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CHAPTER XXIV
ON THE PORCUPINE RIVER
We must now pass over an interval of several weeks. During this period our readers are to imagine the numerous rapids and perils of the Upper Yukon conquered and the permanent camp of the silver fox hunters established upon the swift Porcupine River, not far above its junction with the Yukon and amidst a country wilder than any into which the Bungalow Boys had yet penetrated.
The work of setting out the peculiarly constructed traps in which the silver and black foxes were to be trapped had occupied much time, and some exciting adventures with bears and wolves had accompanied the work. When completed, the "trap-line" extended for more than twenty-five miles from the camp, which was pitched on the bank of the river to which the Yukon Rover was tied.
Did space permit we should like to tell in detail, and may at some future time, the numerous exciting episodes that marked those weeks of our young friends' lives. But we must now hasten on to an event which was to try their resources as they had rarely been tested before, and which was peculiarly characteristic of the life in that wild region "north of fifty-three" which they were exploring.
It is first necessary to explain that the work of overseeing the trap-line was attended to every week, the work being divided into "shifts," one of the party, or more, being left to guard the camp during the absence of the others. At the particular time we are now dealing with Mr. Dacre was disabled with a slight fever, and Sandy, also, was a "little under the weather" from the same cause. So that it devolved upon Tom and Jack to assume the task of going over the trap-line, a duty which had to be performed, while Mr. Chillingworth remained behind with the invalids.
And right here it is proper to explain that although the traps had been set and baited, the trappers did not expect any results till later in the season when the "big cold" set in. Nevertheless, in order to guard against the possibility of vicious or unprincipled trappers or "dog Indians" interfering with them, a rigid patrol was necessary to insure the well being of the trap-line. The actual trapping was destined to come later when the wastes of forest to the north were frozen and the creatures of the wild came toward the river in search of food.
Well used to roughing it as the boys were, they carried little more with them on these expeditions than flour, "erbwurst," – a sort of concentrated soup, not very palatable, but nourishing, – teas, salt and sugar. Their rifles, blankets and canteens completed their loads, with ammunition, of course, sufficient to enable them to "live on the country."
The trap-line led back into a wild range of mountains known as the Frying Pan Range, though just why that name had been given to the section is beyond the present chronicler to explain.
On the particular morning with which we are dealing, we find Tom and Jack almost at the end of the trap-line. Not much to their surprise, their investigation of the fifty or more traps scattered through this territory had not resulted in their discovering any silver foxes ensnared. Other wild creatures, though, had been entrapped, but they were not bothering with these. In every instance, if they were not maimed, the creatures were set loose, with one exception. That was the ugly "glutton" or wolverine, a notorious robber of trappers' and miners' camps, and a savage, truculent animal. When such creatures were found, they were despatched without mercy.
Tom, the first to open his eyes that morning, gave a glance of astonishment as he gazed about him from his blankets. On every side of them was a fleecy blanket of fog as thick and blinding as that which had encompassed them at Kadiak. He awakened Jack and the two looked about them rather anxiously. In pursuit of a deer, the carcass of which hung in a neighboring tree, high up so as to be beyond the reach of wild animals, the boys had, the evening before, wandered rather far from their beaten track.
They had, in fact, been overtaken by night in a part of the mountains which was entirely strange to them. But they felt no apprehensions on that score. They, of course, carried, like all wilderness travelers, a good compass and had the accurate bearings of their camp. The trap-line itself was marked by a blazed trail, so that once upon it their course was as plainly recognized as if they had been on a public highway.
After breakfast, consisting of deer-meat steaks, which when freshly killed are by no means as good as asserted, flap-jacks and tea, well sugared, the two young trappers took earnest counsel as to the best course to pursue.
The fog enwrapped them closely in billowy folds of white. On the mountain top on which they had halted, the mist was peculiarly dense and heavy.
"Well, Jack," said Tom, "we're in cloudland, all right. Are you in favor of waiting till the clouds roll by or striking out for camp?"
Jack at once declared for the latter course. Mr. Dacre's illness and Sandy's indisposition had not a little to do with Tom's falling in with this plan. He was anxious not to remain away longer than necessary for, as he knew, the river fevers sometimes resulted quite seriously.
Accordingly, the blankets were rolled up, some meat cut from the deer, canteens filled at a nearby spring, and the march back to the river begun. The fog still hung heavy and dense, and the boys strode along through the steamy vapor talking little, but saving their wind and their strength for the rough stony ground they were traveling over.
About noon the mist lifted and rolled away like a drop-curtain in a theater. And it was then that the boys made a disquieting discovery. The general scenery adjacent to the trapping line was familiar to them. But the spot which they now had reached held nothing that struck a reminiscent note.
Instead of being surrounded by noble forests of huge, somber trees, they were in a place that resembled more the scenery found in the "Bad Lands" than anything else the boys could call to mind. Grotesque piles of rocky hills, pinnacled like cathedrals and minsters, with here and there the semblance of some strangely formed animal, surrounded them on every side.
Towering columns and immense, fantastically-shaped masses of clay, suggesting pre-historic monsters of the pre-glacial period, rocky cliffs resembling enchanted castles, – these were only a few of the remarkable features of the section of the country into which they had strayed.
They looked about them with awe. The strata of the various weird formations were brilliantly tinted with blue, red, white, yellow and other colors mingled and mixed like the hues of a kaleidoscope. The utter barrenness of the place suggested a city of the dead, untrodden by man or beast for centuries.
"Where under the sun have we wandered?" asked Jack in an awed tone, gazing about with wonderment not untinged with alarm.
"I've not the slightest idea. We've never even seen a suggestion of such country on our hunting excursions off the trapping line. We must have strayed far off our course."
"But the compass?"
"I followed what should have been our direction," declared Tom. "I cannot understand this at all."
"Nor can I. Let's have a look at that compass."
Tom fished it out of his pocket and extended it. He glanced at the dial and then uttered a cry of astonishment. The needle was dipping and plunging and behaving in a very odd manner.
"Gracious, what's the matter with the thing? Is it bewitched?" gasped Jack.
"It is certainly behaving in a very mysterious fashion. Something must have deflected it and led us out of our way."
"What could have done this?"
"I don't know, unless – hullo!"
Tom stooped and picked up a bit of stone which glittered with bright, shining particles.
"Iron pyrites!" he exclaimed. "I remember the professor back at school showing some to the geology class. No wonder the needle was deflected! Look, Jack, those cliffs yonder are almost solid masses of pyrites!"
"And those deposits of iron switched the needle of the compass?"
"Beyond a doubt."
"Then we are lost."
"I don't like to say that."
"But we are far out of our way?"
"No question of it."
"How far?"
"I have no idea. It's a nasty predicament, Jack, but we'll get out of it, don't worry."
"But you haven't any idea in which direction to go?"
"No; we must scout around and try to get our bearings. I would suggest that we strike out for that high hill yonder that will place a ridge between us and the pyrites cliffs, and perhaps the compass will behave normally."
They struck off in the direction that Tom indicated. But it was hard traveling in that broken, uncanny country into which they had wandered in such a strange manner. The hill, too, was further than they thought, the clear air being deceptive. But dripping with perspiration and not a little anxious at heart, they gained it at last.
As Tom placed his hand in his pocket to draw out the compass, he almost let the instrument drop to the ground.
A sudden sound had broken the stillness of the place. It was a sound that ordinarily would have caused confidence in the hearers. But heard under the circumstances in which it was, it was so unexpected, so out of keeping with the wild surroundings, that it startled and shocked them both.
It was the sound of laughter.
CHAPTER XXV
THE MYSTERIOUS MEN
There could be no mistake about it. It was human laughter that they had heard. It has been said that his ability to laugh is what chiefly distinguishes man from other animals and it is an undeniable fact that the sound resembles no other in nature.
The laughter they had heard was not loud, but it was none the less genuine and hearty on that account. Jack gripped Tom's arm and asked in an affrighted whisper:
"What does it mean, Tom?"
"It means that somebody is pleased over something," replied Tom, who, despite the light tone of his reply, was no less agitated than his companion, "but who can he be?"
"One thing is certain, it isn't a native, for they only grin without making any racket over it."
The boys stood side by side, and grasping their rifles firmly, peered toward a thick clump of fir woods from whence the sound had proceeded. But no more laughter came. Instead, the branches parted and coming toward them they distinguished the forms of three men.
Suddenly the hearty mirth broke out once more, and the shoulders of one of the three were seen to bob up and down as if his mirth was unrestrainable. But this time the outburst was roughly checked.
"Shut up, Rufus!" exclaimed one of the men angrily. "A joke lasts you longer than anybody I ever saw."
"Wha's dat? Oh, lawdy! Look-ee, boss! Dere's two white boys!"
It was a short, stocky negro who gasped out these words, his lower jaw dropping in a comical manner as he stared at them as though they had been beings from another world. For their part, the boys were no less astonished at this encounter.
The negro's exclamation was the first apprisal that his two white companions had of the boys' presence on the scene, and their surprise appeared no less than his. They were both rough, wild-looking fellows, with shaggy, unkempt beards and rough clothes with knee boots. Both carried shovels and tin pans, while the negro bore a pick and other mining tools. The boys guessed at once that the men were prospectors.
"Howdy, pards," exclaimed one of the men, coming toward the boys with extended hand, "what in the name of time air you doin' roun' these diggin's?"
"Glad to meet you," said Tom, taking the proffered hand and introducing his brother and himself. He then explained his plight. Both men raised their eyebrows as they listened, and the negro rolled his eyes in an odd fashion.
"Well, I'll be hanged," exclaimed the companion of the man who had first addressed the boys. "That's a tarnation bad fix and no mistake, ain't it, Jim?"
"It sure is, Seth," replied the other, "an' I ain't got no idea of the track they ought to take, seem' as we come inter this country from the other way."
Jim Stapleton, for that was his name, pulled out a pipe and lit it. His companion, Seth Ingalls, shook his head as if in meditation. Then the two men whispered together for a time while the negro surveyed the boys with a blank expression. There was something about that look that puzzled them. It was not till afterward that they were to learn what it meant. The black man appeared to be about to speak, when the two men, who had withdrawn a little for their confab, came back.
"How come you so far from the river?" asked Jim, and Tom for a passing moment thought he detected suspicion in his tones.
"As I told you, to look after our trap line," said Tom.
"Humph! This is a funny time of the year to go trapping."
Tom, omitting all the details that he could, explained the reason for the line being set out before the early winter closed in. If the man had been suspicious, as Tom had for an instant fancied, the answer appeared to lull such thoughts.
"We were foolish to start off in that fog," went on Tom, "but of course I'd no idea that the compass would betray us like it did."
The men made no rejoinder to this. Then Jim spoke up and in his rough voice told the boys that they were camped not far from there and would be glad to make them welcome if they cared to come along.
The boys, after some hesitation, accepted this proposition. For one thing they were full of youthful curiosity concerning these men, and in the second place, after their experiences of the morning they did not feel inclined to resume their journey, which now bade fair to be a long and arduous one, till they had had some rest.
The men explained that they had been out that morning with the negro Rufus, who acted as cook and did the rough work about the camp, on a prospecting expedition to a distant ridge. But, explained Jim Stapleton, at their home camp lay the real object of their quest in these wild and solitary hills.
"We're the luckiest fellows in the whole world," exclaimed Jim, swinging his arms in wild gesticulation. "We'll be the richest people in America, in Europe, in the whole world! The gold is not far off now. We'll be greater than Solomon in all his glory. We'll be – "
"Here, here, choke off, will you, Jim Stapleton," growled his companion in a taciturn tone.
The boys gazed at the two men in astonishment. The outburst of Jim Stapleton seemed more like the ravings of an unbalanced mind than the speech of a well disciplined one. His eyes had flashed as he spoke, with a wild sort of light and his gesticulations were extravagant. Tom was about to speak, but in the very act his eye caught that of Rufus, the negro cook. To his astonishment the black man's left eye closed in a swift but unmistakable wink that said as plainly as words, "Say nothing."
Jack, who was not so alert as his brother, had noticed none of this by-play, but he, too, had been astonished at the miner's outburst. As for Tom, a suspicion shot into his mind that was to bear fruit in the near future.
The gruff rebuke of Seth Ingalls seemed to have had its effect upon his companion, for Jim Stapleton said no more as they trudged on, and ere long they came in sight of what was the gold-seekers' headquarters.
Among piled up masses of huge rocks and boulders, the two men had found a retreat which could not have been better suited to their purposes if it had been built to order. It consisted in a general way of a cavern about a dozen yards in depth and one-fourth as broad and high, with an entrance that an ordinary sized man could pass through by slightly stooping.
The floor, walls and ceiling were of solid rock, but an opening must have existed in the rear, for a fire was smouldering in that portion of the cavern, with some sort of food cooking above it in a huge iron pot, and the smoke was curling up and vanishing through some unseen aperture.
Into this curious home, the men whom the boys had encountered had moved their belongings. These consisted of the most primitive and barely necessary sort, a cooking-kit, extra clothing and provisions such as a gun cannot procure. In one corner was a pile of blankets, and a sort of burlap curtain had been fitted over the opening which could presumably be drawn in severe weather, making the place snug and weather proof.
"Do you know anything about the gold mining business?" was almost the first thing Jim Stapleton said as he ushered the boys into this cave home.
"Well, we've never looked for it except in the shape of coined money," said Tom with a smile.
"I never knew that there was much to be found in this part of the country," added Jack.
"Then that's just where you're wrong," said Jim, who, despite his taciturn comrade's frowns and winks, seemed bound to talk. "There's gold in plenty here. It's no guesswork on our part. We know it!"
Again into his eyes came the odd gleam that Tom had noticed. It never appeared there but when he talked of gold. Then his optics danced and glittered like living coals.
Seth Ingalls had gone outside on some errand connected with the business of the men's retreat. Rufus was chopping wood. The boys were alone in the cave with Jim Stapleton. He leaned forward suddenly and whispered in Tom's ear.
"We have the secret. We'll have gold enough for all. You shall share it. The treasures of Ophir never for an instant compared with what lies in Dead Man's Mine."
"Dead Man's Mine!" echoed Tom. The name carried a sinister suggestion.
"That's its name. See here."
Jim Stapleton arose and tip-toed to the wall. From behind a recess he drew out a rolled up bit of paper, stained and dirty. He unfolded it and showed it to the youths. All the markings were in lead pencil, blurred and indistinct. But one thing about the plan, which was entitled in bold letters "Plan of Dead Man's Mine," attracted Tom's keen attention.
Upon the map was marked prominently amidst a maze of marks "The Lone Pine," and under it was drawn a crude representation of a blasted, leafless tree of seemingly great size. Now Tom was certain that he had seen no such tree in the vicinity of the cavern. The map, however, did show a canyon similar to the one where the cave was, and also indicated a cave at about the same location. Not far from it a red star showed where the gold was supposed to lie.
Tom glanced up at Stapleton from a scrutiny of the map. As he did so, the suspicion that had flashed across him at their first meeting revisited him. But this time it was a stronger and more sinister impression. He looked at Jack, but apparently he had noticed nothing amiss.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE DEAD MAN'S MINE
"How did you come into possession of this paper?" asked Tom, feeling an irresistible curiosity concerning the matter.
A look of cunning crept into Stapleton's eyes. His tone grew confidential.
"It's as odd a story as ever you heard," he said. "Do you want to hear it?"
"By all means."
"Well then, it all happened some years back when I befriended an old fellow in the Greenhorn Mountains in Californy. He was a prospector an' had got himself chawed up by a bar. I came across him on the trail an' took him to my cabin and nursed him as well as I could. But I seen frum the first that the old fellow was too far gone to get over his injuries.
"To begin with, he was too old and feeble anyhow, an' then again that bar had clawed and chawed him till he was a mass of wounds. Well, I neglected my work on the claim I had located there, and spent the best part of my time smoothing out the last hours of that old chap's life. I never knew where he came from or how he came to be a prospector, but before he crossed the Great Divide he gave me the astonisher of my life. By his directions I took a package wrapped in oiled paper from his old ragged coat and laid it on the bed afore him.
"Finally frum some old letters and such truck he produces that there plan I just showed you. He said I'd been so kind to him and cheered his last moments, so that having neither chick nor child he wanted to make me a legacy. He said he'd make me the richest man in the world for what I'd done for him.
"Well, he explained before he passed away what all them marks and lines on the plan meant, and made it all as clear as print. Then he told me the story of Dead Man's Mine.
"About thirty years ago a band of trappers found a rich deposit of gold in these hills. But on their way to civilization with it, they were drowned on the Yukon and only one escaped to tell the tale. He was crazy from his sufferings in gettin' back to civilization, and when he stumbled across a camp of Aleuts they took care of him, having a sort of religious reverence for crazy people. He died among those natives."
"It's a gruesome story," remarked Tom, "but how, then, did the facts become known?"
"Hold on. I'm gettin' to that. Years later an Aleut told the story to a white hunter who had been good to him, and gave him the plan which the crazy man had drawn on a bit of whalebone in lucid intervals. As you may suppose, the white hunter was all worked up over it, as a scratched message on the whalebone said there was more gold left in Dead Man's Mine, that's what the crazy man called it, than had been taken out.
"Well, an expedition was made up by the white hunter to go after the gold, but the natives got wind of it and wiped 'em all out, only one escaping to civilization, and that was the old man who died in my hut back there in the Sierras. He tried twice to get back to the mine by the plan he had copied on to paper from the whalebone. But each time disaster overtook him. Once his men deserted him, declaring he was insane. Another time, winter caught him napping and he got out to the coast more dead than alive.
"He drifted down to the Pacific Coast and tried to get capital to back another expedition, or somebody to grubstake him, but he couldn't do it, and at last he gave up in disgust. He was all alone in the world anyhow, he said, and was too old to enjoy the money if he had got it. Then he wandered off alone, and the bear got him, as I said afore. Soon after he had told me this story and made me promise to try to find the gold, he passed out, and I buried him back there on a hillside under a big pine above the Stanislaus."
"A remarkable story," commented Tom. "And you think that you have located the Dead Man's Mine at last?"
"Not a doubt of it. Seth and I have spent ten years looking for it, and this is the spot."
"How do you know?"
"It tallies with the plan in every particular. The gold is here."
Again came that strange gleam which every mention of the yellow metal evoked in Stapleton's wild eyes.
"But where's the lone pine that is pictured on the plan?" objected Tom.
"Oh, that. Probably some storm blew it down or it rotted away. You must remember thirty years have passed since that crazy man drew the plan."
"Hasn't it occurred to you that relying on a plan drawn by a man whose sufferings had turned his brain is a rather uncertain business?"
"See here, partner, – " began Stapleton, but at this instant the silent, sullen-faced Seth entered the cavern, and Stapleton, who appeared to stand rather in awe of him, subsided into silence.
There was something on the mind of Tom Dacre which Stapleton's story had almost clinched into a certainty. Circumstances forbade his making his suspicions known to Jack, but he resolved to do so at the first opportunity. It was a communication that must be made when they were alone. It would never do for the two men to hear it.
Tom had noticed that when Seth left the cavern he had carried a rifle and supposed it was for game. Now, however, he began to suspect another reason when he saw for the first time that the man also had a spyglass with him. The boy decided to put a leading question to Stapleton.
"Are you not afraid of anyone else coming to know your secret and following you here?"
Stapleton's eyes flashed. Then he spoke in low, impressive tones.
"If we caught anyone doing that, we'd shoot him down like a mad dog!"
Tom's heart sank. The inference was only too plain. He was glad that Jack, who had gone to the mouth of the cave, had not heard Stapleton's emphatic remark. If the men felt like that, it was unlikely that the boys would be allowed to go, and this, with the other suspicion mentioned, had been gnawing at Tom's mind ever since they had entered the cavern. So sure was he that they were virtually prisoners, that he did not ask any more questions. He dared not confirm his suspicions in so many words.
He joined Jack at the door of the cavern. It afforded an extensive view. Below it, and to the left at the foot of a high conical peak, were plain traces of the miners' labors. Much of the work looked fresh, and they noticed that numerous workings had been started and apparently abandoned. The work must have been going on for quite a considerable period, judging from the look of things, which indicated, also, that so far the searchers had not been successful in their quest.
Tom glanced back into the cave over his shoulder. Rufus was busy stirring the big stew pot. The two men were conversing with occasional glances at the boys. Tom drew Jack a little aside and gave a swift whisper in his ear.
"Do you know that we are prisoners?"
"What!"
"Hush, not so loud. Those men are both as crazy as loons. I suspected it some time ago. Now I am sure of it. It's a thousand chances to one that this isn't the location of Dead Man's Mine, even if there is such a place."
"Good gracious!"
"Even going by the plan, they are way off. But it would be likely to throw them into a terrible rage even to hint such a thing."
"It looks as if we are in a mighty bad fix!"
"We are. You can be sure from what was said that they don't mean to let us leave here till gold is found, which will never occur."
"You are sure of what you say?"
Jack looked sick and pale. Tom's face was grave and sober-looking.
"I'm not an alarmist. We are in the hands of a pair of maniacs. We and that negro are the only sane persons in this camp. We must be very careful or we may arouse them to violence."
"Then we are virtually prisoners?"
"I'm afraid there is no other way of putting it, old fellow. We must be careful and keep our eyes open night and day, for we are in just about as bad a dilemma as we ever have experienced."
