CHAPTER XXIV.

CAPE NOME, Alaska, Aug. 6, 1899.—It is Sunday evening again and I am reclining against my roll of blankets in the warm tent. Foote is playing the banjo, beautiful music, too! I never appreciated music until this trip. Foote's marches and familiar songs, associated as they are with the freedom of camp life and that feeling of rest after a day's work, have impressed their memory as the sweetest music I ever heard. We are still on our beach claims; that is, part of us. The "Penelope" is back at anchor, having left Jett and Wilson on the scent of something under guidance of an Indian. Cox has not reported. Our property is advancing in value and so is the stock of the L. B. A. M. & T. Co. The same stock which I was ready to trade a few weeks ago for some cotton batting, arsenic and plaster-of-paris! We own a lot in Anvil City 200 × 300 feet. The beach claims are proving better. If we can hold clear to the water line we are safe. The past week we have taken out $250 in gold dust. Trouble with jumpers continues. Over six hundred men are working with rockers on the beach in sight. Some are making from $50 to $150 per day. One fellow struck a pocket and took out $400 at one clean-up. Our claims are not as good as those nearer Snake River. Several jumpers are at work on them now and we cannot put them off except by force, and that means fight. None of us want to be disfigured after our successful encounter with the frost last winter. We appealed to the lieutenant in charge, but he says he can do nothing until the arrival of the district judge next week. Several of our boys have gone up to one of the rich gulches to consider a new proposition. Maybe we will get a good lay. A "lay" is a lease given by a claim owner to a party to work a claim for a certain per-centage of the outcome.

Aug. 13.—Another week has passed away and very quickly, too, in spite of the hard work. From six to twelve of us are still working on one of the beach claims. Up to Friday night we had taken out $750 in dust. If the whole company were working at the same rate this would be good wages, but there are twenty to share with. The "Penelope" has gone down the coast again to look after the prospectors and may bring good news. Jesse Farrar, the cook, went to town last night, and I have been cooking to-day. We were troubled quite a little at first by our numerous Kotzebue friends dropping in for meals on their way up and down the beach. So we put up a sign, "Meals, $1," more to rid ourselves of the extra care than to go into the restaurant business. Really it became unbearable.

The town is booming. The beach claim trouble is not settled yet, and everyone is working where he pleases. Claim owners up in the gulches are looking for men at $10 per day and board, and cannot get them. A $310 nugget was taken from a sluice box the other day, and one man cleared $20,000 for four days' work. Our boys have been up to see, and I ought to go. A fellow hasn't a chance every day in his life to see such a lot of gold in the rough, at its birth as it were, before it is washed or dressed or alloyed. Most of the lucky ones are Swedes or Laplanders, they being on the ground at the beginning of the rush last spring.

Gold can only bring $15 per ounce at the highest, and only $14 at some stores. In other words, coin is at a big premium. The beach gold runs very high, being much purer than that from the hills. Some was sent to St. Michaels and assayed $18.40 per ounce. If one had the cash he could buy up the raw gold and sell it. That is where the companies make the bulk of their money. It is a great temptation for some of our party to desert and start into private enterprises. But I, and most of the boys, will stay together and I believe will come out better in the long run.

They say Dawson is played out and that this is the next place for a boom. But I wouldn't advise anyone to come here if they have any way of making a living at home. Ten dollars a day sounds big, but when one pays $90 each way for transportation and then prices for things here, there isn't muchleft from the short period of three months' work, and one is not sure of that.

We have a short fish net set out beyond the surf. This morning I found four salmon in it, the first we have had since leaving Kotzebue. Only four of us are here to-day, but I had three "boarders." Three dollars in "dust" was paid.

I have forgotten to describe what "rocking" is. A rocker runs just like a baby's cradle, from side to side. At the top is a hopper with holes in the bottom to keep out the coarse stuff. The sand falls through the hopper-holes and washes over two "aprons" slanting back and forth to the bottom, where it runs out through a sluice-box. The aprons, and sometimes the sluice-box, have "riffles," or strips of cloth fastened in crosswise, to catch the gold. The aprons and the whole bottom of the box and riffles are of blanket, so that the finer dust catches in the nap or wool. A man stands dipping water into the hopper with one hand and rocking with the other, while the other man puts in a shovelful of the pay dirt every now and then, and keeps the water tub full and the tailings cleaned away. Two men run a rocker, though when the "Penelope" crew is ashore there are three men to each of our four rockers. We have to carry all our water from the surf. Some of the rockers have copper plates amalgamated with mercury on the upper sides. These are better, as the finer particles are caught and amalgamated. To "clean up" a rocker, the aprons and blankets are taken out and washed in a tub and the resulting debris panned out. I am amalgamator, and have nothing to do with the rockers. I pan out the previous day's clean-up and amalgamate the dust, squeeze "dry" the amalgam and weigh it. We have no retort as yet and I have on hand nearly ten pounds of dry amalgam. I have experimented with it and find that the amalgam is one-half gold by weight. Oh, the boys have a little joke on me. It was the result of my first experiment and I shall never hear the last of it. There must have been something else in the spoon I was using, nickel or silver, for the gold melted right into the spoon. I poured the stuff out on to a shovel-blade to save what was left. What did it do but melt right into and all over the shovel! The result of this is that the L. B. A. M. & T. Co. has a gold-plated shovel. We are a wealthy company and can afford it.

Cape Nome.

Later. Anvil City, Cape Nome.—I came to town after supper and am writing in our "city cabin," which is just back of the A. C. Company's store. We own a very fine residence in the city 12 x 10 feet, on a 150 x 300 foot lot. It is a good eight miles from our beach claims here, and as I walked it I thought it twenty. I wore heavy shoes, and the best walking I could select was on the wet sand along the surf. For the entire eight miles there is scarcely one hundred feet without one or more tents on it. The beach is riddled with ditches and holes, and hundreds of rockers of all descriptions gyrate in various rhythm. I spoke to many Kotzebue people whom we knew last winter, and all are doing well. The beach is still being worked by everyone, irrespective of original locators, a dozen or more on our own claims. The officer arrested several, but discharged them again. The townspeople, saloonkeepers and transportation companies are against claim owners, as it is to their own interest to keep the mob taking out money. And they're doing it, too. Anvil City is booming. Dozens of frame buildings are being erected. Three big two-story sheet-iron buildings are going up, which comprise the government barracks. Several steamers have gotten over the bar and are in the mouth of Snake River. About two dozen saloons are raking in the money. This is a speedy place. I wish I had my time for the next two months here. Ptarmigan are $1 each for eating. Wages are $1 per hour.

Rocking Out Gold at Cape Nome.

Cape Nome, Aug. 22.—I am quite sure that I do not aspire to the realm of cookery, but yet, for all that, I am in the kitchen again, "monarch of all I survey." I do not blame the cook for stubbornly declaring his intention to resign and refusing to leave his bed. No one heeded his warning given the day before. Pandemonium ensued. A dish-pan of mush finally appeared at the hands of Uncle Jimmy. No one consented to fill the vacancy at any wages. Three "boarders" came in and were turned away. The dissolution of the company was imminent, all because there was no one in the crowd to perform a duty which is considered by all to be the most disagreeable of any on the list. I told them so, and several other emphatic truths. "Practice what you preach!" was hurled at me. Then I rose up like a martyr and declared that I would "risk death" in the interests of the L. B. A. M. & T. Co., and here I am in imminent peril of being wiped off the face of the earth by some "beach comber" whom I charge fifty cents for a loaf of bread. I sold three loaves at that rate yesterday. Also served fifteen meals to outsiders at the rate of $1 per meal. One man came in for supper last night who planked down a bag of dust worth fully $800 for me to weigh the dollar from. I poured out a little too much and he grabbed the bag and went out, saying, "Keep the change!" Most of the money taken in is dust. Cash is scarcer than ever. Copper plates are not obtainable, and silver dollars and halves are at a premium for covering the bottoms of rockers. The coins are amalgamated with mercury to catch the fine gold dust. I saw fifty arranged in rows in one rocker. Our claims are now covered with beach jumpers and we cannot get them off. Mob law rules. There are one hundred beach combers to one claim owner, and the authorities will not or cannot do anything. The lieutenant in charge gave us some notices to "vacate," but the people pay no attention. It fell to me to go up to one of our claims, and I showed the notice to each of the workers along the beach. Some laughed at me. Some sneered. One "tough" consigned me and the notice to a warmer place than Cape Nome in August. He continued to swear at me, and when I respectfully asked him to "be reasonable and give me a hearing," he told me to get to that same place I have mentioned "and quick, too." This at my own claim! I never knew I had a temper before, but for a minute then I do not think I would have been responsible. I can easily see how murders are committed in the rage of anger, and if all judges and juries could put themselves in the place of the tempted, perhaps capital punishment, at least for such crimes, would be annulled. The man who threatened me was bigger than I, and I went on. And he is still working there, taking out $100 per day, so I am told. He is in a "pocket." Our pocket. We have discussed the advisability of using force, but have abandoned it. Fancher says we "might get disfigured," for there are people here just awkward enough to hit a fellow in the face.

We are hemmed in on all sides and soonour beach claims will be worthless. Sunday I retorted all the amalgam we had on hand, and eighty-five ounces of pure gold was the result. Seven pounds of the pretty yellow stuff! I broke the big chunks as they came from the retort into small pieces with a cold chisel. It was fascinating work to weigh out the rare metal and lift the same when it was put into the chamois-skin sack. I have turned it over to Treasurer Rivers, so it is off my hands. But what is fifteen hundred dollars divided among twenty men? It would certainly be better to divide up the company right now, for the individuals here, but we cannot lawfully do it. Complete desertion is the only alternative to staying with it.

Anvil City, Aug. 24.—We have left the beach claims and are on our way to Nome River. We have leased a fifty per cent, lay on Buster Creek, and are going to see what is in it. It is our last chance for this year. It may turn out poor, but we have very good reports from that section. We hope to feel assured of something good to come back to next spring. Ice last night, and probably an early winter. The schooner is going up to Safety Harbor in Port Clarence to remain until October 1st, which is about as late as we dare stay here. I must go ashore now for a boat-load of lumber for sluice-boxes.

Later.—The rats got into a box of my geese and entirely ruined them. I do not know how much else is destroyed. I have not been so absolutely down-hearted for many moons. All on account of those miserable rats. I came near taking all my collection ashore and quitting the company. But then I suppose "gold is to be desired above all things." at least this is what I am told by wiser heads than mine, judging by their whiteness and baldness. There is a prospect of getting some new potatoes ashore to-night, and these will be an all-sufficient antidote to low spirits. Somehow potatoes, and even onions, go straight to the seat of low spirits when a fellow has been without them a year or two. Strange to me that a man ever commits suicide in the midst of local markets where fresh vegetables can be obtained. Ah, we shall have a great supper to-night! One menu three times a day—beans, dessicated vegetables, rice, dried fruit and bacon—grows wearisome unless the appetite is awfully sharp.

Placer Mining, Cape Nome.

Buster Creek, Sept. 3.—Here we are twelve miles up among the mountains back of Cape Nome. It took two days towing up Nome River, which is really nothing more than a creek. There were bars to drag the boat over every hundred yards. That brought us to the mouth of Buster Creek, three miles from here, and from there we had the sweet job of packing up all our supplies and lumber on our backs. Rain most of the time and nothing but green willow brush to burn. It was very disagreeable, hard work, but here we are now, well settled, with an oil stove to depend on when the willow wood fails. We have a fairly good looking claim here, No. 4. Have it opened up and the first gravel through yesterday. The riffles show coarse gold, though in no fabulous amount. We cannot get much out before freeze-up this year, but ought to do fairly well next summer from present prospects. Some iceand considerable frost already. We will probably return to the coast the last of September. The "Penelope" rode out the late storm safely when so many other vessels were lost. My latest news is that the rats have taken my goose box for a nesting den. One of the boys will watch from this on. I am cooking and it keeps me jumping sideways to feed the fourteen hungry gravel-heavers. I have to be up at five in the morning and am seldom through until nine at night. Have to bake every day, and have nothing larger than a single camp stove oven to do it in. Everyone is working for all there is in him. We hope to strike a pay streak, as they have on the claim above us, rich enough to take out $800 per day. I have scarcely time to breathe outside of the cook tent these days. But I frequently hear the notes of familiar birds—golden-crowned sparrows, gray-cheeked thrushes and ptarmigan. I shot nine ptarmigan the other evening close by. We are feasting on fresh venison. Yesterday morning a reindeer appeared on the hillside above the tents. Without malice aforethought one of the boys aimed and it fell—to our lot. It is now hinted that the wild creature was a tame reindeer, and that the Laps from over on Anvil Creek who have the animals in charge, will most likely come to hunt it up. If they get a peep into our provision tent we may have to pay $100, otherwise it will be finished by us with a relish such as few can appreciate. These Laplanders own very rich claims and, though they are really a lower class of people than the Indians, the latter cannot become citizens.

Last week, while we were coming up along Nome River, birds were quite numerous, especially the smaller species in the willow thickets. I saw or heard the yellow, black-poll and Wilson's warblers; tree, fox, golden-crowned and intermediate sparrows, gray-cheeked thrush, redpoll, snowy owl, flocks of golden plover and pectoral sandpipers, one young Sabine's gull on a sand-bar: lots of large gulls, either glaucus or glaucus-winged, and perhaps both; loons, black and red-throated; little brown crane, pin-tails, and other ducks not identified. The last two or three days small birds have been very scarce. On August 27 and 28 the fall migrations were in progress. Most of the birds were heard singing, especially the warblers, as in spring. The ptarmigan are very nicely plumaged now in parti-colored costume. I wish I could save some, but the L. B. A. M. & T Co. is mining now. I can hardly decide in my own mind to stay another winter here. I will let circumstances decide. There are hundreds of Dawson people here who say this will be a greater gold country than the Klondike. Some of the creeks are turning out immensely rich. One Swede came down from his claim the other day with $88,000. He got rid of $30,000 of it in a saloon almost immediately. It will be seen that the saloon people are taking in most of the gold. However, I think we are on the right track, though it may take two more years to bring us material returns. In a few days now it will be:

"Penelope! Penelope! zip! boom! bah!Going home from Kotzebue! rah! rah! rah!"

"Penelope! Penelope! zip! boom! bah!

Going home from Kotzebue! rah! rah! rah!"

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