Kitabı oku: «To Alaska for Gold: or, The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XXV.
MORE WORK IN THE GULCHES
"They are going to lynch a fellow named Guardley!" ejaculated Earl. "I wonder if it can be Jasper Guardley."
"It must be; it's not likely there is another Guardley up here – the name isn't as common as all that," returned Randy. "Shall we go?"
Earl hesitated. There was something appalling in a lynching, to his mind. Yet he was curious to know more of the crime for which the prisoner was about to suffer.
"Yes, we might as well – if Fred will watch the camp," he answered.
"I'll watch it as well as I can," answered Fred. The work he had been doing had tired him more than he would admit, and he was glad enough to take it easy. He knew Guardley, but took small interest in the man his father had sent up more than once for petty crimes.
In less than five minutes Earl and Randy were off, stalking over the hills and along Gold Bottom Creek as rapidly as their tired limbs would carry them. Smedley's, a settlement of two-score of tents and one board cabin where a few odds and ends could be bought, was nearly two miles distance, yet they arrived there in less than half an hour – fast time when the state of the trails they had travelled was taken into consideration.
They found that the prisoner had been bound, hands and feet, and placed in the storeroom of the board cabin, a little shed in the rear, scarcely eight feet by twelve and hardly high enough for a man to stand in. Two rough-looking miners were on guard, one with a gun, and the other with an old-fashioned horse-pistol over a foot long.
"What do you want?" demanded one of the miners of Earl, as the latter pushed his way forward through the fast-gathering crowd. "This ain't no place fer a young rooster like you."
"I would like to see the prisoner, please," answered Earl. "I think I know him."
"You ain't the feller's pard, are ye?" demanded the second guard, suspiciously.
"No. I am from Maine, and I knew a Guardley up there who came to these diggings. I wanted to find out if it was the same man."
"Say, is that Earl Portney?" came from within, and both Earl and Randy recognized Jasper Guardley's voice. "If it is, I'd like to talk to him."
"Yes, Guardley," answered Earl. "What's the trouble?"
"Can't you come in and talk to me?"
"I'll come in if the guards will allow it," and Earl looked at the men.
"Go on in; but leave yer gun with me, if yer got one," was the reply, from the man who had first addressed Earl.
"I haven't any pistol," said the youth, and passed into the shed. Randy was about to follow, but the guard stopped him. "One's enough, my lad; you wait outside." And Randy fell back into the crowd, which kept increasing every minute.
From those around him, Randy learned that Guardley was being held for the theft of eighty ounces of gold dust, which had been buried by a miner, named Cozzins, under the flooring of his tent. Cozzins had missed his gold that morning, and three other miners had testified to seeing Guardley sneaking around the place, in company with another man, presumably Tom Roland. Roland and the gold were both gone, and Guardley had been "collared" just as he was about to leave for Dawson City. The miners around Smedley's had held a meeting, and it was likely that Guardley's crime would cost him his life.
"For you see we ain't got no jails here," explained one miner. "An' to leave sech a measly critter run would be puttin' a premium on crime."
When Earl came out of the shed his face was very pale, and he was on the point of passing the guards without a word, when they stopped him. "Well, wot did ye make out?" demanded one, laconically.
"He says he didn't take the gold – that the robbery was planned and executed by his partner. It is awful to think of taking his life."
"It's his own fault, lad – he should have thunk o' those things afore he consented to help on the job."
"When will they – they – "
"Perform the ceremony? I reckon some time between now an' sunrise, onless the crowd changes its mind. They're goin' to talk it over agin ez soon as Cozzins comes back. He's huntin' fer thet other rascal."
After this Earl joined Randy, who was anxious to hear what Guardley had had to say. The two walked some distance away.
"I believe Tom Roland stole the gold," began Earl, "but Guardley was willing he should, and he remained on guard around the tent while Roland dug it up, so he's just as guilty."
"But to take his life – " shuddered Randy.
"I hope they change their minds about that. And, by the way, we were right about that money in Boston. Roland got that, and he had that lost letter, too. Guardley admitted it, although he didn't give me any particulars. He is trying to lay the blame of everything on Roland."
A shout interrupted the conversation at this point. Cozzins had come back after an exciting but fruitless chase. At his appearance the scene took on a new activity, and the would-be lynching party moved to the front of the so-called store, where half a dozen flaring torches and two smoking kerosene lamps lit up the weird scene. Here Cozzins told his story, and then Guardley was brought out, trembling in every limb. He begged over and over again to be let go, and his earnestness had its effect even on the man who had been robbed. A talk lasting a quarter of an hour followed, and then Guardley was given his choice of two sentences, – the one being that already pronounced, and the other being a whip-lashing on his bare back, and a drumming out of the camp, with the warning that if he ever showed up there again, he was to be shot on sight. With a long sigh of relief he chose the latter punishment, and was ordered to strip, while Cozzins prepared for his part in the affair, by hunting up the hardest and strongest rawhide dog-whip to be found.
"I don't want to see the whipping," whispered Randy; "let us go home. Poor Guardley! I guess Cozzins will make him suffer as he has never suffered before!"
"I hope it teaches him a lesson to turn over a new leaf," answered Earl. "But I'm afraid there isn't any reform to Guardley. He hasn't even enough manliness to shoulder his share of the blame, but tries to put it all off on Roland. Come on." And they turned away without another word. Before they were out of hearing distance of the camp, a shriek rent the air, telling that Guardley's punishment had already begun.
The boys had expected their uncle to come back by Tuesday as told; but in the afternoon one of the miners, working down Mosquito Hollow, brought word from Dawson City that Mr. Portney could not get his lumber for two or three days, and might be absent the remainder of the week in consequence. So there was nothing to do but to keep on working at the claims with the hand pans, and this Randy and Earl did, Fred helping them as far as he was able. The boy who had been so ill-treated and half starved was growing stronger rapidly, and he showed a willingness to do even the most disagreeable things which was as astonishing as it was gratifying.
Friday found the trio working up along a little split in the rocks on the right bank of the gulch. The split was not over two feet wide by twelve feet long, and it was filled with gravel and muck, with here and there the nest of a field mouse among the tundra. Earl had suggested clearing out the split, and he had gone in first to loosen the gravel with his pick. About three loads of soil had been removed and carted down to the gulch stream, and now Earl found the balance of the split blocked by a huge rock.
"Doesn't seem to amount to much," he said, throwing down his tools to mop the perspiration from his brow.
"Let me go in there," suggested Fred, and caught up the pick. Swinging the tool over his shoulder, he brought it down with all force at a spot where the rock showed a slight crack.
"Look out, or you'll break that pick!" called out Randy, when the front half of the rock fell away, and Fred had to jump up to avoid having his feet crushed. As he made the leap, his eyes caught sight of a surface of yellow half hidden by muck and moss. He struck at it with the pick, and out came a nugget nearly as big as his fist. He grabbed it up in a transport of delight.
"Look! look! A nugget! Oh, what a big fellow! How much do you think it's worth?" he cried; and rubbed the muck off with his coat sleeve. "It looks as if it was solid!"
"It is almost solid," said Earl, weighing the find in his hand. "It's worth two or three hundred dollars at least." And then he added, by way of a caution, "You'll have to remember, Fred, that this is my uncle's claim."
"Oh, I know that. But it ought to be worth something for finding it," said Fred, wistfully.
"Certainly, we'll make it right."
"Of course we will," added Randy. "Let us see if there are any more nuggets in there. This may be a pocket, like the one I found on Prosper Gulch." He went forward, but Earl was ahead of him, and was using the pick with all the speed and skill at his command. As the remainder of the rock came away, a mass of sand, gravel, and dirt followed.
"Here are four small nuggets," said Randy, picking them up. "Fifty-dollar finds, every one of them."
Earl said nothing, although he heard the talk. He had espied a gleam of dull yellow wedged in between the side of the split and a second rock. He tried to force the second rock out, and as it moved forward the gleam of yellow became larger and larger, until his hand could not have covered it. He worked on frantically, hardly daring to breathe. At last the rock fell and the face of the nugget lay revealed, shaped very much like the sole and heel of a large man's shoe.
"What have you got?" asked Randy and Fred simultaneously, seeing something was up; but Earl kept right on, picking away below the find, and to both sides. It seemed to him the thing would never come out, and as he realized how large the nugget was, his hands trembled so he could scarcely hold the pick. "I've struck a fortune!" he muttered, at last, in a strangely hoarse voice. "See if anybody is looking, Randy." And then the nugget came loose, and he clutched it in both hands and held it up, – a dull, dirty, yellowish lump, worth at least three thousand dollars!
CHAPTER XXVI.
SLUICE BOXES AND PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER
A nugget worth three thousand dollars was, by far, the largest find yet made in that district, and the three young miners could scarcely believe it true, as they surveyed the lump in Earl's hands.
"Do you suppose it's pure gold?" asked Randy, as he took it from his brother. "It's heavy enough."
"I think it's almost pure," said Earl. "We've struck it rich this time. Be sure and keep your mouth shut, both of you, or we'll have all of Gold Bottom up here," he added. "We've got at least four thousand dollars' worth of stuff out of there, so far, and goodness only knows how much more there is."
"Here come a couple of miners now," whispered Fred, happening to glance down the gulch. He dropped some of the smaller nuggets into his pockets, while Randy took care of the rest. Earl let the large lump fall into the dirt and covered it up with tundra muck.
"Well, pards, how air ye makin' it?" asked one of the miners, as he halted on the edge of the gulch.
"Oh, we're doing fairly well," answered Earl, as coolly as he could, although still highly excited. "Where are you bound?"
"Thought we'd try it over to Hunker Creek. Some good reports from there this week."
"So I've heard," said Randy. "I wonder if it would pay us to go over."
"It might – everybody has an equal chance, ye know," said the second miner. "Say, do ye calkerlate to git anything outer thet split?" he went on, with a look of disdain on his face.
"I thought I would see what was in it," said Earl. "If a fellow don't try, he'll never find anything."
"Ye won't git nuthin' out o' thar; the split don't lay right. Better go up to the top end o' your claim; ye'll stand more chance thar." And after a few words more the two miners moved off, and the boys breathed easier.
"That shows what he knows about it," said Earl, when he dared to broach the subject. "Wouldn't he open his eyes if he knew the truth?"
"And wouldn't he be in for squeezing a claim right on top of us?" added Randy. "No; we had best keep this find to ourselves, at least until we've found just what is in the split and how far away from the gulch it runs."
"Throw all the nuggets into the hole over yonder," said Earl, "and cover them up. We'll take them to the tent to-night, and bury them in some safe place. I'm going ahead." And he began to pick away as though his life depended upon it, while Randy and Fred went over the sand, gravel, and dirt with their shovels and hands, to pick out some small nuggets, which they found to the number of forty-three, some not larger than a grain of rice, and others the size of coffee beans.
"Here is another lump," said Earl, presently, and brought out a thin sheet of gold, mixed with stone. "I shouldn't wonder if there is a layer of quartz rock somewhere along here, although I don't see anything of it yet. I guess this lump will produce thirty or forty dollars' worth of gold more. Pretty good for five minutes' work." And he went at it again with renewed vigor, scattering the sand and gravel behind him, like a mother hen looking for worms.
An hour later the split was cleaned out so far as it could be accomplished with the tools at hand. There remained a small crack still, running downward three feet, as Earl ascertained by testing it with a berry-bush switch. What there might be at the bottom of the crack there was no telling, although it must contain some gold, if only in dust. Three additional nuggets had been unearthed, one as large as a pint measure and finer in appearance than any of the rest. Making sure they were not observed, the first nuggets were again brought forth, and each took a portion of them to carry home. The largest was tied up in Earl's coat, which he slung carelessly over his shoulder as he trudged along.
"Worth five to six thousand dollars if they are worth a cent," said Earl, as he surveyed the lot in the privacy of their tent. "And we haven't begun to wash up yet nor tested that little crack. This is the best luck yet."
Some of their findings had already been put down in a hole under the bedding in the tent. The hole was now opened and the new findings added, Earl first making a list of the nuggets, to give to his uncle. The ground was pounded down hard after this, so that if anybody wanted to dig the treasure up, he would find it a day's labor. Nearly all the miners buried their large finds, it being the only protection to be had.
On Saturday Mr. Portney came back, bringing with him three Indians loaded down with lumber and hardware. He was much surprised to see Fred, and was on the point of giving the lad a good talking to when Randy called him aside and explained the situation. Earl, also, put in a good word for Fred; and then, when the Indians were paid off and discharged, the subject was dropped, by both boys telling of the wonderful find which had been made. Of course Foster Portney was greatly interested, and he smiled when Randy particularly mentioned how Fred had brought out the first nugget and caused Earl to investigate further.
"You certainly deserve credit for that, Dobson," he said. "You shall have your full share of whatever the nugget proves to be worth. As for that little split, the only thing we can do is to blow it open with dynamite, and, luckily, I brought a can of the stuff from Dawson for just such an emergency."
Foster Portney had heard about Guardley, and had also heard that some Canadian mounted police, who had arrived at Dawson City, were on Tom Roland's trail. Guardley had turned up at Forty Mile Post whipped half to death, and it was doubtful whether he would get over his punishment.
On Sunday the question of whether Fred Dobson should remain as one of the party or not was fully discussed. The lad offered to work for nothing if only given his board and such clothing as he needed, and Randy and Earl said Fred could certainly cook as well as any of them and was getting more used to using a pick and a shovel every day. Seeing that his nephews wanted the runaway to be taken in, Mr. Portney at last said he would "let it go at that."
"I'll feed you and clothe you," he added, "and if we come out all right next spring I'll pay your passage back to Basco and give you a little extra in the bargain. But you've got to hustle the same as the rest of us; that is, as far as your strength and health will permit." And Fred said he understood and was thankful for the chance, and would do his level best. And he did do his level best from that hour forth. His experience had been a bitter one, but at the same time it had been the best in the world for him, – exactly what he needed.
The days which followed were busy ones. With the lumber brought in, Foster Portney and the boys constructed three sluice boxes, which, after completion, were set up at convenient points in the gulch, where the water might easily be turned on and off in them. Each box was fifteen feet long and a foot square, open at each end and at the top, the latter having a few braces across to keep the sides stiff. At the bottom of the box small cleats about an inch high were placed at intervals of fifteen inches apart, the last cleat, at the lower end of the box, being a trifle higher than the rest.
A sluice box done, it was carried to the spot selected for it and planted firmly, with its lower end in the stream and its upper end elevated from one to two feet. Then the upper end of the stream was run into it by means of a water trough. The box was now ready for use. By shovelling dirt in at the upper end and allowing the water to run through, the dirt was gradually washed down and out at the lower end, leaving the heavy gold to settle to the bottom and pile up along the upper sides of the cleats previously mentioned. At night the water was turned aside and the day's accumulation of gold was scraped away from the cleats.
"We can do a good deal more with the boxes than we can with the pans," said Foster Portney. "And what washing we want to do must be done before cold weather sets in and the gulch freezes up."
It must not be supposed that the slit in the rocks had been forgotten. To the contrary, all hands had often spoken of it, and as soon as the sluice boxes were finished every one in the claim turned to the place. Two sticks of dynamite were placed in the slit and set off, and the rock blown into a thousand fragments.
The blast revealed an opening beneath the slit which was a yard wide and twice as deep. This opening was filled with loose sand and dirt, and at the bottom of all was a thick layer of gold dust, slightly mixed with silver. They scraped the dust up with great care, and found that it would very nearly fill a quart measure. They hunted eagerly for nuggets, but no more could be found, and the quartz rock Earl had hoped for failed to appear.
"Never mind; we can't expect too much luck," said Mr. Portney. "A heap of dust like this is find enough for one day. Let us scrape the hole thoroughly and cart the dirt down to the nearest sluice box." This was done and they examined the vicinity carefully for another slit, but none appeared. This pocket, like that on Prosper Gulch, was now exhausted, and with a sigh Randy and Earl turned away to the regular work of washing for dust. Each had one of the boxes allotted to him, while Foster Portney took the third. Fred occupied his time between the three and in cooking the meals; and thus the balance of the summer slipped by until the day came when Mr. Portney announced that they must begin building a cabin and prepare for the long Alaskan winter which would speedily close in around them.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE END OF THE SUMMER SEASON
Mr. Portney and the boys had long since decided where the cabin should be built, up against the side of a cliff, ten feet in height, which overlooked the head of the gulch. All the miners in the locality had agreed that this would be the best spot, and six cabins were to be placed there, for hospitality's sake if for no other reason. Mr. Portney had already ordered the dressed lumber needed from the saw-mill; but as this was costly stuff, and expensive to transport, Earl and Randy had declared their intention to go into the timber back of the cliff and get out whatever of rough wood could be made to do.
"We're not going in for style," declared Earl. "You can get the window frames and glass, and the door and the finishing boards, and we'll get out the rest, won't we, Randy?" And his brother agreed with him.
A week later found the party building in earnest. Over a hundred dollars' worth of lumber had been purchased, and it had cost as much again to bring it over. In the meantime Earl and Randy, aided by Fred, had brought out from the woods four sticks of timber for the corner posts of the cabin and had whip-sawed two-score of rough boards. With this material they went to work, and four pairs of willing hands soon caused the building to take definite shape. Seeing them at work, the other miners also got at it, and soon there was sawing and hammering all day long beneath the cliff.
Of necessity the cabin was a simple affair. It was set partly on the flat rock and partly on the hard ground, and was twenty feet wide by twelve feet deep, the back resting almost against the cliff. In the front was a door and a window, and there was another window at the end nearest to the door. Inside, a spare blanket divided the space into two compartments, the first, the one having the door, being the general living-room, and the second being the sleeping-room. In the living-room was placed a cooking-stove, a rude table, and four home-made chairs, while the sleeping-room was provided with four bunks, ranged along the rear and end walls. Later on a closet was built for the cooking-utensils, but for the present these were piled up in a corner.
Foster Portney was very particular that all the cracks in the side walls of the cabin should be filled in with mud, and the top, which was nearly on a level with the cliff, was also made water and wind tight, excepting where a circular hole was left for the upper section of a stovepipe.
As soon as the cabin was in habitable shape, an account of all the provisions on hand was taken. It was found that the canned vegetables had run low and that they also needed more flour. A list of necessities was made out, and Earl and his uncle started away to Dawson City to purchase them, knowing that prices were advancing every day and that the goods on hand at the store were liable to give out long before the demand for them should cease.
Fred had asked to go out into the woods to see what he could shoot, he being a fairly good shot and thoroughly familiar with the use of a gun. It was thought best not to let him go alone, and he and Randy went together, leaving the cabin in care of the miners who were building close at hand.
The hunt in the woods was hardly a success. After tramping around for two hours they brought down several birds of a species unknown to them and one small deer, smaller than any Randy had ever seen in Maine. Otherwise the woods were bare of game, and by the middle of the afternoon they gave it up.
"When Earl comes back I'll ask my uncle to let the three of us go over to the river," said Randy. "I've heard there are good chances there for wild goose, snipe, and plover."
"Yes, and we might put in a day fishing. Even salt and smoked fish wouldn't go bad during the winter," added Fred. He was growing hardy and strong and took a deep interest in all that was going on.
It was two days before Mr. Portney and Earl returned, bringing with them all they and two Indians could carry. The provisions included an extra hundred pounds of flour, for which they had paid fifty dollars, some canned peas and tomatoes, fifteen pounds of dried apples and California apricots, and some coffee, sugar, salt, and smoked bacon. In an extra package Earl also carried a beefsteak weighing two pounds and for which he had paid five dollars.
"It's Randy's birthday to-morrow," he said, "and we're going to celebrate in a style I know you'll all admire." And every one laughed and agreed with him, for they had not had any fresh beef since leaving the steamboat at Dyea.
Foster Portney was quite willing that the three boys should take a trip over to the Yukon to see what could be found in the way of fish and game, and it was arranged that they should be gone three days. The start was made on Monday morning.
They travelled altogether by compass through the woods, managing on the way to knock over enough birds to serve them for their meals. On the morning of the second day they struck the Yukon about midway between Dawson City and Ogilvie. As they came in sight of the broad stream Earl halted the crowd and pointed straight ahead.
"Look at the snipe!" he said. "Now is our chance. Let us all fire together!"
Randy and Fred had borrowed shot-guns from their neighbors, and at the signal three reports rang out, and eight of the birds came down. A second shot from Randy, whose gun had a double barrel, brought down three more; and from that hour on the sport began, lasting until well into the evening, when they had twenty snipe, six plover, and eight wild geese to their credit.
As late as it was, Earl determined to try his hand at fishing, and soon had his line out. There were a few minutes of waiting, then the bait was taken like a flash, and there followed a lively struggle between the youth and a salmon which weighed over fifteen pounds. Several times Earl thought he had lost his catch, but each time he recovered, and finally the salmon came in close enough to be swung on shore. Even then he flopped around so lively that Fred had to quiet him by a blow from the stock of his gun.
Earl's success had fired the others, and soon they were fishing in the pale-blue twilight of the night. They kept it up until after twelve o'clock, when they turned in with a catch of three salmon, several whitefish, and a burbot, which Randy at first took for a codfish. They slept soundly, and early in the morning tried the sport again, starting for home at about noon, and arriving there with their burdens some time after midnight, worn out but happy.
It was found that Foster Portney had not been idle during their absence. From time to time, as the canned eatables were disposed of, they had saved the tins, and now he had cleaned them out and filled some with such berries as still remained on the bushes about the gulch. To seal the cans up he had brought from Dawson City a stick of lead, and for an iron had used the end of a broken pick.
"That will give us some fresh berries," he said. "And along with canned salmon, and salted and smoked whitefish, burbot, and wild goose, I reckon we'll get along fairly well, unless the winter proves an extra long one."
As much as they felt the necessity of preparing for winter, Randy and Earl hated to lose the time when there was the chance to make so much money at the sluice boxes. So as soon as they were able, they got down to the gulch again, and never did two lads work harder. They were accompanied by Fred, and a day later their uncle also joined them.
The dirt from the pocket had been cleaned up, and it had yielded over twenty ounces of gold. They were now working on the regular sand and gravel scraped from the bedrock of the gulch, and though this did not pay so well, yet it brought in enough to make them all satisfied. There was a good deal of excitement, too, when it came to cleaning out the sluice boxes, for almost every day one or another found a nugget, sometimes small, and then again as large as a walnut.
"How much do you think we are averaging?" asked Randy, one day, and his uncle replied that he could not figure very closely, but he would put it down as over a hundred dollars per day. This meant twenty-five dollars a day as the boy's share, and he felt more content than ever to slave along in the gulch.
For it was slaving along, this constantly picking and digging and carting the dirt, sand, and gravel to the sluice boxes and throwing it in. Every night Randy's back ached, and sometimes he would come in with feet that were sopping wet, and covered up to his waist with mud and muck. And then he took a touch of the chills and fever, and was down on his back for a week with only Fred to wait on him. The chills and fever went the rounds, and Foster Portney and Earl were stricken at the same time. Fred was the last to catch it; and by the time he had recovered, winter was at hand.
The first indication was a rawness in the air, which made them shiver when they turned out in the morning. Then the bushes and the trees quickly lost their leaves, and three days later ice formed in the marshes back of the gulch. The sun came up as usual, but it seemed to have lost its warmth, and all were glad enough to keep on their coats even when working.
"Two more weeks will fetch it," observed Foster Portney. "We had better wash out as much dirt as possible before the water stops running."
Ten days later the thermometer went down with a rush, dropping from fifty-six to but twenty above zero. Going down to the gulch, they found the stream covered with ice, which was half an inch thick. By the next day there was no water to be found, only ice, and even the piles of sand, gravel, and dirt were frozen stiff. A heavy dulness, which oppressed them greatly, hung in the air. Winter had come, and gold washing for that season was a thing of the past.
