[2]Squaw.
[2]Squaw.
During the rest of the day John and his mates were in the company of Hugh Spencer, listening to his tales of Yukon life: the glories of thesummer there, and the great cold of the winter, with the resources of the miners to keep from despair. He told them the traditions of the camps, and how the discoveries of '49 in California had been followed by others in Oregon, British Columbia, the Fort Steele district (Wild Horse Creek), Kettle River, Caribou, and, finally, in the Yukon.
"It wasn't a miner who was the first finder of gold in the Yukon; it was a missionary. But the missionary did not follow up this discovery, which makes a difference. However, I'll tell you the story, and it will let you see a little of Siwash nature in the telling of it.
"The Rev. Robert Macdonald, Doctor of Divinity and Archdeacon of MacKenzie River, was the first white man to find gold in the Yukon. Say! I ain't got much use for missionaries as a general proposition, but Archdeacon Macdonald is as white a man as ever lived, though he is east of the Rocky Mountains now. I guess the reason I don't like missionaries is that you can never do anything with the Siwashes, once a missionary gets hold of them.
"Well, the Archdeacon—he wasn't Archdeacon then though—drifted down the Porcupine, and took up his residence with the Hudson Bay Company people at Fort Yukon in the year 1862, which was a few years before I was born. Yousee the Hudson Bay people established themselves at Fort Yukon in 1847. In 1842 Mr. J. Bell, in charge of the Hudson Bay Post on the Peel River, which runs into the MacKenzie, from beyond the divide from the head waters of the Porcupine, crossed over and went down the Porcupine a way. In 1846 he followed it to its mouth, and saw the Yukon. In the following year Mr. A. H. Murray built Fort Yukon, and set up business. Well, it was here that the Archdeacon started to tell the savages of the Great Spirit—and they were mighty interested.
"The savages had some sort of a tradition that a certain canyon, which opened into the Yukon a short distance up stream from the Fort, was the home of bad spirits; they could hear them groaning, and they asked the missionary to 'put them wise.'[3]So when a bunch[4]arrived, one day in July 1863, he trotted the whole outfit off to the canyon.
[3]Inform them.
[3]Inform them.
[4]Bunch—Party.
[4]Bunch—Party.
"Of course the missionary found the noises were caused by the wind or nothing, but, as the Siwashes said there were noises up the Creek, he said it was the wind.
"Walking along the shore, the Archdeacon saw a bit of something shining in the gravel and picked it up. It was a flake of gold sticking to a piece of mica, of which there's lots in theKlondike country—mica schist the scientists call it. So this was the first find of gold by a white man; but the Company was not looking for gold-hunters in their country, so the discovery was never followed up.
"The Siwash is A1 at asking questions—just about as bad as a six-year-old kid; and if a medicine man comes among them it is surprising what sort of conundrums they will bring him."
In this way John Berwick and his old-time mining-mate pleasantly passed the hours listening to the conversation of Spencer, by whom they were attracted.
On the third evening, at dinner—the three being seated together—they noticed some movement beginning amongst those of the company who were seated near the companion-way. Several were seen to rise and hurry away. Quickly the excitement spread, the saloon was soon empty of most of its feasters.
"Keep your seats, fellows; it's only some chechacho got the toothache," said Hugh. Shouts were heard, with a trampling and rush of feet on the upper deck. "The only thing that could happen—outside of fire—would be to run ashore or hit an iceberg. We are hardly far enough north for the icebergs yet—besides, if we had hit one, or run ashore, we should knowit. If we caught fire, it would not be far to the shore anywhere along this route; and it is always well not to get stampeded in any case."
After dinner the friends entered the main saloon, and found groups of men talking excitedly, with others returning from the upper deck where the life-boats were stored. To the upper deck they went, and there they found Mr. Muggsley.
"I tell you, gentlemen, no officer or anybody else is going to keep me from the life-boats when a ship is sinking. I don't care for anybody! You stand by and let the officers and sailors run things—and they will fill the boats with women and their own friends—and look out for themselves. But I look out for John Muggsley! Big John Muggsley the boys call me! And it's a case like this that makes me glad I'm big and strong."
An excitable coal-heaver had found a stream of water entering by a sea-cock, which had been left open through carelessness; and, running up through the saloon to the boats, had started the excitement. Such trivial circumstances often cause most disastrous panics; and likewise tell tales of how certain men are made!
The ship eventually—after blinding snowstorms—entered Gastineau Channel. To the left was the great line of stamp mills pounding out the wealth of the mighty Treadwell quartzdeposits on Douglas Island; to the right was the pioneer town of Juneau, with its gambling-halls and saloons enjoying the licence of the Alaska mining-camp.
The next stop for the ship was Skagway, where the sea journey would end on the morrow. The passengers were alert and astir. From then on it was to be a struggle.
The weather had changed during the night; and as the two friends stepped on deck the following morning a chill and cutting wind met them from the north. Away above them towered the mountains, their peaks dazzling white against the sky. Behind them, to the south, was the Lynn Canal, walled with mountains. Before them were mountains, and yet more mountains. The cluster of tents and hastily constructed buildings, resting on a few square miles of gravel flats—comprising the town of Skagway—were robbed of any importance by the great uplifting walls of rock.
As they stood a voice hailed them. "Is this Skagway?" It was Mr. Muggsley who spoke.
"I fancy so," said John; "better ask the purser—here he comes."
"Do we have to climb those mountains to get to the Klondike?"
"Yes."
"But where is the White Pass?"
"There." The purser pointed to the mouth of a valley, which soon appeared blocked by a mighty mountain.
"And that is the White Pass?"
"It is."
"Say, purser, is that berth I had taken for the trip down again? If not, save it for me. I guess I'm wanted back in I-dee-ho."
Mr. Muggsley, the big man, the strong man, "Big Jack," as his friends called him, was suddenly possessed of "cold feet." The great uplifting mountains with their glittering peaks flung to heaven had quickened the cowardice of his craven soul.
Berwick and his comrade struggled ashore through the rushing freight-handlers and piled-up supplies. The freight which came from the Canadian port, Vancouver, had to be passed by the United States Customs, and the officers seemed few. There was a method of overcoming the Customs—by employing a "convoy," an official of the United States Customs, to escort the goods across the narrow strip into Canadian territory again. John made inquiries, and addressed a fellow in a wild garb, bespeaking a resident.
"Pay the duty, partner! These escort fellows are a bunch of grafters! They ain't no credit tothe United States, I can tell you. Yes, pay duty, and hand an officer a ten-dollar bill on the side, or they'll keep you here a week, you bet!"
John decided to pay the duty. The convoy would cost $5.00 per day and expenses. He made an effort to get his goods passed, but without success—till he paid the ten-dollar bribe. George did the same. John did not like bribery; but—what else could he do?
It was afternoon ere they got through; and as they gained the town, a rough board-building with a great white cloth sign painted on it—"Restaurant, meals 50 cents"—met their gaze from the head of the wharf. Other buildings of similar character composed generally this section of the town, so they walked into the first.
It was a box of a place, as unfinished internally as externally. A dozen or so men, perched on high stools, were leaning against a board counter covered with white oilcloth. Behind the counter stood a woman and a girl; a range, where the chef was operating, at their back. A board partition divided off a sleeping apartment. The curtain that gave the room privacy was but half drawn. Articles of clothing, trunks, and boxes were strewn in disorder on the floor.
"Soup?" queried the lady as they took their seats. The cook filled two flat tin plates with a watery solution of tomatoes and rice. This theyattacked. When the soup was finished two other tin plates were handed them, laden with cubical chunks of beef and gravy. Dishes of potatoes and boiled beans, with bread and butter in tin bowls, were lined upon the counter for each man to help himself from. At the end of the second course a plate, bearing a quarter section of sickly-looking apple-pie, was slid over to each.
The old lady presiding wore the smile of prosperity, and looked communicative, so John opened conversation. "Been in Skagway long?"
"Just a month."
"Doing well?"
"Sure thing! feed about three hundred people a day. Don't care if the rush never lets up."
"You've got a gold-mine here without the trouble of going to Dawson."
"Sure!—that is if Soapy don't put the whole town out of business. He makes the saloons and gambling-halls pay him royalty now, besides running shows himself; and I guess he'll be after us soon to make us anti-up too."
"I thought Alaska was a prohibition territory, no whisky sold here."
"Yes, that's what they say back East; but when you get up town you'll find every second place a saloon with all the hootch you want to drink, or have money to pay for."
"But how do they get the whisky?"
"Oh, that's easy enough. The hootch is consigned through to the Canadian side in bond; but when it is landed here they drill a hole in the barrel and take out the whisky. They refill the barrel with water, and it is packed over the summit."
"But it costs thirty cents a pound to put the water over the summit!"
"That don't matter—with whisky fifty cents a glass over the bar."
"Don't the officers know this is going on?"
"Sure thing they do; but they 'stand in. There is no graft like a whisky graft."
"Stand in" and "graft"!—the two Australians felt they knew the meaning of the terms, but they had yet to grasp how deep the meaning of "standing in" and "grafting," as understood by officialdom in Alaska and the Yukon, could be.
Berwick and his friend ate their pie, and departed to see the sights.
The main street of the town ran due north and south, and was lined with tents and buildings, finished and under construction. The street was devoid of snow, except in patches here and there; the ever-persistent wind from the north having generally swept the gravel clean. Sleighs, drawn by dogs or horses, passed smoothly over the ice, but shrieked in protest against the stone. Dogs and horses seemed everywhere in that rushof fifty thousand men. No man could enter the Yukon without a year's provisions, which meant that he must transport at least a thousand pounds in every case.
Along the streets vehicles were waiting to transport vast stores of supplies to White Pass City, twelve miles distant; after which dog-teams alone, or pack-animals, or the labour of the human animal, were necessary. Some pack-horses, mules, and burroes were passing down the streets to their stables, after having carried up their loads.
Men in outlandish garb were walking about; many wore what appeared to be night-shirts coming down to their knees, with hoods attached, and rings of fur around the wrists and the face of the hood. Some of the peculiar garments were made of blue drill, others even of bed-ticking, showing its dingy stripes. This garment was the parka.
Berwick and Bruce entered the Pack-Train Saloon and Gambling-hall, and met there the leaders of Alaska society: men and women of diverse morals and immoralities. In the great grab-bag system of the goldfields every man has an equal chance; and on the frontier custom affords but one field of diversion, which each may enjoy to the full extent of his purse and inclination. As muscle and endurance alone giveeminence on the trail, so only money and extravagance command attention in the bar-room and at the gaming-table; and it is there that the illiterate squander their money over the bars and tables, finding pleasure in the open-mouthed admiration of the yokel as well as in the stimulation of the liquor or the excitement of the play.
At the bar of the Pack-Train stood a row of men, in widest diversity of costume, talking together and to women numbered among the fallen. Behind the bar were the roulette-wheel, the faro, the Black Jack tables, and the crap game. A large percentage of these men were actively engaged in putting supplies over the Passes, and were now squandering at the tables the money received in payment of that work. The thought struck John that probably not a man of them, wasting his money there, but had some one dependent to whom that money would be as a gift from heaven. Alas, for the recklessness of frontier life, where it so often happens that men regard a show of contempt for money as tantamount to personal eminence! Such scenes were not new to him. On the plains in his apprenticeship he had seen a cowboy shoot his revolver through a bar mirror—and cheerfully pay the exorbitant recompense demanded by the proprietor: and in Sydney he had watched a drunken sailor place a five-pound note between two slices of bread—and eat it!
Such scenes as this in the mushroom Alaska town may be ever-interesting to the students of human nature; they are also intensely pitiable, as Berwick found. What sight is sadder than that which shows man degraded, or woman fallen? Man, the noblest being in all creation; upbuilt, evolved through the ages; practically perfect in his parts: his body complex yet true; delicate and confident, enriched with a mind capable of holding dominion; and conscious of the inspiration of his Creator. To see him, mind and body, lost to dissipation, drawn from hope, truth, and love, fallen into the mire, is truly sadder than death.
From the Pack-Train Saloon the two friends visited several shops, and, notwithstanding the crowds therein, succeeded in adding to their supplies such necessities as were recommended by Hugh Spencer. Their purchases completed, they turned before the wind and went back to the restaurant. The air had taken on a greater chill; the mountain peaks shone with sunset gold.
"Soapy" Smith was a criminal, with a long record of robbery and murder. In early life he had been a common "faker" and sold soap, hence his sobriquet. His process consisted of wrapping small bits of laundry soap in paper, and including—or appearing to include—with several of the pieces a bank bill of varying value. Then he would mix all the pieces together, and picking a handful out of the mass, auction them. Needless to say every successful purchaser was a confederate!
In the Mining Camps of the Western States he later took more radical methods, making many enemies and some friends. When he and his gang wished to exterminate an enemy they would hunt him out in some saloon, gather about him, and play at fighting among themselves. Revolvers would be drawn and shots fired—the man "wanted" would be killed. It would be somewhat hard to find the actual man who fired the fatal shot, and, in any case, a subservient jury would bring in a verdict of "accidental" death.
The community that grew at the head of the Lynn Canal in the spring of 1898 was a complete hotbed for crime. There Soapy Smith established himself, and law and justice ceased to exist. Gold-seekers were enticed into games, and fleeced or openly robbed in the streets. Every saloon was owned by the desperado, or paid him tribute, and he drew revenue from every gambling-table.
Soapy Smith was the boss of these evil conditions. He was styled "Colonel," and spoken of as a candidate for Congress. A body of United States Regulars were stationed at Skagway, but did nothing. The Deputy United States Marshal would make promises, but take no action.
The second evening after the arrival of our party in Skagway the sky was overcast, and through the night a storm arose. So they stayed within doors all the next day; but towards night inaction told on them, likewise lack of fresh air. They became restless after their evening meal, and George finally said: "Let us go out"—and they went. George did not say where—nor did John ask. There was only one place to go to, and that was a saloon and gambling-hall: one was much the same as the other. Every saloonwas a gambling-hall: every gambling-hall a saloon.
On the next night, in the vicinity of Skagway's Sixth Avenue, they wandered into a saloon which had no sign: the question of what its name was did not cross their minds! The air was foul, and floor space not too plentiful. Women stared at them, and "Passed them up." Not so the men. They moved on to the gaming-tables. John threw a coin on to the Black Jack table. To his surprise he won. He speculated again: again he won. Then he remembered the old dodge of letting the novice win a bit at first, so he decided he would keep on until he found himself losing. When he had won twenty dollars he put the money into his pocket, and went on with George to watch a man playing for heavy stakes at roulette. At this table there was never a word spoken, and the gold pieces passed from banker to player, from player to banker, without comment.
While the two were looking on they noticed a man come and stand by the banker, watch the game for a little while, glance shrewdly at them, and go away. Shortly afterwards another man did the same. John and George realised this attention, but said nothing. A third man came along, and bluntly asked them,
"Ever play roulette?"
"No; at least not often," said John.
"Good game."
"Yes."
"Ever shoot craps?"
"No."
"There's a table down at the end of the hall. Care to see it?"
They followed their entertainer to the dimly-lighted rear, where several men were leaning over a table throwing dice. They watched the game a bit, and found it uninteresting. They turned to go, when their new acquaintance made a move to follow—and asked in a hesitating way, "Have a drink?"
George declined.
The fellow pondered a bit, and then said in an ingratiating way, "Would you fellows like to see a big mountain goat I bought from the Siwashes to-day?"
John and George followed the man through a doorway into a cold room where a few candles were burning on a rough table. On the floor lay an immense mountain goat.
"My word!" said George, "what a beauty!"
They stood for some minutes surveying the dead monarch of the mountain crests, their entertainer taking one of the candles and holding it at the animal's head. Suddenly they heard groans, which appeared to come through the doorway at the opposite end of the room.
"What's that?"
The man took a candle and walked to the door, bending his head, as if listening intently. The groans were continued. John and George went over to him. He held the candle in his left hand, and appeared to haul at the door with his right. "Oh! Oh!" came from the room in tones of deepest distress. The fellow handed the candle to John, and then, catching the door with both hands, gave it a mighty wrench. The heavy plank door opened and showed a dark cavity, which drank up the slender light of the candle so effectually that they could distinguish nothing. Cautiously John entered, followed by George. The door was slammed; they were trapped.
"We're caught! Soapy has us," exclaimed George.
John turned, shaded the candle with his hand, and explored the room. It was not large, and it took him but a minute to make a circuit of the four walls.
"We're caught!" was said again.
"But there is no one here: where did the groans come from?" asked John.
"Don't know, if they weren't ventriloquism," replied George.
That seemed likely. John ran and gave the door a kick: it was solid as a wall.
"What will they do with us?" he asked.
"Freeze us to death; we'll freeze quick enough in this atmosphere."
The place was cold, clammy, benumbing. The walls were log; the floor of earth, sparkling with frost crystals; the roof was built of poles. There was no window. Here and there, where the crevices of the logs had not been thoroughly filled, and the air came in, there were patches of frost. They searched for some implement. The room was thoroughly bare—there was not even a billet of wood, let alone an axe, or saw. Things were at a pass. They were both to perish in horrible death. The cold was seizing them. They stamped up and down the room, and shouted. There was, there could be, no answer.
Frenzy came over them. Trapped! To perish of bitter cold! Horrible!... Horrible! To famish as caged animals. They saw their little destiny—to walk, and walk, and walk, and then to lie down and sleep till death, the reality, came. Their impotency galled them. How weak were their arms and strength against these walls of logs!
They marched about for an hour or more, encouraging each other as brave men will.
Then cries were heard faintly from the outside, and new noises, which grew, and continued to grow. A great blow shook the wall, and then another. John shouted; George shouted; theblows were repeated; then they heard voices and shouted again. The door was burst open and in rushed a number of men.
"Come, fellows, out of this, or you'll be cooked!"
It was the voice of Hugh.
They eagerly followed him through the room where the goat was, and out through a side door into the open, where a great glare met them. An outhouse was on fire. Men were rushing about and shouting; but Hugh kept on through the crowd, and the rescued followed him till they reached the safety of the street.
"Now we'd better duck for home," said Spencer. "I go with you"; and through the storm they struggled till they reached the Frau's restaurant.
She had not yet retired, so they called for supper—tea, bacon, and beans. After they had settled down Hugh told his story.
"You see, fellows, after I landed I went over to the Chilkoot to have a look at things there; but after talking to the fellows I reckoned that the White Pass was best for me, so back I comes. I was in the hall to-night with you fellows, but you did not see me; and I thought I would just lay back and see if you would hit the games. Then I kind of got a notion Soapy's men were watching you; so I thought I would watchthe whole outfit. I see you go back to the crap-game, and then I see you go into the room with your bunco man—and then I don't see you come out; so I said to myself, you are there for keeps! Now there was with me one fellow I could rely on, so I asked him to keep an eye on that door, and I got out on the street to size up the building. I see towards the rear the wing you went into, so I walks down there, sizing things up. Round on the back side I see a door and a window, but the door had the snow piled up against it—besides, I knew they would not lock you in a room with a window in it, as you could easily kick that out.
"Then I looks at the walls, and I see by the end of the logs sticking out that there was a room which had neither window nor door to the outside, and I said, 'That's the cage!' So I ran back to the saloon and asked my friend there if anybody had come out, and he said 'No.' I came to the conclusion that I would make a bluff of going in at the door you came out of. It was no good; a fellow stopped me and said, 'This room is private.' This made me sure you were still there, so I commenced figuring out how I could get you free, and I thought hard. The thing was to get a crowd together; and as a dog fight is no good in Skagway in the middle of the night—especially in a snowstorm—I said to myself, 'Fire!' I remembered a building I took for a wood-shed lying near your skookum house,[5]so I just hunted it up, and after finding there was a lot of wood in it, with some hay, I set a match to it, and got out, taking an axe with me. In five minutes it was going fine, and I yelled 'Fire! fire! fire!' Then it was all easy. I struck the logs with the axe, and yelled there was somebody in there who would get burned; I busted in the door to the outer room, and then the one into where you were locked up—the other fellows following. I don't know what the other fellows around the fire will think you were doing in there; but I guess they won't ask any questions. Fellows don't ask questions in Soapy's town; it doesn't do them much good if they do."
[5]"Skookum House": Chinook Indian term for prison—literally "strong" house.
[5]"Skookum House": Chinook Indian term for prison—literally "strong" house.
John and George expressed their gratitude very simply.
"I am going in over the White Pass," he continued, "and I figure, as us fellows can't keep clear of each other, that we'd better join forces."
"Done!" cried George.
"A good idea!" said John.
So it was agreed.
In the morning details were talked over, and business was arranged. Additional purchases were made, including two more dogs, thereuponnamed Tom and Jerry. Hugh induced his friends to part with much of their bedding, saying he had a large lynx-skin robe that was warmer than a dozen pairs of blankets, under which the three might sleep. A waterproof, a large tanned moose-skin, and a couple of pairs of blankets would be sufficient to lie upon. Then the commissariat was considered. Sugar, tea, evaporated potatoes, dried fruit, etc., to be used in the preparation of every meal, were put into small canvas bags, and those into a large sack. The general stores were put away in waterproof canvas sacks, which were marked to indicate contents. The axes of the party were ground and sharpened. At last all was ready for the advance.
To be early on the trail was an essential to Hugh Spencer. He was up at four on the morning of the start, harnessed the dogs, carried the outfit to the sleigh, and lashed it on. Then he aroused his friends, who, when dressed, found that an early breakfast had been arranged for them of bacon, eggs, and beans.
"Better put lots next your ribs, for there isn't room to cook a meal on the trail between here and White Pass City," was the advice they received.
They left the restaurant, after a kindly good-bye from the old lady. John and George tied their hand-bags, containing underclothing, towel, soap, etc., and socks to the load. The main portion of their extra clothing was left in the general supplies.
Of the five dogs he of the stub tail—Dude the leader—was the only one that appeared to takean interest in the proceedings, for he was standing watching his master. The others were mere balls of fur lying in the snow. Hugh went ahead and harnessed himself in the cord that was tied to the front of the sleigh, and grasped the "gee-pole," lashed as a single shaft on the right side of the sleigh.
"Mush," he ordered. Dude gave a tug at the traces, and the other dogs stood up.
"Mush," was ordered again. The whole five dogs strained at the traces, in a half-hearted sort of way, not sufficient to move the load. Hugh then let go his hold of the pole, threw off his harness, and picked up a whip that was tucked under the lashings of the load. Behind Dude was Two Bits; then came Four Bits, Tom and Jerry. Beginning with Two Bits, he gave each a cut with the whip, causing heart-rending howls; but Dude stood throughout the ordeal, evidently oblivious to the sufferings of his companions; his tongue protruding. He was a picture of conscious virtue. Dude knew these signs of the trail, the stern, hard life, the cut of the whip, the cry of the dog.
Hugh then cracked the whip, re-harnessed himself in the cord, and grasped the gee-pole.
"Mush," he ordered. The five dogs strained at the traces, taking quick, furtive glances over their shoulders at the man with the whip. The loadmoved; the march towards the great and golden Klondike had started.
Early as they were they saw, as they reached the main street, others on the trail; and up the long avenue heading north between the great mountains horse-teams, dog-teams, and men unaided were drawing their loads. The wind was roaring down the pass, cutting their faces like a knife. They now appreciated the special virtues of the parka, for with hood drawn over their head, as they bent before the gale, their faces largely escaped the cutting blasts; and the light material of which the garment was made was wonderfully effective in keeping the wind from their bodies.
Although the recent storm had improved the travelling, it was not long before the sleigh grated on gravel and stopped, the dogs appearing instinctively to realize that the noise meant further effort was useless. Hugh said nothing, but disengaged himself from his harness, went to the rear of the load, and undid a coil of rope from either side, to which Berwick and Bruce were harnessed also. He then resumed his position. "Mush!" The three men and five dogs threw themselves against the load. There was a shriek from the gravel, and the sleigh glided again over the soft snow.
The difficulty being over, Hugh told his friendsto disengage themselves and throw the cords back on the load, which they did, after protesting that they had better remain in harness and help to pull.
"No, you fellows can each take a turn at the gee-pole when I get tired," Hugh said.
The dogs would stop for any excuse; it was only necessary for Hugh to pass the time of day with a south-bound traveller, when the train would stand, their tongues lolling out, their eyes vacantly staring. 'Tis the nature of the beast. The native dogs of the north never give the impression that they work because they feel it their duty. They work because they know there is a stronger will than theirs behind them, a will with a whip.
The party moved steadily along for a mile or two, when the road left the flats and took to the side hill at the right hand of the canyon. A considerable amount of work had been done, and the trail was in good shape; but they had not gone far before they were met by a toll-gate.
"Twenty-five cents each, and two dollars and a half for the dog-team," was demanded of them, which they paid. The keeper of the toll-gate seemed happy; he was prospering, and those who employed him were making money. John and George thought the charge excessive, but Hugh was exercising his wits, calculating howmuch the proprietors made out of what he called their "graft."
Not far beyond the toll-gate they met an old man sitting by a fire under the lee of a wall of rock. He was off the trail in a sort of little cove, and on the much-betramped snow around was a sleigh, and by it five goats in harness. The old man merely looked up as the three friends approached, and went on poking the fire.
"Well, partner, enjoying the scenery?" asked Hugh, in his good-natured manner.
"No—I wish I was dead."
"How's that?"
"These ornery goats here, I can't do nothing with them, an' if it wasn't for poor little Bess, back home, I'd shoot them and meself too."
"What's the trouble?"
"Well, the ornery critters won't pull a pound, and the fellow who sold them to me down in Seattle said they was just the thing for the Pass—better'n dogs, for I could feed them on birch browse; but I lit out from Skagtown[6]four days ago and could get no further than this. I pretty near had to pull sleigh and goats too to get this far; and I pitched camp here, where I've stayed ever since. You see it's this way—the old woman died last fall, and after she died the poor old farm went plumb to pieces, hard times, and mortgagefalling due; so I got a sickening of the old place without the old woman, and I let the farm go and put little Bess to school for a year, and lit out for the Klondike. Bess ain't Bess by rights; she was christianized Matilda Jane, and we called her Bess for short. Well, the old woman was always building on bringing up Bess a real lady, and afore she died I promised I'd give Bess a good schooling and help all I could, and I took to the Klondike, hearing all a fellow had to do was to get there, and he'd be rich. Here I am now, and I ain't got no more money. I'm just trying to make up my mind to shoot the blamed goats and pull my stuff back to Skagtown and sell it. Then I guess I'll go packing on the Chilkoot along with the Siwashes."
[6]Skagway
[6]Skagway
The old man seemed to forget the presence of the strangers, and muttered, "Poor little Bess! Poor little Bess! I was hoping to make her a real lady with silks, an' satins, an' diamonds, an' kid gloves, an' fancy eye-glasses."
Hugh cracked the whip, John tightened on the cord, the dogs threw themselves into the traces; and the trio was on its way up the Pass. No one spoke for some time; each was thinking of the old man's tale, and of such as that old man there were hundreds in the Passes.
The trail, as they struggled along, proved to be more and more built against the side hill, andfrequently the sleigh showed a disposition to slide into the canyon, so that all were compelled to give attention to it. But the three men taking turn at the gee-pole, they had soon crossed Kill-a-man Creek, and were at the foot of Porcupine Hill. The time had passed quickly, and the air, though cold, was highly stimulating. George and John voted the parka a wonderful garment.
Arriving at the base of the hill, Hugh quickly undid the fastenings, piled half the load on the side of the trail, and relashed the balance to the sleigh; then he and John set about the task of taking the first load to the top of the hill, while George mounted guard at the base. Hugh took the gee-pole, John harnessed himself in the cord that was attached to the left-hand rear of the sleigh; so they set out.
The hill made a rise of several hundred feet in the first quarter of a mile, and in some places seemed almost standing on end; but straining, pulling, tugging, men and dogs both, they eventually reached the top. They soon had the sleigh unloaded, and Hugh was off down again for the remainder of the load. In three-quarters of an hour they were all together again. Then began the descent, which was almost as acute as the rise had been. They adjusted the necessary brakes by tying a piece of rope around each runner.
Before leaving the summit of Porcupine Hill they had a good look at the view. Across the valley in front, set in a basin of the mountains, was a collection of buildings and tents, constituting White Pass City. Two long lines of men and teams marked the White Pass, one on the left side of the canyon, the other on the canyon bottom. The hillside trail was used by horses, mules, and oxen, while in the wedge-like canyon bottom men and dogs toiled. The reason for the hillside trail was that its ascent was more gradual, the lower trail having many abrupt rises up which horses and oxen could not clamber.
The scene of toil and labour, backed by the sublimity of the surroundings, impressed the beholders; but the party came to life again with Hugh's order, "Mush!"
The dogs struggled with the load over the brink of the decline down which the sleigh quickly passed, and the party was not long in reaching White Pass City. This was the first depot out from Skagway, and was distant there-from twelve miles. From White Pass City to Lake Bennett the distance was twenty-four miles, so they were now one-third of the way. But the twelve miles they had passed was the easiest part of the journey.
Saloons and restaurants in wide array, andnumerous stables in the shape of tents tied down and guyed against the ever-recurring blasts, comprised White Pass City. And how the wind did blow from the funnel-shaped canyon across the basin in which the town was built!
Notwithstanding the cold, beasts of burden were standing in all directions, tied to posts and rails, while the dogs seemed without number. It being now late in the day, there were more teams returning from the summit and Bennett than were setting out. Amongst those returning they met a man with a dozen pack-mules. Long icicles hung from his moustache, powdery snow was driven into the folds of his parka, his cheeks were alternate patches of blue and crimson. His manner was blustering, because he was glad at having returned, and proud that he had done so without losing any horses.
"Hello," said Hugh, "what's it like on the summit?"
"What's it like! Look here, stranger, if I owned hell and that summit, I'd sell the summit and live in hell, so help me! What's the matter with the summit? Why, if that cursed wind ain't blowing from the north cold enough to freeze hell, then it's blowing from the south and snowing as if all the feather beds in the New Jerusalem were being split open and shakenloose. I'll be hanged if the Mounted Police ain't got a stable and store-house scooped out under the snow, and the roof standing up like as if it was a rock. About sixty feet of snow has fallen up there this winter; and how them poor devils of policemen hold things down in tents is more than I know. A fellow can tackle it for a day or two, but these fellows have been up there since early in February!"
"It's a way they have in the Army," suggested George, always an ardent Briton.
"Those fellows are different from any Army fellows I ever seed," was the stranger's reply.
The pack-train was called to a halt. The communicative stranger and his assistants were taking the saddles off the mules; but for once the dogs were impatient and restless: instinct told them they were near the end of their day's work and the prospect of food. So Hugh let them have their way, and they drew up in front of a restaurant which bore the legend, "Meals, seventy-five cents."
"Better go in and eat, fellows, and I'll look after the dogs," said Hugh.
His friends demurred, but he insisted; so they entered the restaurant.
There was the same motley crowd feeding in the same savage manner as at Skagway. Everybody smoked on the trail—in all places andunder any condition—save where the pipe froze and refused its duty.
The hour was between two and three. Berwick and his comrade thought they had never been so hungry. How they relished the hot soup, and the meat, potatoes, and beans! And when they drank ...! George finished his dinner first, and scrambled off to relieve Hugh, whom he found cutting up pieces of raw meat for the dogs.
"Raw meat ain't any too good for dogs, but after they get over the summit they will get down to boiled rice and tallow—and that ain't far off."
Hugh was certainly the favourite of the dogs just then, but soon after George's arrival he put the piece of meat he had been dividing into a sack and threw it on the sleigh, and hurried to the restaurant, saying that he would boil the rest of the meat for the dogs after he himself had something to eat. "Look out for Soapy's gang" was his final warning to George.
After Hugh had his dinner (dinner is the mid-day, supper the evening, meal on the trail) he remarked that he would take a mooch round. When he returned he greeted his friends with:
"Say, I found a fellow I know here running one of these stables, and he has a tent with a lot of hay in it, and says we can sleep in that,which will save us making camp. We can put the dogs inside and run less chances of having them stolen; also the grub."
So Dude was aroused from his sleep; four other doggy noses were withdrawn from under four bushy tails, and to the accompaniment of howls the load was removed to the hay-tent, the dogs unharnessed, the load unpacked. Hugh undid the bedding and spread it on a pile of straw.
"This will be the last bed we'll strike for some time after we leave here," was his remark.
He grabbed the sack with the meat, and went off to see if he could find space on a stove to boil it. He soon returned with the meat, as well as a bucket in which were canine dainties—kitchen scraps.
"Chuck it into you," was Hugh's remark to the dogs as he threw them the food; "you'll have to work to-morrow."
As there was nothing to do now till that morrow, the three again strolled out to look at the trail, up which the full flow of traffic was now toiling. Profanity filled the air. The travellers cursed the trail; they cursed their horses, cursed their dogs, the wind, the country generally.
They wandered into a saloon, which, as ever, was reeking with tobacco, and vibrating to the notes of "Home, sweet Home," reeled off on agramophone. Hugh looked cautiously at the company. "Soapy's men!" he whispered; so he and his companions went. John noticed that a good deal of money was being won at the tables; but Hugh told him that the men who were winning were Soapy's staff.
"They seem to run a wonderful system," said John.
"Yes; Soapy pretty nearly owns the whole shop from the Lynn Canal to the summit."
"But why does he stop at the summit?"
"Police."
"But they have police on this side."
"Not the same."
"How do you account for that?"
"Don't know: discipline! The Canadian police are not grafting. Fellows I've met from the inside tell me that Cap Constantine gave records for all the rich claims in Bonanza, and neither he nor any of the rest of the Mounted Police grafted any. That's what I call honest; but now, since the records have been taken away from the police, there's nothing but grafting going on. Fellows have to give up half interest in claims to the officials before they can get record; and even the Government is grafting officially with this ten per cent. royalty. If some of those Members of Parliament back in Canada were here, with this proposition, getting over thesePasses, they'd think they had a right to all they'd found in this country. And now they are taking part of it away—it's a shame, I call it."
They had walked up the lower trail leading to the summit. Whatever men and horses were to be seen were making down the Pass, for the trail that clung to the side of the mountain was so narrow that two horses, going in opposite directions, could not pass each other; so in the morning the horses passed up the trail, and in the afternoon down. That was the unwritten law. They returned to the sleeping quarters.
Every dog, except Dude, had his nose under his tail, and was apparently oblivious to all outside concerns. Dude's tail was not long enough to cover his nose, and Hugh noticed his eyes quiver and open slightly. On the floor was the empty meat sack. The five dogs had demolished the large piece of dead horse.
"That's Dude," said Hugh.
"Which?" asked John.
"Why, stealing that meat. Before we get to Dawson you'll know what a high-class article in the stealing line he is. However, there'll be lots more dead horses: they kill about a dozen a day between here and Bennett."
"How do they manage that?"
"Wait till to-morrow, and you'll see."
The stars were still shining when the friends tore themselves, stiff and sore, from under their lynx-skin robe on the morrow to dress in the chill atmosphere of the tent; but the sounds of movement were everywhere. Commands, embellished with profanity, were being shouted. When the three adventurers, after a hurried breakfast, eagerly went out a sickly light was spreading over the mountains, which seemed spectral and immense.
"We'll take the flour, sugar, and hardware in the first two loads," remarked Hugh, as he began selecting these supplies; "and it won't do any harm to hang our bacon sack from a rafter while we are away, as a stray malamoot might get in here. These blamed dogs will chew a tin can open to get at the meat inside."
The plan of campaign suggested by Hugh and endorsed by the others was to divide the supplies in three loads; to take two, comprising the reserve stores, to the summit and cache them; then, on the following day, to carry the remainder of the stuff right through to Log Cabin, or to Bennett if they could manage it, and establish a camp there. This depended on the condition of the trail.
Early as they were, there were scores of outfits setting out, and many were ahead of them.
They had not gone far when they met two men and a dog-team; one of the men was belabouring the dogs with a whip, making them howl dreadfully. Dude and the rest of the team halted, and, with their masters, watched the proceedings. The dogs belaboured were soon tangled among the traces in fine confusion. Each animal, as he saw a stroke coming his way, jumped sideways with a howl and buried his nose and feet in the snow. The cruelty aroused the anger of John and George, who made a move towards the brute with the whip. Hugh caught him by the arm and pulled him back.
"Better not make yourself a Humane Society in this country; you'll only get into trouble—besides, he ain't hurting the dogs: wait!"
When the man rested from the belabouring, Hugh asked to be allowed to "try the dogs."
The fellow glared angrily at him; but then, with a surly nod, gave the permission. Hughstarted with the leaders, and worked down the whole line, placing the dogs in order once again, hauling them about, but saying nothing. Then he took the gee-pole, and ordered "mush." The leader looked back over his shoulder, as did the dog next him. "Mush!" again cried Hugh. The dogs drew steadily at their collars, glancing furtively at their new master. Hugh once more encouraged them, and when the load began to move passed on his charge to the owner, who had the grace to look sheepish.
"To handle dogs," said Hugh, when he had rejoined his party and had resumed the trail, "you've got to get them frightened of you; and moving round them, silent-like, puts fear in their souls. You see, that fellow wasn't really hurting them; they could hardly feel that light whip through their fur, and their feet and noses, where they are tender, they stuck in the snow. As for howling—it comes natural to malamoots. No—you've got to treat them just as you do women."
The trail often became precipitous, but as the combined strength of the three men and the dogs was sufficient to lift the load bodily, their difficulties were well overcome.
They had not been out of the White Pass City an hour when George shouted "Look!" and pointed to the mountain-side to the left. The trail away above them was lined with horses, movingslowly forward; but down the mountain-side eight burroes were plunging—head tied to tail as is the custom. Every dog team on the lower trail had stopped to watch the sight, for there was a great rattling of rock and a general shout calling attention to the catastrophe. The unfortunate creatures soon reached the base of the slide and were lost in the soft snow. They struggled, and they disappeared. One more sacrifice to that dreadful trail, which, during the Klondike rush, had claimed the lives of thirty-five hundred animals! In that canyon, between White Pass City and the summit, during the spring of 1898, it was possible to walk long distances on the bodies of dead horses, and to this day the line of march is marked by protruding bones, indicating the graves of the patient and faithful creatures, sacrificed to man's insatiable greed for gold.
"Now you see where the dog-food comes from," remarked Hugh.
The accident had occurred a little in front of them, and shortly afterwards two men were seen floundering through the soft snow down the side hill to the beaten trail, along which the dog-teams were pressing.
"You had hard luck," Hugh called to them.
"Yes, I couldn't keep that blame bell burro from experimenting how near he could go to theside without falling off, till at last he got his needings," replied one of the drivers.
"Whose outfit were they?"
"Rivers; and the Canadian Government owns the supplies—police stuff. They can stand it."
The two drivers went on down the trail to White Pass City.
The Canadian Government was evidently not popular. The iniquities of the royalty on gold, and the grafting current in the Gold Commissioner's office in Dawson were resented.
As the party progressed up the Pass, they found its walls coming closer together, making the canyon so narrow that the horse trail on the mountain-side appeared directly overhead. Numbers of dead cattle appeared by the side of the path, telling of the calamities of the trail. Veterans of the trail will tell weird tales of horses, goaded by whip and burden, deliberately throwing themselves into the canyon below—seeking surcease from suffering in death. As the canyon became narrower, so did the trail become more congested. It also grew steeper as they neared the summit, and men and dogs had frequently to pause for rest. It appeared to John a curious struggling mass that surrounded him, strange oaths in all accents came to his ears. The multitude were striving in a race in which brute force alone could conquer.
They came to a party in trouble, and overheard an argument.
"I tell you the territory clear through to Lake Bennett belongs to the United States, and I'm convoy for the United States Customs. I ain't going to let you get over the summit until you pay my wages for four days more, that is, two days from the summit to Lake Bennett loaded, and two days back again from Bennett to Skagway, travelling light, and that's going some too. It amounts to thirty-two dollars, at eight dollars per day—so all you've got to do is pay up."
"No, you don't own the land beyond the summit. Don't you see the English flag up there—that red thing flying from the tent pole? All you've got to do is show me over the summit, and we're quits. I've paid you forty dollars already: three days doing nothing at White Pass City during the storm; and you lost the money playing Black Jack. I ain't got any more money to pay you, anyway. I can't pay you when I ain't got the money."
"Well, dig for it; sell part of your outfit. You can't bluff me. I'm an officer of the United States Customs, and I'm on to my job."
"More grafting," muttered Hugh.
So it was that these convoys, armed with authority more or less real, harassed and blackmailed the victims.
They were now near the summit, in the midst of the last struggle which would put them over the most difficult portion of the trail, and the excitement was general. There was a deal of shouting, and a great renewal of effort. The horse trail and the lower trail merged into one.
At last they were through. The narrow defile curved to the right; an open basin appeared, with strewn tents and an endless promise of supplies; and—most conspicuous of all!—side by side the flags of Britain and the United States were flying.
A dozen members of the Canadian Mounted Police, wearing the uniform of England's Queen, were examining freight, with their backs to the wind, or passing in and out of a tent, half buried in snow, which served as an office. This was the second great depot out from Skagway, and piled about everywhere were loads of freight. Outfits stood about in disorder, awaiting the returning tide of men, while constantly teams were arriving from, or setting out to, Bennett.
The outfit of Hugh and his companions was finally passed by eleven o'clock. Goods of Canadian manufacture were allowed to pass free, and the charges against the few American goods were of no great amount. Hugh selected a projecting rock on which to make his cache, and the policeman who examined his baggage, and whosegood offices the party had won, promised to keep an eye on their goods.
"Soapy doesn't operate on this side," said the man in uniform significantly.
"We could coast back in half an hour if the trail was clear," Hugh remarked, as they started on the return.
As it was, they sat on the sleigh most of the way to White Pass City, which they reached at noon—as a man was pounding a great triangle of steel with an iron rod, announcing dinner.
The three were very well pleased with their morning's work.
There were not quite so many teams on the trail in the afternoon, and they reached the summit by half-past three. The sun had been shining all day, so that the atmosphere seemed mellower; and the wind did not blow so strongly. After passing the goods they had time to climb the ridge on which the police tents were erected. From thence they gazed down the valley, which they knew was the uppermost watershed of the mighty Yukon, whose course makes a great curve of twenty-four hundred miles ere it flows into the Behring Sea. Far in the distance they could see a stunted growth of timber, but their immediate surroundings were mountains, hardly less overpowering than in White Pass City.
The view impressed them—the scene was weirdin its desolation; they felt that stirring incidents were to take place in that great valley before them.
"Looks as if we would have a touch of spring to-morrow, and I guess we had better have our snow-glasses ready before we set out," said Hugh.
Hugh's prediction came true, for, on the morning following, a gentle breeze was blowing from the south, soft with the touch of spring. The first light that came over the mountains was a softening blue.
"Roll out and get the kinks out of you, fellows, we've got to be first on the trail to-day."
They had breakfast, the dogs were harnessed, and the party on the march by half-past four. Though the light was uncertain it was not hard to keep the trail. By six they were at the summit, greeting the police sentinel who had been on guard there through the night, and marvelling at the wealth of colours that lit the eastern sky.
"Mush!"
The dogs were off. The sleigh slid down upon the frozen plain of Summit Lake. The lightness with which it glided along seemed to assure the party that their troubles were over.As the dogs trotted along it required a pace faster than a walk to keep up with them; so Hugh induced his two companions to sit on the load, saying that he would take a ride after a while. At nine they reached Log Cabin—passed without a halt, it being merely a police depot used for cutting firewood, though it had been the Customs post before the Canadian Government had asserted proprietary rights to the summit. Almost invariably, when greetings were exchanged with those met on the trail, the humour played about Soapy.
"Say, you're hustling. I guess you ain't chechachoes. How's Soapy? going to run for President next trip?"
"I guess so, if he ain't hung in the meantime. Looks like that he was the whole thing in the Passes."
As the party at one o'clock drew into Bennett, they saw one party eating dinner in the open, with sleigh loaded and dogs harnessed beside them. A pile of spruce boughs denoted where these strangers had slept, and where their tent, now drawn up on their sleigh, had been erected.
"Moving camp?" asked Hugh.
"Yes."
"I don't suppose you're going to take your location away with you?"
"I guess not."
"Then it will just suit us, and we can use your fire. This is what I call lucky," said Hugh, as he began unlashing the load and throwing the bundles of supplies on the spruce bed.
George was busying himself undoing the supplies while John replenished the fire. George cooked bacon; Hugh mixed flour, baking-powder, and water for slap-jacks—the large pancakes of the frontier. As they worked Hugh re-opened conversation with the strangers.
"Where's your new location?"
"Down the lake, five miles. Got wind of a good bunch of timber there, and hauled a load down this morning. One of our fellows stayed down making camp while us two came back for the rest of the stuff."
"How long have you been coming from Skagway?"
"Three weeks—a week here, and two weeks getting over the Pass. Contracted with a fellow to put through our stuff at thirty cents a pound, but finally had to buy dogs and haul it ourselves. And then the storms have been something fearful up to the last few days: sort of Dakota blizzard every day almost, after which trails was mighty bad hauling. This sort of weather comes hard on a fellow who was reared in California."
"I guess it would come hard on a fellow rearedat the North Pole! You fellows will have your boat built in lots of time."
"Yes, if we don't take to quarrelling like the rest of the blame fools around here."
"What are those fellows doing here?" Hugh nodded to the great array of tents spread over the sand hills that lie between Lake Bennett and Lake Lindeman.
"Most of them don't know what they are doing; but I guess they put in their time quarrelling. Old Moss-backs from the East, who have lived neighbours all their lives, and been best of friends, have come up here partners, and before they got through the Passes were calling each other the names they heard used by the old-timers to their dogs! It takes the police all their time settling disputes. The habit seems to have took all round, now that they are through their troubles and have only straight hard work, whip-sawing lumber, ahead of them. Why, say! I saw two fellows the other day dividing their outfit. They took a two-faced axe and drove it into a log, and with the face sticking up and a hammer they cut a whip-saw in two, making it no good for either, and swearing at each other all the time till you could smell sulphur. They cut stoves in two, and boats, after working hard to build them. It seems a new kind of bughouse that has got hold of them."
The strangers were now washing up their dishes and packing them away. "Here, take this, hand me a plate," and one of them poured some stewed prunes out of a pot, and from another emptied into a second plate beans and bacon.
"But you fellows could take these along!" protested Hugh.
"No, we couldn't; they'd get spilled; besides, we have some beef-steak for supper. Some fellows down near the lake killed an ox this morning, and you can get steak for six bits per pound—if it ain't all gone. Good-bye!"
The strangers went off down the hill to the lake.
Pipes were lit, and the three lay in the sun smoking. The day was glorious and the party had removed their snow-glasses, so that they were able to view their surroundings to the full. Mountains gleamed and glistened everywhere in the distance, but did not appear so overpowering or inspiring as in the Pass, though more beautiful. How pure the air seemed, and spotless the snow!
Though the sun was warm and the party comfortable, there were duties to be performed; so, not without groans, Hugh and his friends started to erect camp. After the tent was up, Hugh put pots of beans, prunes, and rice on to boil—the rice being for the dogs, as there was small prospect of getting dead horse in Bennett.
After the bed had been made and the supplies stored in the tent, and more wood cut, there was nothing to be done; so Hugh went off among the tents on a "mooch round"—with an eye for beef-steak! George, acting as cook, stayed at home.
John also went sight-seeing. He took a different trail from his friend, crossed to the west side of the stream that led from Lake Lindeman to Lake Bennett, and walked in the direction of a smoke stack, the local saw-mill, half a mile distant.
As he strolled through the array of tents, he heard angry voices proceeding from one of them.
"I tell you he's no good," one was shouting. "I had to pull most all the way up the Chilkoot—him saying he had rheumatism, backache, toothache, heartburn—everything but the mumps, for them I could see. An' then, when we did get over the summit, it's me who had to do all the pulling."
"It's a lie—you're a low dog; and didn't I have to take whisky along before you'd travel at all? I tell you, Mr. Policeman, he's no good, he's a skunk, and I wouldn't take a skunk into Dawson with me, not if I never got there, nor never saw the million dollar claim I guess I'm going to get—if ever I get there."
John, passing beside the tent, could see the two disputants each seated on a log of wood, with a red-coated policeman standing in front of them.
"Well," said the policeman, "if you fellows can't get on together, the only thing to do is split up the outfit and each take what belongs to him."
"I own the whole outfit," said the man with the many diseases.
"No, you don't; I own the tent, the stove, the sleigh, and a whole lot of the grub," shouted the other.
John passed on. Another petty problem for the Mounted Police! They are great men, great workers, those yellow-legs!
There were some industrious 'prentices at Lake Bennett, for down along the shore were numerous groups of men, building boats.
"Like beef-steak?" asked Hugh, as John returned.
"Yes—rather."
A big frying-pan, with sizzling meat, was busy on the little tin camp stove.
"Keep an eye on the meat, John, while I get some water."
Hugh took a pail and went off to the river.
George Bruce was away with an axe getting wood, so John was left in charge. Shortly afterwards George came along, hauling a log of firewood by an axe driven into it. John ran to assist him, and when the two had returned with the wood Hugh was arriving with the water. John again turned his attention to the frying-pan: the largest piece of steak was gone!
"What has happened to the steak?" John asked.
Hugh looked. A grim smile came over his face.
"Dude!"
"Dude could not steal steak out of a frying-pan?"
"Not Dude? You bet your life that's where the steak has gone to. And there is no use licking him; the only way to cure Dude of stealing is to cut his tail off behind his ears. I told you Dude would rather steal than eat: and this shows how careful you must be."