SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGESCHAPTER IALLOWED TO SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES
Of course, if every reader of this story had also read its forerunner there would be no need of introducing its characters, for they would already be old friends. We would merely meet them at the place where they have been patiently awaiting us all this time, give them an encouraging nod of recognition, and tell them to go ahead with their adventures as fast as they pleased. That would be well enough for us who are acquainted with them; but to those who may chance to read this sequel without having first read the story that gives it a reason for being, the references to people, things, and incidents of the past that must necessarily be made from time to time would be confusing. Therefore it seems fitting that those characters of the previous story who are to figure with any prominence in this one should be properly introduced; and in order to avoid the discriminating partiality of the author, who would be apt to say too much concerning those whom he fancied, or too little about those whom he disliked, each one shall be given the privilege of introducing himself. To begin with, here is our old friend Phil Ryder.
“Yes, that is my name right enough, and I want tosay first thing that I think it is high time some notice were taken of us, after the unsatisfactory conclusion of that other book, and the wretched state of uncertainty in which we were all left. It seemed to me the very worst ending to a story that I ever heard of.”
“But, Phil, it wasn’t the end. There was to be a sequel.”
“Well, you didn’t say so, and nobody knew, and I for one have been greatly mortified ever since, without a chance to say a word on the subject either. Now, as to myself, if any one cares to know who I am, and where I am, and how I got here, I am the son of Mr. John Ryder, of New London, Connecticut. He is a mining expert, and is at present engaged to investigate some properties near Sitka, Alaska, where I was to have joined him last May. It is now September, and I haven’t got there yet, though I have been travelling steadily ever since April, and trying my very best to reach Sitka. I’m sure it isn’t my fault that things have happened to take me most everywhere else, and finally to drop me away up here in northern Alaska, two thousand miles or so beyond Sitka. I’m on the right track now, though, for I am on a steamboat belonging to Mr. Hamer, bound up the Yukon River. It will take me to the head of navigation. Then all I shall have to do will be to cross the Divide to Chilkat, and take another steamer for Sitka, which place I expect to reach before the winter is over. Then my father’s anxiety will be relieved, for I suppose he is anxious, though I can’t see why he should be. He must know that I am perfectly well able to take care of myself, and will turn up all right some time. Both he and Aunt Ruth seem to think that I am careless and liable to get into scrapes, while really I never do anything important without the most careful consideration—that is, whenever there is time for considering.
“For instance, I didn’t decide that to go up the Yukon was the very best and shortest way to reach Sitka until I had talked it all over with Serge. I’m awfully glad it is the best thing to do, though, for it is so much more interesting to travel over a new route than back by the one you have just come. That’s one reason I wouldn’t pay any attention to that schooner we passed soon after leaving St. Michaels, though she did seem to be trying to signal us. I was afraid she might be bound south to Oonalaska, or even to Sitka itself, in which case our plans would have been all upset again. I should have hated that, for if there is any one thing I believe in it is sticking to a plan and carrying it out after it is once decided upon. So does Serge, who is one of the very best fellows that ever lived, even if he is a little slow. I am mighty glad to have him for a travelling companion, for he is true as steel and awfully level-headed. I only wish old Jalap were with us, for he is about the best fun of any one I know. I don’t suppose we shall ever see him again, though; and, now that I come to think of it, it does seem as if we ought to have made a search for him on Oonimak before leaving in such a hurry. But as we were prisoners of war on board the cutter, I don’t exactly see how we could have done anything but what we did. Here comes Serge now, and you really ought to know him; so allow me to—”
“Hold on, Phil; we are to introduce ourselves, you know, and I don’t want to be handicapped by all the nice things you would be certain to say about me. Yes, I am Serge—Serge Belcofsky, born in Sitka long after Alaska became part of the United States. I went to school there, of course, but after graduating I still longed for a better education than Sitka afforded, so I shipped aboard a homeward-bound whaler for New London, Connecticut, where I went to school for ayear. There I met Phil Ryder, who was not only the most popular fellow and the best athlete in the whole school, but who became the best friend I ever had. If he wasn’t, I should never have given him the fur-seal’s tooth which a Chilkat chief gave to my father. On his death my mother gave it to me, and soon after it passed into Phil’s hands he lost it. Since then it has turned up so many times, in such mysterious ways, and has had so much to do with shaping our fortunes, that I can’t help believing at least part of the old tales concerning it. Anyhow, the way it has managed to follow us right up to date is certainly wonderful. It isn’t likely that we shall see it again, though, now that the old Eskimo has got hold of it, for he evidently realizes its value.
“Where am I now? On a river steamer bound for Sitka by way of the Yukon, of course. You see, I left New London almost a year ago and started for Sitka on the schoonerSeamew. At Victoria, British Columbia, who should I meet but Phil Ryder, who also shipped on theSeamew. She got to Sitka, but we didn’t, and though we seem to be headed that way now, while Phil is confident that we are going straight there, no one knows what may happen. I hope my dear mother isn’t worrying about me. If I was only sure of that, and that I should land Phil in Sitka some time, I know I should enjoy this trip immensely. But, as Mr. Coombs says—”
“Hold hard there, hearty! You may allow that I’m a thousand miles away; but I’m not. And when it comes to taking words out of my very mouth, you’ll find that I’m right alongside. As my friend old Kite Roberson uster say, ‘A man what can’t speak up for hisself hadn’t orter be allowed to vote.’ My name is Jalap Coombs, half Yankee and half British subject, late mate of theSeamew, now acting cap’n of theschoonerPhilomeel, in which me and Mr. Ryder is sarching for the slippery young chaps what has jest now interdooced theirselves. A while ago we thought we had ’em, but things happened, and now we’re all at sea again without an idee of how the wind’ll blow next. But as old Kite uster offen say, ‘When you don’t know whattodo, the best thing is to do nothing.’ That is what we are liable to do for some time, seeing as thePhilomeelare hard and fast aground on a mud bank, with a nor’ wind blowing all the water outer Norton Sound.”
“And to think that I, John Ryder, after spending the whole summer in searching for my son Phil, should at length have actually got within sight of him away up here almost to the North Pole, only to have the young scamp sail away and disappear again, as oblivious of my presence as though I had never existed! And now this miserable accident, that puts an end to my following him any farther! Oh, it is too bad! too bad! I did think that all this miscarriage of plans and getting lost and being whisked off to all sorts of out-of-the-way places was purely accidental, or only owing to the extraordinary carelessness for which Phil has always been noted. Now, however, I must confess that it really does look as though he were ready and willing to go in any direction save towards Sitka. I can’t conceive what inducements that trader-fellow of whom Nikrik told us can have offered to entice my son up the Yukon at this time of the year. From all accounts the trader must be a pretty bad lot, and I tremble to think of what may happen to my Phil under his influence. What did Nikrik say his name was?”
“Gerald Hamer is my name, and though I have never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. John Ryder, from what I have seen of his son I should judge himto be a man well worth meeting. Phil is certainly a fine fellow, as well as the best rifle shot I ever ran across, and I am more than glad to have him join my expedition. That boy Serge, too, is a trump, and together they make a strong team, for while the first is impulsive, careless, and inclined to carry things with a dash, the other is cool, steady as a rock, and slow to act, but certain to get there in the end. As for myself, I am leading an expedition up the Yukon with the intention of establishing a trading-post at Forty Mile, a mining camp some two thousand miles up the river. I hope to reach there in this steamer, theChimo, before navigation closes. Then I expect to go out over the Chilkoot Pass by snow-shoes and sledges, and so finally reach San Francisco in time to bring up a new stock of goods for next summer. It is now so late, though, that I begin to have my doubts as to whether this plan can be carried out, for I fear we shall be frozen in long before reaching Forty Mile. I heard one of the clerks at the Redoubt bet that we would not reach Nulato.”
“Yes, I, Simon Goldollar, made that bet, and I am willing to repeat it. I hope they won’t get to Forty Mile. If they don’t we’ll head them off yet, and teach them that none but the company can trade on the Yukon. I am one of the company’s most trusted clerks, and though I only came out last summer, I think I see a way to winning promotion by breaking up the plans of this impudent would-be trader in our territory, and I am going to propose my scheme to the agent at once. I am the more anxious to carry it out now that Phil Ryder, whom I hate, has turned up again, and is evidently some sort of a partner in this new concern. He thinks I stole his money when we crossed the continent together, but I didn’t. Even if I had we would now be quits, for he has stolen the fur-seal’s tooth fromme. I know where it is, though, and I’ll have it back before long. I’ll find some chance to get the best of him, too, before he leaves the Yukon, and I’ll give him cause to regret that he ever saw it or Redoubt St. Michaels, either. See if I don’t.”
“At last I am allowed to speak, and I must say I think I should have been the first to be presented, for I am the Fur-seal’s Tooth. My origin is mysterious, the wonderful carving with which I am covered is unique, and of course my ultimate fate cannot be foretold; but whoever has read of me in the book that bears my name must admit that I exert a powerful influence over the affairs of men. It is said of me that he who gives me away gives good luck with me. He who receives me as a gift receives good luck. He who loses me loses his luck, and he who steals me steals bad luck that will cling to him so long as I am retained in his possession.
“Although I am now in the hands of a wretched Eskimo, I propose to leave him very shortly, to continue my travels until I reach my proper resting-place, and to exert a very considerable influence upon the forthcoming story. If you doubt my word, just bear me in mind and watch for my appearance.”