CHAPTER VIIIAN EXCITING TIMEThe low ceilinged room was filled with roughly dressed miners and a few women gaudily attired. Alex’s voice had rang out so seriously and deadly that a wide lane had opened up between him and the bartender. Clay and Ike, with the stranger in the lead, pushed forward to where Teddy, a leering grin on his face, was waiting for another round of beer. The bartender was striving to secure his long-barreled pistol, which lay on a shelf underneath the bar, but Alex was on the watch and the pinging of the automatic sent a steel-nosed bullet crashing through the bar close to the bartender’s hands, which he promptly elevated on high. “Now for your insults and threats and the way you have abused Teddy,” Alex cried, anger taking full possession of him. He sent two bullets in the mirror which cracked it from top to bottom, then he began to shoot slowly and carefully, at the four tiers of bottles behind the bar. Each bullet brought forth the tinkling sound of splintered glass and the gushing forth of escaping liquor. The bartender’s face grew paler with each sound of breaking glass, for liquor was liquid gold at Nome.But this state of things could not last. The shots brought the reserve force of bartenders and bouncers from other parts of the building, some pulling out their long-barreled revolvers as they ran to their chief’s assistance. The first appeared behind the bar just as the stranger, with the boys at his side, struggled into the open lane that ran from Alex to the bar. Alex had emptied his pistol and was calmly reloading it with deliberate care, although he could not but realize the peril in which he stood. His face brightened as he saw his two friends.“Get out while you’ve got the chance,” he shouted.But Clay only smiled as he whipped out his automatic and leveled it at the newcomer behind the bar, who was cocking a heavy 44 Colts.“Hold on a minute, you gunmen,” rang out the stranger’s voice, cool and crisp. The constantly augmented group of bartenders and bouncers hesitated for a moment at the determined tones of authority, and Alex finished his reloading.“I reckon you all know me,” went on the cool drawling voice, “if some of you don’t know me, I’m the Yukon Kid an’ you may have heard the name before.” A murmur swept over the crowd.“I never thought much of Nome, with her gambling dens, dance halls and dives like this, but I never thought one of the places I have mentioned would descend so low as to hector and make desperate a boy, just a stripling, and a chekako (tenderfoot), at that.” His clear voice swept the assembled miners and the group of hesitating bartenders. His two heavy revolvers seemed to leap from their holsters. One steel muzzle described a rapidly slanting arc back and forth before the saloon men, while the other whirled rapidly in a circle with a finger pressed gently on the trigger, seemed to cover the whole crowd at once to their evident uneasiness.“Boys, go and get your bear out in the street. Don’t be too hard on him,” said the Yukon Kid, with a grin. “Remember it’s his first offense and likely his last, for he’ll be a sick bear tomorrow.”Alex came forward from his corner and Ike and Clay moved up to Teddy. “Come on, Teddy, and no foolishness about it,” Clay commanded. But Teddy, a maudlin insane glint in his eyes, squared off angrily to fight.Clay snatched out his sheaf knife and made a downward sweep with it. Teddy’s eyes lost their look of insanity, and whining, he dropped on all fours and made for the door, followed by the boys. Once outside Teddy tried to arise to his hind feet but found his legs too weak and wabbly, so dropped back on all fours.“Take him right down to the boat and tie him up to the snubbing block in the prow, Alex,” Clay ordered. “You go with him, Ike. I’m going to look for Case and Captain Joe. I am worried about them. Where did you see him last, Alex?”“We got separated soon after we left the boat, I was trying to hunt him up when that brute gave me a shove down into one of those worked out mines and bolted. By the time I got out I was not thinking about anything but finding Teddy before he got into mischief. I don’t know what became of Case.”“Stop a minute, Clay,” shouted Ike, as they were moving off. “Don’t forget if a man insists on our taking souvenirs, there’s eight of us in the crew, you understand.”“But there are only six of us,” said Clay, puzzled.“You forget the dog and bear,” replied Ike solemnly. “Don’t you think animals have some feelings and don’t like to be slighted? If they don’t want them we can take care of them for them.”Clay turned back into the saloon with a smile on his face.It was quite a different sight that met his eyes when he stepped inside. The Yukon Kid was the center of the crowd of miners, who, pressing around him, were loudly demanding news of the upper Yukon. Two bartenders were, with forced smiles on their faces, serving the crowd with drinks on the house. The others were mopping up the spilled liquor from the broken bottles.The crowd was so dense that Clay could not force his way in so he stood on its edge striving to signal the Kid. “Great man, the Kid,” volunteered a miner next him. “Came into this country just a kid and hasn’t been outside since. Carries the mail back and forth as far as Dawson. Never misses a trip, and let me tell you that’s a trip but few dare to make in the middle of winter. Don’t reckon he’s so very rich—gives away too much. But, I reckon, he’s known better and trusted more than any man in the North. He’s a good man to tie to for he’s always reliable in peace or trouble.”Clay studied the Kid’s face closely as the man talked. In spite of the roughness and scars placed there by Mother North, it was a young, comely, strong face, and set off with twinkling steel gray eyes. Their eyes met and the Kid pushed through the crowd to his side.“Hello,” he said. “You back?”“I wanted to thank you for what you have done for us,” Clay said gratefully.“Bosh!” exclaimed the Kid, the red mounting to his face. “What little I did for you I’d do for any chekako who was staked up against odds,” he chuckled. “That’s a fire-eating little partner you’ve got. He’ll make a sour dough all right if he doesn’t get killed in the making.”“I have got another partner just as gamey.” Clay said proudly. “He is not as quick tempered as Alex but he’s all right. I wanted to ask you if you had heard or seen anything of him. The two left the boat at the same time, but soon got separated. He had a big white bull dog with him. I am afraid something has happened to him.”“No, I haven’t seen or heard anything of him, but wait a bit, some of this crowd may have heard of him. I’ll inquire.”“He was gone but a moment then returned to Clay. “I’ve found out where he was an hour ago, but Lord only knows where he is now. Wait! I’ll go with you. You couldn’t find the place alone.” He moved up to the bar and called for drinks, taking a glass of root beer for himself. “My parting round, boys,” he said friendly. “Have something yourself, Charley,” to the white-clad bartender. “What I’m trying to figure out is who’s going to pay for that mirror and the wasted liquor—about $3,000, I calculate,” scoffed the bartender.“It’s your own fault, Charley,” said the Kid, lightly. “You can’t collect it out of the boys—they are minors any way. Better charge it up as advertising.”“Say,” he continued, as he noted the black frown on the other’s face. “I’ll take responsibility for that bill. Just send it up to my cabin, and then come up and try to collect it.”The frown disappeared from the fellow’s face and he tried to force a grin.“Guess I’d better charge it to advertising,” he said.“Sure, advertising pays,” agreed the Kid cordially, and turning, he strode for the door where Clay was awaiting him. As they stepped outside, a strong wind smote their faces so as to almost prevent conversation. The Kid turned, his hand against his mouth. “Keep close to me,” he shouted “and no matter what trouble comes up, don’t pull your gun unless I give the word.”Clay obeyed and kept close at the Kid’s heels. A half hour’s walk brought them to the fringe of the town, where they could see theRamblerdancing at her dock about a mile distant.“We’re nearly there,” said the Kid, “and remember, you’re to let me handle this thing, in my own way. Just keep still and let me do the talking. He had reached a group of tents which were pitched in a kind of circle leaving a round plot of ground inclosed within. From this court yard came the sounds of laughter, hoots and cries. The Yukon Kid picked his way in between the ropes of two tents, Clay following. At this entrance they paused a minute to review the scene.The courtyard was about one-fourth of an acre in extent. All around its sides were packed a dense crowd of men offering and taking big bets on the outcome of the battle that raged in the center.Here, within another circle, a curious battle was going on. Ranged around in a silent circle, according to their usual code, were a dozen or more wolf-dogs, more wolf than dog, squatted on their haunches, their eyes eager, and their long white fangs dripping saliva, for to them belonged the spoils of the battle that was going on now within this inner circle. When one of the combatants died, it was their privilege to drag it outside of the circle and satisfy their hunger-warped souls on its flesh and bones. They cared not which died, only that he died quickly. Theirs was the sentiment of aching bellies.”The Kid kicked a way through the circle of dogs and Clay followed him. Inside two men, seated on a log, were evidently refereeing the fight while on the other end of the log sat Case, tightly bound hand and foot, his face a picture of anger and helplessness.The Kid took a seat on the log by the side of the one who appeared chief in authority and who shifted uneasily. He did not like the Yukon Kid. The Kid knew too much and had an uncanny way of learning hidden things.“Having a good match, Major?” enquired the Kid pleasantly, as he glanced at the desperate battle for life Captain Joe was putting up against a gaunt, husky wolf dog that towered way above him. Both dogs were fighting desperately and silently as became their breed, the husky darting in and out, snapping viciously, and Captain Joe whirling to meet the attack on his short, stumpy legs with surprising quickness, always trying to reach the enemy’s throat.“Yes, it’s some match,” agreed the other, cautiously. “A good many thousands of dollars of gold dust changed hands on the first match alone.”“You don’t mean you’ve been fighting that bull dog against more than one husky?” the Kid cried in amazement.“He’s killed two, this is the third one,” said the Major: “By jove! there goes the third.” Captain Joe had found his goal at last. The husky, eager to kill, had bent too low and Captain Joe’s teeth were buried in his throat in a death-like grip, which, rear and plunge as he might, the husky could not shake off. In a few moments it was all over and the dead husky was dragged away by his ravenous comrades, while Captain Joe painfully limped over to Case and Clay, his sides heaving and his white body bleeding from countless wounds. Clay picked him up and wiped his poor punctured body. “He’s fought like a hero without a whine,” Case said with dim eyes. “I tried to stop the first fight when it started, but a dozen of the crowd grabbed me and tied me up. All I’ve been able to do is to sit here and see them make him fight one husky after another. He’s got four more to fight before they’ll let him go. He can’t finish those four. He is getting too weak. I doubt if he can go through another round, he has lost so much blood.” The voice of the referee interrupted: “Captain Joe still alive and on his feet. Next match, Captain Joe against Birch Bark.”At the other end of the log the Yukon Kid was talking sweetly and cooly to the man in authority.CHAPTER IXTHE VISITORS“Do you think it quite fair to make one little brute fight seven big huskies, worked until they are as hard as iron, Major?”“He’s got to do it or die,” said the Major. The Kid, however, seemed to have lost all interest in the dog fight. “Remember that murder up on the Stewart when some one did up Old Joe and made off with the whole of the gold dust that the old man had cleared up? Remember it, Major?”“I don’t exactly remember it,” said the Major, uneasily.“’Course you remember it,” said the Kid softly. “I met you just south of the Stewart and you were driving as though the devil was after you. Queer, ain’t it?” he continued, “that the police could not find out who the murderer was, while I knew in less than a week. Strange tales from the Indians reached my ears and one of them brought me a lot of things he had found around the cabin before the mounted police came. There was a mitten, an empty 45-50 shell, and a handkerchief with a man’s name on it, and, well, there were a lot of other things. But what’s the use of bringing up old scores. Joe was so mean that the poison in his heart would have killed him pretty soon anyway. Look here,” he said abruptly. “I reckon this dog fight has gone about far enough. That white bull is dead game, but he can’t go another battle.”“You want the fight called off?” the Major asked with head bent.“I reckon that’s about it,” said the Kid cheerfully, “and you might as well untie that youngster’s hands and feet. It ain’t no ways comfortable for a boy to be trussed up that way.”“All right,” said the Major listlessly, and he walked over to the referee and spoke a few words.“All right,” the referee replied sullenly, “you’re the boss. Match declared off for personal reasons,” he shouted to the crowd outside. “All bets on this fight declared off.” There was an angry murmur from the crowd outside. The Kid slashed away Case’s bindings. “Bring your dog and keep close to me. There’s no telling how that crowd will act. There are some bad men amongst them.” A hundred men surrounded them with angry threats as they broke out of the circle. The Kid took Captain Joe and held him up to the view of the crowd. “Here’s a poor, little four-legged American citizen,” he said. “He’s game, if he is a chekako. He’s killed three of your trail-hardened huskies. That ought to be enough, but now you want him to tackle four more. Is that a square deal? Is that the American spirit of fair play?”“You Americans are always boasting about what you do,” sneered an Englishman. “Why, that dog isn’t an American. It’s an English bull dog.”“I will admit his ancestors came from England and that he has inherited his awful looking mug from them, but he isn’t to blame for that. He’s got the true American spirit.”The Americans in the crowd laughed at the Kid’s retort, and one of them shouted: “Hurrah for the stars and stripes.”“You blooming braggers,” shouted the Englishman. “You’ll never stand straight up and fight fair with odds even.”“We, as a nation, never get the chance,” retorted the Kid. “We always have had to give odds of five to one at least. Remember the wars of 1776 and 1812?”The cheering over the Englishman’s discomfiture rose uproariously until a big Swede stilled it by raising up his brawny arms above the crowd as a signal for silence.“Ay tank day United States ban all right. Ay tank day American dog with the ugly face ban all right too. How you all like to fight four more mens after you already lick three? Ay tank we better let the dog and boys go.”The air rang with applause from the now good-natured crowd. “Let ’em go,” shouted a hundred voices, and the two boys worked their way through the ropes into the open once more, followed by the Yukon Kid.Once distant from the circle of tents, the Kid stopped. “I guess you can find the boat all right,” he said. “I’m going to take a short cut home. I’ve traveled fifty miles today and only eaten one meal. I’ll rest a bit and then get something to eat.”“I wish you would take your rest and then come down to the boat and have supper with us,” Clay said earnestly. “We have got a lot of dainties, and we brought up loads of books and magazines.”“I’ll go you,” said the Kid boyishly. “I have been living on bacon and beans all winter—and magazines and books! Have you really got them? I had almost forgotten that there were such things in the world. Why, I got hold of a New York paper last winter and I read it and read it until I wore it out. Sure, I’ll be down just as soon as I can catch a couple of hours’ rest. So long, boys, till supper.”Clay and Case made their way down to the Rambler without any difficulty. The ancient mariner was still sitting on the post, watching, with delight, Ike and Alex pouring pail after pail of water on Teddy Bear, who, up in the prow in the sunshine, was snoring loudly. The only effect the water seemed to have upon him was to make him roll over on the other side and resume his loud snoring.The veteran prospector beckoned to Clay to approach him. “Say,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “There’s been strange goings on in your boat since you left. I never expected to see anything like it around here. Just after you left, two men came down the dock and went aboard your boat. I didn’t take much notice of them, ’cause the latch string is always hangin’ out in the North and I could see that they were sour dough boys and reckoned they were some friends of yours. But they staid down in the cabin so long that I made up my mind that I’d step down and tell ’em that you-alls wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. Soon as I peeked into the cabin, I saw what they was up to. There they was with all the lockers pulled out looking through your things and throwing your clothes out on the floor. One of them was just putting a battered silver watch in his pocket. I got a bead on him with my old 44 and let out a yell. He dropped the watch like it was red hot. I marched ’em out of the cabin and up on the dock. Then I says to ’em, ‘Hike for shore and don’t be long getting there, for my fingers are getting shaky with old age and might press the trigger too hard, any minute.’”“Did they run?” questioned Clay, with a grin.“I could not have caught them if I had been forty years younger, and, believe me, I used to be some runner,” said the old prospector with open admiration at the speed the two fugitives had displayed. “But the further they got the madder I got to thinking old sour doughs would act meaner than a chekako. One of them was marked with a red scar across one cheek, and, just as they made the shore, I decided I’d mark the other one so I’d be sure to know him the next time I saw him.”“Did you hit him?” asked Clay, still grinning.“I reckon I’m getting an old fellow. I aimed for the lobe of his ear and only just nicked it.”“We’re mighty grateful to you for defending our property,” Clay said. “Stay and have supper with us,” he urged. “We are fixing to have quite a spread.”“No, thankee,” refused the old man. “I’ve got a pot of bacon and beans cooked up down at my cabin. I’ve eaten them and pertatoes and now and then a piece of moose meat for forty years, and I’ve got so a meal don’t taste right without ’em.”“We have got beans, plenty of them,” urged Clay.“I know the kind,” said the man, scornfully. “Come in a can with a little slice of bacon on top that you can see through, it’s so thin, and the beans below ’em are so weak and pale that they always color ’em up with tomato juice to make ’em look healthy and deceive you. No, no such kind of beans for me; just the raw kind. Put ’em in a pot with at least a third of their bulk in sizable cubes of bacon. Then fill the pot plumb full of water and sit on the fire to simmer. When they are done you have got beans what is beans. Come right handy on the trail in winter, too. You can freeze them into sticks an’ pack ’em on your sled an’ when you want to cook dinner, just chop off as much as you want and thaw it out in the frying pan. Well, good-night. Reckon I’ll see you afore you leave.”Clay turned back to his friends, a gentle smile on his lips, for the quaint, honest Old Timer. He found his three companions washing and doing up Captain Joe’s numerous wounds, while the dog licked their hands in dumb gratitude.“It does not need all three of you to fix up Captain Joe,” he observed. “Someone got into our cabin while we were gone and messed up things a good bit, though I don’t believe they got away with anything. I should like Ike to put things back in their place. All I can see that he’s doing is to look at Captain Joe’s teeth to see if there are any gold fillings. When you get through with Joe, both of you come up and help me for we are going to have the biggest feast we ever have had in theRambler, tonight. We are going to have a visitor to supper.”“Who?” Alex asked, smearing ointment over one of Captain Joe’s wounds while Case applied a clean white bandage to another.“The Yukon Kid,” said Clay. “I invited him down and he accepted.”“Hurrah,” shouted all three boys, and Ike added thoughtfully: “That Kid, he knows a lot about the country; you understand, maybe he can tell us where there be more miners what like to give away souvenirs.”Ike’s face went deathly pale when he caught sight of the scattered things that littered the cabin. He rushed to the pile near his bunk and pawed it out pantingly. The battered old silver watch lay near the pile and Ike pounced on it with delight. “I don’t care so much about the rest, but this my uncle gave me. I wish I had a good safe place to put it.”“We fixed up a safe place to put our valuables while we had spare time this winter. Come here and I’ll show it to you.” Clay lifted up a square of flooring right behind the stove, disclosing a cavity about a foot square and the same in depth, the whole carefully lined with moisture-proof oil cloth. “That’s a mighty good place,” said Ike with satisfaction. “Soon’s I get time, you understand, I wraps up my watch, that nugget, and them bills I’ve got in the seat of my pants and put them here.” Clay replaced the bit of flooring. It fitted so carefully that the cracks could only be discovered with a close scrutiny. “We always put a couple of old sacks or an old piece of carpet over it and Captain Joe sleeps there most of the time, so you see there is but little chance of its being discovered. By the way, one of the chaps that raided theRamblerhad a red scar on his face, and the other one had a face that would hang him without a trial.”Ike’s face grew downcast. “Dem must have been them two low-lifes that tried to rob me in Chicago. I wonder how they gets here. They had no money.”“I guess I know how they managed it,” said Clay, thoughtfully. “I’ll show you something when I get the time. We have talked too long now. Let’s get to work.”Ike with deft fingers folded and replaced the scattered things in their lockers, while Clay started a fire in the stove and began preparations for the grand feast. He was soon joined by Case and Alex followed by Captain Joe. Alex was grinning. “You had ought to have seen Captain Joe,” he said, “the minute we turned him loose: he made for Teddy Bear, I guess, to tell him his trouble and gain a little sympathy. He looked puzzled when he found he could not rouse him. He walked all around him sniffing until he got to Teddy’s head, then he caught a good smell of Teddy’s breath. He turned away and came with us with such a comical look of disgust on his face, that it would have made you laugh.Captain Joe lay down behind the stove on the secret hiding place, while Case and Alex hastened to Clay’s assistance. The boys had brought along with them a small stock of dainties with which to help celebrate on special days, and this they broke into with rude hands. Soon the table, covered with a white cloth, was laden with cream cheese, jars of preserves, jellies, a fruity fruit cake, jams, and even a jar of anchovy paste. A plate heaped with nuts, figs and raisins, stood in the middle, while at each individual plate was one each of their precious stock of oranges and apples.Over the stove Clay labored, steaming sausages and frying canned beefsteak with onions, while big, mealy potatoes already cooked were placed on the back corner of the stove to keep warm.“He’s coming now,” said Alex, as a light, vigorous step rang on the dock, and a moment later the Kid’s cheery face appeared in the cabin door. He looked more like a man who had slept fifty hours and traveled two miles, than like one who had just traveled fifty miles and slept two hours. His brief rest had removed all weariness from his face.His keen eyes swept from the boys to the laden table. “Gee! boys,” he said, boyishly. “This isn’t a supper. It’s a banquet, and me here without my dress suit on.”CHAPTER XTHE YUKONThe boys were delighted with the way their visitor ate. “I am ashamed of myself,” he said as he passed his plate a third time, “but everything tastes so good. Especially after a man has been eating his own poorly-cooked grub for a year. We do not do much cooking on the trail. One cannot carry great quantities of food on sleds and make much progress. It’s the curse of the North that one is always possessed of a gnawing hunger without the means of satisfying it. Men seem to thrive under it, though. Few of them carry an extra ounce of flesh on them, but they are as hard as iron. One of them can do as much hard labor in a day as three well-fed chekakos. And while I am talking, son,” addressing Alex, “let me warn you not to pull your gun in this region unless you mean to kill or be killed. Mere bluff does not go in this country without a bad reputation to back it, and sometimes not even then. You’re a pretty fair shot, boy, I noticed that today, but lad, there are old timers who can give a good hair cut at twenty paces without breaking the skin. Better not draw your gun unless you have to. Pluckiness is all right, but it’s suicide to try to stack up against too heavy odds. Don’t think I am trying to lecture,” he added apologetically. “It’s just good advice I got hammered into me when I first hit this country. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a look at that pile of magazines and books I see over there. They stack up like a heap of gold dust to me.”The five of them clustered around, while the Kid handled the books with reverent fingers. He laid a few books and a couple of magazines one side. The boys looked at them with surprise. They consisted of a book on surgery and two law books, which belonged to Clay, whose private ambition was to be a lawyer. Clay glanced at the titles, “Chitty on Pleadings” and “Bishop on Contracts.”“Gee!” he said. “You’ve chosen some heavy stuff. Why, it took me a year to get all of ‘Chitty on Pleadings’ through my head.”“Light reading is all right for summer,” said the Kid, “but for winter give me the heavy books like these that keep your mind so busy that you do not think of the long darkness, the great silence, and the everlasting whiteness. Besides, I need that book on surgery. I meet so many injured men on the trail and there isn’t a doctor between Nome and Dawson. As to the law books, well, this is going to be a great country some day, I guess, and the man on the ground who knows the miners as well as the laws will stand a good chance of making good—anyway it will beat traveling the long trail, and I’m for it.”Case brought out some cigars which they had brought along with them for just some like occasion.“Take a handful,” he said, hospitably, but the Kid only took one. “I have sorter got used to my old pipe and cut plug,” he apologized. “Say, don’t none of you boys smoke?”“No,” said Clay, but don’t stop for that. Light up.”“No,” said the Kid decidedly. “I am not going to stink up this dainty little cabin of yours with stale tobacco fumes. Let’s go up on deck if you don’t mind. It’s the finest hour in the twenty-four, according to my notion.”The five seated themselves on the edge of the cabin, silent for the moment. Twilight had set in and the day’s work was over. Outside the shanties small fires were blazing from which came the savory odor of frying bacon and boiling coffee. A keen, clear wind fanned their faces, while from the huddled settlement came to their ears, faintly, the weird, soul-stirring wail of the wolf dogs. But, because they were well fed, and happy, and young—above all, young—they began to sing. Clay first, by some hidden chord, had been touched by that soul-touching wail and dearly his fresh young voice rang out, softly at first, but gradually growing in volume.“Back in the dear dead days beyond recall,When on the earth the mists began to fall,Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng,Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song.”“Know any more of it?” asked the Kid, eagerly.“Sure, a part of it,” Clay said with a glance at his companions. None of the boys had cultivated voices but they were clear and ringing and bore the thrilling note of youth. They had often sang together on their long trips and when Clay started again the other three joined in harmoniously.“And in the even when fell the firelight gleam,Slowly it wove itself into our dreams.”A shanty door slammed, another and another until it seemed to Clay as if all Nome was banging doors. He stopped. “We’re going to be mobbed,” he said, “and it’s your fault, Ike. That golden note in your voice is starting a stampede.”“Go on,” commanded the Kid, who was lying back on the cabin top, his face upturned to the stars.Clay hurried to the end filled with apprehension at the sight of many dim forms filing out on the dock, but in spite of his fears he sang on to the end, the words ringing out sweetly over the water.“And in the end when earth’s dim shadows fall.Love will be found the sweetest song of all.”Uproarious applause came from the now densely packed crowd on the dock.Clay sat down in amazement. “An audience! and I thought it was a mob!” he gasped.“You green, green chekako,” grinned the Kid. “Don’t you realize that most of these men have been up here for years without hearing any music but the tin pan din of the saloons and dance halls. Sing to them, boys, not cheap rag time, but some of the old, old songs they sang in the States years and years ago.Clay grasped the cue and one after the other, followed by his companions, sang all the old familiar songs he could remember, the crowd on the dock occasionally joining in on some old time favorite. When they had finished, he sought in his mind for something that would appeal to them all. As he looked down for a moment upon the rough faces, marked with scurvy, frost bite and famine, there came to him a realization of what it was that drove these men to endure the cruelties of the Northland. It was not gold, alone, but shining above the brilliant metal, the face of some woman; wife, mother or sweetheart. He closed his eyes for a second and the vision was strong upon him of a slender girl in a white dress with a blue sash, seated at a piano, her soft white fingers wandering over the keys and her gentle voice singing—what was she singing forty years ago, what was she singing today? What did that girl in Chicago in the white dress and blue sash always sing to him when he called? He had it, but that first verse he never could remember, so he softly sang the second.“Her brow is like the snow drift.And her throat is like the swan’s.Her face it is the fairest thatE’er th’ sun shon’ on.”When the final—“An’ for Bonnie Annie LaurieI’d lay me down an’ dee”died away the crowd stood quiet and silent for a minute.“Now’s the best time to pass the hat, Clay, you understand,” whispered the commercial Ike. “That song was too sad-like—it sends them all home. You should have sung them something pretty, like the Hebrew Lovers’ Dream.”“They’re dreaming enough about gold already,” retorted Clay, tartly, as he noted a man moving in and out amongst the crowd. He divined his intention. “Friend,” he called. “We don’t want a collection. If we have given a little diversion for a couple of hours, we are pleased and want no money,” but the crowd was not listening. They were now talking amongst themselves. “Can’t hear that song without thinking of my girl in Florida that’s waiting for me to make good. One of those slim little gals what wears white dresses with a blue sash and a bunch of orange blossoms stuck in it.” “Just like my wife,” assented a rough bearded miner, “only she lives in Connecticut, an’ we don’t have orange blossoms, but she’s always got something catchy pinned on her dress.”“Case, for goodness sake, start some parting song,” whispered Clay. I can’t think of a thing, and that man keeps on taking up a collection.”Case promptly stepped into the breach and his mellow tenor voice rang out the good old parting hymn:“God be with us ’till we meet again,By His counsel guide, uphold you,With His sheep securely fold you,God be with you ’till we meet again.”“Hanged if I just like that,” grumbled a miner whose bowed legs told of a cow-boy life. “I don’t want to be folded up with no sheep. If it was cattle now I wouldn’t kick so much.”The crowd departed slowly, and as silently as they had come, only one, a little, energetic man with a spade-like beard remained. He approached the boat slowly and the boys thought he was coming on board, but just as he came opposite the cabin, he flung some heavy object up on it and ran for shore like a rabbit.“Look out,” cried Clay, as the Kid reached out to pick it up. “It may be a bomb.”The Kid chuckled. “We ain’t civilized enough for bombs up here yet. I would be glad to stand up and let a man throw bombs like this at me all day long. Why, little chekako, this is a miner’s poke, and if I am any judge of gold dust weight, it must be worth $400.00. I reckon that Annie Laurie business got them in a soft spot. That little spade-bearded man is Cook, the richest man in Nome and mighty generous when his mean old cat of a wife isn’t around. Reckon he didn’t marry his Annie Laurie.”“I guess we done better than if we had taken up a collection. I guess maybe you got a good business head on you after all, Clay,” said Ike happily.“But we don’t want all that money for doing such a little thing,” Clay stormed. “Let’s give it back to them.”“Don’t get excited, son, just keep it. It belongs to you. Everyone knew what he gave and could afford it too. Why, half the wealthy of Nome were here tonight. Well, I’m too short of dust tonight but maybe I can put you wise to a few things. I don’t generally give advice to chekakos for this is a country where every man has got to play his own game, but you all seem clean, gritty chaps and I like you, so I’m going to put you wise to a few things. I understand that you are going up the Yukon to trade for pelts with the Indians. The idea is all right, but you’ve come too late. All the furs got last summer were traded out during the winter and spring and there won’t be but a few to be got until just after the hunters come in from their big hunt just before the big cold.”The boys’ faces were a picture of disappointment.“We hate to go back now,” Case said gloomily. “We’ve put all the money we had in on this trip, and I, for one, hate to go back and to be laughed at too.”“I am not advising you what to do. But I know what I would do myself in like case,” said the Kid slowly. “I wouldn’t give up. A thing not worth pushing through is not worth starting. I’d go on up as far as Dawson maybe, kinder going along easy and learning the ways of the Yukon and having as much sport as I could, and buying more supplies when I could get them cheap. As soon as it started to get cold at Dawson, I’d start down the river, stopping only at a few big settlements to trade. I would try to get close to the lower Yukon before the river froze up. I wouldn’t take any chances. As soon as floating ice began to form, I’d run my boat in some cozy cove, pull her out on shore, and make myself cozy for the winter. Then I’d find me a sled and dogs and hit for the nearest settlement. I’d be pretty liberal with my first buying and it wouldn’t be long before the Indians would be coming from hundreds of miles to exchange their pelts for tobacco, beads and trinkets. Tobacco tempts them most, tobacco and cheap watches. Did you bring any of those cheap watches?”“We’ve got a case of the kind that is making the dollar infamous,” grinned Alex.“Them’s the kind,” grinned back the Kid. “Just show them how to keep them wound up and ticking and they will fall for them all right. They think the ticking inside is a spirit and they back it up to keep the evil spirit of the Yukon from bothering them. But to go on, by spring I would have my boat loaded with valuable furs and when the ice went out, I would make Nome and hike back for the States with the satisfaction of knowing that I had cleaned up a few thousand dollars on the trip.”“But a winter on the Yukon!” gasped Case.“A winter on the Yukon is largely what a man makes of it, as in all things,” said the Kid gently. “If a man is strong of soul, he will thaw out with ice a still stronger man. If he’s a weakling, it’s just as well for him to find it out early in life. You boys are fixed comfortable for the winter and had ought to go through it all right. The main thing is to keep busy and cheerful. Remember, boys, I am not advising you boys to do this, for you might come to grief and I would always blame myself. I am merely telling you what I would do in your case.”“Thanks for what you have told us,” said Clay, gravely. “We know that you know what you are talking about, but it knocks the wind out of us for the moment. We had built so on the plans made in our ignorance that, now they are all shattered, we don’t just know what to do until we have slept over it and talked it over. Now, I have got a question to ask you,” he said abruptly. “Do you know or have you ever seen two men that fit this description,” and he described Jud and Bill.“I’ve crossed their trail many a time, and Jud is one of the most powerful men on the Yukon and a right gentle good man when you get him away from his partner, but Bill is as full of poison as a rattlesnake. Don’t know why Jud sticks to him, but he does. Bill seems to have some hold on him. You seldom see them apart. Don’t know as any serious crime could be proved against them, but the Injins have brought me some ugly stories and I believe they are true. Anyway, they are men I want nothing to do with.”“Say, Mr. Kid,” Ike asked, eagerly. “How far up the Yukon is Rainbow Bend?”“Don’t know of any such place,” replied the Kid, promptly. “And I know the Yukon like a book. Yet the name has a familiar sound. I’ll try and think it up. I will remember in time what it is, for I never really forget anything. Well, so long, boys. It’s time for all of us to go to bed. I expect to go up on the steamer tomorrow afternoon. I make my trip by water when the ice is out. If you start early, I reckon we’ll catch you at the mouth of the Yukon and you can keep in our wake as long as you can see us.“What time does the steamer make?” inquired Case.“Ten miles an hour against the current,” said the Kid, proudly.“Then we’ll see you on the Yukon,” promised Case with a grin.As soon as the Kid was gone, the tired boys sought their bunks and sleep.
CHAPTER VIII
AN EXCITING TIME
The low ceilinged room was filled with roughly dressed miners and a few women gaudily attired. Alex’s voice had rang out so seriously and deadly that a wide lane had opened up between him and the bartender. Clay and Ike, with the stranger in the lead, pushed forward to where Teddy, a leering grin on his face, was waiting for another round of beer. The bartender was striving to secure his long-barreled pistol, which lay on a shelf underneath the bar, but Alex was on the watch and the pinging of the automatic sent a steel-nosed bullet crashing through the bar close to the bartender’s hands, which he promptly elevated on high. “Now for your insults and threats and the way you have abused Teddy,” Alex cried, anger taking full possession of him. He sent two bullets in the mirror which cracked it from top to bottom, then he began to shoot slowly and carefully, at the four tiers of bottles behind the bar. Each bullet brought forth the tinkling sound of splintered glass and the gushing forth of escaping liquor. The bartender’s face grew paler with each sound of breaking glass, for liquor was liquid gold at Nome.
But this state of things could not last. The shots brought the reserve force of bartenders and bouncers from other parts of the building, some pulling out their long-barreled revolvers as they ran to their chief’s assistance. The first appeared behind the bar just as the stranger, with the boys at his side, struggled into the open lane that ran from Alex to the bar. Alex had emptied his pistol and was calmly reloading it with deliberate care, although he could not but realize the peril in which he stood. His face brightened as he saw his two friends.
“Get out while you’ve got the chance,” he shouted.
But Clay only smiled as he whipped out his automatic and leveled it at the newcomer behind the bar, who was cocking a heavy 44 Colts.
“Hold on a minute, you gunmen,” rang out the stranger’s voice, cool and crisp. The constantly augmented group of bartenders and bouncers hesitated for a moment at the determined tones of authority, and Alex finished his reloading.
“I reckon you all know me,” went on the cool drawling voice, “if some of you don’t know me, I’m the Yukon Kid an’ you may have heard the name before.” A murmur swept over the crowd.
“I never thought much of Nome, with her gambling dens, dance halls and dives like this, but I never thought one of the places I have mentioned would descend so low as to hector and make desperate a boy, just a stripling, and a chekako (tenderfoot), at that.” His clear voice swept the assembled miners and the group of hesitating bartenders. His two heavy revolvers seemed to leap from their holsters. One steel muzzle described a rapidly slanting arc back and forth before the saloon men, while the other whirled rapidly in a circle with a finger pressed gently on the trigger, seemed to cover the whole crowd at once to their evident uneasiness.
“Boys, go and get your bear out in the street. Don’t be too hard on him,” said the Yukon Kid, with a grin. “Remember it’s his first offense and likely his last, for he’ll be a sick bear tomorrow.”
Alex came forward from his corner and Ike and Clay moved up to Teddy. “Come on, Teddy, and no foolishness about it,” Clay commanded. But Teddy, a maudlin insane glint in his eyes, squared off angrily to fight.
Clay snatched out his sheaf knife and made a downward sweep with it. Teddy’s eyes lost their look of insanity, and whining, he dropped on all fours and made for the door, followed by the boys. Once outside Teddy tried to arise to his hind feet but found his legs too weak and wabbly, so dropped back on all fours.
“Take him right down to the boat and tie him up to the snubbing block in the prow, Alex,” Clay ordered. “You go with him, Ike. I’m going to look for Case and Captain Joe. I am worried about them. Where did you see him last, Alex?”
“We got separated soon after we left the boat, I was trying to hunt him up when that brute gave me a shove down into one of those worked out mines and bolted. By the time I got out I was not thinking about anything but finding Teddy before he got into mischief. I don’t know what became of Case.”
“Stop a minute, Clay,” shouted Ike, as they were moving off. “Don’t forget if a man insists on our taking souvenirs, there’s eight of us in the crew, you understand.”
“But there are only six of us,” said Clay, puzzled.
“You forget the dog and bear,” replied Ike solemnly. “Don’t you think animals have some feelings and don’t like to be slighted? If they don’t want them we can take care of them for them.”
Clay turned back into the saloon with a smile on his face.
It was quite a different sight that met his eyes when he stepped inside. The Yukon Kid was the center of the crowd of miners, who, pressing around him, were loudly demanding news of the upper Yukon. Two bartenders were, with forced smiles on their faces, serving the crowd with drinks on the house. The others were mopping up the spilled liquor from the broken bottles.
The crowd was so dense that Clay could not force his way in so he stood on its edge striving to signal the Kid. “Great man, the Kid,” volunteered a miner next him. “Came into this country just a kid and hasn’t been outside since. Carries the mail back and forth as far as Dawson. Never misses a trip, and let me tell you that’s a trip but few dare to make in the middle of winter. Don’t reckon he’s so very rich—gives away too much. But, I reckon, he’s known better and trusted more than any man in the North. He’s a good man to tie to for he’s always reliable in peace or trouble.”
Clay studied the Kid’s face closely as the man talked. In spite of the roughness and scars placed there by Mother North, it was a young, comely, strong face, and set off with twinkling steel gray eyes. Their eyes met and the Kid pushed through the crowd to his side.
“Hello,” he said. “You back?”
“I wanted to thank you for what you have done for us,” Clay said gratefully.
“Bosh!” exclaimed the Kid, the red mounting to his face. “What little I did for you I’d do for any chekako who was staked up against odds,” he chuckled. “That’s a fire-eating little partner you’ve got. He’ll make a sour dough all right if he doesn’t get killed in the making.”
“I have got another partner just as gamey.” Clay said proudly. “He is not as quick tempered as Alex but he’s all right. I wanted to ask you if you had heard or seen anything of him. The two left the boat at the same time, but soon got separated. He had a big white bull dog with him. I am afraid something has happened to him.”
“No, I haven’t seen or heard anything of him, but wait a bit, some of this crowd may have heard of him. I’ll inquire.”
“He was gone but a moment then returned to Clay. “I’ve found out where he was an hour ago, but Lord only knows where he is now. Wait! I’ll go with you. You couldn’t find the place alone.” He moved up to the bar and called for drinks, taking a glass of root beer for himself. “My parting round, boys,” he said friendly. “Have something yourself, Charley,” to the white-clad bartender. “What I’m trying to figure out is who’s going to pay for that mirror and the wasted liquor—about $3,000, I calculate,” scoffed the bartender.
“It’s your own fault, Charley,” said the Kid, lightly. “You can’t collect it out of the boys—they are minors any way. Better charge it up as advertising.”
“Say,” he continued, as he noted the black frown on the other’s face. “I’ll take responsibility for that bill. Just send it up to my cabin, and then come up and try to collect it.”
The frown disappeared from the fellow’s face and he tried to force a grin.
“Guess I’d better charge it to advertising,” he said.
“Sure, advertising pays,” agreed the Kid cordially, and turning, he strode for the door where Clay was awaiting him. As they stepped outside, a strong wind smote their faces so as to almost prevent conversation. The Kid turned, his hand against his mouth. “Keep close to me,” he shouted “and no matter what trouble comes up, don’t pull your gun unless I give the word.”
Clay obeyed and kept close at the Kid’s heels. A half hour’s walk brought them to the fringe of the town, where they could see theRamblerdancing at her dock about a mile distant.
“We’re nearly there,” said the Kid, “and remember, you’re to let me handle this thing, in my own way. Just keep still and let me do the talking. He had reached a group of tents which were pitched in a kind of circle leaving a round plot of ground inclosed within. From this court yard came the sounds of laughter, hoots and cries. The Yukon Kid picked his way in between the ropes of two tents, Clay following. At this entrance they paused a minute to review the scene.
The courtyard was about one-fourth of an acre in extent. All around its sides were packed a dense crowd of men offering and taking big bets on the outcome of the battle that raged in the center.
Here, within another circle, a curious battle was going on. Ranged around in a silent circle, according to their usual code, were a dozen or more wolf-dogs, more wolf than dog, squatted on their haunches, their eyes eager, and their long white fangs dripping saliva, for to them belonged the spoils of the battle that was going on now within this inner circle. When one of the combatants died, it was their privilege to drag it outside of the circle and satisfy their hunger-warped souls on its flesh and bones. They cared not which died, only that he died quickly. Theirs was the sentiment of aching bellies.”
The Kid kicked a way through the circle of dogs and Clay followed him. Inside two men, seated on a log, were evidently refereeing the fight while on the other end of the log sat Case, tightly bound hand and foot, his face a picture of anger and helplessness.
The Kid took a seat on the log by the side of the one who appeared chief in authority and who shifted uneasily. He did not like the Yukon Kid. The Kid knew too much and had an uncanny way of learning hidden things.
“Having a good match, Major?” enquired the Kid pleasantly, as he glanced at the desperate battle for life Captain Joe was putting up against a gaunt, husky wolf dog that towered way above him. Both dogs were fighting desperately and silently as became their breed, the husky darting in and out, snapping viciously, and Captain Joe whirling to meet the attack on his short, stumpy legs with surprising quickness, always trying to reach the enemy’s throat.
“Yes, it’s some match,” agreed the other, cautiously. “A good many thousands of dollars of gold dust changed hands on the first match alone.”
“You don’t mean you’ve been fighting that bull dog against more than one husky?” the Kid cried in amazement.
“He’s killed two, this is the third one,” said the Major: “By jove! there goes the third.” Captain Joe had found his goal at last. The husky, eager to kill, had bent too low and Captain Joe’s teeth were buried in his throat in a death-like grip, which, rear and plunge as he might, the husky could not shake off. In a few moments it was all over and the dead husky was dragged away by his ravenous comrades, while Captain Joe painfully limped over to Case and Clay, his sides heaving and his white body bleeding from countless wounds. Clay picked him up and wiped his poor punctured body. “He’s fought like a hero without a whine,” Case said with dim eyes. “I tried to stop the first fight when it started, but a dozen of the crowd grabbed me and tied me up. All I’ve been able to do is to sit here and see them make him fight one husky after another. He’s got four more to fight before they’ll let him go. He can’t finish those four. He is getting too weak. I doubt if he can go through another round, he has lost so much blood.” The voice of the referee interrupted: “Captain Joe still alive and on his feet. Next match, Captain Joe against Birch Bark.”
At the other end of the log the Yukon Kid was talking sweetly and cooly to the man in authority.
CHAPTER IX
THE VISITORS
“Do you think it quite fair to make one little brute fight seven big huskies, worked until they are as hard as iron, Major?”
“He’s got to do it or die,” said the Major. The Kid, however, seemed to have lost all interest in the dog fight. “Remember that murder up on the Stewart when some one did up Old Joe and made off with the whole of the gold dust that the old man had cleared up? Remember it, Major?”
“I don’t exactly remember it,” said the Major, uneasily.
“’Course you remember it,” said the Kid softly. “I met you just south of the Stewart and you were driving as though the devil was after you. Queer, ain’t it?” he continued, “that the police could not find out who the murderer was, while I knew in less than a week. Strange tales from the Indians reached my ears and one of them brought me a lot of things he had found around the cabin before the mounted police came. There was a mitten, an empty 45-50 shell, and a handkerchief with a man’s name on it, and, well, there were a lot of other things. But what’s the use of bringing up old scores. Joe was so mean that the poison in his heart would have killed him pretty soon anyway. Look here,” he said abruptly. “I reckon this dog fight has gone about far enough. That white bull is dead game, but he can’t go another battle.”
“You want the fight called off?” the Major asked with head bent.
“I reckon that’s about it,” said the Kid cheerfully, “and you might as well untie that youngster’s hands and feet. It ain’t no ways comfortable for a boy to be trussed up that way.”
“All right,” said the Major listlessly, and he walked over to the referee and spoke a few words.
“All right,” the referee replied sullenly, “you’re the boss. Match declared off for personal reasons,” he shouted to the crowd outside. “All bets on this fight declared off.” There was an angry murmur from the crowd outside. The Kid slashed away Case’s bindings. “Bring your dog and keep close to me. There’s no telling how that crowd will act. There are some bad men amongst them.” A hundred men surrounded them with angry threats as they broke out of the circle. The Kid took Captain Joe and held him up to the view of the crowd. “Here’s a poor, little four-legged American citizen,” he said. “He’s game, if he is a chekako. He’s killed three of your trail-hardened huskies. That ought to be enough, but now you want him to tackle four more. Is that a square deal? Is that the American spirit of fair play?”
“You Americans are always boasting about what you do,” sneered an Englishman. “Why, that dog isn’t an American. It’s an English bull dog.”
“I will admit his ancestors came from England and that he has inherited his awful looking mug from them, but he isn’t to blame for that. He’s got the true American spirit.”
The Americans in the crowd laughed at the Kid’s retort, and one of them shouted: “Hurrah for the stars and stripes.”
“You blooming braggers,” shouted the Englishman. “You’ll never stand straight up and fight fair with odds even.”
“We, as a nation, never get the chance,” retorted the Kid. “We always have had to give odds of five to one at least. Remember the wars of 1776 and 1812?”
The cheering over the Englishman’s discomfiture rose uproariously until a big Swede stilled it by raising up his brawny arms above the crowd as a signal for silence.
“Ay tank day United States ban all right. Ay tank day American dog with the ugly face ban all right too. How you all like to fight four more mens after you already lick three? Ay tank we better let the dog and boys go.”
The air rang with applause from the now good-natured crowd. “Let ’em go,” shouted a hundred voices, and the two boys worked their way through the ropes into the open once more, followed by the Yukon Kid.
Once distant from the circle of tents, the Kid stopped. “I guess you can find the boat all right,” he said. “I’m going to take a short cut home. I’ve traveled fifty miles today and only eaten one meal. I’ll rest a bit and then get something to eat.”
“I wish you would take your rest and then come down to the boat and have supper with us,” Clay said earnestly. “We have got a lot of dainties, and we brought up loads of books and magazines.”
“I’ll go you,” said the Kid boyishly. “I have been living on bacon and beans all winter—and magazines and books! Have you really got them? I had almost forgotten that there were such things in the world. Why, I got hold of a New York paper last winter and I read it and read it until I wore it out. Sure, I’ll be down just as soon as I can catch a couple of hours’ rest. So long, boys, till supper.”
Clay and Case made their way down to the Rambler without any difficulty. The ancient mariner was still sitting on the post, watching, with delight, Ike and Alex pouring pail after pail of water on Teddy Bear, who, up in the prow in the sunshine, was snoring loudly. The only effect the water seemed to have upon him was to make him roll over on the other side and resume his loud snoring.
The veteran prospector beckoned to Clay to approach him. “Say,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “There’s been strange goings on in your boat since you left. I never expected to see anything like it around here. Just after you left, two men came down the dock and went aboard your boat. I didn’t take much notice of them, ’cause the latch string is always hangin’ out in the North and I could see that they were sour dough boys and reckoned they were some friends of yours. But they staid down in the cabin so long that I made up my mind that I’d step down and tell ’em that you-alls wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. Soon as I peeked into the cabin, I saw what they was up to. There they was with all the lockers pulled out looking through your things and throwing your clothes out on the floor. One of them was just putting a battered silver watch in his pocket. I got a bead on him with my old 44 and let out a yell. He dropped the watch like it was red hot. I marched ’em out of the cabin and up on the dock. Then I says to ’em, ‘Hike for shore and don’t be long getting there, for my fingers are getting shaky with old age and might press the trigger too hard, any minute.’”
“Did they run?” questioned Clay, with a grin.
“I could not have caught them if I had been forty years younger, and, believe me, I used to be some runner,” said the old prospector with open admiration at the speed the two fugitives had displayed. “But the further they got the madder I got to thinking old sour doughs would act meaner than a chekako. One of them was marked with a red scar across one cheek, and, just as they made the shore, I decided I’d mark the other one so I’d be sure to know him the next time I saw him.”
“Did you hit him?” asked Clay, still grinning.
“I reckon I’m getting an old fellow. I aimed for the lobe of his ear and only just nicked it.”
“We’re mighty grateful to you for defending our property,” Clay said. “Stay and have supper with us,” he urged. “We are fixing to have quite a spread.”
“No, thankee,” refused the old man. “I’ve got a pot of bacon and beans cooked up down at my cabin. I’ve eaten them and pertatoes and now and then a piece of moose meat for forty years, and I’ve got so a meal don’t taste right without ’em.”
“We have got beans, plenty of them,” urged Clay.
“I know the kind,” said the man, scornfully. “Come in a can with a little slice of bacon on top that you can see through, it’s so thin, and the beans below ’em are so weak and pale that they always color ’em up with tomato juice to make ’em look healthy and deceive you. No, no such kind of beans for me; just the raw kind. Put ’em in a pot with at least a third of their bulk in sizable cubes of bacon. Then fill the pot plumb full of water and sit on the fire to simmer. When they are done you have got beans what is beans. Come right handy on the trail in winter, too. You can freeze them into sticks an’ pack ’em on your sled an’ when you want to cook dinner, just chop off as much as you want and thaw it out in the frying pan. Well, good-night. Reckon I’ll see you afore you leave.”
Clay turned back to his friends, a gentle smile on his lips, for the quaint, honest Old Timer. He found his three companions washing and doing up Captain Joe’s numerous wounds, while the dog licked their hands in dumb gratitude.
“It does not need all three of you to fix up Captain Joe,” he observed. “Someone got into our cabin while we were gone and messed up things a good bit, though I don’t believe they got away with anything. I should like Ike to put things back in their place. All I can see that he’s doing is to look at Captain Joe’s teeth to see if there are any gold fillings. When you get through with Joe, both of you come up and help me for we are going to have the biggest feast we ever have had in theRambler, tonight. We are going to have a visitor to supper.”
“Who?” Alex asked, smearing ointment over one of Captain Joe’s wounds while Case applied a clean white bandage to another.
“The Yukon Kid,” said Clay. “I invited him down and he accepted.”
“Hurrah,” shouted all three boys, and Ike added thoughtfully: “That Kid, he knows a lot about the country; you understand, maybe he can tell us where there be more miners what like to give away souvenirs.”
Ike’s face went deathly pale when he caught sight of the scattered things that littered the cabin. He rushed to the pile near his bunk and pawed it out pantingly. The battered old silver watch lay near the pile and Ike pounced on it with delight. “I don’t care so much about the rest, but this my uncle gave me. I wish I had a good safe place to put it.”
“We fixed up a safe place to put our valuables while we had spare time this winter. Come here and I’ll show it to you.” Clay lifted up a square of flooring right behind the stove, disclosing a cavity about a foot square and the same in depth, the whole carefully lined with moisture-proof oil cloth. “That’s a mighty good place,” said Ike with satisfaction. “Soon’s I get time, you understand, I wraps up my watch, that nugget, and them bills I’ve got in the seat of my pants and put them here.” Clay replaced the bit of flooring. It fitted so carefully that the cracks could only be discovered with a close scrutiny. “We always put a couple of old sacks or an old piece of carpet over it and Captain Joe sleeps there most of the time, so you see there is but little chance of its being discovered. By the way, one of the chaps that raided theRamblerhad a red scar on his face, and the other one had a face that would hang him without a trial.”
Ike’s face grew downcast. “Dem must have been them two low-lifes that tried to rob me in Chicago. I wonder how they gets here. They had no money.”
“I guess I know how they managed it,” said Clay, thoughtfully. “I’ll show you something when I get the time. We have talked too long now. Let’s get to work.”
Ike with deft fingers folded and replaced the scattered things in their lockers, while Clay started a fire in the stove and began preparations for the grand feast. He was soon joined by Case and Alex followed by Captain Joe. Alex was grinning. “You had ought to have seen Captain Joe,” he said, “the minute we turned him loose: he made for Teddy Bear, I guess, to tell him his trouble and gain a little sympathy. He looked puzzled when he found he could not rouse him. He walked all around him sniffing until he got to Teddy’s head, then he caught a good smell of Teddy’s breath. He turned away and came with us with such a comical look of disgust on his face, that it would have made you laugh.
Captain Joe lay down behind the stove on the secret hiding place, while Case and Alex hastened to Clay’s assistance. The boys had brought along with them a small stock of dainties with which to help celebrate on special days, and this they broke into with rude hands. Soon the table, covered with a white cloth, was laden with cream cheese, jars of preserves, jellies, a fruity fruit cake, jams, and even a jar of anchovy paste. A plate heaped with nuts, figs and raisins, stood in the middle, while at each individual plate was one each of their precious stock of oranges and apples.
Over the stove Clay labored, steaming sausages and frying canned beefsteak with onions, while big, mealy potatoes already cooked were placed on the back corner of the stove to keep warm.
“He’s coming now,” said Alex, as a light, vigorous step rang on the dock, and a moment later the Kid’s cheery face appeared in the cabin door. He looked more like a man who had slept fifty hours and traveled two miles, than like one who had just traveled fifty miles and slept two hours. His brief rest had removed all weariness from his face.
His keen eyes swept from the boys to the laden table. “Gee! boys,” he said, boyishly. “This isn’t a supper. It’s a banquet, and me here without my dress suit on.”
CHAPTER X
THE YUKON
The boys were delighted with the way their visitor ate. “I am ashamed of myself,” he said as he passed his plate a third time, “but everything tastes so good. Especially after a man has been eating his own poorly-cooked grub for a year. We do not do much cooking on the trail. One cannot carry great quantities of food on sleds and make much progress. It’s the curse of the North that one is always possessed of a gnawing hunger without the means of satisfying it. Men seem to thrive under it, though. Few of them carry an extra ounce of flesh on them, but they are as hard as iron. One of them can do as much hard labor in a day as three well-fed chekakos. And while I am talking, son,” addressing Alex, “let me warn you not to pull your gun in this region unless you mean to kill or be killed. Mere bluff does not go in this country without a bad reputation to back it, and sometimes not even then. You’re a pretty fair shot, boy, I noticed that today, but lad, there are old timers who can give a good hair cut at twenty paces without breaking the skin. Better not draw your gun unless you have to. Pluckiness is all right, but it’s suicide to try to stack up against too heavy odds. Don’t think I am trying to lecture,” he added apologetically. “It’s just good advice I got hammered into me when I first hit this country. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a look at that pile of magazines and books I see over there. They stack up like a heap of gold dust to me.”
The five of them clustered around, while the Kid handled the books with reverent fingers. He laid a few books and a couple of magazines one side. The boys looked at them with surprise. They consisted of a book on surgery and two law books, which belonged to Clay, whose private ambition was to be a lawyer. Clay glanced at the titles, “Chitty on Pleadings” and “Bishop on Contracts.”
“Gee!” he said. “You’ve chosen some heavy stuff. Why, it took me a year to get all of ‘Chitty on Pleadings’ through my head.”
“Light reading is all right for summer,” said the Kid, “but for winter give me the heavy books like these that keep your mind so busy that you do not think of the long darkness, the great silence, and the everlasting whiteness. Besides, I need that book on surgery. I meet so many injured men on the trail and there isn’t a doctor between Nome and Dawson. As to the law books, well, this is going to be a great country some day, I guess, and the man on the ground who knows the miners as well as the laws will stand a good chance of making good—anyway it will beat traveling the long trail, and I’m for it.”
Case brought out some cigars which they had brought along with them for just some like occasion.
“Take a handful,” he said, hospitably, but the Kid only took one. “I have sorter got used to my old pipe and cut plug,” he apologized. “Say, don’t none of you boys smoke?”
“No,” said Clay, but don’t stop for that. Light up.”
“No,” said the Kid decidedly. “I am not going to stink up this dainty little cabin of yours with stale tobacco fumes. Let’s go up on deck if you don’t mind. It’s the finest hour in the twenty-four, according to my notion.”
The five seated themselves on the edge of the cabin, silent for the moment. Twilight had set in and the day’s work was over. Outside the shanties small fires were blazing from which came the savory odor of frying bacon and boiling coffee. A keen, clear wind fanned their faces, while from the huddled settlement came to their ears, faintly, the weird, soul-stirring wail of the wolf dogs. But, because they were well fed, and happy, and young—above all, young—they began to sing. Clay first, by some hidden chord, had been touched by that soul-touching wail and dearly his fresh young voice rang out, softly at first, but gradually growing in volume.
“Back in the dear dead days beyond recall,When on the earth the mists began to fall,Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng,Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song.”
“Back in the dear dead days beyond recall,When on the earth the mists began to fall,Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng,Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song.”
“Back in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the earth the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng,
Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song.”
“Know any more of it?” asked the Kid, eagerly.
“Sure, a part of it,” Clay said with a glance at his companions. None of the boys had cultivated voices but they were clear and ringing and bore the thrilling note of youth. They had often sang together on their long trips and when Clay started again the other three joined in harmoniously.
“And in the even when fell the firelight gleam,Slowly it wove itself into our dreams.”
“And in the even when fell the firelight gleam,Slowly it wove itself into our dreams.”
“And in the even when fell the firelight gleam,
Slowly it wove itself into our dreams.”
A shanty door slammed, another and another until it seemed to Clay as if all Nome was banging doors. He stopped. “We’re going to be mobbed,” he said, “and it’s your fault, Ike. That golden note in your voice is starting a stampede.”
“Go on,” commanded the Kid, who was lying back on the cabin top, his face upturned to the stars.
Clay hurried to the end filled with apprehension at the sight of many dim forms filing out on the dock, but in spite of his fears he sang on to the end, the words ringing out sweetly over the water.
“And in the end when earth’s dim shadows fall.Love will be found the sweetest song of all.”
“And in the end when earth’s dim shadows fall.Love will be found the sweetest song of all.”
“And in the end when earth’s dim shadows fall.
Love will be found the sweetest song of all.”
Uproarious applause came from the now densely packed crowd on the dock.
Clay sat down in amazement. “An audience! and I thought it was a mob!” he gasped.
“You green, green chekako,” grinned the Kid. “Don’t you realize that most of these men have been up here for years without hearing any music but the tin pan din of the saloons and dance halls. Sing to them, boys, not cheap rag time, but some of the old, old songs they sang in the States years and years ago.
Clay grasped the cue and one after the other, followed by his companions, sang all the old familiar songs he could remember, the crowd on the dock occasionally joining in on some old time favorite. When they had finished, he sought in his mind for something that would appeal to them all. As he looked down for a moment upon the rough faces, marked with scurvy, frost bite and famine, there came to him a realization of what it was that drove these men to endure the cruelties of the Northland. It was not gold, alone, but shining above the brilliant metal, the face of some woman; wife, mother or sweetheart. He closed his eyes for a second and the vision was strong upon him of a slender girl in a white dress with a blue sash, seated at a piano, her soft white fingers wandering over the keys and her gentle voice singing—what was she singing forty years ago, what was she singing today? What did that girl in Chicago in the white dress and blue sash always sing to him when he called? He had it, but that first verse he never could remember, so he softly sang the second.
“Her brow is like the snow drift.And her throat is like the swan’s.Her face it is the fairest thatE’er th’ sun shon’ on.”
“Her brow is like the snow drift.And her throat is like the swan’s.Her face it is the fairest thatE’er th’ sun shon’ on.”
“Her brow is like the snow drift.
And her throat is like the swan’s.
And her throat is like the swan’s.
Her face it is the fairest that
E’er th’ sun shon’ on.”
E’er th’ sun shon’ on.”
When the final—
“An’ for Bonnie Annie LaurieI’d lay me down an’ dee”
“An’ for Bonnie Annie LaurieI’d lay me down an’ dee”
“An’ for Bonnie Annie Laurie
I’d lay me down an’ dee”
I’d lay me down an’ dee”
died away the crowd stood quiet and silent for a minute.
“Now’s the best time to pass the hat, Clay, you understand,” whispered the commercial Ike. “That song was too sad-like—it sends them all home. You should have sung them something pretty, like the Hebrew Lovers’ Dream.”
“They’re dreaming enough about gold already,” retorted Clay, tartly, as he noted a man moving in and out amongst the crowd. He divined his intention. “Friend,” he called. “We don’t want a collection. If we have given a little diversion for a couple of hours, we are pleased and want no money,” but the crowd was not listening. They were now talking amongst themselves. “Can’t hear that song without thinking of my girl in Florida that’s waiting for me to make good. One of those slim little gals what wears white dresses with a blue sash and a bunch of orange blossoms stuck in it.” “Just like my wife,” assented a rough bearded miner, “only she lives in Connecticut, an’ we don’t have orange blossoms, but she’s always got something catchy pinned on her dress.”
“Case, for goodness sake, start some parting song,” whispered Clay. I can’t think of a thing, and that man keeps on taking up a collection.”
Case promptly stepped into the breach and his mellow tenor voice rang out the good old parting hymn:
“God be with us ’till we meet again,By His counsel guide, uphold you,With His sheep securely fold you,God be with you ’till we meet again.”
“God be with us ’till we meet again,By His counsel guide, uphold you,With His sheep securely fold you,God be with you ’till we meet again.”
“God be with us ’till we meet again,
By His counsel guide, uphold you,
With His sheep securely fold you,
God be with you ’till we meet again.”
“Hanged if I just like that,” grumbled a miner whose bowed legs told of a cow-boy life. “I don’t want to be folded up with no sheep. If it was cattle now I wouldn’t kick so much.”
The crowd departed slowly, and as silently as they had come, only one, a little, energetic man with a spade-like beard remained. He approached the boat slowly and the boys thought he was coming on board, but just as he came opposite the cabin, he flung some heavy object up on it and ran for shore like a rabbit.
“Look out,” cried Clay, as the Kid reached out to pick it up. “It may be a bomb.”
The Kid chuckled. “We ain’t civilized enough for bombs up here yet. I would be glad to stand up and let a man throw bombs like this at me all day long. Why, little chekako, this is a miner’s poke, and if I am any judge of gold dust weight, it must be worth $400.00. I reckon that Annie Laurie business got them in a soft spot. That little spade-bearded man is Cook, the richest man in Nome and mighty generous when his mean old cat of a wife isn’t around. Reckon he didn’t marry his Annie Laurie.”
“I guess we done better than if we had taken up a collection. I guess maybe you got a good business head on you after all, Clay,” said Ike happily.
“But we don’t want all that money for doing such a little thing,” Clay stormed. “Let’s give it back to them.”
“Don’t get excited, son, just keep it. It belongs to you. Everyone knew what he gave and could afford it too. Why, half the wealthy of Nome were here tonight. Well, I’m too short of dust tonight but maybe I can put you wise to a few things. I don’t generally give advice to chekakos for this is a country where every man has got to play his own game, but you all seem clean, gritty chaps and I like you, so I’m going to put you wise to a few things. I understand that you are going up the Yukon to trade for pelts with the Indians. The idea is all right, but you’ve come too late. All the furs got last summer were traded out during the winter and spring and there won’t be but a few to be got until just after the hunters come in from their big hunt just before the big cold.”
The boys’ faces were a picture of disappointment.
“We hate to go back now,” Case said gloomily. “We’ve put all the money we had in on this trip, and I, for one, hate to go back and to be laughed at too.”
“I am not advising you what to do. But I know what I would do myself in like case,” said the Kid slowly. “I wouldn’t give up. A thing not worth pushing through is not worth starting. I’d go on up as far as Dawson maybe, kinder going along easy and learning the ways of the Yukon and having as much sport as I could, and buying more supplies when I could get them cheap. As soon as it started to get cold at Dawson, I’d start down the river, stopping only at a few big settlements to trade. I would try to get close to the lower Yukon before the river froze up. I wouldn’t take any chances. As soon as floating ice began to form, I’d run my boat in some cozy cove, pull her out on shore, and make myself cozy for the winter. Then I’d find me a sled and dogs and hit for the nearest settlement. I’d be pretty liberal with my first buying and it wouldn’t be long before the Indians would be coming from hundreds of miles to exchange their pelts for tobacco, beads and trinkets. Tobacco tempts them most, tobacco and cheap watches. Did you bring any of those cheap watches?”
“We’ve got a case of the kind that is making the dollar infamous,” grinned Alex.
“Them’s the kind,” grinned back the Kid. “Just show them how to keep them wound up and ticking and they will fall for them all right. They think the ticking inside is a spirit and they back it up to keep the evil spirit of the Yukon from bothering them. But to go on, by spring I would have my boat loaded with valuable furs and when the ice went out, I would make Nome and hike back for the States with the satisfaction of knowing that I had cleaned up a few thousand dollars on the trip.”
“But a winter on the Yukon!” gasped Case.
“A winter on the Yukon is largely what a man makes of it, as in all things,” said the Kid gently. “If a man is strong of soul, he will thaw out with ice a still stronger man. If he’s a weakling, it’s just as well for him to find it out early in life. You boys are fixed comfortable for the winter and had ought to go through it all right. The main thing is to keep busy and cheerful. Remember, boys, I am not advising you boys to do this, for you might come to grief and I would always blame myself. I am merely telling you what I would do in your case.”
“Thanks for what you have told us,” said Clay, gravely. “We know that you know what you are talking about, but it knocks the wind out of us for the moment. We had built so on the plans made in our ignorance that, now they are all shattered, we don’t just know what to do until we have slept over it and talked it over. Now, I have got a question to ask you,” he said abruptly. “Do you know or have you ever seen two men that fit this description,” and he described Jud and Bill.
“I’ve crossed their trail many a time, and Jud is one of the most powerful men on the Yukon and a right gentle good man when you get him away from his partner, but Bill is as full of poison as a rattlesnake. Don’t know why Jud sticks to him, but he does. Bill seems to have some hold on him. You seldom see them apart. Don’t know as any serious crime could be proved against them, but the Injins have brought me some ugly stories and I believe they are true. Anyway, they are men I want nothing to do with.”
“Say, Mr. Kid,” Ike asked, eagerly. “How far up the Yukon is Rainbow Bend?”
“Don’t know of any such place,” replied the Kid, promptly. “And I know the Yukon like a book. Yet the name has a familiar sound. I’ll try and think it up. I will remember in time what it is, for I never really forget anything. Well, so long, boys. It’s time for all of us to go to bed. I expect to go up on the steamer tomorrow afternoon. I make my trip by water when the ice is out. If you start early, I reckon we’ll catch you at the mouth of the Yukon and you can keep in our wake as long as you can see us.
“What time does the steamer make?” inquired Case.
“Ten miles an hour against the current,” said the Kid, proudly.
“Then we’ll see you on the Yukon,” promised Case with a grin.
As soon as the Kid was gone, the tired boys sought their bunks and sleep.