't seem to mind them much, judging from what I've heard.""I think I can take care of the bears," said David.i294A Herd of Cattle.—Yukon Divide in the DistanceChamplain eyed the lad with evident approval. "I like your pluck," said he; "but let an old hunter advise you to leave such beasts alone, when you're not in reach of help. You see, we should never know where to look for you if you should meet with an accident off in these woods. Better stick pretty close to the cabin."On their way back to the cook-tent Champlain pointed out a pile of saddles and blankets near the embers of a fire."Must be a pack train somewhere about," he observed. "I wonder where the men and horses are. It's too early for ours to be here."The explanation was quickly forthcoming. A large herd of cattle, convoyed by five or six horsemen, had arrived on the previous day on their way to Dawson, and had been halted for a day's rest at the Landing. The men were now rounding up their charges into an open meadow half a mile distant, preparatory to an early start in the morning."And you'll be very glad they came when you know what you're to have for supper," added Hovey, with a twinkle in his eye, as he bustled about the sheet-iron stove in the cook-tent."Oh, we live high at this hotel!" Herrick chimed in. "How would fried liver strike you,—and hot biscuits and butter,—and tea with cream and sugar,—and a custard by way of dessert?""What's this you're talking about?" cried the captain,who had overheard the last few words. "Cream and custards? I'll believe when I see and taste!""All right, my sceptical friend! Come in. Supper's ready. Muck-muck!"No second call was needed, for the travellers were ravenous. They entered the cook-tent at once, and took their places on empty boxes around a small improvised table."Now then," said Hovey, who, with Herrick, had finished supper some three hours before, and now presided gracefully over the cook-stove in the interest of the guests, "pass the plates."These much battered articles of aluminum were promptly presented, and as promptly filled with the savory contents of the frying-pan, which proved to be real liver, after all. Herrick meanwhile told how they had secured it.It appeared by his narrative that one of the steers had driven a sharp stick into its foot in such a way as to lame it badly. On noticing this, he had strongly represented to the cattlemen that it would be cruel to drive the animal farther, and that they ought to kill it then and there. Aided by several expressive winks, the cattlemen had seen the point of his remarks, and having found the two campers pleasant, sociable fellows, they killed the steer, and made them a present of a considerable portion of the carcass. The cream and custard were accounted for by the presence of a milch cow in the herd."To-morrow," said Herrick, as he finished his tale, "we shall have roast beef with brown gravy; and if they can catch the cow, we may get a drink of milk all around.""What would the boys at Shorty Creek say, if they heard that?" asked Greenwood, smacking his lips."They'd mutiny," replied Dunn. "But is this the only cattle train that has come along?""No," answered Hovey. "This is the third big one within a couple of weeks, and they all belong to one man. There have been some smaller herds, too. Over a thousand head must have gone over this trail this season, and they're in prime condition. They ought to sell high in Dawson, for the Yukon steamers can't carry cattle to any great extent, and there must be thousands of people there by this time."Next morning, previous to their departure, the cattlemen made an attempt to milk their solitary cow. Obviously the first thing to do was to catch the animal, but for some reason she was particularly contrary, and refused to be either coaxed or coerced. At last one of the men mounted his horse, and set out with his lariat to lasso the refractory beast in true cow-boy style. The poor cow, frightened out of her wits by the shouts and the turmoil, rushed frantically through thickets and over sand-banks, closely followed by the horseman, who, after several throws, succeeded in roping her and checking her wild career.It now looked as if the drink of milk might materialize, but alas for human expectations! The cow had been wrought up to such a pitch of excitement by the events of the morning that she could not be made to stand still, and it was with great difficulty that the milking could be commenced. The man who essayed this task had all he could attend to with her kicking and plunging, and finally, losing all patience, he threw pail, milk, and all at her head, accompanied by something very like an oath. So faded the dream of the drink of milk.Hovey and Herrick, who had been informed that they were to take the boat and a moderate cargo and start for Moran's Camp, where they were to sign certain papers connected with their claims, now made ready to depart. They appeared to relish the idea of joining their comrades on the Kah Sha River, but David thought, as he watched them pull away against the current, that long before they could hoist their sail on Lake Dasar-dee-ash, they would wish themselves back at the Landing. The cattle train started toward Dawson about the same time, and Champlain's Landing was left to the captain's party.The following morning he, too, made ready to leave. The horses, which had now arrived, were loaded with the necessary provisions from the cache in the cabin, and David was given final directions about the camp."Shep," an Indian dog which had accompanied the horses, was left with him as his sole companion, and then the captain, Champlain, Dunn, Greenwood, and the three packers bade him good-by and disappeared in the woods.

CHAPTER XXVIIITHE PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOESHaving learned that he would find upon a tree near Klukshu Lake directions for following the new trail to Shorty Creek, as the district was popularly called, Mr. Bradford determined to return by the Dalton trail to the lake, as the relief party of the Thirty-six had done. Here and there along the way they saw traces of the winter's travel. Broken sleds and gee-poles, stumps of trees, and the ashes of camp-fires recalled the memory of labors amid the ice and snow which now, in the heat of summer, seemed like a dream.Up to this time the mosquitoes had been rather large, but neither numerous nor aggressive. But now on a sudden came myriads of small ones, evidently a new crop, voracious, persistent, overwhelming. They swarmed up from every marsh until their combined singing made a continuous murmur in the trees, and the travellers, who were without head-nets, were forced to protect their necks with handkerchiefs, and their faces with small branches, which they must needs wave to and fro incessantly.Camp was pitched near the Klukshu River, where two ancient and abandoned Indian houses stood, in a level valley mostly free from trees. The low bushes in the neighborhood allowed the breeze free play, and it was hoped that here the mosquitoes would be less numerous. There was no getting away from them entirely, however, and a fire was speedily built in order that the smoke might aid in discouraging the pests.The two houses, which they had noticed as they passed in April, were constructed of hewn boards gray with age. Such a wealth of ready fuel in a spot so poor in timber had proved irresistible alike to prospectors and Indians, and the entire roof of one hut and much of the roof of the other had gone up in camp-fire smoke. Mr. Bradford was averse, however, to further despoiling either structure, and directed Roly and Coffee Jack to gather up only such loose boards and odd pieces as were lying about on the ground.While roasting several red squirrels brought down with a revolver, they were startled by a sudden snort in the bushes near by, followed by a crackling of twigs as some heavy animal made off precipitately. The three jumped to their feet and searched through the thicket in that direction, but could see nothing of the beast which had caused the alarm. There could be little doubt, however, that it was a bear."If we're going to have visitors of that kind," saidMr. Bradford, as he returned his revolver to his belt, "we'll pitch the tent in one of the houses. I don't anticipate any trouble, but bears are brimful of curiosity, and it's just as well to put ourselves and our belongings out of their reach."This suggestion pleased Roly, whose imagination, boylike, seized eagerly upon the idea of converting the better of the two houses into a fort and barricading it against the enemy. He collected an abundance of soft shrubbery and spread it upon the floor of the hut, while Mr. Bradford, keeping a sharp lookout for the unwelcome prowler, cut some tent-poles on a distant hillside.When all was ready, the tent was set up within the hut, and, being mosquito-proof, it promised a complete refuge from at least one foe. A sufficient number of boards was now appropriated from the other cabin to cover the portion of the roof above the tent. Then the packs were brought in, and finally Roly arranged a door of boards. This done, the fort was declared impregnable, and the tired travellers turned in, well assured of complete security.Coffee Jack had brought no tent, and as there was no extra space in that of his companions, he rolled himself in his blanket, head and all, till he seemed to invite suffocation, and lay down on a bed of leaves in a corner of the cabin, where he slept comfortablyenough, except that his breathing was heavy and labored for lack of air.The mosquitoes were even more numerous next day, and the travellers were obliged to keep in motion. Flowers were springing up on every side. There were strawberry blossoms, which awakened great hopes. There were violets and forget-me-nots and yarrow, and almost touching elbows with the flowers of spring flamed the autumnal golden-rod, so brief in that high latitude was the season of warmth.The Indian boy pointed out with delight a large-leaved plant with a hollow, juicy stalk, which grew abundantly in shady places, exclaiming, "Muck-muck! Good! Make strong!" Seeing him eagerly stripping the stringy fibres from the stalks and eating the soft inner part, Mr. Bradford and Roly followed his example, and found that the flavor was of a medicinal sort, but sweet and not unpleasant. The leaves were shaped somewhat like those of a maple tree, but were of lighter green. Coffee Jack could give no name to the plant."Its flavor reminds me a little of celery," said Roly."Yes," said Mr. Bradford; "but in some respects the plant more resembles rhubarb, and as that is, I believe, a native of Asia, this may be a variety which has crossed Behring Strait. If the taste were sour, I should be pretty certain of it."Camped at the foot of Klukshu Lake on a pleasant knoll east of the river, they found Reitz and Johnson, two of their friends of Pennock's Post. Reitz said they were stationed there to catch salmon for the main party on the Kah Sha River, and from what they could learn from the natives the fish ought to come up-stream very soon.A family of Indians were quartered on the low ground west of the river near the cabin in which the wounded Lucky had been left in the winter. They also were awaiting the salmon, which constitutes the chief food of the Alaskan tribes."How would you like to spend a week with us, Roly?" asked Reitz, as the three were about to continue their journey. "You enjoy fishing, don't you?"Roly answered that he would like to stay very well, and his father readily consented. "You can take this tent," said the latter. "It's only ten miles to Moran's Camp, and I guess you can find your way there when the week's up.""Oh, yes!" declared Roly, without hesitation. "I'll get along all right." He added, as he counted a score of mosquitoes killed at one slap, "If you get a chance to send my head-net down, I guess I can use it.""We'll try to," said Mr. Bradford, as he and the Indian boy re-crossed the river on a mass of débris.No sooner had Coffee Jack exchanged a few wordswith the Indian family than he fell into a fit of the sulks. He cast more than one fond glance at a little Indian girl of about his own age, and Mr. Bradford heard the father of the family repeat the word "potlash" several times. As this term signifies a feast, it was clear that Coffee Jack had been invited to dine.Mr. Bradford had determined to push on a few miles in order to reach the Kah Sha gorge early next morning before the time of high water. But when he undertook to find the trail, which was here invisible across a level deposit of small stones, he found himself baffled."Where's the Shorty Creek trail, Coffee Jack?" he asked."Shorty Kick t'ail?" said Coffee, with well-feigned innocence. "I dunno."Now, Coffee Jack had been uniformly treated with kindness, and was certain to be so long as he deserved it, but when he said, "I dunno," Mr. Bradford had every reason to think he was stretching the truth and presuming upon his own good-nature. In view of the falsehood he resolved to teach the boy his duty. It would never do to let him override the will of his employer."You don't know?" repeated Mr. Bradford, with the frown and voice of a thunder-cloud. "Tell me where that trail is, quick!"As he said this, he raised his stick so threateningly over Coffee Jack's head that the boy, fearing instant annihilation, produced the information with incredible speed."Shorty Kick t'ail there," said he, pointing to the edge of a grove of great balm-of-Gilead trees, to which he led the way without another word.At the first stream, perhaps two miles beyond, Coffee Jack declared that there was no more water for five miles. He had evidently obtained information regarding the new trail from the Indian at the foot of the lake, and as Mr. Bradford did not believe the lad would lie again, he halted for the night. The white man all the while had a tender place in his heart for the young Indian lover, and when the boy asked permission to go back, he readily gave it. So Coffee Jack, delighted, ran swiftly down the trail toward the dusky little maiden and the "potlash."

THE PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES

Having learned that he would find upon a tree near Klukshu Lake directions for following the new trail to Shorty Creek, as the district was popularly called, Mr. Bradford determined to return by the Dalton trail to the lake, as the relief party of the Thirty-six had done. Here and there along the way they saw traces of the winter's travel. Broken sleds and gee-poles, stumps of trees, and the ashes of camp-fires recalled the memory of labors amid the ice and snow which now, in the heat of summer, seemed like a dream.

Up to this time the mosquitoes had been rather large, but neither numerous nor aggressive. But now on a sudden came myriads of small ones, evidently a new crop, voracious, persistent, overwhelming. They swarmed up from every marsh until their combined singing made a continuous murmur in the trees, and the travellers, who were without head-nets, were forced to protect their necks with handkerchiefs, and their faces with small branches, which they must needs wave to and fro incessantly.

Camp was pitched near the Klukshu River, where two ancient and abandoned Indian houses stood, in a level valley mostly free from trees. The low bushes in the neighborhood allowed the breeze free play, and it was hoped that here the mosquitoes would be less numerous. There was no getting away from them entirely, however, and a fire was speedily built in order that the smoke might aid in discouraging the pests.

The two houses, which they had noticed as they passed in April, were constructed of hewn boards gray with age. Such a wealth of ready fuel in a spot so poor in timber had proved irresistible alike to prospectors and Indians, and the entire roof of one hut and much of the roof of the other had gone up in camp-fire smoke. Mr. Bradford was averse, however, to further despoiling either structure, and directed Roly and Coffee Jack to gather up only such loose boards and odd pieces as were lying about on the ground.

While roasting several red squirrels brought down with a revolver, they were startled by a sudden snort in the bushes near by, followed by a crackling of twigs as some heavy animal made off precipitately. The three jumped to their feet and searched through the thicket in that direction, but could see nothing of the beast which had caused the alarm. There could be little doubt, however, that it was a bear.

"If we're going to have visitors of that kind," saidMr. Bradford, as he returned his revolver to his belt, "we'll pitch the tent in one of the houses. I don't anticipate any trouble, but bears are brimful of curiosity, and it's just as well to put ourselves and our belongings out of their reach."

This suggestion pleased Roly, whose imagination, boylike, seized eagerly upon the idea of converting the better of the two houses into a fort and barricading it against the enemy. He collected an abundance of soft shrubbery and spread it upon the floor of the hut, while Mr. Bradford, keeping a sharp lookout for the unwelcome prowler, cut some tent-poles on a distant hillside.

When all was ready, the tent was set up within the hut, and, being mosquito-proof, it promised a complete refuge from at least one foe. A sufficient number of boards was now appropriated from the other cabin to cover the portion of the roof above the tent. Then the packs were brought in, and finally Roly arranged a door of boards. This done, the fort was declared impregnable, and the tired travellers turned in, well assured of complete security.

Coffee Jack had brought no tent, and as there was no extra space in that of his companions, he rolled himself in his blanket, head and all, till he seemed to invite suffocation, and lay down on a bed of leaves in a corner of the cabin, where he slept comfortablyenough, except that his breathing was heavy and labored for lack of air.

The mosquitoes were even more numerous next day, and the travellers were obliged to keep in motion. Flowers were springing up on every side. There were strawberry blossoms, which awakened great hopes. There were violets and forget-me-nots and yarrow, and almost touching elbows with the flowers of spring flamed the autumnal golden-rod, so brief in that high latitude was the season of warmth.

The Indian boy pointed out with delight a large-leaved plant with a hollow, juicy stalk, which grew abundantly in shady places, exclaiming, "Muck-muck! Good! Make strong!" Seeing him eagerly stripping the stringy fibres from the stalks and eating the soft inner part, Mr. Bradford and Roly followed his example, and found that the flavor was of a medicinal sort, but sweet and not unpleasant. The leaves were shaped somewhat like those of a maple tree, but were of lighter green. Coffee Jack could give no name to the plant.

"Its flavor reminds me a little of celery," said Roly.

"Yes," said Mr. Bradford; "but in some respects the plant more resembles rhubarb, and as that is, I believe, a native of Asia, this may be a variety which has crossed Behring Strait. If the taste were sour, I should be pretty certain of it."

Camped at the foot of Klukshu Lake on a pleasant knoll east of the river, they found Reitz and Johnson, two of their friends of Pennock's Post. Reitz said they were stationed there to catch salmon for the main party on the Kah Sha River, and from what they could learn from the natives the fish ought to come up-stream very soon.

A family of Indians were quartered on the low ground west of the river near the cabin in which the wounded Lucky had been left in the winter. They also were awaiting the salmon, which constitutes the chief food of the Alaskan tribes.

"How would you like to spend a week with us, Roly?" asked Reitz, as the three were about to continue their journey. "You enjoy fishing, don't you?"

Roly answered that he would like to stay very well, and his father readily consented. "You can take this tent," said the latter. "It's only ten miles to Moran's Camp, and I guess you can find your way there when the week's up."

"Oh, yes!" declared Roly, without hesitation. "I'll get along all right." He added, as he counted a score of mosquitoes killed at one slap, "If you get a chance to send my head-net down, I guess I can use it."

"We'll try to," said Mr. Bradford, as he and the Indian boy re-crossed the river on a mass of débris.

No sooner had Coffee Jack exchanged a few wordswith the Indian family than he fell into a fit of the sulks. He cast more than one fond glance at a little Indian girl of about his own age, and Mr. Bradford heard the father of the family repeat the word "potlash" several times. As this term signifies a feast, it was clear that Coffee Jack had been invited to dine.

Mr. Bradford had determined to push on a few miles in order to reach the Kah Sha gorge early next morning before the time of high water. But when he undertook to find the trail, which was here invisible across a level deposit of small stones, he found himself baffled.

"Where's the Shorty Creek trail, Coffee Jack?" he asked.

"Shorty Kick t'ail?" said Coffee, with well-feigned innocence. "I dunno."

Now, Coffee Jack had been uniformly treated with kindness, and was certain to be so long as he deserved it, but when he said, "I dunno," Mr. Bradford had every reason to think he was stretching the truth and presuming upon his own good-nature. In view of the falsehood he resolved to teach the boy his duty. It would never do to let him override the will of his employer.

"You don't know?" repeated Mr. Bradford, with the frown and voice of a thunder-cloud. "Tell me where that trail is, quick!"

As he said this, he raised his stick so threateningly over Coffee Jack's head that the boy, fearing instant annihilation, produced the information with incredible speed.

"Shorty Kick t'ail there," said he, pointing to the edge of a grove of great balm-of-Gilead trees, to which he led the way without another word.

At the first stream, perhaps two miles beyond, Coffee Jack declared that there was no more water for five miles. He had evidently obtained information regarding the new trail from the Indian at the foot of the lake, and as Mr. Bradford did not believe the lad would lie again, he halted for the night. The white man all the while had a tender place in his heart for the young Indian lover, and when the boy asked permission to go back, he readily gave it. So Coffee Jack, delighted, ran swiftly down the trail toward the dusky little maiden and the "potlash."

CHAPTER XXIXLOST IN THE MOUNTAINSFor several days after Roly's arrival at Klukshu Lake all efforts to catch fish were unavailing. The weather was now warm and dry, and the thick, smoky atmosphere indicated an extensive forest fire at no great distance. The salmon had not appeared, and there was no sign of brook trout in this part of the Klukshu River, consequently the energies of the campers were directed toward the lake. A raft was built, by the aid of which lines were set in deep water near the outlet, the hooks baited with raw bacon,—but not a fish was caught.A small party of Canadian mounted police—fine, stalwart fellows—appeared at this time on their way to Five Finger Rapids, and the hearts of the exiled fishermen were rejoiced. Their arrival meant that horses could now come in from the coast, and Reitz and Johnson began to look eagerly for the first instalment of supplies for the Thirty-six. Several prospectors with small pack trains followed the police, and invariably camped on a dry meadow at the foot of the lake. The tinkle of the bell of the leading horse sometimesfloated up to the knoll where the tents of Roly and his companions stood, and conjured up memories of pastures far away. Had the prospectors only known it and cared to take the trouble, they would have found far better pasturage on the hillsides above the timber line, where the grasses grew tall and luxuriant.A happy thought on the part of Roly was the means of solving the fishing problem. Bacon was evidently worthless as bait, there was not an angle-worm in the country so far as he knew, and grasshoppers were seldom seen; but he had noticed shoals of young fish like minnows in the outlet, and thought that if they could be caught they would make excellent bait. The others thought so too, and Reitz contrived an ingenious scoop-net out of a willow branch and some mosquito netting, which proved very effective.Roly's week would be up on the following day. It was agreed that in the morning a supreme effort should be made by the three, and as Moran's Camp lay directly in his path, Roly volunteered to carry the fish if they should be successful.At an early hour he rolled his tent and blankets into a pack and set off with his friends, who had provided a luncheon and a plentiful supply of minnows. The main trail followed the east shore, but there was another along the western which connected about half-way up the lake with the new trail to Shorty Creek.At the junction of the two was the tree upon which the directions had been written.The party passed this tree and continued along the lake, their objective point being a certain rocky shore where they hoped to find deep water. Having reached this spot, they lost no time in cutting slender poles of poplar and attaching the lines. Floats, or bobs, were made from bits of wood, and the baited hook was allowed to sink ten or twelve feet.It was some time before the finny inhabitants of the depths discovered the tempting morsels thrown out to them, but at last Roly's float began to tremble in a way that could not be attributed to the wavelets, and the next instant down it went under the clear water. Now was the time to strike, and the boy raised his pole with a quick firm jerk.The fish was securely hooked, and proved both strong and gamy; but as soon as it tired, it was drawn gradually toward the shore and up near the surface of the water. It was a four-pound lake trout and a beauty. Roly landed the prize with the assistance of his friends, and stowed it safely away in the shade of the rocks in an empty flour sack.At the very next nibble, however, fortune turned against him. The fish broke the line and carried away his only hook; and as his companions had but one hook apiece, he was forced to abandon the sport. Before thefish stopped biting, the two men had caught four trout, all of about the same size.Having lunched, and dressed the fish, the three agreed about two o'clock that Roly ought to start, especially as the first thunder-storm of the season was growling and threatening in the mountains to the east. With fish, tent, and blankets, and David's camera, which he had carried upon this excursion, he had a load of about thirty pounds, which Reitz carried for him as far as the guide-tree.The inscription on the tree was written in pencil on a space freed from bark, and stated that by holding a course two points north of west for a mile a clear trail would be found."Have you a compass, Roly?" asked Johnson."Yes.""Well, then, strike off here and keep the direction carefully, and you won't have any trouble. There's a stretch of burnt and fallen timber where the trail has been wiped out, but beyond that it's a plain path.""And remember to keep the trout you caught," added Reitz, as he said good-by.Roly started off in good spirits. He had his uncle's revolver with him, but there was little reason to apprehend danger from wild beasts. If he let them alone, they would be pretty certain to return the favor. As to finding the way, he knew the general direction inwhich the Kah Sha gorge lay, for he could occasionally catch a glimpse of the Dasar-dee-ash Mountains eight miles to the northwest. Nearer, not more than two miles away, loomed the familiar Conical Mountain, and to the right of it another summit, the two forming the northernmost elevations of an extensive mountain system running far back toward Dalton's Post.From the directions on the tree the boy conceived the idea that his route lay between Conical Mountain and its right-hand neighbor, in a narrow pass which he could see very distinctly. So, without depending longer on the compass, he fixed his course at once toward this gap, struggling through a new growth of bushes and stepping over or crawling under the fallen trees as best he could. A fresh breeze along the lake had kept away the mosquitoes while he had been on the rocks; but here it was more sheltered, and the little pests, attracted by the smell of the fish, swarmed about him and nearly drove him frantic, for he was still without a head-net and gloves.An hour of this slow and difficult travel brought him into the growing forest, and he kept his eyes open for the path. Denser and denser the woods became until it was hardly possible to force a passage. In a little swampy glen he found the prints of a bear's great paw on the moss, but what caused him much more anxiety was the sight, welcome as it was, of alittle brook. Reitz had told him that for nearly five miles from the guide-tree there was no water on the trail. Yet here was water! Plainly, then, he had made some error and had lost his way.Roly was not easily frightened, but the thought of wandering through that lonely forest longer than was absolutely necessary was anything but pleasing. To be sure, he would not starve, for he had the fish, but it was disquieting to be off the trail. He would have liked to sit down a few minutes to consider the situation, but the mosquitoes would not let him rest. He could only pause long enough to take a deep draught from the brook, then on he must go again, and do his reflecting as he walked.He now came upon a path fairly well defined, which led, without a doubt, straight into the pass before him. This was probably the trail he sought. At any rate, its general direction was assuring, and he reasoned that it must bring him out on the other side of the mountains in plain view of the Kah Sha gorge, which he could then reach by crossing four miles of valley. So he followed the path, which appeared little used, and presently came to the brow of a high, shelving bank.The steep side of Conical Mountain, patched with old snow-banks, towered on his left, while the end mountain of the chain rose to the right. Before him in the hollow was a level, grassy amphitheatre, on thefarther side of which opened out a narrow passage, also grassy and treeless. The absolute seclusion of the place made it an admirable retreat for wild game and, indeed, for robbers, and the imaginative Roly looked carefully around before he ventured to descend into it. There was not a living creature to be seen. The path crossed the circular meadow and followed the narrow pass beyond, and as it was level, firm, and unobstructed, the boy walked rapidly.He had proceeded in this way nearly a mile between the slopes of the two mountains, when he came upon a beautiful lakelet whose placid waters filled the valley—now somewhat wider—from side to side. In the shallow water near the shore he could see several small fish basking just below the surface. As for the trail, it had disappeared, and there was no trace of it along either side of the water. Indeed, the steep ridges looked quite impassable, from which he concluded that the path had been made by Indians or wild game, or both, whose objective point was the lake. There could be little doubt that he was the first white person who had penetrated here,—a thought which quite tickled his fancy, so he photographed the lake in proof of this bit of original exploration.He was now obliged to return through the defile, fully convinced that the new trail passed around the outer mountain. Goaded on by swarms of mosquitoesand compelled to wave a leafy branch continually across his heated face, he struck the trail at last, and soon afterward found a sparkling brook at the foot of a high hill. If this was the water mentioned by Reitz, he had come only half the direct distance, in spite of his long, tiresome tramp. He drank, then pressed forward through a region of bogs and woods, crossed a muddy stream on a log, and set off across the four miles of valley. Here the walking was good. The gorge was now plainly in view, and he thought his labors nearly at an end.Unfortunately, it was the wrong time of day to ford the Kah Sha. It had been warm for a week, and the water was high again. Besides, the stream was now swollen with the meltings of the day. Roly could hear an ominous roar long before he could see the river.He encountered it first in the woods, where it spread out into so many channels that each was comparatively shallow. Some of these he crossed on logs, and others he waded without getting very wet, but when he came out upon the open stretch of gravel the outlook was far from encouraging. Compressed into one or two principal channels and filling its banks to the brim, the river was thundering madly down from the gorge. Not a log was in sight, and yet the stream must be crossed three or four times to reach Moran's Camp.Roly's heart sank as he gazed on the hurrying torrent,but he resolved to make the attempt. He therefore returned to the edge of the woods and cut a stout pole with which to try the depth of the water and brace himself against the current. His rubber boots, if his father had left them in the willows, were on the other side of the stream, so it was useless to think of keeping dry.Carefully selecting a point where the stream ran in two channels, the boy waded into the first and smaller of the two. The water came to his knees, but with the assistance of the pole he crossed in safety. On trying the other, however, he found the volume of water much greater. The current almost whirled his feet from beneath him at every step. The icy water surged higher and higher till it was far above his knees, and now it was wellnigh impossible to hold the pole firmly down to the bottom. He felt the stones roll against his feet as the flood swept them along, and, worst of all, the deepest part was not yet passed. The bed of the stream shelved plainly down. To go on would be folly. It was nearly as difficult to go back, but he managed to turn slowly and dizzily and reach the shore he had just left. Tired and wet, he longed to rest, but even here his insect tormentors had followed.There was but one thing to do. He must climb the hills on the side of the gorge and work his way along at a height of three or four hundred feet until he couldscramble down to the camp. It was a rough ascent through bushes and over fallen timber, and the boy was utterly spent when at last he caught a glimpse of the little cabin and the white tents of the Thirty-six far below.He had been steadily tramping from two o'clock in the afternoon, and it was now nine in the evening. But he had obstinately clung to the fish with which he had been intrusted, knowing how welcome they would be to the dwellers by the river. It is needless to say that Roly was received with open arms by Moran and his men, who gave him dry clothes and a hearty supper, and many compliments on his pluck and perseverance. A place was cleared for his blanket-bed in one of the tents, and nothing would do next morning but he must share with his friends a delicious breakfast of fried trout before setting out for Alder Creek.

LOST IN THE MOUNTAINS

For several days after Roly's arrival at Klukshu Lake all efforts to catch fish were unavailing. The weather was now warm and dry, and the thick, smoky atmosphere indicated an extensive forest fire at no great distance. The salmon had not appeared, and there was no sign of brook trout in this part of the Klukshu River, consequently the energies of the campers were directed toward the lake. A raft was built, by the aid of which lines were set in deep water near the outlet, the hooks baited with raw bacon,—but not a fish was caught.

A small party of Canadian mounted police—fine, stalwart fellows—appeared at this time on their way to Five Finger Rapids, and the hearts of the exiled fishermen were rejoiced. Their arrival meant that horses could now come in from the coast, and Reitz and Johnson began to look eagerly for the first instalment of supplies for the Thirty-six. Several prospectors with small pack trains followed the police, and invariably camped on a dry meadow at the foot of the lake. The tinkle of the bell of the leading horse sometimesfloated up to the knoll where the tents of Roly and his companions stood, and conjured up memories of pastures far away. Had the prospectors only known it and cared to take the trouble, they would have found far better pasturage on the hillsides above the timber line, where the grasses grew tall and luxuriant.

A happy thought on the part of Roly was the means of solving the fishing problem. Bacon was evidently worthless as bait, there was not an angle-worm in the country so far as he knew, and grasshoppers were seldom seen; but he had noticed shoals of young fish like minnows in the outlet, and thought that if they could be caught they would make excellent bait. The others thought so too, and Reitz contrived an ingenious scoop-net out of a willow branch and some mosquito netting, which proved very effective.

Roly's week would be up on the following day. It was agreed that in the morning a supreme effort should be made by the three, and as Moran's Camp lay directly in his path, Roly volunteered to carry the fish if they should be successful.

At an early hour he rolled his tent and blankets into a pack and set off with his friends, who had provided a luncheon and a plentiful supply of minnows. The main trail followed the east shore, but there was another along the western which connected about half-way up the lake with the new trail to Shorty Creek.At the junction of the two was the tree upon which the directions had been written.

The party passed this tree and continued along the lake, their objective point being a certain rocky shore where they hoped to find deep water. Having reached this spot, they lost no time in cutting slender poles of poplar and attaching the lines. Floats, or bobs, were made from bits of wood, and the baited hook was allowed to sink ten or twelve feet.

It was some time before the finny inhabitants of the depths discovered the tempting morsels thrown out to them, but at last Roly's float began to tremble in a way that could not be attributed to the wavelets, and the next instant down it went under the clear water. Now was the time to strike, and the boy raised his pole with a quick firm jerk.

The fish was securely hooked, and proved both strong and gamy; but as soon as it tired, it was drawn gradually toward the shore and up near the surface of the water. It was a four-pound lake trout and a beauty. Roly landed the prize with the assistance of his friends, and stowed it safely away in the shade of the rocks in an empty flour sack.

At the very next nibble, however, fortune turned against him. The fish broke the line and carried away his only hook; and as his companions had but one hook apiece, he was forced to abandon the sport. Before thefish stopped biting, the two men had caught four trout, all of about the same size.

Having lunched, and dressed the fish, the three agreed about two o'clock that Roly ought to start, especially as the first thunder-storm of the season was growling and threatening in the mountains to the east. With fish, tent, and blankets, and David's camera, which he had carried upon this excursion, he had a load of about thirty pounds, which Reitz carried for him as far as the guide-tree.

The inscription on the tree was written in pencil on a space freed from bark, and stated that by holding a course two points north of west for a mile a clear trail would be found.

"Have you a compass, Roly?" asked Johnson.

"Yes."

"Well, then, strike off here and keep the direction carefully, and you won't have any trouble. There's a stretch of burnt and fallen timber where the trail has been wiped out, but beyond that it's a plain path."

"And remember to keep the trout you caught," added Reitz, as he said good-by.

Roly started off in good spirits. He had his uncle's revolver with him, but there was little reason to apprehend danger from wild beasts. If he let them alone, they would be pretty certain to return the favor. As to finding the way, he knew the general direction inwhich the Kah Sha gorge lay, for he could occasionally catch a glimpse of the Dasar-dee-ash Mountains eight miles to the northwest. Nearer, not more than two miles away, loomed the familiar Conical Mountain, and to the right of it another summit, the two forming the northernmost elevations of an extensive mountain system running far back toward Dalton's Post.

From the directions on the tree the boy conceived the idea that his route lay between Conical Mountain and its right-hand neighbor, in a narrow pass which he could see very distinctly. So, without depending longer on the compass, he fixed his course at once toward this gap, struggling through a new growth of bushes and stepping over or crawling under the fallen trees as best he could. A fresh breeze along the lake had kept away the mosquitoes while he had been on the rocks; but here it was more sheltered, and the little pests, attracted by the smell of the fish, swarmed about him and nearly drove him frantic, for he was still without a head-net and gloves.

An hour of this slow and difficult travel brought him into the growing forest, and he kept his eyes open for the path. Denser and denser the woods became until it was hardly possible to force a passage. In a little swampy glen he found the prints of a bear's great paw on the moss, but what caused him much more anxiety was the sight, welcome as it was, of alittle brook. Reitz had told him that for nearly five miles from the guide-tree there was no water on the trail. Yet here was water! Plainly, then, he had made some error and had lost his way.

Roly was not easily frightened, but the thought of wandering through that lonely forest longer than was absolutely necessary was anything but pleasing. To be sure, he would not starve, for he had the fish, but it was disquieting to be off the trail. He would have liked to sit down a few minutes to consider the situation, but the mosquitoes would not let him rest. He could only pause long enough to take a deep draught from the brook, then on he must go again, and do his reflecting as he walked.

He now came upon a path fairly well defined, which led, without a doubt, straight into the pass before him. This was probably the trail he sought. At any rate, its general direction was assuring, and he reasoned that it must bring him out on the other side of the mountains in plain view of the Kah Sha gorge, which he could then reach by crossing four miles of valley. So he followed the path, which appeared little used, and presently came to the brow of a high, shelving bank.

The steep side of Conical Mountain, patched with old snow-banks, towered on his left, while the end mountain of the chain rose to the right. Before him in the hollow was a level, grassy amphitheatre, on thefarther side of which opened out a narrow passage, also grassy and treeless. The absolute seclusion of the place made it an admirable retreat for wild game and, indeed, for robbers, and the imaginative Roly looked carefully around before he ventured to descend into it. There was not a living creature to be seen. The path crossed the circular meadow and followed the narrow pass beyond, and as it was level, firm, and unobstructed, the boy walked rapidly.

He had proceeded in this way nearly a mile between the slopes of the two mountains, when he came upon a beautiful lakelet whose placid waters filled the valley—now somewhat wider—from side to side. In the shallow water near the shore he could see several small fish basking just below the surface. As for the trail, it had disappeared, and there was no trace of it along either side of the water. Indeed, the steep ridges looked quite impassable, from which he concluded that the path had been made by Indians or wild game, or both, whose objective point was the lake. There could be little doubt that he was the first white person who had penetrated here,—a thought which quite tickled his fancy, so he photographed the lake in proof of this bit of original exploration.

He was now obliged to return through the defile, fully convinced that the new trail passed around the outer mountain. Goaded on by swarms of mosquitoesand compelled to wave a leafy branch continually across his heated face, he struck the trail at last, and soon afterward found a sparkling brook at the foot of a high hill. If this was the water mentioned by Reitz, he had come only half the direct distance, in spite of his long, tiresome tramp. He drank, then pressed forward through a region of bogs and woods, crossed a muddy stream on a log, and set off across the four miles of valley. Here the walking was good. The gorge was now plainly in view, and he thought his labors nearly at an end.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong time of day to ford the Kah Sha. It had been warm for a week, and the water was high again. Besides, the stream was now swollen with the meltings of the day. Roly could hear an ominous roar long before he could see the river.

He encountered it first in the woods, where it spread out into so many channels that each was comparatively shallow. Some of these he crossed on logs, and others he waded without getting very wet, but when he came out upon the open stretch of gravel the outlook was far from encouraging. Compressed into one or two principal channels and filling its banks to the brim, the river was thundering madly down from the gorge. Not a log was in sight, and yet the stream must be crossed three or four times to reach Moran's Camp.

Roly's heart sank as he gazed on the hurrying torrent,but he resolved to make the attempt. He therefore returned to the edge of the woods and cut a stout pole with which to try the depth of the water and brace himself against the current. His rubber boots, if his father had left them in the willows, were on the other side of the stream, so it was useless to think of keeping dry.

Carefully selecting a point where the stream ran in two channels, the boy waded into the first and smaller of the two. The water came to his knees, but with the assistance of the pole he crossed in safety. On trying the other, however, he found the volume of water much greater. The current almost whirled his feet from beneath him at every step. The icy water surged higher and higher till it was far above his knees, and now it was wellnigh impossible to hold the pole firmly down to the bottom. He felt the stones roll against his feet as the flood swept them along, and, worst of all, the deepest part was not yet passed. The bed of the stream shelved plainly down. To go on would be folly. It was nearly as difficult to go back, but he managed to turn slowly and dizzily and reach the shore he had just left. Tired and wet, he longed to rest, but even here his insect tormentors had followed.

There was but one thing to do. He must climb the hills on the side of the gorge and work his way along at a height of three or four hundred feet until he couldscramble down to the camp. It was a rough ascent through bushes and over fallen timber, and the boy was utterly spent when at last he caught a glimpse of the little cabin and the white tents of the Thirty-six far below.

He had been steadily tramping from two o'clock in the afternoon, and it was now nine in the evening. But he had obstinately clung to the fish with which he had been intrusted, knowing how welcome they would be to the dwellers by the river. It is needless to say that Roly was received with open arms by Moran and his men, who gave him dry clothes and a hearty supper, and many compliments on his pluck and perseverance. A place was cleared for his blanket-bed in one of the tents, and nothing would do next morning but he must share with his friends a delicious breakfast of fried trout before setting out for Alder Creek.

CHAPTER XXXWASHING OUT THE GOLD"Hello! you've brought us a trout, have you?" cried Uncle Will, cheerily, as he untied Roly's pack. The boy had succeeded in reaching Alder Creek during the morning period of low water."Yes," said Roly, and related his experiences to the interested group."You got along better at this end of the journey than I feared you would," said his father. "I expected you yesterday, and when I saw how high the water would be, I went down to the mouth of the gorge to help you, but there were no signs of you at seven o'clock.""You must come and see the rocker and sluice-boxes as soon as you're rested," said David. "We've not been idle here since you went away, I can tell you."Accordingly, after dinner Roly, armored at last with head-net and gloves, went out with David and Uncle Will to inspect the mining operations at the foot of the bank beside the creek.We have already described panning, the crudest manner of separating gold from gravel. The applianceswhich Uncle Will and his helpers had now constructed were capable of doing much more work than the pan in a given time, yet required the expenditure of comparatively little labor. Uncle Will first called Roly's attention to the rocker, which at that moment was standing idle at the side of the stream."The rocker, or cradle," he explained, "consists of a deep box set upon rounded rockers so that it can be swayed from side to side. Within the box are several inclined planes at different heights, covered with canvas and so arranged that water and gravel flowing down the upper one will pass from its lower edge through an aperture to the top of the one below, and from that to the next, until finally the stream issues near the bottom of the machine. Across these planes at intervals are nailed small strips of wood called riffles. A sieve is fitted to the top of the box, its bottom being made of a sheet of tin punched with numerous holes half an inch in diameter. Now let us see it work."So saying, he placed the rocker under the end of a wooden trough set in the bank at a height of three feet. A ditch had been hollowed along the bank to this trough from a point higher up the stream, and David now lowered a similar trough into the water at the upper end. This allowed a stream to come into the ditch from the creek. As soon as the water began to pour into thesieve of the rocker, Coffee Jack, whom Uncle Will had summoned, threw into it a shovelful of gravel from the bottom of the bank."Now you see," said Uncle Will, as he gently rocked the machine from side to side, "the water carries the sand and smaller pebbles, including the particles of gold, down through those holes and over the riffles on the inclined planes. The gold is so heavy that it lodges against the riffles, but the water, swashing from side to side as it flows down, carries most of the sand and gravel over the riffles and out at the bottom. The operation is almost instantaneous in the rocker, and gravel can be shovelled in quite rapidly, whereas it would take perhaps ten minutes to wash out a very little in a pan. When the sieve becomes choked, it is lifted up and the stones thrown out."Coffee Jack shovelled mechanically, as if all this fuss about the yellow metal were quite beyond his appreciation. In a few minutes Uncle Will released him and sent him back to help Lucky at the sluice."Now we'll take a look at the results," said Uncle Will, as he removed the sieve, picked out the riffles, which were loosely nailed, and carefully took up the canvas which covered the inclined planes. All the sand and gravel which remained upon the canvas he rinsed off into a pan and proceeded to wash it out at the stream after the usual method of panning. Rolywas delighted to see two little yellow nuggets appear, besides many small flakes and grains."There," said Uncle Will, as he finished, "you see we have here the yield of several panfuls, and it has taken but a few minutes to secure it. The rocker is a handy machine to carry from place to place wherever, by panning, we find the gold most abundant.""But what would you do without the ditch?""We should pour in water from a pail. Now let us examine the sluice-boxes."Uncle Will led the way down the stream to the point where Lucky and Coffee Jack were at work. A second ditch, similar to the first, had been prepared for the sluicing; and the boxes, three in number, were set in the lower end of it, each consisting of a bottom board about twelve feet long and a foot wide, and two side boards of the same dimensions. The lower end of the first or upper box was reduced in width sufficiently to allow it to fit into the upper end of the second box, the latter fitting in like manner into the third, which extended slightly over the creek. All the boxes were inclined enough so that the water from the ditch would flow through them quite rapidly. Instead of transverse riffles, two sets of poles were laid lengthwise in the bottom of each box, each set having a length of about five and a half feet and consisting of three poles held an inch apart by pieces of wood nailed across their ends.Into the upper end of the upper box Lucky was shovelling gravel, which was immediately swept through the three boxes by the strong current of water. Coffee Jack, shovel in hand, kept the larger stones moving when they threatened to choke up the boxes. At the lower end a stream of muddy water and gravel was constantly discharged into the creek, the impetuous current of which bore it instantly away."Sluicing," said Uncle Will, "is another step forward in placer—or gravel—mining, since the sluice will handle more material than even the rocker. It is the favorite method on a claim of this character.""And how is the gold caught here?" asked Roly."It falls down between the poles, and is held there by its own weight and the cross-pieces.""You must have had to do a lot of whip-sawing to make so many boards," observed the boy."Indeed we did," replied his uncle. "That was the hardest part of the work. We built a saw-pit—that raised log platform over yonder—and there we did the sawing, Lucky standing on top of the log and holding the saw from above, while I was under the platform to guide it on the down stroke. I rather had the worst of it, for the sawdust came into my eyes. When your father returned from Dalton's, he took a turn at it, which gave me time to make the rocker.""How often do you take the gold out of the sluice-boxes?" asked Roly."We may as well clear the boxes now," answered his uncle. "It's three days since we began operations."Accordingly, the two Indians were sent off to cut firewood, and Uncle Will and Mr. Bradford, having despatched David to the head of the ditch to shut off the water, shovelled out of the boxes the stones and gravel which had lodged above the poles. Then, removing the poles, they scraped and washed into a pan at the lower end all which remained. There was a heaping panful.Uncle Will washed it out at a quiet eddy of the creek, while the others gathered around with suppressed excitement, for estimates of the value of this claim could be based upon the results. Little by little the gravel was reduced until the black sand and yellow particles alone remained. A portion of the sand Uncle Will was able to wash away by careful manipulating, but when he could safely continue the operation no longer, he brought a magnet into use, which quickly gathered up all the remaining specks of iron. A goodly mass of yellow metal shone in the bottom of the pan, which, when weighed, was found to be worth about sixty dollars. Among the little gold nuggets were discovered two larger ones of pure native copper. On the surface they were of a greenish hue, but when whittled with a knife their true character appeared."That isn't exactly Klondike richness," said Uncle Will, as he held up to view the pan and its contents, "but I doubt if we've found the richest part of this claim. We've been working in what is called bench gravel on the rim-rock. I wish we could get down to the low bed-rock near the present channel of the stream. We might find a first-rate pay-streak there.""Can't we do it?" asked Roly."I fear not. We've tried it, and the Thirty-six have tried it; but the minute you go below the level of the stream, the water comes through the loose gravel faster than you can throw it out. For this reason the Thirty-six are working almost entirely in the gravel along the hillsides in former channels of the river. They've begun two tunnels through the gravel on the rim-rock about fifty feet above the present stream.""Well," remarked Mr. Bradford, cheerfully, "even if we can't make more than twenty dollars a day, we can pay a good part of the expenses of our trip before the end of the season.""That's true," said his brother. "And, besides, we've only to make another set of sluice-boxes to double our income. Lucky and Coffee Jack can work this one profitably, and you and I can take care of another, while the boys can work with the rocker almost anywhere. I haven't a doubt that we shall do far better than thousands who are now crowding over the White and Chilkootpasses. Why, I feel amply repaid for all my labors by just looking at you, Charles. I never saw you in better health."Mr. Bradford laughed and rubbed his arm doubtfully. "Maybe Ilookwell," said he, "but what a place this is for rheumatism! Evenings and mornings when the air is chill I can hardly move.""Yes," said Uncle Will, "I can sympathize with you there. I feel it more or less myself, and I understand that two or three of the big party are fairly laid up with it. But I don't think we shall carry it home."

WASHING OUT THE GOLD

"Hello! you've brought us a trout, have you?" cried Uncle Will, cheerily, as he untied Roly's pack. The boy had succeeded in reaching Alder Creek during the morning period of low water.

"Yes," said Roly, and related his experiences to the interested group.

"You got along better at this end of the journey than I feared you would," said his father. "I expected you yesterday, and when I saw how high the water would be, I went down to the mouth of the gorge to help you, but there were no signs of you at seven o'clock."

"You must come and see the rocker and sluice-boxes as soon as you're rested," said David. "We've not been idle here since you went away, I can tell you."

Accordingly, after dinner Roly, armored at last with head-net and gloves, went out with David and Uncle Will to inspect the mining operations at the foot of the bank beside the creek.

We have already described panning, the crudest manner of separating gold from gravel. The applianceswhich Uncle Will and his helpers had now constructed were capable of doing much more work than the pan in a given time, yet required the expenditure of comparatively little labor. Uncle Will first called Roly's attention to the rocker, which at that moment was standing idle at the side of the stream.

"The rocker, or cradle," he explained, "consists of a deep box set upon rounded rockers so that it can be swayed from side to side. Within the box are several inclined planes at different heights, covered with canvas and so arranged that water and gravel flowing down the upper one will pass from its lower edge through an aperture to the top of the one below, and from that to the next, until finally the stream issues near the bottom of the machine. Across these planes at intervals are nailed small strips of wood called riffles. A sieve is fitted to the top of the box, its bottom being made of a sheet of tin punched with numerous holes half an inch in diameter. Now let us see it work."

So saying, he placed the rocker under the end of a wooden trough set in the bank at a height of three feet. A ditch had been hollowed along the bank to this trough from a point higher up the stream, and David now lowered a similar trough into the water at the upper end. This allowed a stream to come into the ditch from the creek. As soon as the water began to pour into thesieve of the rocker, Coffee Jack, whom Uncle Will had summoned, threw into it a shovelful of gravel from the bottom of the bank.

"Now you see," said Uncle Will, as he gently rocked the machine from side to side, "the water carries the sand and smaller pebbles, including the particles of gold, down through those holes and over the riffles on the inclined planes. The gold is so heavy that it lodges against the riffles, but the water, swashing from side to side as it flows down, carries most of the sand and gravel over the riffles and out at the bottom. The operation is almost instantaneous in the rocker, and gravel can be shovelled in quite rapidly, whereas it would take perhaps ten minutes to wash out a very little in a pan. When the sieve becomes choked, it is lifted up and the stones thrown out."

Coffee Jack shovelled mechanically, as if all this fuss about the yellow metal were quite beyond his appreciation. In a few minutes Uncle Will released him and sent him back to help Lucky at the sluice.

"Now we'll take a look at the results," said Uncle Will, as he removed the sieve, picked out the riffles, which were loosely nailed, and carefully took up the canvas which covered the inclined planes. All the sand and gravel which remained upon the canvas he rinsed off into a pan and proceeded to wash it out at the stream after the usual method of panning. Rolywas delighted to see two little yellow nuggets appear, besides many small flakes and grains.

"There," said Uncle Will, as he finished, "you see we have here the yield of several panfuls, and it has taken but a few minutes to secure it. The rocker is a handy machine to carry from place to place wherever, by panning, we find the gold most abundant."

"But what would you do without the ditch?"

"We should pour in water from a pail. Now let us examine the sluice-boxes."

Uncle Will led the way down the stream to the point where Lucky and Coffee Jack were at work. A second ditch, similar to the first, had been prepared for the sluicing; and the boxes, three in number, were set in the lower end of it, each consisting of a bottom board about twelve feet long and a foot wide, and two side boards of the same dimensions. The lower end of the first or upper box was reduced in width sufficiently to allow it to fit into the upper end of the second box, the latter fitting in like manner into the third, which extended slightly over the creek. All the boxes were inclined enough so that the water from the ditch would flow through them quite rapidly. Instead of transverse riffles, two sets of poles were laid lengthwise in the bottom of each box, each set having a length of about five and a half feet and consisting of three poles held an inch apart by pieces of wood nailed across their ends.Into the upper end of the upper box Lucky was shovelling gravel, which was immediately swept through the three boxes by the strong current of water. Coffee Jack, shovel in hand, kept the larger stones moving when they threatened to choke up the boxes. At the lower end a stream of muddy water and gravel was constantly discharged into the creek, the impetuous current of which bore it instantly away.

"Sluicing," said Uncle Will, "is another step forward in placer—or gravel—mining, since the sluice will handle more material than even the rocker. It is the favorite method on a claim of this character."

"And how is the gold caught here?" asked Roly.

"It falls down between the poles, and is held there by its own weight and the cross-pieces."

"You must have had to do a lot of whip-sawing to make so many boards," observed the boy.

"Indeed we did," replied his uncle. "That was the hardest part of the work. We built a saw-pit—that raised log platform over yonder—and there we did the sawing, Lucky standing on top of the log and holding the saw from above, while I was under the platform to guide it on the down stroke. I rather had the worst of it, for the sawdust came into my eyes. When your father returned from Dalton's, he took a turn at it, which gave me time to make the rocker."

"How often do you take the gold out of the sluice-boxes?" asked Roly.

"We may as well clear the boxes now," answered his uncle. "It's three days since we began operations."

Accordingly, the two Indians were sent off to cut firewood, and Uncle Will and Mr. Bradford, having despatched David to the head of the ditch to shut off the water, shovelled out of the boxes the stones and gravel which had lodged above the poles. Then, removing the poles, they scraped and washed into a pan at the lower end all which remained. There was a heaping panful.

Uncle Will washed it out at a quiet eddy of the creek, while the others gathered around with suppressed excitement, for estimates of the value of this claim could be based upon the results. Little by little the gravel was reduced until the black sand and yellow particles alone remained. A portion of the sand Uncle Will was able to wash away by careful manipulating, but when he could safely continue the operation no longer, he brought a magnet into use, which quickly gathered up all the remaining specks of iron. A goodly mass of yellow metal shone in the bottom of the pan, which, when weighed, was found to be worth about sixty dollars. Among the little gold nuggets were discovered two larger ones of pure native copper. On the surface they were of a greenish hue, but when whittled with a knife their true character appeared.

"That isn't exactly Klondike richness," said Uncle Will, as he held up to view the pan and its contents, "but I doubt if we've found the richest part of this claim. We've been working in what is called bench gravel on the rim-rock. I wish we could get down to the low bed-rock near the present channel of the stream. We might find a first-rate pay-streak there."

"Can't we do it?" asked Roly.

"I fear not. We've tried it, and the Thirty-six have tried it; but the minute you go below the level of the stream, the water comes through the loose gravel faster than you can throw it out. For this reason the Thirty-six are working almost entirely in the gravel along the hillsides in former channels of the river. They've begun two tunnels through the gravel on the rim-rock about fifty feet above the present stream."

"Well," remarked Mr. Bradford, cheerfully, "even if we can't make more than twenty dollars a day, we can pay a good part of the expenses of our trip before the end of the season."

"That's true," said his brother. "And, besides, we've only to make another set of sluice-boxes to double our income. Lucky and Coffee Jack can work this one profitably, and you and I can take care of another, while the boys can work with the rocker almost anywhere. I haven't a doubt that we shall do far better than thousands who are now crowding over the White and Chilkootpasses. Why, I feel amply repaid for all my labors by just looking at you, Charles. I never saw you in better health."

Mr. Bradford laughed and rubbed his arm doubtfully. "Maybe Ilookwell," said he, "but what a place this is for rheumatism! Evenings and mornings when the air is chill I can hardly move."

"Yes," said Uncle Will, "I can sympathize with you there. I feel it more or less myself, and I understand that two or three of the big party are fairly laid up with it. But I don't think we shall carry it home."

CHAPTER XXXIDAVID MAKES A BOAT-JOURNEYLate in June, when the leaves were full-grown and the grass and flowers luxuriant, there came a storm of rain which turned into a damp snow. About two inches fell, and remained on the ground several hours. The hardy vegetation seemed to suffer no injury, and indeed the storm proved quite a godsend, for it discouraged the mosquitoes, and they were unable to rally again in such numbers and with such vigor as before.By the middle of July the Bradfords had two sluices in operation, and were taking out from thirty to fifty dollars a day. The Thirty-six were working with varying success on the hillsides. Their first supply train of horses had arrived with provisions and the mail, including a few Seattle newspapers only three weeks old.About this time the leader of the Thirty-six invited David to join a small party which he was going to take north on an exploring trip. He needed a young fellow, he said, to take charge of a cabin at Champlain's Landing, twenty-five miles north of Pennock's Post, for a week or two, until one of Moran's men could be spared.David begged to be allowed to go, since he was not imperatively needed at Alder Creek, and his father consented, believing that the experience would be valuable as a training in self-reliance. He warned his son, however, that he might be very homesick and lonely. As David had never been homesick in his life, that malady had no terrors for him, and he declared that he was quite willing to take the risk.Thus it happened that he found himself one afternoon starting down the gorge from Moran's Camp in company with the captain, a civil engineer named Dunn, who had recently arrived, and Greenwood, who had been a cook in the army. Three others had already set out with horses to make the journey overland, while the captain's party was to proceed by boat down Lake Dasar-dee-ash and its outlet river to the Landing. There the parties would unite and continue the journey by land, leaving David at the cabin.At the shore of the lake Paul Champlain was encamped. He was that member of the Thirty-six who had selected on the north branch of the Alsek the landing place called by his name, and had built the storehouse there, while Pennock's party and the Bradfords, on the same stream, were building Pennock's Post. He was a Michigan man of French descent, possessing a thorough knowledge of woodcraft and a magnificent physique. By the captain's directions he had hiredand brought up the boat which had been built near this point earlier in the season.Hardly had the tents been pitched on a gravelly open space overlooking the water, when a cold and drenching rainstorm came on. A fire was kindled with difficulty, around which the shivering party gathered to cook and eat their evening meal. Rubber blankets and oiled canvas were pressed into service to protect them from the storm, but there was no keeping entirely dry in such a downpour. Around the small tent which had been assigned to David, the ground was so level that the water was presently standing an inch deep, and only by hastily digging a ditch was he able to prevent it from being flooded. As it was, he found a comparatively dry spot along the centre of his blanket-bed when he crawled in out of the rain, and having rolled up his damp coat for a pillow, he went to sleep in a twinkling in spite of all discomforts.By morning the sky cleared, tents were struck, provisions and goods of all kinds were put aboard the little craft, and soon they were sailing merrily northward before the wind, the captain at the helm, Champlain holding the sheet in his hand that he might let it go instantly in case of a squall, Mr. Dunn on the centre seat, and Greenwood and David sitting forward near the slender mast. Occasionally they were obliged to bail, but considering the fact that there wasnot a drop of paint on the boat, she was remarkably seaworthy.It was a glorious morning. A fresh, bracing wind blew from the south. The cloud-flecked mountains loomed sharp and blue around the lake, and the great range on the western shore was especially grand and imposing. David discovered beneath one of its glaciers, several thousand feet above the lake, what appeared to be a yawning cave as big as a house, and the captain's glass brought it out more distinctly. Here was a natural wonder fairly begging to be visited, and right well would David have liked to explore its mysteries; but time was precious to the voyagers, and they held their course steadily to the north, crossing the mouth of a great bay which extended several miles eastward. There was a similar bay to the west, but the lake narrowed again as they approached the outlet. At noon they landed for dinner in a little cove, which they named Shelter Bay, and there, the wind deserting them, they had recourse to the oars and rowed the short distance to the river, after which the current assisted them. The water was here so clear that they could see the fish as they darted away from the shadow of the oars. Several yellow-legged plover were shot along the banks, but no attempt was made to bag ducks, as it was their breeding season.Early in the evening they reached the sandy bluff near Pennock's cabin and moored the boat to a tree.The cabin was now deserted by human beings, but when David opened the door a fat ground-squirrel scurried across the floor and ran out through a hole under the side log. It seemed too bad that such a stanch dwelling should be given over to neglect, but such is often the case in a new country. The travellers did not sleep in it, for the mosquitoes were in possession. They pitched their insect-proof tents by the side of the river and passed the night in comfort.But before they turned in, Champlain and David took trout flies and lines and sauntered down the stream to try to discover what kind of fish they had seen. They cut rude willow poles and fished carefully but in vain until they came to the mouth of Frying-Pan Creek. Here the current of the brook cleared for a space the now muddy river water, and Champlain had a rise almost immediately. A few seconds later he landed a delicately spotted, gamy fish about eight inches long, which he recognized as a grayling. The sport became exciting at once, and David soon had half a dozen catches to his credit. When the anglers could no longer induce a rise, they marched back to camp in triumph with a handsome string.The voyage was continued next day. Champlain entertained his companions with an account of his successful moose-hunt a few weeks previous, which had relieved the hunger of the northernmost party of theThirty-six. Then he told of the difficulties he and others had overcome in rafting the goods from their great cache and Pennock's Post down to the Landing. He had shot an otter on one of his journeys along the stream, but said he had seen hardly a trace of beavers.The river now became extremely tortuous. Greenwood wondered how it could make so many loops without tying itself into a knot, and expressed a decided preference for walking as a means of getting to the Landing. As he was taking his turn at rowing at that moment, it was easy to account for his sudden feeling in the matter.By skilful use of helm and paddle Champlain guided the boat through a number of rocky stretches in safety, but he was not to be invariably so successful. David, who had been intently gazing forward, suddenly shouted a warning. Five or six boulders lay in the stream so nearly submerged that they could hardly be discerned from a distance, while others just below the surface betrayed their position only by eddies. Champlain put all his strength into the paddle, but in that current the heavy boat could be swerved but little. A dangerous eddy was barely avoided, but beyond and directly in their path a ragged rock appeared. How the paddle flashed! And how the rowers struggled! But in a moment it was evident that the boat must strike.Crunch! went her side against the rock. She careened as she stopped, and the current piled up againsther, while her passengers fully expected shipwreck and instinctively measured the distance to the shore. But the force of the stream, instead of swamping the stout little craft, swept her past the obstruction, and all breathed freely once more. By great good fortune not the least damage had been sustained.Early in the afternoon they passed between Father and Son, otherwise known as Mount Champlain and Mount Bratnober respectively. The pass was about a mile wide, with perpendicular cliffs several thousand feet high on either side. In this wild place they found the forest recently burned, and in one spot near the base of Mount Bratnober smoke was still rising. It was this great conflagration, covering thousands of acres, which had filled the atmosphere with smoke a few weeks before and caused the sun to look like a blood-red ball as it sank in the west. Champlain related how, in company with a Canadian government surveyor, he had climbed the mountain which had received his name. He was sure they could have seen Mount St. Elias in the west had not clouds obscured the view. They noticed a flock of mountain sheep, but did not get near enough for a shot.The voyage was presently enlivened by a race with a brood of little ducks which Mother Mallard had taken out for an airing,—or "watering," as David put it. There were a dozen of the little fellows not two weeksout of the shell, and what a splashing they set up when they saw the strange, oared craft bearing down upon them! The mother duck quacked anxiously from the rear of her flotilla and urged the youngsters forward at the top of their speed, which proved just about equal to that of the boat.The little ducks could not fly, and the river was so narrow that at first they dared not swerve toward either shore, but flapped and paddled and splashed straight down the river. Not until they became utterly exhausted did they seek the bank. Then one by one, as a convenient log or hole appeared, they dropped away from the others and hid themselves while the terrible monster went by. The old duck paid not the slightest attention to these stragglers, but continued with that part of her brood which was still in danger, turning her head from side to side and talking vigorously in duck language to her terrified children.Finally only one duckling remained in the middle of the river, probably at once the strongest and most foolish of the brood. He did not know enough to follow the example of his brothers and sisters, but kept splashing along until he could flee no longer. Then he too sought the friendly bank. And now, having seen all her brood safely disposed, the brave mother-bird made use of her wings, rising in a graceful sweep and turning back up-stream to gather her scattered family.

DAVID MAKES A BOAT-JOURNEY

Late in June, when the leaves were full-grown and the grass and flowers luxuriant, there came a storm of rain which turned into a damp snow. About two inches fell, and remained on the ground several hours. The hardy vegetation seemed to suffer no injury, and indeed the storm proved quite a godsend, for it discouraged the mosquitoes, and they were unable to rally again in such numbers and with such vigor as before.

By the middle of July the Bradfords had two sluices in operation, and were taking out from thirty to fifty dollars a day. The Thirty-six were working with varying success on the hillsides. Their first supply train of horses had arrived with provisions and the mail, including a few Seattle newspapers only three weeks old.

About this time the leader of the Thirty-six invited David to join a small party which he was going to take north on an exploring trip. He needed a young fellow, he said, to take charge of a cabin at Champlain's Landing, twenty-five miles north of Pennock's Post, for a week or two, until one of Moran's men could be spared.

David begged to be allowed to go, since he was not imperatively needed at Alder Creek, and his father consented, believing that the experience would be valuable as a training in self-reliance. He warned his son, however, that he might be very homesick and lonely. As David had never been homesick in his life, that malady had no terrors for him, and he declared that he was quite willing to take the risk.

Thus it happened that he found himself one afternoon starting down the gorge from Moran's Camp in company with the captain, a civil engineer named Dunn, who had recently arrived, and Greenwood, who had been a cook in the army. Three others had already set out with horses to make the journey overland, while the captain's party was to proceed by boat down Lake Dasar-dee-ash and its outlet river to the Landing. There the parties would unite and continue the journey by land, leaving David at the cabin.

At the shore of the lake Paul Champlain was encamped. He was that member of the Thirty-six who had selected on the north branch of the Alsek the landing place called by his name, and had built the storehouse there, while Pennock's party and the Bradfords, on the same stream, were building Pennock's Post. He was a Michigan man of French descent, possessing a thorough knowledge of woodcraft and a magnificent physique. By the captain's directions he had hiredand brought up the boat which had been built near this point earlier in the season.

Hardly had the tents been pitched on a gravelly open space overlooking the water, when a cold and drenching rainstorm came on. A fire was kindled with difficulty, around which the shivering party gathered to cook and eat their evening meal. Rubber blankets and oiled canvas were pressed into service to protect them from the storm, but there was no keeping entirely dry in such a downpour. Around the small tent which had been assigned to David, the ground was so level that the water was presently standing an inch deep, and only by hastily digging a ditch was he able to prevent it from being flooded. As it was, he found a comparatively dry spot along the centre of his blanket-bed when he crawled in out of the rain, and having rolled up his damp coat for a pillow, he went to sleep in a twinkling in spite of all discomforts.

By morning the sky cleared, tents were struck, provisions and goods of all kinds were put aboard the little craft, and soon they were sailing merrily northward before the wind, the captain at the helm, Champlain holding the sheet in his hand that he might let it go instantly in case of a squall, Mr. Dunn on the centre seat, and Greenwood and David sitting forward near the slender mast. Occasionally they were obliged to bail, but considering the fact that there wasnot a drop of paint on the boat, she was remarkably seaworthy.

It was a glorious morning. A fresh, bracing wind blew from the south. The cloud-flecked mountains loomed sharp and blue around the lake, and the great range on the western shore was especially grand and imposing. David discovered beneath one of its glaciers, several thousand feet above the lake, what appeared to be a yawning cave as big as a house, and the captain's glass brought it out more distinctly. Here was a natural wonder fairly begging to be visited, and right well would David have liked to explore its mysteries; but time was precious to the voyagers, and they held their course steadily to the north, crossing the mouth of a great bay which extended several miles eastward. There was a similar bay to the west, but the lake narrowed again as they approached the outlet. At noon they landed for dinner in a little cove, which they named Shelter Bay, and there, the wind deserting them, they had recourse to the oars and rowed the short distance to the river, after which the current assisted them. The water was here so clear that they could see the fish as they darted away from the shadow of the oars. Several yellow-legged plover were shot along the banks, but no attempt was made to bag ducks, as it was their breeding season.

Early in the evening they reached the sandy bluff near Pennock's cabin and moored the boat to a tree.The cabin was now deserted by human beings, but when David opened the door a fat ground-squirrel scurried across the floor and ran out through a hole under the side log. It seemed too bad that such a stanch dwelling should be given over to neglect, but such is often the case in a new country. The travellers did not sleep in it, for the mosquitoes were in possession. They pitched their insect-proof tents by the side of the river and passed the night in comfort.

But before they turned in, Champlain and David took trout flies and lines and sauntered down the stream to try to discover what kind of fish they had seen. They cut rude willow poles and fished carefully but in vain until they came to the mouth of Frying-Pan Creek. Here the current of the brook cleared for a space the now muddy river water, and Champlain had a rise almost immediately. A few seconds later he landed a delicately spotted, gamy fish about eight inches long, which he recognized as a grayling. The sport became exciting at once, and David soon had half a dozen catches to his credit. When the anglers could no longer induce a rise, they marched back to camp in triumph with a handsome string.

The voyage was continued next day. Champlain entertained his companions with an account of his successful moose-hunt a few weeks previous, which had relieved the hunger of the northernmost party of theThirty-six. Then he told of the difficulties he and others had overcome in rafting the goods from their great cache and Pennock's Post down to the Landing. He had shot an otter on one of his journeys along the stream, but said he had seen hardly a trace of beavers.

The river now became extremely tortuous. Greenwood wondered how it could make so many loops without tying itself into a knot, and expressed a decided preference for walking as a means of getting to the Landing. As he was taking his turn at rowing at that moment, it was easy to account for his sudden feeling in the matter.

By skilful use of helm and paddle Champlain guided the boat through a number of rocky stretches in safety, but he was not to be invariably so successful. David, who had been intently gazing forward, suddenly shouted a warning. Five or six boulders lay in the stream so nearly submerged that they could hardly be discerned from a distance, while others just below the surface betrayed their position only by eddies. Champlain put all his strength into the paddle, but in that current the heavy boat could be swerved but little. A dangerous eddy was barely avoided, but beyond and directly in their path a ragged rock appeared. How the paddle flashed! And how the rowers struggled! But in a moment it was evident that the boat must strike.

Crunch! went her side against the rock. She careened as she stopped, and the current piled up againsther, while her passengers fully expected shipwreck and instinctively measured the distance to the shore. But the force of the stream, instead of swamping the stout little craft, swept her past the obstruction, and all breathed freely once more. By great good fortune not the least damage had been sustained.

Early in the afternoon they passed between Father and Son, otherwise known as Mount Champlain and Mount Bratnober respectively. The pass was about a mile wide, with perpendicular cliffs several thousand feet high on either side. In this wild place they found the forest recently burned, and in one spot near the base of Mount Bratnober smoke was still rising. It was this great conflagration, covering thousands of acres, which had filled the atmosphere with smoke a few weeks before and caused the sun to look like a blood-red ball as it sank in the west. Champlain related how, in company with a Canadian government surveyor, he had climbed the mountain which had received his name. He was sure they could have seen Mount St. Elias in the west had not clouds obscured the view. They noticed a flock of mountain sheep, but did not get near enough for a shot.

The voyage was presently enlivened by a race with a brood of little ducks which Mother Mallard had taken out for an airing,—or "watering," as David put it. There were a dozen of the little fellows not two weeksout of the shell, and what a splashing they set up when they saw the strange, oared craft bearing down upon them! The mother duck quacked anxiously from the rear of her flotilla and urged the youngsters forward at the top of their speed, which proved just about equal to that of the boat.

The little ducks could not fly, and the river was so narrow that at first they dared not swerve toward either shore, but flapped and paddled and splashed straight down the river. Not until they became utterly exhausted did they seek the bank. Then one by one, as a convenient log or hole appeared, they dropped away from the others and hid themselves while the terrible monster went by. The old duck paid not the slightest attention to these stragglers, but continued with that part of her brood which was still in danger, turning her head from side to side and talking vigorously in duck language to her terrified children.

Finally only one duckling remained in the middle of the river, probably at once the strongest and most foolish of the brood. He did not know enough to follow the example of his brothers and sisters, but kept splashing along until he could flee no longer. Then he too sought the friendly bank. And now, having seen all her brood safely disposed, the brave mother-bird made use of her wings, rising in a graceful sweep and turning back up-stream to gather her scattered family.

CHAPTER XXXIICHAMPLAIN'S LANDINGIt was well into the evening, though before sunset, when Champlain assured his fellow-voyagers that the Landing was near. Soon afterward, they saw two men appear on the brow of a sandy bluff ahead. These proved to be Hovey and Herrick, who were in charge of the camp. They had heard voices and the plash of oars, and had hurried out to see who was approaching, waving their hats and shouting a welcome as soon as they recognized their friends. The boat was brought close to the narrow beach, and the captain, Dunn, and Greenwood disembarked, leaving Champlain and David to row around to the other side of the bluff, where the craft could be more securely moored.David was now accustomed to the interminable windings of the river, and took it quite as a matter of course that the stream, after flowing a quarter of a mile to the left or southwest from the bluff, turned capriciously back to within fifty yards of the spot where the three had landed. The bluff itself was thus a narrow, high neck of land connecting a low, wooded point with what we may call the mainland east of the river.i290Rafting down the North AlsekWith oars and paddle, the crew of two soon rounded the point, and approached the bluff once more. Here the river turned abruptly northwest, and in the bay formed by its curve lay a flotilla of log rafts. To one of these the boat was made fast, and the occupants sprang ashore and made their way up the slope.David looked with interest at the place which for a fortnight was to be his home. The top of the bluff was about thirty feet wide, and covered with short grass. It was as level as a floor, except along its southeastern edge, where a ridge of sand six or eight feet high, and fringed with spruces, offered a natural protection for a cook-tent and a sleeping-tent. Champlain, who had discovered this spot, took pride in pointing out to David its advantages."It's the finest place in this valley for a camp or a fort," he declared, with a Frenchman's enthusiasm. "Every time I look at it, I almost wish there was an Indian war, and I had a good garrison here. You see, it's defended on three sides by the river, which is too deep for fording, and can only be crossed with canoes or logs, or by swimming. From the top of the bluff we have a clear view for an eighth of a mile both up and down the stream. If the enemy came down the river, the ridge of sand behind the tents is a natural breastwork for riflemen; while if they approached from the other direction, the defenders would simply lie down a little back fromthe edge of the bluff on that side, and give them a good peppering.""And what if they came from the land side?" asked David, who began to wonder if an attack were within the bounds of possibility."We should put a stockade of logs across the neck of land on that side," answered Champlain. "Already I have built a strong log house. Come and see it."He led the way landward from the narrow part of the bluff to a point about a hundred yards up-stream, where David now beheld the neat little cabin in which the supplies were stored. It had a door of boards, evidently constructed from the material of a coffee-box, but there was no window, either because no more boards were to be had, or because the cabin was less vulnerable with but a single opening in its heavy walls. The door was fitted with good hinges and a padlock. Forest enclosed the cabin, except on the side from which they had come, and toward the river; and off among the trees wound a path which joined the main trail about fifty rods away."You won't have to fight Indians, my lad," said Champlain, who was aware that his imaginative talk might cause David some uneasiness; "and as for bears, you don't seem to mind them much, judging from what I've heard.""I think I can take care of the bears," said David.i294A Herd of Cattle.—Yukon Divide in the DistanceChamplain eyed the lad with evident approval. "I like your pluck," said he; "but let an old hunter advise you to leave such beasts alone, when you're not in reach of help. You see, we should never know where to look for you if you should meet with an accident off in these woods. Better stick pretty close to the cabin."On their way back to the cook-tent Champlain pointed out a pile of saddles and blankets near the embers of a fire."Must be a pack train somewhere about," he observed. "I wonder where the men and horses are. It's too early for ours to be here."The explanation was quickly forthcoming. A large herd of cattle, convoyed by five or six horsemen, had arrived on the previous day on their way to Dawson, and had been halted for a day's rest at the Landing. The men were now rounding up their charges into an open meadow half a mile distant, preparatory to an early start in the morning."And you'll be very glad they came when you know what you're to have for supper," added Hovey, with a twinkle in his eye, as he bustled about the sheet-iron stove in the cook-tent."Oh, we live high at this hotel!" Herrick chimed in. "How would fried liver strike you,—and hot biscuits and butter,—and tea with cream and sugar,—and a custard by way of dessert?""What's this you're talking about?" cried the captain,who had overheard the last few words. "Cream and custards? I'll believe when I see and taste!""All right, my sceptical friend! Come in. Supper's ready. Muck-muck!"No second call was needed, for the travellers were ravenous. They entered the cook-tent at once, and took their places on empty boxes around a small improvised table."Now then," said Hovey, who, with Herrick, had finished supper some three hours before, and now presided gracefully over the cook-stove in the interest of the guests, "pass the plates."These much battered articles of aluminum were promptly presented, and as promptly filled with the savory contents of the frying-pan, which proved to be real liver, after all. Herrick meanwhile told how they had secured it.It appeared by his narrative that one of the steers had driven a sharp stick into its foot in such a way as to lame it badly. On noticing this, he had strongly represented to the cattlemen that it would be cruel to drive the animal farther, and that they ought to kill it then and there. Aided by several expressive winks, the cattlemen had seen the point of his remarks, and having found the two campers pleasant, sociable fellows, they killed the steer, and made them a present of a considerable portion of the carcass. The cream and custard were accounted for by the presence of a milch cow in the herd."To-morrow," said Herrick, as he finished his tale, "we shall have roast beef with brown gravy; and if they can catch the cow, we may get a drink of milk all around.""What would the boys at Shorty Creek say, if they heard that?" asked Greenwood, smacking his lips."They'd mutiny," replied Dunn. "But is this the only cattle train that has come along?""No," answered Hovey. "This is the third big one within a couple of weeks, and they all belong to one man. There have been some smaller herds, too. Over a thousand head must have gone over this trail this season, and they're in prime condition. They ought to sell high in Dawson, for the Yukon steamers can't carry cattle to any great extent, and there must be thousands of people there by this time."Next morning, previous to their departure, the cattlemen made an attempt to milk their solitary cow. Obviously the first thing to do was to catch the animal, but for some reason she was particularly contrary, and refused to be either coaxed or coerced. At last one of the men mounted his horse, and set out with his lariat to lasso the refractory beast in true cow-boy style. The poor cow, frightened out of her wits by the shouts and the turmoil, rushed frantically through thickets and over sand-banks, closely followed by the horseman, who, after several throws, succeeded in roping her and checking her wild career.It now looked as if the drink of milk might materialize, but alas for human expectations! The cow had been wrought up to such a pitch of excitement by the events of the morning that she could not be made to stand still, and it was with great difficulty that the milking could be commenced. The man who essayed this task had all he could attend to with her kicking and plunging, and finally, losing all patience, he threw pail, milk, and all at her head, accompanied by something very like an oath. So faded the dream of the drink of milk.Hovey and Herrick, who had been informed that they were to take the boat and a moderate cargo and start for Moran's Camp, where they were to sign certain papers connected with their claims, now made ready to depart. They appeared to relish the idea of joining their comrades on the Kah Sha River, but David thought, as he watched them pull away against the current, that long before they could hoist their sail on Lake Dasar-dee-ash, they would wish themselves back at the Landing. The cattle train started toward Dawson about the same time, and Champlain's Landing was left to the captain's party.The following morning he, too, made ready to leave. The horses, which had now arrived, were loaded with the necessary provisions from the cache in the cabin, and David was given final directions about the camp."Shep," an Indian dog which had accompanied the horses, was left with him as his sole companion, and then the captain, Champlain, Dunn, Greenwood, and the three packers bade him good-by and disappeared in the woods.

CHAMPLAIN'S LANDING

It was well into the evening, though before sunset, when Champlain assured his fellow-voyagers that the Landing was near. Soon afterward, they saw two men appear on the brow of a sandy bluff ahead. These proved to be Hovey and Herrick, who were in charge of the camp. They had heard voices and the plash of oars, and had hurried out to see who was approaching, waving their hats and shouting a welcome as soon as they recognized their friends. The boat was brought close to the narrow beach, and the captain, Dunn, and Greenwood disembarked, leaving Champlain and David to row around to the other side of the bluff, where the craft could be more securely moored.

David was now accustomed to the interminable windings of the river, and took it quite as a matter of course that the stream, after flowing a quarter of a mile to the left or southwest from the bluff, turned capriciously back to within fifty yards of the spot where the three had landed. The bluff itself was thus a narrow, high neck of land connecting a low, wooded point with what we may call the mainland east of the river.

i290

Rafting down the North Alsek

Rafting down the North Alsek

Rafting down the North Alsek

With oars and paddle, the crew of two soon rounded the point, and approached the bluff once more. Here the river turned abruptly northwest, and in the bay formed by its curve lay a flotilla of log rafts. To one of these the boat was made fast, and the occupants sprang ashore and made their way up the slope.

David looked with interest at the place which for a fortnight was to be his home. The top of the bluff was about thirty feet wide, and covered with short grass. It was as level as a floor, except along its southeastern edge, where a ridge of sand six or eight feet high, and fringed with spruces, offered a natural protection for a cook-tent and a sleeping-tent. Champlain, who had discovered this spot, took pride in pointing out to David its advantages.

"It's the finest place in this valley for a camp or a fort," he declared, with a Frenchman's enthusiasm. "Every time I look at it, I almost wish there was an Indian war, and I had a good garrison here. You see, it's defended on three sides by the river, which is too deep for fording, and can only be crossed with canoes or logs, or by swimming. From the top of the bluff we have a clear view for an eighth of a mile both up and down the stream. If the enemy came down the river, the ridge of sand behind the tents is a natural breastwork for riflemen; while if they approached from the other direction, the defenders would simply lie down a little back fromthe edge of the bluff on that side, and give them a good peppering."

"And what if they came from the land side?" asked David, who began to wonder if an attack were within the bounds of possibility.

"We should put a stockade of logs across the neck of land on that side," answered Champlain. "Already I have built a strong log house. Come and see it."

He led the way landward from the narrow part of the bluff to a point about a hundred yards up-stream, where David now beheld the neat little cabin in which the supplies were stored. It had a door of boards, evidently constructed from the material of a coffee-box, but there was no window, either because no more boards were to be had, or because the cabin was less vulnerable with but a single opening in its heavy walls. The door was fitted with good hinges and a padlock. Forest enclosed the cabin, except on the side from which they had come, and toward the river; and off among the trees wound a path which joined the main trail about fifty rods away.

"You won't have to fight Indians, my lad," said Champlain, who was aware that his imaginative talk might cause David some uneasiness; "and as for bears, you don't seem to mind them much, judging from what I've heard."

"I think I can take care of the bears," said David.

i294

A Herd of Cattle.—Yukon Divide in the Distance

A Herd of Cattle.—Yukon Divide in the Distance

A Herd of Cattle.—Yukon Divide in the Distance

Champlain eyed the lad with evident approval. "I like your pluck," said he; "but let an old hunter advise you to leave such beasts alone, when you're not in reach of help. You see, we should never know where to look for you if you should meet with an accident off in these woods. Better stick pretty close to the cabin."

On their way back to the cook-tent Champlain pointed out a pile of saddles and blankets near the embers of a fire.

"Must be a pack train somewhere about," he observed. "I wonder where the men and horses are. It's too early for ours to be here."

The explanation was quickly forthcoming. A large herd of cattle, convoyed by five or six horsemen, had arrived on the previous day on their way to Dawson, and had been halted for a day's rest at the Landing. The men were now rounding up their charges into an open meadow half a mile distant, preparatory to an early start in the morning.

"And you'll be very glad they came when you know what you're to have for supper," added Hovey, with a twinkle in his eye, as he bustled about the sheet-iron stove in the cook-tent.

"Oh, we live high at this hotel!" Herrick chimed in. "How would fried liver strike you,—and hot biscuits and butter,—and tea with cream and sugar,—and a custard by way of dessert?"

"What's this you're talking about?" cried the captain,who had overheard the last few words. "Cream and custards? I'll believe when I see and taste!"

"All right, my sceptical friend! Come in. Supper's ready. Muck-muck!"

No second call was needed, for the travellers were ravenous. They entered the cook-tent at once, and took their places on empty boxes around a small improvised table.

"Now then," said Hovey, who, with Herrick, had finished supper some three hours before, and now presided gracefully over the cook-stove in the interest of the guests, "pass the plates."

These much battered articles of aluminum were promptly presented, and as promptly filled with the savory contents of the frying-pan, which proved to be real liver, after all. Herrick meanwhile told how they had secured it.

It appeared by his narrative that one of the steers had driven a sharp stick into its foot in such a way as to lame it badly. On noticing this, he had strongly represented to the cattlemen that it would be cruel to drive the animal farther, and that they ought to kill it then and there. Aided by several expressive winks, the cattlemen had seen the point of his remarks, and having found the two campers pleasant, sociable fellows, they killed the steer, and made them a present of a considerable portion of the carcass. The cream and custard were accounted for by the presence of a milch cow in the herd.

"To-morrow," said Herrick, as he finished his tale, "we shall have roast beef with brown gravy; and if they can catch the cow, we may get a drink of milk all around."

"What would the boys at Shorty Creek say, if they heard that?" asked Greenwood, smacking his lips.

"They'd mutiny," replied Dunn. "But is this the only cattle train that has come along?"

"No," answered Hovey. "This is the third big one within a couple of weeks, and they all belong to one man. There have been some smaller herds, too. Over a thousand head must have gone over this trail this season, and they're in prime condition. They ought to sell high in Dawson, for the Yukon steamers can't carry cattle to any great extent, and there must be thousands of people there by this time."

Next morning, previous to their departure, the cattlemen made an attempt to milk their solitary cow. Obviously the first thing to do was to catch the animal, but for some reason she was particularly contrary, and refused to be either coaxed or coerced. At last one of the men mounted his horse, and set out with his lariat to lasso the refractory beast in true cow-boy style. The poor cow, frightened out of her wits by the shouts and the turmoil, rushed frantically through thickets and over sand-banks, closely followed by the horseman, who, after several throws, succeeded in roping her and checking her wild career.

It now looked as if the drink of milk might materialize, but alas for human expectations! The cow had been wrought up to such a pitch of excitement by the events of the morning that she could not be made to stand still, and it was with great difficulty that the milking could be commenced. The man who essayed this task had all he could attend to with her kicking and plunging, and finally, losing all patience, he threw pail, milk, and all at her head, accompanied by something very like an oath. So faded the dream of the drink of milk.

Hovey and Herrick, who had been informed that they were to take the boat and a moderate cargo and start for Moran's Camp, where they were to sign certain papers connected with their claims, now made ready to depart. They appeared to relish the idea of joining their comrades on the Kah Sha River, but David thought, as he watched them pull away against the current, that long before they could hoist their sail on Lake Dasar-dee-ash, they would wish themselves back at the Landing. The cattle train started toward Dawson about the same time, and Champlain's Landing was left to the captain's party.

The following morning he, too, made ready to leave. The horses, which had now arrived, were loaded with the necessary provisions from the cache in the cabin, and David was given final directions about the camp."Shep," an Indian dog which had accompanied the horses, was left with him as his sole companion, and then the captain, Champlain, Dunn, Greenwood, and the three packers bade him good-by and disappeared in the woods.

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