CHAPTER XXIITHE NEW ARRIVAL AT FORTY MILE
The man known as Strengel was probably as great a rascal as could be found in all Alaska. His sole object in shipping aboard the steamerNorskat San Francisco had been to make his way, by fair means or foul, to the Yukon gold-fields, of which he had gained extravagant ideas. On the night before theNorskleft St. Michaels he stole from the chests of several of his shipmates such small sums of money as they contained, slipped into a canoe, and deserted the ship. He remained in hiding until she sailed, and then, claiming to have been discharged at his own request, offered his services to Gerald Hamer in exchange for a passage to Forty Mile. This proposition being accepted, and Strengel regularly shipped as one of theChimo’screw, he made a secret proposal to the old company through one of its clerks, who happened to be Simon Goldollar, to so delay and cripple Gerald Hamer’s expedition that he should be forced to abandon it. In attempting to carry out this programme he was foiled by Phil Ryder’s quick wit and prompt action.
Making his way back to St. Michaels, after Phil set him ashore at the Pastolik wood-yard, Strengel fell in with Jalap Coombs, and, in company with Goldollar, so managed the money affairs of that unsuspecting sailor that he was unwittingly made to defray all their expenses to Forty Mile, though he only expected to accompany them a short distance up the river. Strengel’ssole object was still to reach the gold-fields, while Goldollar was intent on winning a reputation for himself by forestalling Gerald Hamer at Forty Mile, and at the same time inflicting what injury he could on Phil Ryder. From the outset they agreed to rid themselves of Jalap Coombs at some point so far up the river that he must necessarily remain where they left him for the rest of the winter. They learned at Nulato that theChimowas frozen in at Anvik, but took care that this information should not reach Jalap Coombs, whom they soon afterwards so cruelly deserted.
As they travelled beyond the point where they left him, the well-mated pair had such frequent and bitter quarrels that, when Simon Goldollar fell seriously ill, Strengel did not hesitate to rob him of what money he carried and desert him at a native village near the abandoned trading-post of Fort Yukon. Before doing this he discharged the Indians who had come with them from Nulato, and sent them back, telling them that he should remain with his sick friend until he recovered or died. As soon as they were gone he engaged other natives, and set out for the diggings that had for so long been the goal of his desires.
He planned to enter Forty Mile under a new name, and as a traveller from one of the interior Hudson Bay trading-posts, who was ignorant of the lower Yukon, its people, and its happenings. He was confident that Jalap Coombs would never appear to contradict him, and almost equally certain that Simon Goldollar would never reach Forty Mile. If by a miracle he should recover from his illness, he was helpless to continue his journey before the boats came up in the summer, by which time the man who had robbed and deserted him would be lost to sight amid the season’s rush of prospectors. In the meantime he had plentyof money to live on until he should meet with an opportunity for making a strike of some kind.
Thus it was that on a pleasant day of late January Mr. Strengel approached the mining camp of Forty Mile, riding comfortably in Jalap Coombs’s own sledge, with a light heart and no intimation of aught but an agreeable reception by its citizens. But in all his carefully-worked-out plans he had made several miscalculations.
It had never occurred to him that there was any other route than the one he had followed by which this point might be reached from the lower river. Nor did he believe it possible that any word of Gerald Hamer’s expedition could have come up the river unknown to him. Finally, his gravest mistake lay in supposing the population of this camp to be of the same lawless class as is to be found in most Western mining camps, and believing that here he should meet only with as great rascals as himself. In this he displayed great ignorance of Forty Mile, which was wholly in the hands of honorable old-time miners, who had framed a simple set of laws for the regulation of their isolated little community that they were determined should be respected. They had chosen one of their own number as judge, and from his decisions they allowed no appeal. They had also elected a marshal, whom they loyally assisted in the discharge of his duties. Several lawless characters had already been driven from the camp, and many others warned not to venture within its limits.
As Forty Mile had received warning of the expected coming of Goldollar and Strengel, and had learned many interesting things concerning the previous history of these gentlemen, their arrival was eagerly anticipated. Thus, upon Phil Ryder’s announcement that sledges were coming up the river, an expectant throng was quickly gathered at the landing.
Mr. Strengel fired several shots from his rifle as he drew near, and was surprised that his salute was not answered in kind. He was, of course, gratified to observe the sensation that his approach was creating, and undertook to arouse some enthusiasm among the silent spectators by yelling, “Hurrah for Forty Mile! Hurrah for the diggings! Hurrah for our side!” Then, as his sledge reached the bank and he sprang out, he cried, in tones meant to convey hearty good-fellowship:
“How are you, boys? You bet I’m mighty glad to see white men again after camping with a lot of low-lived Injuns for more than two months. You see, I’ve just come down from Pierre’s House on the Porcupine. My name’s Bradwick, and—”
Here the speaker’s fluent words seemed suddenly to fail him, his face turned pale, and his eyes were fixed in a bewildered stare. He had caught sight of the Yukon Trading Company’s sign.
“Ha, ha!” he laughed, recovering himself with an effort. “Seeing the name of an old friend who’s long since dead kinder give me a turn. But, as I was saying—”
“Yes, you were just about to tell us what had become of Goldollar,” interrupted Mr. Platt Riley, who had received word from Phil that the new-comer was Strengel.
“Goldollar!” stammered the stranger, at the same time starting as though he had been shot. “Goldollar!” he repeated, reflectively; “I don’t know the name; never heard it before in my life. I think I mentioned that I’d just come down from Pierre’s House on the Porcupine, and hadn’t seen a white man since leaving there. There wasn’t no one of that name at Pierre’s House when I left. What do you mean? Who is Goldollar, anyhow?”
“He’s a feller that we heard was coming up from belowwith a dog train,” replied Mr. Riley, deliberately, at the same time gazing full in Strengel’s face. “And we didn’t know but what you and him might have met up and concluded to travel together.”
“How could you hear of him?” inquired the new-comer. “I didn’t know there was any way for news to reach Forty Mile in the winter.”
“Oh, we might have heard by mail, or telegraph, or seen it in the daily papers, or a dozen other ways. Anyhow, we did hear it, and that another feller was along with him. So of course when we saw you coming up the river—”
“You didn’t hear that the other fellow’s name was Bradwick, did you?” interrupted the stranger.
“No, that wasn’t the name. It wasn’t so good a name as that.”
“Well, then, you didn’t hear that I was coming with him; for Bradwick’s my name, and I don’t know nothing about any Goldollars, though I hope to find out something about them right here in these diggings,” replied Mr. Strengel, boldly, and with attempted jocularity. “Now, seeing that I’m tired, and cold, and hungry,” he added, “supposing we adjourn to some place that’s warmer than out here in the snow, and better suited for making acquaintances.”
“All right,” replied Mr. Platt Riley, who, possessed of a keen sense of humor, was disposed to prolong the farce that promised so much entertainment. “We don’t know much about Goldollars ourselves, but we’ll try and teach you all we do know, and at the same time put you in the way of meeting acquaintances. As you say, though, this is a cold place for talking, so I suppose you might as well come up to my select family boarding-house for the night, seeing as it ain’t overcrowded just at present. Then in the morning we’ll look round for a place that’ll suit you better.”
So the new-comer walked away with Mr. Platt Riley, while the spectators of this interesting meeting chuckled and winked significantly, poked each other in the ribs, and remarked:
“Ain’t the jedge a honey-cooler, though? He ain’t the kind that’ll hang a man first and try him afterwards. Not much; that ain’t his style. Fair play’s his motter, and turn the rascals out every time.”
It is needless to say that during the interview just described Phil, Serge, and Jalap kept themselves out of sight; nor had any one let fall an intimation of their presence in the camp.
All that evening a constant stream of visitors flowed in and out of Mr. Platt Riley’s cabin. Each wore an expression of expectancy and suppressed mirth, and each bowed gravely, without trusting himself to speak, when introduced to Mr. “Bradwick.” It was also to be noticed that none of them shook hands with him. When he complained of this to his host he was gravely informed that hand-shaking was not one of the customs of the camp. All the visitors listened with great interest to his glib talk of the Porcupine and of other regions to the eastward, while some even went so far as to express regret that he had not met their friend Goldollar.
He always turned the conversation at this point; nor did he again refer to the name of his dead friend that had confronted him on the sign of the Yukon Trading Company. At the same time it caused him a great deal of uneasiness, and led him to think seriously of shortening his stay in the camp to a single night.
When he, in turn, inquired about the prospects of the diggings, and learned that most claims had to be stripped of frozen moss and thawed out before they could be worked, he declared that he’d see the whole country and its gold in Jericho before he’d strip moss,which he denounced as work only fit for “Injuns” and convicts.
On the whole, his impressions of Camp Forty Mile were so unpleasant that he fully determined to get his dog teams in motion the very next day, and push on farther up the river. It was only upon the urgent request of Mr. Platt Riley that he consented to delay his departure long enough to attend a public meeting of the greatest interest to all Yukon miners, that was to be held the first thing in the morning.