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Title: To Alaska for Gold
       The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon


Author: Edward Stratemeyer



Release Date: April 14, 2010  [eBook #31989]

Language: English

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TO ALASKA FOR GOLD


      *      *      *      *      *      *

[Illustration: TO ALASKA FOR GOLD

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

BOUND TO SUCCEED SERIES]



  EDWARD STRATEMEYER'S BOOKS


  Old Glory Series

  _Cloth Illustrated Price per volume $1.25._

  UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA Or the War Fortunes of a Castaway.

  A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA Or Fighting for the Single Star.

  FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS Or Under Schley on the Brooklyn.

  UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES Or A Young Officer in the Tropics. (_In
    Press._)


  The Bound to Succeed Series

  _Three volumes Cloth Illustrated Price per volume $1.00._


  RICHARD DARE'S VENTURE Or Striking Out for Himself.

  OLIVER BRIGHT'S SEARCH Or The Mystery of a Mine.

  TO ALASKA FOR GOLD Or The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon.


  The Ship and Shore Series

  _Three volumes Cloth Illustrated Price per volume $1.00._


  THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE Or Larry Foster's Strange Voyage.

  REUBEN STONE'S DISCOVERY Or The Young Miller of Torrent Bend.

  TRUE TO HIMSELF Or Roger Strong's Struggle for Place. (_In Press._)


      *      *      *      *      *      *


[Illustration: "UNCLE FOSTER! EARL! LOOK AT THIS!"--_Page 170._]


TO ALASKA FOR GOLD

Or

The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon

by

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

Author of "Under Dewey at Manila," "A Young Volunteer in Cuba,"
"Fighting in Cuban Waters," "Richard Dare's Venture,"
"Oliver Bright's Search," Etc., Etc.

Illustrated by A. B. Shute







Boston
Lee and Shepard Publishers
1899

Copyright, 1899, by Lee and Shepard.
All Rights Reserved.

TO ALASKA FOR GOLD.

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.  Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.




PREFACE.


"TO ALASKA FOR GOLD" forms the third volume of the "Bound to
Succeed" Series. Like the preceding tales, this story is complete in
itself.

The rush to the far-away territory of Alaska, when gold in large
quantities was discovered upon Klondike Creek, was somewhat similar to
the rush to California in years gone by. The gold fever spread to even
the remotest of our hamlets, and men, young and old, poured forth, ready
to endure every hardship if only the much-coveted prize might be
secured. That many succeeded and that many more failed is now a matter
of history, although of recent date.

In this story are related the adventures of two Maine boys who leave
their home among the lumbermen, travel to California, there to join
their uncle, an experienced miner, and several other men, and start on
the long trip to the Klondike by way of Dyea, Chilkoot Pass, and the
lakes and streams forming the headwaters of the mighty Yukon River.
After many perils the gold district is reached, and here a summer and
winter are passed, the former in hunting for the precious metal and the
latter in a never ending struggle to sustain life until the advent of
spring.

In writing the description of this new El Dorado the author has
endeavored to be as accurate as possible, and has consulted, for this
purpose, the leading authorities on Alaska and its resources, as well as
digested the sometimes tedious, but, nevertheless, always interesting,
government reports covering this subject. Regarding the personal
experiences of his heroes he would add that nearly every incident cited
has been taken from life, as narrated by those who joined in the
frenzied rush to the new gold fields.

  EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

  NEWARK, N. J.,
  April 1, 1899.




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER                                               PAGE

       I. A LETTER FROM THE WEST                           1

      II. THE BOYS REACH A DECISION                        9

     III. A FALSE IDENTIFICATION                          18

      IV. A SERIOUS SET-BACK                              27

       V. A NIGHT IN NEW YORK                             36

      VI. PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE                      44

     VII. BUYING THE OUTFITS                              52

    VIII. ON THE WAY TO JUNEAU                            61

      IX. THE FATE OF A STOWAWAY                          69

       X. UP THE LYNN CANAL                               77

      XI. THE START FROM DYEA                             85

     XII. EARL HAS AN ADVENTURE                           93

    XIII. AT THE SUMMIT OF CHILKOOT PASS                 101

     XIV. BOAT-BUILDING AT LAKE LINDERMAN                109

      XV. ON TO LAKE BENNETT                             118

     XVI. AN EXCITING NIGHT IN CAMP                      127

    XVII. A HUNT FOR FOOD                                134

   XVIII. ON TO THE WHITE HORSE RAPIDS                   141

     XIX. NEARING THE END OF A LONG JOURNEY              149

      XX. THE GOLD FIELDS AT LAST                        157

     XXI. A DAY IN DAWSON CITY                           164

    XXII. DIGGING FOR GOLD                               172

   XXIII. GOOD LUCK AND BAD                              180

    XXIV. AN UNLOOKED-FOR ARRIVAL                        187

     XXV. MORE WORK IN THE GULCHES                       195

    XXVI. SLUICE BOXES AND PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER       203

   XXVII. THE END OF THE SUMMER SEASON                   211

  XXVIII. SNOWED IN                                      219

    XXIX. WAITING AND WATCHING FOR SPRING                227

     XXX. LAST WASHINGS FOR GOLD                         235

    XXXI. DOWN THE YUKON AND HOME                        243




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  "'Uncle Foster! Earl! look at this'"                 _Frontispiece_

                                                                 PAGE

  "With a final kick the stowaway was run off the gang-plank"      72

  "The water was boiling on every side"                           125

  "'I would like to see the prisoner, please'"                    196




TO ALASKA FOR GOLD.




CHAPTER I.

A LETTER FROM THE WEST.


"It is not a question of what we should like to do, Randy; it is a
question of what we must do."

"I know it, Earl. One thing is certain: the way matters stand we can't
pay the quarter's rent for this timber land to-morrow unless we borrow
the money, and where we are going for it I haven't the least idea."

"Nor I. It's a pity the Jackson Lumber Company had to go to pieces. I
wonder where Jackson is."

"In Canada most likely. They would put him in jail if they could catch
him, and he knows it."

"He ought to be put in jail!" burst out Earl, who was the elder of the
two Portney brothers. "That two hundred dollars he cheated us out of
would just put us on our feet. But without it we can't even pay bills
now owing; and Caleb Norcross is just aching to sell this land to Dan
Roland."

"If we have to get out, what are we to do?" questioned Randy, soberly.
"I don't believe we can get work, unless we go into the woods as mere
 choppers."

"We shall have to do something," was Earl's unsatisfactory response.

The Portney brothers lived upon a small timber claim in the state of
Maine. Their parents had died three years before, from injuries received
in a terrible forest fire, which had at that time swept the locality.
The family had never been rich, and after the sad affair the boys were
left to shift for themselves. The father had owned an interest in a
timber claim, and this had been sold for three hundred dollars, and with
the proceeds the two brothers had rented another claim and gone to work
to get out lumber for a new company which had begun operations in the
vicinity.

Earl was now eighteen years of age, and Randolph, or Randy, as he was
always called, was nearly seventeen. Both lads were so tall, well-built,
and muscular, that they appeared older. Neither had had a real sickness
in his life, and the pair were admirably calculated, physically, to cope
with the hardships which came to them later.

The collapse of the new lumber combination, and the running away of its
head man, Aaron Jackson, had proved a serious blow to their prospects.
As has been intimated, the company owed them two hundred dollars for
timber, and, as not a cent was forthcoming, they found themselves in
debt, not only for the quarter's rent for the land they were working,
but also at the general supply store at the village of Basco, three
miles away. The boys had worked hard, early and late, to make both ends
meet, and it certainly looked as if they did not deserve the hard luck
which had befallen them.

It was supper time, and the pair had just finished a scanty meal of
beans, bread, and the remains of a brook trout Randy had been lucky
enough to catch before breakfast. Randy threw himself down on the
doorstep, while Earl washed and dried the few dishes.

"I wonder if we can't get something out of the lumber company," mused
the younger brother, as he gazed meditatively at his boots, which were
sadly in need of soling and heeling. "They've lots of timber on hand."

"All covered by a mortgage to some Boston concern," replied Earl. "I
asked Squire Dobson about it. He said we shouldn't get a penny."

"Humph!" Randy drew a deep breath. "By the way, has Squire Dobson
learned anything about Fred, yet?"

"He's pretty sure Fred ran away to New York."

"I can't understand why he should run away from such a good home, can
you? You wouldn't catch me doing it."

"He ran away because he didn't want to finish studying. Fred always was
a wild Dick. I shouldn't wonder if he ended up by going out West to hunt
Indians." Earl gave a short laugh. "He'll have his eye-teeth cut one of
these days. Hullo, here comes Caleb Norcross now!"

Earl was looking up the winding road through the woods, and, gazing in
the direction, Randy saw a tall, lean individual, astride a bony horse,
riding swiftly toward the cabin.

"Well, boys, what's the best word?" was the sharp greeting given by
Caleb Norcross, as he came to a halt at the cabin door.

"I don't know as there is any best word, Mr. Norcross," replied Earl,
quietly.

"I was over to Bill Stiger's place and thought if I could see you
to-night about the rent money, it would save you a three miles' trip
to-morrow."

"You know we can't pay you just at present, Mr. Norcross," went on Earl.
"The suspension of the lumber company has left us in the lurch."

The face of the tall, lean man darkened. "How much did they stick you
for?" he asked abruptly.

"Two hundred dollars."

"Two hundred dollars! You were fools to trust 'em that much. I wouldn't
have trusted 'em a cent--not a penny."

"They were well recommended," put in Randy. "Even Squire Dobson trusted
them."

"That don't make no difference. I don't trust folks unless I know what
I'm doing. Although I did trust you boys," added Caleb Norcross,
hastily. "Your father was always a straight man."

"And we are straight, too," burst out Randy, stung by the insinuation.
"You shall have your money, if only you will give us a little time."

"How are you going to get it?"

"We'll earn it," said Earl. "I am sure we can get out enough timber by
fall to square accounts."

"That won't do for me--not at all. If you can't pay up to-morrow, you
can consider your claim on the land at an end."

"You won't give us any time?"

"No. I can sell this whole section to Dan Roland, and I'm going to do
it."

"You are very hard-hearted, Mr. Norcross," began Randy, when a look from
his elder brother silenced him.

"I ain't hard-hearted--I'm only looking after my own," growled Caleb
Norcross. "If I let things run, I'd do as the lumber company did--bust
up. So you can't pay, nohow?"

"No, we can't pay," answered Earl.

"Then I'll expect you to quit by to-morrow noon."

Without waiting for another word, Caleb Norcross turned around his bony
steed and urged him forward. In less than a minute he had disappeared in
the direction whence he had come. With sinking hearts the boys watched
him out of sight.

The blow they had dreaded had fallen, and for several seconds neither
spoke. Then Randy, who had pulled off one boot, flung it across the
kitchen floor.

"I don't care, he can have his old place," he cried angrily. "We'll
never get rich here, if we stay a hundred years. I'm sick and tired of
cutting timber just for one's meals!"

"It's all well enough to talk so, Randy," was the elder brother's
cautious response. "But where are we to go if we leave here?"

"Oh, anywhere! We might try our luck down in Bangor, or maybe Boston."

Earl smiled faintly. "We'd cut pretty figures in a city, I'm thinking,
after a life in the backwoods."

"A backwoods boy became President."

"Do you wish to try for the presidency?"

"No; but it shows what can be done; and I'm tired of drudging in the
woods, without any excitement or anything new from one year's end to
another. Father and mother gave us pretty good educations, and we ought
to make the most of that."

"I knew he wanted to sell this land to Dan Roland," went on Earl, after
a pause. "I fancy he is going to get a good price, too."

"If Roland pays over five hundred dollars he will get cheated. The
timber at the south end is good for nothing."

The boys entered the cabin, lit the lamp, and sat down to discuss the
situation. It was far from promising, and, an hour later, each retired
to bed in a very uneasy frame of mind. They were up before daybreak, and
at breakfast Earl announced his intention to go to Basco and see what
could be done.

"You might as well stay at home," he continued. "It may be Norcross will
come back and reconsider matters."

"Not he!" exclaimed Randy; nevertheless, he promised to remain and look
over some clothing which needed mending, for these sturdy lads were in
the habit of doing everything for themselves, even to sewing up rents
and darning socks. Such are the necessities of real life in the
backwoods.

It was a bright sunny morning, well calculated to cheer any one's
spirits, yet Randy felt far from light-hearted when left alone. He could
not help but wonder what would happen next.

"We've got just twenty-eight dollars and a half in cash left," he mused,
as he set to work to replace some buttons on one of Earl's working
shirts. "And we owe about six dollars at the general store, three
dollars and a quarter for those new axes and the coffee mill, and twenty
to Norcross. Heigh-ho! but it's hard lines to be poor, with one's nose
continually to the grindstone. I wonder if we shouldn't have done better
if we had struck out, as Uncle Foster did six years ago? He has seen a
lot of the world and made money besides."

Earl had expected to be gone the best part of the forenoon, and Randy
was surprised, at half-past nine, to see his elder brother returning
from the village. Earl was walking along the road at the top of his
speed, and as he drew closer, he held up a letter.

"It's a letter from Uncle Foster!" he cried, as soon as he was within
speaking distance. "It's got such wonderful news in it that I thought I
ought to come home with it at once."

"Wonderful news?" repeated Randy. "What does he say?"

"He says he is going back to Alaska,--to some new gold field that has
just been discovered there,--and he wants to know if we will go with
him."




CHAPTER II.

THE BOYS REACH A DECISION.


"Uncle Foster is going back to Alaska?" said Randy, slowly.

"Yes; he is going to start almost immediately, too," added his elder
brother. "He says the new gold diggings are something immense, and he
wants to stake a claim at the earliest possible date."

Randy drew a long breath. To Alaska! What a tremendous trip that would
be--five thousand miles at least! And going to such an almost unknown
region would be very much like starting for the north pole.

He remembered well that his Uncle Foster had paid a visit to Alaska
three years previous, sailing from San Francisco to St. Michael's Island
and then taking a Yukon River steamboat to a trading camp known as Fort
Cudahy. They had received several letters from him while he was up
there, working for the Alaskan Transportation Company part of the time
and hunting for gold whenever the opportunity offered. The letters had
told of the intense cold and the suffering, and of numerous unsuccessful
attempts to strike a paying claim around Fort Cudahy and at another
camp, known as Circle City. His uncle had taken up several claims, but
they had not panned out very well, and Mr. Portney had finally returned
to the United States, to interest himself in a Colorado silver mine.

"Let me see the letter," said Randy, and Earl handed it over. "I don't
see how we are to pay our way to Alaska or anywhere else," added the
younger boy, ruefully, as he opened the epistle.

"You will see presently," rejoined Earl. "Read it aloud. Uncle writes
such a twisted hand, I want to make sure I read aright." And Randy
started at once:--

"CREEDE, COL., April 5.

"MY DEAR NEPHEWS:--I suppose you have been looking for a letter
from me all winter, but the fact is I have been away from this vicinity
since last December. A man from British Columbia wanted me to buy an
interest in a gold mine at a settlement called Dunbar's, and I went with
him. The mine proved to be worthless, and I left Dunbar's, and went to
Victoria, and stayed there until three weeks ago.

"While I was in Victoria, I ran across two miners whom I had met while
at Fort Cudahy in Alaska. They reported that a new gold field had been
discovered farther up the Yukon River, at a place known as Klondike
Creek. There had been an exodus from Circle City and Fort Cudahy to this
new region, and a camp known as Dawson City had been started. They said
that there were about a dozen small creeks flowing into the Klondike and
into the Yukon at this point, and that it was reported and proved that
the entire district was rich with gold.

"I was chary of believing the men at first, for I know only too well how
many wild-cat reports start up in every mining camp. But a couple of
days later I heard another report from Juneau, Alaska, to the effect
that several miners had come down from this same territory by way of the
lakes and Chilkoot Pass, and had brought with them over thirty-five
thousand dollars in nuggets and gold dust, taken out of a place called
Hunker's Creek, which runs into the Klondike.

"From these reports, and from others which are floating around, I am
convinced that they have at last struck the rich vein of yellow metal
which I always believed would be located there, and I am now making
preparations to try my luck again in that territory, and if you two boys
want to go along and think you can stand the climate, which is something
awful for nine months in the year, I'll see you through. I do not know
how you are fixed for cash, but I have been lucky in Colorado, and I
will pay all expenses, providing you will agree to remain with me for
two years, working as I work, for a one-half interest in all our
discoveries--that is, a one-quarter interest to each of you and a
one-half interest to myself. The expense of a year's trip to Alaska by
the route we shall take, over the mountain pass, will be between six
and eight hundred dollars each, for we shall have to take nearly all our
outfits--clothing, tools, and provisions--along.

"I am now on the point of starting for San Francisco, and shall arrive
there probably before this letter reaches you. My address will be the
Palace Hotel, and I wish you to telegraph me immediately, at my expense,
if you will go or not. Do not attempt to accept my offer unless both of
you are perfectly well and strong and willing to stand great hardships,
for the sake of what we may have the good luck to find. And if you do
go, don't blame me if we are all disappointed, and come home poorer than
we went.

"If you accept the offer, I will telegraph you sufficient money to
Messrs. Bartwell & Stone, Boston, to pay your fare to San Francisco, and
I shall expect to see you at the latter city before the 20th of the
month, for I am going to start for the new gold fields, even if I have
to go with strangers, as soon as possible. With love to you both, I
remain,

"Your affectionate uncle,

"FOSTER C. PORTNEY."

"Oh, Earl, let's go!" burst from Randy's lips as he finished the long
letter. "This is just what I've been waiting for. Let's go to Alaska and
make our fortunes!"

"Go to Alaska and be frozen to death, you mean," replied Earl; yet he
smiled even as he spoke. "Do you know that the thermometer goes down to
forty degrees below zero out there in winter?"

"Well, we're used to roughing it out here in these woods."

"These woods can't hold a candle to Alaska for barrenness, Randy. Think
of a winter nine months long and ice all the year round! Uncle said in
one of his other letters, that the ground never thawed out more than a
few feet, excepting in favored localities."

"Do you mean to say you'll let such a splendid chance slip by?" demanded
the younger lad, straightening up and looking his brother full in the
face. "And let it slip, too, when we're in such trouble here?"

"No, I didn't say that, Randy. But we ought to consider the matter
carefully before we make up our minds. According to the letter we'll
have to spend at least two years in the gold fields."

"I'll spend ten if I can make money."

"Uncle said in that other letter that no one seemed to care to stay in
the upper portion of Alaska more than two or three years at a time."

"Well, I'm in for the trip, heart and soul. Hurrah for the--what's the
name of that creek?--Klondike! Hurrah for the Klondike! I wonder if it's
on the map."

Randy rushed over to the little shelf which contained all the
school-books the family had ever possessed, and brought forth a large
geography, much the worse for wear. There was no separate map of Alaska,
but there was one of North America, and this he scanned with interest.

"Here's the Yukon and here's the Porcupine and the Pelly rivers, but I
don't see any Klondike," he said seriously. "I wonder where it can be."

"You can't expect to find a little creek on a map that shows up the
Yukon River as less than two inches long," said Earl. "Why, the Yukon is
between two and three thousand miles long. Circle City must be up
there," he continued, pointing to where the Yukon touched the 144 deg. of
longitude, "and if that's so, this new gold field can't be so very far
off, although in such a great territory a few hundred miles this way or
that are hardly counted."

"But you'll go, won't you, Earl?" pleaded Randy, as he restored the
geography to the shelf. "We'll never make more than our pork and beans
out here in the woods."

Earl picked up a small stick from the fireplace and brought out his
pocket-knife. He always had to go to whittling when he wanted to do some
hard thinking. "If we accepted Uncle Foster's invitation to come to San
Francisco, there would be no turning back," he remarked, after a moment
of silence.

"We shouldn't want to turn back as soon as that."

"And we couldn't turn back after we once got into Alaska. There is no
such thing as travelling back and forth between the months of October
and May. The rivers freeze up, and everything is snow and ice."

"Well, we'd have plenty of provisions--Uncle would be sure to see to
that. We've got to vacate here, you must remember, in a day or two."

Again Earl was silent. He had sharpened up one end of the stick, and now
he turned to the other. "I wonder where we could telegraph from best,"
he said at last.

Randy's eyes lit up instantly, and he caught his big brother by the
shoulder. "Good for you, Earl; I knew you would say yes!" he cried.
"Why, we can telegraph from Spruceville, can't we?"

"We can if they'll trust us for the telegram."

"If they won't, I'll pay for it. I'm not going to let such a chance
slide by. The thing of it is," Randy added, sobering down suddenly, "how
are we to get to Boston to get the money Uncle intends to send on?"

"We'll have to sell off our things here. They'll bring in something,
although not much."

"Good! I never thought of that."

For two hours the boys talked matters over, and in the excitement dinner
was entirely forgotten. Then a telegram was prepared which ran as
follows:--

      "Will sell out and come on as soon as possible."

It was agreed that Earl should send the message from Spruceville, a town
four miles beyond Basco. This was a seven miles' tramp, but he did not
mind it, having walked the distance many times previously. He procured a
bite to eat, and with the letter from his uncle in his pocket he started
off. He intended to show the letter to the telegraph operator in case
the man should hesitate to send the message with charges to be paid at
the other end.

At Basco, Earl met a number of workmen of the district, among whom was
Tom Roland, the brother of the lumberman who intended to buy the timber
land from Caleb Norcross. Roland was a man whom nobody liked, and Earl
passed him without a word, although it was evident from Roland's manner
that the latter desired to stop for a talk. With Tom Roland was a fellow
named Guardley, a ne'er-do-well, who had been up before the squire on
more than one occasion for drinking and stealing. The reader will do
well to remember both Tom Roland and Guardley, for they are destined to
play a most important part in the chapters which follow.

The middle of the afternoon had passed before Earl struck the outskirts
of Spruceville and made his way to the little railroad station where was
located the telegraph office. His errand was soon explained to the
young man in charge, and he felt in his pocket to bring forth the slip
of paper Randy had written out, and his uncle's letter.

To his consternation both were missing. He remembered well where he had
placed them, yet to make sure he searched his clothing thoroughly. His
search was useless. The message and the letter were gone.




CHAPTER III.

A FALSE IDENTIFICATION.


"Gone!"

That was the single word which dropped from Earl's lips as he stood at
the window of the telegraph office at Spruceville and hunted for the
missing letter from his Uncle Foster. He cared nothing for the
message,--that could easily be rewritten,--but the letter was highly
important.

Not finding it about his person, he commenced to retrace his steps with
his eyes on the ground. An hour was spent in this manner, and then he
returned slowly to the office.

"I want to send a message to San Francisco, and I had a letter with me
to show that it was all right," he explained. "Will you send the message
anyhow and collect at the other end? The man who is to receive the
message wanted it sent that way."

The telegraph operator mused for a moment. Then he asked Earl who he was
and where he lived, and finally said he guessed it would be all right.
The message was again written out, and ten minutes later it was on its
long journey westward, by way of Boston. The business finished, Earl
thanked the operator and started on his return home.

He was very much out of sorts with himself, and wondered what his
younger brother would think of him. "I needn't find fault with Randy for
being careless after this," he sighed, almost bitterly. "I'm as bad as
he is, and worse. One thing is a comfort, though: I remember the name of
that Boston firm that is to provide us with our money--Bartwell & Stone.
I had better make a note of that." And he did.

The evening shadows were beginning to fall when Basco was again reached.
On the main street of the little town Earl halted to think matters over.
Why wouldn't it be a good thing to let folks know that they wanted to
sell out their household goods and their tools and other things? He made
his way to the general store.

"Well, Portney, I heard you had been put off your place," was the
greeting received from the general storekeeper.

"We have not been put off--we are going to leave it, Mr. Andrews."

"Oh! Where are you going?"

"To Alaska."

"Alaska? You must be joking."

"No, sir. My uncle, Foster Portney, has sent for Randy and me to come to
San Francisco, and the three of us are going to some new gold fields."

"Well, what about my bill?" asked the storekeeper, anxiously. He was
interested in but little outside of his business. "Of course that has
got to be settled before you leave."

"We will pay up, never fear. But we want to sell off all our stuff
first. Will you let me write out a notice to that effect and post it
outside?"

"Yes, you can do that. Going to sell off, eh? What have you got?"

Earl enumerated the various articles he and Randy had listed to sell.
They were not of great value, and the storekeeper smiled grimly.

"They won't bring much."

"They ought to bring thirty or forty dollars."

"You'll be lucky to get ten."

"Ten dollars won't see us through. We have got to get enough to pay our
bills and secure our passage down to Boston."

"And how much will that be?" questioned Peleg Andrews, cautiously. Earl
made a rapid calculation. With the money already on hand and that owing
for tools and groceries, twenty-five dollars ought to see them through.

"We must have thirty dollars for the stuff."

Peleg Andrews said no more, but turned away to wait on a customer that
had just come in. Procuring sheets of paper, Earl set to work and penned
two notices, both alike, stating that the goods and chattels of the
Portney brothers would be sold within the next three days, to the
highest bidders, and a list of the articles followed. One of the notices
was tacked up in front of the store and the other in front of the hotel,
and then Earl returned home.

As the big brother had expected, Randy was much put out about the loss
of the letter, but he was glad that Earl had gone ahead, nevertheless,
and before he retired that night, he brought forth some of the articles
to be sold, and mended and cleaned them up.

The two were eating breakfast when the first prospective buyer rode up
in a farm wagon. It was a lumberman from over the ridge behind Basco,
who was thinking of settling down to cabin life by himself. He made an
offer of fifteen dollars for everything in sight, but Earl held out for
forty dollars.

The man was about to drive away, when a second lumberman drove up,
followed by Peleg Andrews in his store wagon. Both of the newcomers were
eager to buy, although they affected indifference. Bidding became rather
lively, and at last the goods were split up between the first comer and
the storekeeper, the former paying thirty dollars and the latter twenty
dollars for what they got. This made fifty dollars in all, and out of
this amount Earl settled with Peleg Andrews on the spot.

It was while the men were loading the goods preparatory to taking them
away, that Caleb Norcross appeared. He had expected to make a cheap
purchase, and was keenly disappointed to find he was too late.

"Getting out, eh?" he ventured.

"Yes," answered Earl, briefly. "You can have your keys in a couple of
hours. Here is your money."

"I ain't in any hurry," grumbled the landlord.

"Isn't Dan Roland going to take the property?" asked Randy, curiously.

"No, he backed out last night," answered Caleb Norcross, and to avoid
being questioned further he moved away.

Fortunately for the two boys, there was an old trunk in the cabin, and
also a small wooden box which could be made to hold clothing, and these
they packed with such effects as they intended to take along. A bargain
was struck with the man who had failed to purchase any of the other
goods, and the two boxes were placed in his wagon, and then the lads
were ready to leave the spot which had been their home for many years.

"Well, I'm sure I wish you success," said Peleg Andrews, as he shook
each by the hand. "But it looks foolhardy to me--going away off to
Alaska."

"You'll be glad enough to come back home, see if you don't," put in
Caleb Norcross. He did not offer to shake hands, at which the boys were
just as well satisfied. In a minute more the brothers were up beside the
lumberman on the wagon seat, the whip cracked, and the horse started;
and the long trip to Alaska could be said to have fairly begun.

A stop was made at Basco, where Earl settled up such bills as still
remained unpaid, and then the horse set off on a trot for Spruceville,
which was reached less than three-quarters of an hour later. At the
latter place a way train for Bangor was due, and they had barely time to
procure tickets and get their baggage checked before it came along and
took them on board.

"We've made a flying start and no mistake," was Randy's comment, as he
leaned back in the cushioned seat. "Two days ago we never dreamed of
going to Alaska or anywhere else."

"I hope we haven't any cause to regret our hasty action," answered Earl,
gravely. Then he immediately brightened up. "But we've started now, so
let us make the most of it."

The ride over the rough roads had made them hungry, but they had to wait
until Bangor was reached before they could obtain anything to eat. It
was late in the evening when the train rolled into the station and they
alighted. Both boys had been in Bangor several times, so they did not
feel quite like strangers. Having obtained supper at a restaurant, they
made their way to the river docks and asked concerning the boat for
Boston, having decided to make that trip by water. The boat was in, and
having procured their passage, they were privileged to go on board and
sleep there over-night.

The trip to Boston was an uneventful one, although full of novelty to
Earl and Randy, who had never taken such a voyage before. They might
have enjoyed it still more had they not been so anxious concerning what
was before them. Alas! little did they dream of all the grave perils the
future held in store.

"We don't want to look too green," said Earl, when the steamboat was
tying up at her wharf and the passengers were preparing to go ashore.

"Oh, I guess we'll pass in a crowd," said Randy, laughing. "All we want
to look out for is that we are not robbed, or something like that."

Leaving their baggage on check, the two boys started from Foster's wharf
up into the city. They had no idea where the firm of Bartwell & Stone
were located, but Earl was certain they could easily be found by
consulting a directory.

The elder brother was on the point of entering a large store in quest of
the book mentioned when Randy pulled his arm and pointed down the
street. "There goes a fire engine, Earl!" he cried. "Let's follow it. I
should like to see how they manage a fire in a city."

Earl was willing, and away they went, easily keeping up with the engine,
which had to proceed slowly through the crowded thoroughfare. The fire
was in a paint and oil works, and burnt fiercely for over an hour
before it was gotten under control. The boys lingered around, watching
the movements of the firemen with keen interest, and it was two hours
later before Earl caught Randy by the shoulder and hauled him out of the
mob of people.

"Remember, we're bound for Alaska," he said. "We can't afford to stop at
every sight on the way."

A few blocks further on a directory was found in a drug store and the
address of Bartwell & Stone jotted down. They lost no further time in
hunting up the firm of bankers and brokers, who occupied the ground
floor of a substantial business structure.

"I am Earl Portney," explained Earl, to the clerk who asked them what
they wanted. "This is my brother Randolph. Our uncle, Foster Portney,
said he would send on some money for us from San Francisco. Has it
arrived yet?"

"I'll see. Was it a telegraph order?"

"I suppose so."

The clerk disappeared into an inner apartment, to be gone several
minutes. When he came out he was accompanied by a tall, sharp-eyed man
in rusty black.

"These are not the young men who called for the money," said the man in
rusty black. "There must be some mistake here."

"Were the other men identified, Mr. Stone?" questioned the clerk, while
both Randy and Earl pricked up their ears.

"Oh, yes; a clerk from Johnston's restaurant identified them as Earl and
Randolph Portney. Besides, they held the original letter which had been
sent by their uncle, Foster Portney, from San Francisco."




CHAPTER IV.

A SERIOUS SET-BACK.


Earl and Randy could scarcely believe their ears. What was this
gentleman in rusty black saying, that two men had been identified as
themselves and had called for the money sent on by their Uncle Foster?

"There is a mistake somewhere," said the clerk, turning to the brothers.
"You say you are Earl and Randolph Portney?"

"We are," both replied, in a breath.

"Two men were here not two hours ago and were identified as the ones to
receive the money. They had a letter from their uncle, in which he
wanted them to come to San Francisco and join him in a trip to Alaska."

"That letter was ours!" burst out Earl. "I lost it a couple of days
ago."

The clerk turned to the elderly gentleman, who looked more serious than
ever.

"Have you any idea who those men were?" asked the gentleman.

"They were a couple of thieves, that's certain," said Randy, bluntly.
"The money was to come to us and nobody else."

"Where did you lose that letter?"

"I lost it on the road between Naddy Brook and Spruceville," replied
Earl, and gave some of the particulars. The full story of his uncle's
offer to Randy and himself followed, to which Mr. Stone listened
closely. He was a fair judge of human nature, and saw at once that the
two boys were no sharpers and that their story was most likely true.

"Well, if you are the real Portney brothers, we are out exactly three
hundred dollars," he said, after considerable talking. "I paid over that
money in good faith, too, on the strength of the letter and the
identification."

"We had nothing to do with that," answered Earl, stoutly, feeling he
must stand up for his rights.

"Of course not, but--Just wait here a few minutes, and I'll try to find
that clerk from the restaurant who identified the rascals."

Mr. Stone put on a silk hat and went out, to be gone nearly or quite
half an hour. He returned accompanied by another man--a police
official--to whom the particulars of the occurrence had been given.

"That identification was also part of the swindle," the broker
explained. "I could not find the clerk at the restaurant, and I am
convinced now that he was not the man he made me believe he was."

"But what about our money?" said Earl, coldly, thinking the broker might
try to shift the responsibility of the affair.

"If you can find some reliable party known to us to identify you, I will
pay the sum to you," was the answer. "But I've got to be sure of the
identification this time--and you can't blame me for that," added the
broker, with a short laugh.

"No, we can't blame you for that," repeated Earl, yet at the same time
wondering who there was in that strange city who knew them.

"I don't know of any one here who knows us," put in Randy, reading his
elder brother's thought. "I wish Uncle had sent the money in some other
way."

"See here," put in the police official. "Since those swindlers had the
letter that was lost up near where you come from, perhaps you know the
men. Mr. Stone, can't you describe them?"

As well as he was able the broker did so. But the description was so
indefinite that both Earl and Randy shook their heads.

"I know a dozen men who look a good deal like that description," said
the older brother. "It's possible they were lumbermen like ourselves."

"Yes, they did look like lumbermen," replied Mr. Stone. "That is why I
was not so particular about their identification."

For another half hour the matter was talked over, and then as it was
getting time to close up the office for the day, Earl and Randy left, to
find some one to identify them, were such a thing possible. At the
corner of the block both halted.

"I'm blessed if I know what to do," were Randy's words. "I can't think
of a soul who knows us here."

"There used to be a man named Curtis Gordon who once lived at Basco--he
owned the feed mill there. He came to Boston and started a flour
business. But whether he would remember me is a question. He hasn't seen
me in about eight years."

"We might try him--it would be better than nothing!" cried Randy,
eagerly. "Let us hunt him up in the directory."

This was done, and they found Mr. Curtis Gordon's place of business
after a search lasting over an hour. Several clerks were in attendance
who supplied the information that Mr. Gordon had gone to New York, and
would not be back for two days.

"Stumped again," murmured Randy, dismally. "Did you ever see such luck!"

"Never give up," answered Earl, as cheerfully as he could. "I wonder if
Mrs. Gordon lives in town."

"What if she does?"

"I'd call on her, and perhaps she can help us out. She used to know me."

From the clerks in the store they received the Gordons' home address.
It was a fine place on the Back Bay, and it was nightfall by the time
the boys reached it. They were ushered into the waiting-hall by a
servant, who immediately went off to notify her mistress, who was at
dinner.

From the dining-room came a murmur of talking, and one of the voices
sounded strangely familiar to Earl. "Hark, Randy," he whispered. "Isn't
that Squire Dobson speaking?"

"It is!" ejaculated Randy. "We are saved at last!"

Mrs. Gordon came to them a minute later, having excused herself to her
guest. The boys' mission was soon explained, Earl at the same time
offering an excuse for calling at the meal hour. He mentioned Squire
Dobson, and that individual was called from the table.

"Well, well!" exclaimed the squire of Basco, a short, stout, and rather
jolly type of a country official. "I didn't expect to see you in Boston,
although I heard yesterday that you were bound for Alaska or some such
place. Mrs. Gordon, these are Daniel Portney's boys,--you must remember
Daniel Portney,--the one who lost his life in that dreadful forest fire
up our way some years ago."

Mrs. Gordon did remember, and she gave both lads a warm greeting. It was
several minutes before Earl could get down to business, and then the
matter of identification was left to Squire Dobson, who said he would
see them through in the morning, as soon as the Bartwell & Stone offices
were open.

"I don't know them," he said, "but I know some bankers on the same
block, and we can introduce each other."

Mrs. Gordon was glad enough to see some folks from the district which
had once been her home, and asked the brothers to partake of dinner with
the squire and her family of boys and girls. After some hesitation, the
invitation was accepted, and two hours were spent at the mansion.

During the course of this time it was learned by Earl and Randy that
Squire Dobson had come down from Maine in search of his son, a
happy-go-lucky lad, who had run away from home, as previously mentioned.
The squire had heard from a friend that Fred had been seen near the
docks in Boston, but he had been unable so far to locate the wayward
youth.

"I'm afraid he has either gone to New York or on some long ocean trip,"
said the squire to Earl. "He's a foolish boy and is causing me no end of
trouble. If you ever run across him, send him home at once."

"I will--if he'll go," answered Earl; but neither he nor Randy ever
dreamed of meeting Fred Dobson where they did.

The visit over, the brothers left, to hunt up some cheap hotel at which
to stop for the night. This was an easy matter, and at ten o'clock they
retired. A sound sleep, however, was out of the question, for both were
anxious concerning the outcome of their dealings with Bartwell & Stone.

Promptly at the hour appointed they met the squire at the office of the
brokers and bankers. Another banker, well known to both Squire Dobson
and to Mr. Stone, was introduced all around, and thus Randy and Earl's
identification was established beyond a doubt. This accomplished, Earl
received three hundred dollars in cash, for which he and Randy signed a
receipt; and the transaction was over.

Just outside of the office, the boys separated from the squire of Basco,
and the former lost no time in making their way to the depot of the New
York & New England Railroad.

"I don't know what route is best to take to San Francisco," said Earl.
"I guess we had better buy tickets as far as New York first." And this
was done; and a few hours later saw them safe on board a train, with
their baggage in the car ahead. At the depot Earl had obtained a number
of folders of different routes to the west, and these he intended to
study while on his way to the great metropolis.

"Oh, but railroad travelling is fine!" cried Randy, enthusiastically, as
the long train sped on its way through hills and valleys, and past
numerous pretty towns and villages, all alive with the hum of a thousand
industries. "One feels as if he would like to ride forever!"

"I'm afraid you'll be tired of riding by the time we reach San
Francisco," said Earl, who, nevertheless, also enjoyed the journey.
"This is only a little trip of six or seven hours. The next will be one
of many days and nights."

"I wonder how they sleep on a train," went on Randy, curiously.

"We'll learn soon enough, Randy. Only don't let every one see how green
we are," added Earl, in a whisper.

At one of the stations in Connecticut, where a ten minutes' stop was
made, the two lads alighted to stretch their legs and take a look
around. They had been seated in the last car, and now they walked
forward along the broad platform.

Suddenly Randy caught his brother's arm. "Earl! Earl! look!" he
ejaculated, and pointed to a window of the smoking-car. "There are Tom
Roland and Jasper Guardley! What can they be doing on this train?"

Earl glanced to where Randy pointed and saw that his brother was right.
At the same instant Tom Roland saw them, and he drew back and motioned
for his companion to do the same. Earl noted the movement and stood
stock-still.

"Randy, I wonder--" he began, and stopped short.

"What, Earl? Isn't it queer they should be on this train from Boston?"

"Yes. Randy, do you think it is possible that Tom Roland would be so
dishonest as to--to--"

"To get that money, Earl?" broke in the younger boy. "He might be--and
yes, Mr. Stone's description of the two swindlers fits Roland and
Guardley exactly!"




CHAPTER V.

A NIGHT IN NEW YORK.


"The description certainly does fit these two men," said Earl, with some
hesitation. "And it is queer that Roland should be down here, when only
a few days ago he was in Basco. Guardley, I know, is not above
cheating--he's been up before Squire Dobson several times for it."

"Let us go and have a talk with them," said Randy, impulsively. "If they
stole that money, I want to know it."

"It's not our business to hunt those swindlers up," answered Earl,
hesitatingly; yet he followed Randy to the platform of the smoking-car,
and they were soon inside, and making their way to where Roland and
Guardley sat, pulling away at two black-looking cigars.

"How do you do, Earl?" said Tom Roland, familiarly, as soon as the boys
appeared. "It's queer we should be on the same train, isn't it?"

"It is queer," answered Earl, stiffly, taken aback by the greeting.
"Where are you bound?"

"Guardley and I are going to try our luck in the West. Say, I heard you
boys were bound for Alaska. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"It costs a heap to go there--didn't know you had so much money," put in
Guardley, with a smile that neither Earl nor Randy appreciated.

"And I didn't know you had any money for a Western trip," returned the
older brother, rather sharply.

"Oh, Tom here is seeing me through," answered Guardley; but both Randy
and Earl noted that he appeared somewhat confused for the moment.

"Guardley has done me several good turns, and it wouldn't be fair for me
to turn my back on him," finished Tom Roland. "We are going right
through to San Francisco. How about yourselves?"

"We stop off at New York," said Randy.

"It's a pity we can't travel together--" began Roland, when Earl cut him
short.

"Roland, did you pick up a letter belonging to me?" asked the boy.

The man's eyes dropped, but only for the fraction of a second. "A letter
belonging to you?" he repeated. "No. Where did you lose it?"

"Somewhere around Basco. Did you see it, Guardley?"

The second man shook his head. "Was it important?" he asked.

"Very," said Earl, laconically, and then, as the train began to move
again he motioned to Randy, and the two started back for their seat in
the last car.

"What do you think?" questioned Randy, when they were seated.

"I don't know what to think. It's mighty queer the pair should leave
Basco in such a hurry."

"We left in a hurry. But we had a good reason."

"And they may have--a reason most folks don't look for."

"Do you think they left on account of some crooked work?" cried Randy.

"That would probably be Jasper Guardley's reason for getting away. But
it's not our affair, and we have enough other matters to think of,"
concluded Earl, after a pause. "When we get to New York we'll be like
stray cattle in a hundred-acre lot. We must look out not to get lost,
and above all things not to lose our money."

"And engage the cheapest and quickest passage to San Francisco," said
Randy. "Let us look over those folders before it gets too late. It's too
dark to see much outside."

The lamps were lighted in the car, and they lost no further time in
digesting the contents of the folders of the railroad companies and
pouring over the maps of the various routes to the Golden Gate.

"One looks about as good as another on paper," remarked Earl, at last.
"I think we had best take the New York Central Railroad to Chicago, then
the Rock Island & Chicago to Rock Island, and then the Southern Pacific.
We'll find out about that route when we reach New York."

It was exactly ten o'clock in the evening that the train rolled into the
Grand Central Depot at Forty-second Street and Randy and Earl alighted.
The crowd was very thick, and though both looked for Roland and
Guardley, the two men could not be discovered. The coming and going of
so many people confused them, and the many cries which greeted them as
they emerged on the street did not tend to set them at ease.

"Cab, sir? Coupe? This way for the Broadway Central Hotel! Evening
papers, _Post_ or _Telegram_! _Mail and Express_!"

Several came up to the two boys, offering them cab rides and the like,
but both Randy and Earl shook their heads. Then Earl remembered that the
ticket office was close at hand, and he and his brother went inside
again. A long talk with the ticket clerk followed, and they concluded to
take the New York Central road to Chicago, and from there as previously
intended. The train would start at ten in the morning, and Earl bought
two tickets, paying an amount which brought their cash balance down
quite low once more.

"Never mind; that pays for about all we'll need," said Randy. "Let us
leave the tickets to be called for, and then they'll be safe."

"No indeed!" said Earl. "Some one may call for them just as the money
was called for. I'll carry my ticket in an inside pocket, and you had
best do the same."

This settled, the brothers strolled out once more. It was rather late,
but they could not resist the temptation to a walk down Broadway, of
which they had heard so often. They trudged as far as the Post-office,
took a look at Park Row and the numerous newspaper buildings, and the
Brooklyn Bridge all lit up in a blaze of electric lights, and then Earl
happened to glance at the clock on St. Paul's Church.

"Half-past twelve, Randy!" he ejaculated. "Gracious! we'll never find a
hotel open as late as this! Let us get back to the vicinity of the depot
again!"

"I guess the hotels are open all night here," answered the younger
brother. "Let us ride up Broadway on that street car." And they boarded
a cable car, which speedily took them back to Forty-second Street. A
convenient hotel was found close to the railroad station, and they lost
no time in retiring. The constant rumble and roar of the elevated trains
disturbed them not a little, and it was well into the morning hours
before both dropped off into dreamland, not to awaken until a bell boy
aroused them at seven o'clock.

After a hasty breakfast another look was taken around the city. Finding
they had the time, they took an elevated train to the Battery and back,
staying long enough at the lower end of the city to catch a glimpse of
Castle Garden with its aquarium, and the statue of Liberty out in the
bay.

"One could spend a month in sight-seeing here," sighed Randy. "I wish we
had had the time to do Boston and New York thoroughly."

Ten o'clock found them on the train which was to take them through to
Chicago without change of cars. The cars were comfortably filled, but
there was no crowding. Again they looked for Roland and Guardley, but
without success.

"I guess they remained in New York," said Earl; but for once the young
fellow was mistaken.

Leaving the vicinity of the metropolis, the train began its long journey
up the beautiful Hudson. But the journey northward did not last long.
Soon the train branched to the westward and plunged into the hills and
rolling lands of the Mohawk Valley. City after city were left behind
with a whir and a rush that almost took Randy's breath from him. At noon
a stop was made for lunch, then on they went again. Supper was served in
a dining-car, and both boys voted it about the best meal they had ever
tasted.

After the lamps were lit it was not long before the passengers began to
think of going to bed. Both Randy and Earl watched the porter closely
as he drew out the beds from the narrow closets in the sloping roof of
the car, set up the little wooden partitions, and otherwise arranged the
sleeping-apartments. The boys had a section to themselves and concluded
to sleep together in the lower berth, so the upper berth was left out.

"A sleeping-car is a great institution," said Earl, as they turned in.
"Why, a train like this is just a moving house and nothing else!"

Shortly after noon of the day following Chicago was reached. Here they
had a three hours' stop and spent the time in a ride on State Street,
and a trip to the roof of the great Masonic Temple, where a grand
bird's-eye view of the entire city was to be seen, spread out far below
them.

And so the long trip westward continued. To tell of all the places
stopped at would be impossible. All day long for nearly a week they sat
at their car window taking in the sights of cities, towns, prairies, and
mountains. There were wonderful bridges to cross and perilous turns to
make, at which both held their breath, expecting each moment to be
dashed to pieces. In the mountains a severe storm was encountered, and
the rolling of the thunder was awe-inspiring, so long was it kept up.

But all journeys, long and short, must come to an end, and one fine
morning the boys found themselves safe and sound in San Francisco, and
on their way to the Palace Hotel. The trip overland had brightened them
a good bit, and they no longer looked as green as when they had started.

They had just stepped from a Market Street car in front of the hotel
when they saw a youth coming down the hotel steps who looked strangely
familiar, in spite of the somewhat ragged clothing he wore.

"Randy, who is that fellow?" questioned Earl, quickly, as he caught his
brother by the elbow.

"Why, if it isn't Fred Dobson!" burst from Randy's lips. "How in the
world did he get away out here? Fred Dobson! Fred Dobson! Stop, we want
to talk to you!" he called out, as the youth in question was on the
point of hurrying off.




CHAPTER VI.

PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE.


"Randy Portney!" came from the lips of the boy addressed, as he turned
to stare at the person who had called out his name. "And Earl, too!
Where--where did you come from?"

"From Basco, of course," returned Randy. "How did you get away out
here?"

"I--I came out on a train from Chicago," stammered Fred Dobson, but he
did not add that the train had been a freight, and that the stolen ride
had been both uncomfortable and full of peril.

"We met your father in Boston," put in Earl. "He said if we should ever
run across you to tell you to come home."

"I'm not going back," was the reply of the squire's son. "I came out
here to make my fortune."

"I'm afraid you'll find it rather hard work," ventured Randy, and he
glanced at Fred's shabby suit. Around Basco the youth had dressed better
than any one else.

"I've been playing in hard luck lately," was the slangy reply. "But
say, what are you two fellows doing out here?"

"We came on to join our uncle," said Randy. "He is going to take us to
Alaska with him."

"Alaska! To those new gold fields a fellow reads about in the daily
papers?"

"Yes."

"I'd like to go there myself," said the runaway, readily.

"It costs a good deal of money to go, Fred," remarked Earl. He rather
liked the squire's son, in spite of his wild ways. "A fellow must take
along a year's provisions."

"So I've heard. I wonder if I couldn't work my way up on one of the
boats."

"I wouldn't advise you to go," said Randy. "Why, you are not used to
hard work, and they say work up there is of the hardest kind."

"Oh, I can work if I have to. Where is your uncle?"

"He's stopping at this hotel." Randy turned to Earl. "Let us see if
Uncle Foster is in, and we can talk to Fred some time later."

This was decided upon, and the squire's son walked off, promising to be
back in a few hours.

"He puts on a pretty good face, but I fancy he is homesick,
nevertheless," remarked Earl, as he and Randy made their way to the
hotel office. They were just about to ask for their uncle when a hand
was laid on Earl's shoulder.

"Earl! Randy! How are you, my boys! Just as fresh and hearty as when I
saw you last. And how both of you are growing! Why, Earl, you are almost
a man! I'm glad to see you, yes, I am!" And Foster Portney beamed at
both from a pair of brown eyes set in a round, ruddy face, which was
half covered with a long beard. He was a large and rugged man, and his
open manner had made him many friends.

"What a beard you've got, Uncle Foster!" were Randy's first words, as he
winced at the close grip Foster Portney gave his hand. "You look like
all the rest of the Westerners around here!"

"I'm glad we had no trouble in finding you," put in Earl, whose hand
also tingled from the grip given it. He remembered now that his uncle
had always been considered an unusually strong man. "I know he'll stand
the Alaskan climate well enough, even if we don't," he thought.

"Didn't have any trouble getting here, did you?" questioned Foster
Portney. "Your message came on time?"

"We had a little set-back in Boston," answered Earl, and told of the
trouble about the money. His uncle listened with a sober look on his
broad face.

"That was too bad, truly, lads. But it's the loss of that firm of
bankers and brokers. They ought to have been sure of the identification.
And you think the thieves were two men named Roland and Guardley? They
must be thorough rascals."

"We are not sure," broke in Randy, hastily. "It only looks that way."

"I see." Foster Portney mused for a moment. "Well, we can't lose time in
trying to investigate. I was hoping you two boys would turn up to-day or
to-morrow. Day after to-morrow a boat sails for Juneau, and if I rustle
around I think I can secure passage for ourselves and our traps. If we
don't catch this boat, we'll have to wait two weeks, or else take a
train for Portland and wait ten days."

"But we haven't a thing, Uncle Foster," cried Randy. "That is, outside
of our clothing, which is in our trunks, on check at the railroad
station."

"And that clothing, for the most part, will have to be left behind,
Randy. For a country like Alaska one must be differently dressed than
here. Each of you will have to have a suit of furs and plenty of
flannels and all that sort of thing."

"And where shall we get them?"

"There is a regular outfitting store not far from here. But the first
thing to be done, now you have turned up, is to secure those passage
tickets to Juneau. The Alaskan fever is setting in strong here, and
we'll not be alone on our trip over Chilkoot Pass and along the
headwaters of the Yukon."

"I'm in the dark about this trip, I must confess," said Earl. "Where is
this pass you mention, and where is the Klondike Creek, or River?"

"I'll show you the route to-night, boys, on a map just issued by our
government, the best map out so far. But come along to that steamboat
office, or we'll get left."

Five minutes later saw the boys and their uncle on a street car which
ran close to the dock at which the steamboat lay, taking in her cargo,
which consisted mainly of the outfits of miners and prospectors. The
boat, which was named the _Golden Hope_, had been chartered especially
for this trip, and a temporary shipping office had been established
close at hand. Around this office was congregated a motley collection of
men, all eager to obtain passage to Juneau as cheaply as it could be
had.

Through this crowd Foster Portney shoved his way, with Randy and Earl
close behind him. It was some minutes before they could get to the
ticket office.

"I want three tickets," said Mr. Portney. "How much freight will you
carry on them?"

"Six hundred pounds, and not a pound more for anybody," was the quick
reply.

"And when do you sail?"

"Wednesday, at twelve o'clock sharp. What are the names? We don't want
any mix-up in this rush."

The names were put down, and the money for the passage paid over, and
with their tickets in their pockets the three struggled to get out of
the crowd, which was growing more dense every minute. Close at hand was
a big bill-board on which was posted a large circular headed in big
black letters:--

  THE GOLD FIELDS OF ALASKA!

  _Direct Route via Juneau and Over Chilkoot Pass!
  Now is the Time to Go and Stake Your Claim!_

"That circular is enough to set almost any one crazy," said Earl, as he
read it over. "Well, I hope we strike a bonanza."

"The reports are very encouraging," replied Foster Portney, who, in
spite of his usual cool headedness had the gold fever nearly as badly as
any one in San Francisco. "You see," he went on, "the sooner we get
there the better: for we won't have much time left after arriving before
the long and terribly cold winter sets in."

Earl had imagined that the six hundred pounds of freight must be divided
between the three, but soon learned that six hundred pounds was the
limit for each person.

"We'll never carry that much, will we?" he queried. "Why, how are we
going to get all that stuff over the pass you mentioned?"

"We'll get Indians to pack it over. They'll charge twenty or thirty
cents a pound, but it's the best that can be done. Some hire pack mules
and dog teams, but my experience has been that Indians are the most
reliable."

Dinner was now had, and then the three proceeded to the outfitting store
Foster Portney had previously mentioned. On the way their uncle asked
the boys what they had in their trunks, that nothing not needed might be
purchased.

Two hours were spent in buying clothing, and both Earl and Randy thought
their uncle would never get done adding to the pile. First came a dozen
suits of flannel underwear, and with them a dozen pairs of heavy socks
and half a dozen of light ones. Then came two suits of woollen clothing,
strongly made and with large pockets, two pairs of strong shoes and a
pair of arctics, and two pairs of walrus-hide boots--heavy, it is true,
but strong as iron. Finally came a suit of furs and two caps, each with
a guard which could be pulled down to the neck, leaving only two holes
for the eyes.

"I reckon you've got handkerchiefs and such extras," said Mr. Portney.
"So now all you want, so far as wearing is concerned, is a few pairs of
smoked glasses, to prevent snow-blindness."

The general outfitter was also able to supply these, and he suggested
they take along about ten yards of mosquito netting.

"Mosquito netting!" cried Randy. "What for?"

"During the short summer mosquitoes are exceedingly thick in Alaska,"
said his uncle; and made the purchase suggested.

It was now getting late, and Foster Portney said they had best wait
until the following morning before buying the camping-out things,
bedding, and other necessities. "I'll make a careful list to-night," he
added.

They returned to the Palace Hotel, where Randy and Earl found Fred
Dobson awaiting them.

"Say!" was the greeting of the squire's son. "Is half of Basco moving
out to San Francisco?"

"What do you mean?" questioned Earl, with a puzzled look.

"Why, I was down at the railroad station about an hour ago, and I saw a
train come in from Chicago with Tom Roland and Jasper Guardley on
board."




CHAPTER VII.

BUYING THE OUTFITS.


"You saw Tom Roland and Jasper Guardley?" burst from the lips of the
Portney brothers simultaneously.

"Yes," replied Fred Dobson. "I couldn't believe my eyes at first, but
when I felt sure I was right I ran up to speak to Roland."

"And what did he say?" queried Earl.

"He didn't give me a chance to speak to him. He and Guardley disappeared
in the crowd like a flash. I rather think they saw me and avoided me."

Earl and Randy exchanged glances. Tom Roland and Jasper Guardley had
followed them to San Francisco. What could it mean?

"I shouldn't wonder if they are bound for Alaska, too!" burst out Randy.
"Oh, Earl, supposing they got that letter--"

"It's more than likely they did," said the elder youth, quickly. "I'll
wager both of them are going to try their fortunes in the new gold
fields. Well, they had a cheap trip West," he concluded bitterly.

"If we could prove they got the money, we could have them locked up."

"But we can't prove it, Randy; we haven't time, so we'll just have to
let matters stand where they are. For my part I never want to see either
of them again," said Earl, decidedly.

Fred Dobson had listened to the latter part of the conversation with
interest, and now he wished to know what it all meant.

"They must be guilty," he said, after Randy had recited the facts.
"Guardley is a bad egg. You know he was up before my father several
times. But say, Randy," he went on, as Earl turned away with Foster
Portney to secure extra accommodations at the hotel for the two
following nights, "can't you fix it up with your uncle so that I can go
to Alaska with him? I'll work like a slave for the chance to go."

Randy had expected something of this sort and had talked the matter over
with Earl, and now he shook his head.

"I don't believe I can, Fred. My uncle is only taking us along because
we are related and because he knows we are both strong and used to hard
work. I really don't believe you could stand it in the new gold fields.
He has warned us that the exposure is something awful."

"Oh, I know, but I can stand more than you think," pleaded Fred.

"Besides that, it wouldn't be right," added Randy. "You ran away from
home, and it's your duty to go back."

"Oh, don't preach. My father doesn't care where I am."

"Yes, he does, Fred; he cares a good deal. And then your mother must be
worried, too."

At the mention of his mother, Fred Dobson's face changed color for a
moment, and when next he spoke there seemed to be a suspicious lump in
his throat.

"I--I'm going to send mother a letter; I'll write it to-night."

"You should have written long ago, Fred."

"Oh, don't preach. Then you won't speak to your uncle?" And the squire's
son looked into Randy's face wistfully.

"Yes, I'll speak to him; but it won't do any good, Fred."

It was not long after this that Foster Portney and Earl came back,
having hired an extra room for the time desired. The uncle had been
introduced to Fred, and now he invited the runaway to take supper with
them.

It was not until the meal was nearly over that Fred urged Randy to
broach the subject next his heart. Foster Portney listened patiently to
all Randy had to say and also gave ear to Fred's pleadings. But his
face did not brighten up into anything like an encouraging look.

"No, Dobson, I can't take you," was his reply. "In the first place, Earl
and Randy are all the companions I wish to take along, that is, and grub
stake, as we term it in mining slang--pay their way, that means; and in
the second place, it wouldn't be right. You are a minor and have run
away from home, and, if anything, it is my duty to see that you go back.
Besides this, you do not look strong, and, I believe, you have never
done any real hard work, and that won't do for Alaska. Only those who
know how to rough it stand any show whatever of getting along there. My
advice to you is, to go back where you belong."

As may be surmised, this plain speech did not suit Fred Dobson at all,
and he felt more than ill at ease for the remainder of the repast. As
soon as he could do so gracefully he arose to go.

"I don't suppose I'll see you again for a long while," he said, as he
held out his hand to Earl and to Randy. "Well, good luck to you,
anyway."

Randy caught Earl by the arm and gave it a little pinch. "How are you
off for cash, Fred?" he asked, in a low tone.

"Oh, I've got a little money with me," answered Fred, quietly, but did
not add that the sum-total of his fortune amounted to exactly sixty-five
cents.

"Perhaps we can help you a little," put in Earl, who understood the
pinch Randy had given him. "We haven't much, but if a few dollars will
do any good--"

"Will you let me have two dollars?" asked the squire's son, eagerly.

"Yes."

"And I'll let you have two more," added Randy, and the amounts were
passed over on the spot, and Fred thanked them very profusely. A few
minutes later he had thanked Foster Portney for the supper, bade all
good-by, and was gone.

"Not a half bad boy," was the comment of Mr. Portney. "His one fault is,
I reckon, that he has been allowed to have his own way too long.
Roughing it out here will most likely make a man of him, unless he gets
into bad company and goes to the dogs."

"I am going to write to his folks and let them know where he is," said
Earl; and the letter was penned and mailed before he went to bed.

The three were on their way early on the following morning to complete
the purchase of their outfits, for all must be packed up and on the
steamboat deck by seven o'clock the next morning, to insure being stored
on board of the _Golden Hope_.

The first purchases made were those of a good tent, bedding, woollen
blankets, rubber sleeping-bags, a large piece of oiled canvas, and
several lynx-skin robes.

"Now for our tools with which to cut down trees, build boats, and the
like," said Foster Portney. "Remember, we are almost like pioneers in a
new land."

For boat-building purposes they purchased a good whip-saw, a cross-cut
saw, a jack plane, and a draw knife, a large and a small axe, a hammer,
brace and bits, six pounds of assorted nails, several pounds of oakum
for calking, and some pitch. To this outfit was added fifty yards of
three-quarter-inch rope.

"Don't we want some canvas for sail?" asked Randy, who was intensely
interested, and who felt somewhat as if he was going out to play at
Robinson Crusoe.

"No, the other bits of canvas will do for that," responded Foster
Portney. "Now for the camping-out things," he went on, and had soon
procured a good-sized water kettle, a frying-pan, broiler, bean pot, tin
measure, extra baking and cooking tins, three tin plates and cups, three
sets of knives and forks, coffee pot and strainer, salt and pepper
shakers, and a strong paper-fibre water pail.

"That about ends that," he said, when each article bought had been
carefully scrutinized to see that it was perfect. "Now for food and
medicines, and then we'll be about done."

The food list made Randy smile grimly. "No luxuries there," he whispered
to Earl. "We are going to live as plain as we did up in Maine, or
plainer."

The list consisted of the following: A hundred pounds of flour, with
baking-powder, twenty pounds of smoked ham and bacon, two dozen cans of
tomatoes, a dozen cans of other vegetables, a small sack of potatoes, a
dozen cans of condensed milk, twenty pounds of sugar, ten pounds of
salt, twenty pounds of coffee, a sack of beans, pepper and other spices,
and mustard. To these were added a few cans of fruit by way of
delicacies.

The food packed, they made their way to a drug store and procured a
small family chest of various medicines, and added to this several
bottles of liquor, which, however, were to be used only for medicinal
purposes, for none of the party were drinkers.

Foster Portney already had a serviceable pistol, and he now procured for
this weapon a sufficient supply of cartridges. He also bought a pistol
for Randy and a shot-gun for Earl. "The gun will be the most useful
weapon," he said, "for it will help put lots of game into our
eating-pot, and that is what we shall want."

"Won't we want a fishing-line or two?" asked Earl. "I have one in my
trunk, but it is not of much account."

"Yes, we'll buy several first-class ones, and a book of flies. Fish to a
hungry man are as acceptable as any other game," answered his uncle, and
the articles mentioned were purchased without delay.

The list was now filled, yet Foster Portney spent nearly an hour more in
picking up such odds and ends as pins, needles, spools of thread, three
good pocket compasses, and burning-glasses, a pocket notebook for each,
with pencils and some writing-paper and envelopes. Finally he took them
to a little shop on a side street, where each procured a monstrous
knapsack of oiled canvas, having straps to be placed over the shoulders
and an extra strap to come up over the front part of the head.

"What an affair!" said Randy, with a laugh. "I never saw a knapsack with
a head-piece before."

"You'll find it an easy thing to carry," said his uncle. "Try it," and
Randy did so, and was astonished to learn how much the head-strap
improved the carrying powers.

The best part of the evening was spent in packing the things they had
purchased, and it was not until after ten o'clock that the last of the
bundles were ready and duly tagged.

"Now we have only a few more things to get," said Foster Portney, "the
most important of the whole outfit;" and as Randy and Earl looked at him
blankly, he smiled in an odd way. "What could three gold hunters do
without picks, shovels, and pans?"

"To be sure!" shouted Randy, and Earl reddened over the idea that he had
not thought of the things before.

"We'll get them in the morning, for they won't have to be packed," said
the uncle. "We have done enough for to-day."

And Randy, who was tired out, agreed with him that it had been a busy
day, indeed. He went to bed with his head in a whirl about Alaska and
how they were to get there, and of the wonderful finds of gold which
awaited all hands. He was full of the brightest of hopes, and the
hardships so soon to be encountered did not bother him.




CHAPTER VIII.

ON THE WAY TO JUNEAU.


"Get up, Randy! Don't you know we are to start for Alaska to-day?" cried
Earl, at six o'clock on the following morning. "Come now, turn out."

"Oh my, but I'm tired still!" grumbled Randy, as he stretched himself.
Nevertheless, he hopped out of bed a moment later and was dressed almost
as soon as his brother. They had barely finished when their uncle came
to summon them to breakfast.

"We'll hunt up those tools and then I have a little private business to
attend to," announced Foster Portney. "So we must move lively."

Breakfast, the last meal to be eaten in San Francisco, was quickly
disposed of, and then followed a half-hour's inspection of various
picks, shovels, and gold-washing pans at a hardware store that made a
specialty of miners' tools. The boys were greatly interested, and, as
Earl said, it made them feel more like prospectors to own a pick and a
shovel each. The final bundle was made and shipped to the steamboat
dock, and Foster Portney left them.

"Meet me at the dock at eleven o'clock," he said, as he hurried away.

The boys had still several private matters to be settled. Their trunks
were to be sold, also some old clothing. At the hotel they obtained the
addresses of several dealers in second-hand goods, and they had one of
the dealers call and look at the stuff. He offered ten dollars for the
lot; and, as they did not see their way to doing better, they accepted
his terms, and the goods were removed without delay.

"Let us take a walk around while we have the chance," said Earl. "It is
only ten o'clock."

Randy was willing, and off they started up Market Street to the City
Hall, and then back and into Montgomery and Kearney streets, taking in
all the sights as they went. Almost before they knew it, it was time to
go to the wharf.

"We don't want to keep Uncle Foster waiting," said Earl; but when they
reached the wharf their uncle was nowhere in sight.

The crowd which had collected to see the gold seekers off was a large
one, and more people kept coming every moment. The almost magic name,
Klondike, was on every tongue, and there were hundreds who expressed the
wish that they were going along.

"Alaska is full of gold!" one man declared. "Full of gold! All you've
got to do is to locate it."

"That's just it," said Earl to his brother. "If you can locate it you're
all right; if not--" and he finished by a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"You're not sorry we're going, are you?" demanded Randy, quickly.

"Sorry? Not a bit of it. But it doesn't pay to be too sanguine, Randy,
my boy."

Quarter of an hour passed, and the jam on the dock began to become
uncomfortable. Brawny men predominated, but there were also many others
there,--wives to bid good-by to their husbands, girls to wish their
lovers good-luck, and children to catch a last embrace from their
parents. Many of the women were in tears, and a number of other eyes
were moist, and altogether the scene was rather a sober one.

"What can be keeping Uncle Foster?" asked Randy, as the minutes to the
time for sailing slipped by. "I don't see him anywhere, do you?"

Earl did not, and he was as anxious as his brother. Back and forth they
pushed their way, but without success. Then Earl looked at the silver
watch he carried. "Ten minutes to twelve!" he ejaculated.

"Let us go on board and stand where Uncle Foster can see us," suggested
Randy, in a tone of voice which was far from steady. Supposing their
uncle should not turn up, what should they do? To go alone on that trip
seemed out of the question.

Luckily they had their tickets, so getting on board was not difficult.
A number of the passengers glanced at them curiously.

"Goin' ter Alaska?" asked one brawny fellow whose face was almost
entirely concealed by his tangled beard. "Well, well! Ain't yer most
afraid ye'll git done up?"

"We'll try to keep on top," answered Earl. The fellow wished to continue
the conversation, but both Earl and Randy were too impatient just then
to listen to him, and moved off to another part of the boat.

Five minutes more had passed and an officer was going around shouting:
"All ashore that's going! We sail in five minutes!" Those to be left
behind began to pass over the gang-plank--it was a hasty handshake and a
last good-by on every side. The boys looked at each other doubtfully.

"If he doesn't come--" began Earl, when his quick eye caught sight in
the crowd of a hat that he recognized. "Uncle Foster! Uncle Foster
Portney! Come on board!" he yelled, at the top of his sturdy lungs.

Mr. Portney, in the jam of people below, heard and looked up. In a
moment he had caught sight of his nephews and he shook his hand at them.
Soon he was mounting the gang-plank, the last of the passengers to come
on board. He was out of breath and gave the boys an odd smile.

"I suppose I gave you a scare," he said. "I didn't mean to be so late,
but those business matters took longer than I intended, and then there
was a blockade of street cars and I had to walk it. But we're all right
now, I reckon," he added, gazing around. "Good-by to San Francisco! When
we see her again may our pockets be lined with gold!" And he took off
his soft felt hat and waved it at the crowd on shore.

The boat was now swinging clear of the wharf and thousands of hats and
handkerchiefs were waving. "There she goes!" "Hurrah for Alaska!" "If
you strike it rich, let us know!" "God be with you!" These and a hundred
other cries rang out, and they were kept up until the steamer was far
out in the stream and on her way up the bay to the Golden Gate.

The run to the Gate did not take long, and by the middle of the
afternoon the steamer was standing out boldly into the Pacific Ocean, on
her way almost due north. It had been rather muggy, and now a heavy mist
set in, and by evening the boys were glad enough to leave the deck and
arrange their stateroom. It contained four berths, two for themselves,
one for Mr. Portney, and the last for a stranger who was down on the
ship's list as Captain Luke Zoss.

"I wonder who Captain Zoss can be?" said Randy to Earl, when the door of
the stateroom was suddenly flung open, and the bushy-bearded man who had
spoken to them on deck came in. He stared at them in surprise for a
second, then burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Wall! wall! So it's you as are goin' ter be my messmates on this yere
trip!" he exclaimed. "All right, lads, glad ter have ye." He held out a
brawny hand. "My handle is Luke Zoss, but most of the boys know me as
Cap'n Luke. May I be so inquisitive as to ask your names?"

"My name is Earl Portney, and this is my brother Randy," answered Earl.
The hearty way of the stranger pleased him, and he was sure he should
like Zoss.

"Portney, eh? I used ter know a man by thet name--Foster Portney, o'
Colorady."

"Why, he's our uncle, and he is with us!" cried Randy, and just then his
uncle came in, and he and Captain Zoss shook hands. They had met in
Creede, where Zoss had once been a mining superintendent, and knew each
other quite well.

"All bound fer the Klondike!" exclaimed the captain. "Hooray! We're sure
to strike it, eh, Portney? I know you wouldn't be a-goin' thar unless
gold was to be picked up. Goin' over Chilkoot Pass, I take it." Foster
Portney nodded. "Then we might as well stick together, eh? It will be
better than pairing off with somebody as might be wuss nor a hoss thief,
eh? O' course it would!"

Again the captain shook hands. Then he asked the boys where they came
from and was pleased to learn they were used to a life in the open air.

"I was a lumberman myself onct--up in Michigan," he said. "But thar
wasn't enough excitement, so I gave it up to seek gold and silver.
Minin' and prospectin' just suit me--leas'wise so long as the grub holds
out. One thing is in our favor--scarcity o' men up in them new gold
fields. Now, down in Colorady it's different--all overrun with men, eh,
Portney?"

"Yes, we'll have rather an open field," answered Foster Portney. And
then followed a long discussion about the new gold fields and what might
be expected when Dyea was reached and the terrible climb over the
mountains began. The discussion lasted until ten o'clock, and the boys
listened with interest and picked up many stray bits of information.
Both concluded that the overland trip to the mines would prove every bit
as rough and dangerous as they had pictured it.

The distance from San Francisco to Juneau, Alaska, is, in round figures,
one thousand miles. The _Golden Hope_ was not as large as a regular
ocean liner, yet she was a fast boat, and it was expected that she would
cover the distance inside of four days. Much, of course, would depend
upon the weather encountered, for she was heavily loaded with both
passengers and freight. The freight had given even the owners concern,
for much of it was piled high on the outer decks.

On the second day out, and some time after Cape Blanco had been sighted
through the glass, the sky to the westward began to darken, and the
sailors announced an approaching storm. Soon the sun went under a heavy
bank of clouds and a stiff breeze sprung up which threw the long, heavy
swells of the ocean into millions of whitecaps, dancing and skipping on
every side as far as eye could reach.

"We are in for it now," was the announcement which went the rounds.
Presently it began to rain, and all endeavored to seek the shelter of
the cabin, which speedily became crowded to suffocation. The boys, their
uncle, and Captain Zoss were in the forward part of the boat, and they
saw the course changed, so that the _Golden Hope_ stood out straight to
meet the blow.

"We are going to have no fun of this," said Foster Portney, with a grave
shake of his head. "If I know anything about matters, that storm will be
an extra heavy one." And the events of the next hour proved that he was
right.




CHAPTER IX.

THE FATE OF A STOWAWAY.


"My gracious! We're going to the bottom sure!"

It was Randy who made the observation. The storm had struck the steamer
in all its fury, and the pitching of the vessel made it almost
impossible for a person to keep his feet. Randy clutched a handrail
fastened near by, and Earl did the same; while Mr. Portney and Captain
Zoss braced up against a ceiling post. The only thing that kept many
from falling was the fact that there was no vacant floor space. "They
were in it like sardines in a tin," as Randy expressed it.

"Some of the outside freight is bound to go," remarked Foster Portney, a
minute later. "Ah, as I thought--the captain has ordered it cut away.
There goes some poor fellows' outfits! Too bad!"

"I hope our stuff isn't among it!" cried Earl. "But they'll be
responsible, won't they?"

"Yes, they'll be responsible, Earl. But we don't want their money--we
want our goods, for it may be difficult, if not impossible, to duplicate
the things at Juneau. But I imagine our goods are in the hold."

"Our clothing and provisions are," said Randy. "I saw them put down just
before we started. But the tools may be out there."

"If they--" began Captain Zoss, but broke off short as a mighty crash
was heard from the rear deck. The crash was followed by the jingle of
broken glass and sharp cries of pain and alarm.

There was every evidence of a panic, but the cooler heads restored
order, and then it was found that a miner's outfit had caused all the
trouble. It had been loosened from the deck, but before it could be
thrown overboard a lurch of the steamer had sent it sailing through the
air straight through a cabin window. The miner to whom the outfit
belonged had been one of those to be most scared by its unceremonious
entrance.

For three hours the storm raged in all its fury, and during that time no
one but the officers and crew were allowed on deck. Nearly all the
outside freight was thrown away, a loss which amounted to several
thousand dollars. At last the wind and the rain gradually abated, and by
nightfall the _Golden Hope_ was again proceeding on her journey
northward.

On the following day they ran by Vancouver Island, and it was calculated
that they would reach Juneau by noon of the day following. All were
anxious concerning the outfits which had been lost overboard, and the
miners and officers tried to make out a list of them. The work
proceeded all day, and it was not until nightfall that it was learned
positively that the goods belonging to the Portneys and to Captain Zoss
were safe.

The first sight of Juneau was rather disappointing to the boys, who had
expected to see a much larger place. Juneau is but a small town, lying
on the western coast of a peninsula formed by the Lynn Canal and the
wide mouth of the Taku River. Directly opposite is Douglas Island. The
town lies on a small patch of flat ground, backed up by several high
mountains. It is principally a trading centre. The harbor is a fairly
good one, and, on account of the rush to the gold fields, the stores
were increasing constantly.

As soon as the steamer reached her landing place a wild rush for shore
ensued, and then began a hunt for some vessel which might take the party
up to Dyea, where the journey by water would, for the present, come to
an end. The water up the Lynn Canal, as it is termed, although it is not
at all a canal as we know them, and through Dyea Inlet, is shallow, and,
consequently, ocean steamers do not go beyond Juneau.

"I'll hunt up passage on some boat," said Foster Portney to the boys.
"You remain here and watch our goods. Those fellows who lost their
outfits are angry enough, and some of them would like nothing better
than to appropriate ours and let us look to the steamboat company for
redress."

While he was gone, the task of bringing the goods from the steamer's
hold was started, for no one wanted to be delayed in Juneau any longer
than was necessary. Randy and Earl watched the work closely, and as soon
as their things appeared they claimed them and had the lot transferred
to a spot at the end of the rather rotten and shaky dock.

Presently, as they stood waiting for the reappearance of their uncle and
Captain Zoss, who had gone with Mr. Portney, they noticed a commotion on
board the _Golden Hope_. A stowaway had been found in the hold of the
vessel, and the sailors and stevedores had brought the fellow out more
dead than alive.

"Get off of here!" cried the captain of the steamer, in a rage, as he
booted the fellow not once, but half a dozen times. "Get out, I say! If
we were down in San Francisco I'd have you locked up in a minute. It's a
pity I didn't find you out when we were on the trip--I'd a-made you work
your passage, and more! Go, before I heave you overboard!"

And with a final kick the stowaway was run off the gang-plank, to fall
in a heap on the dock, too weak from the confinement and want of proper
food to stand.

"It's Fred Dobson!" ejaculated Randy. "Oh, Earl, look!"

"It is Fred, true enough!" replied Earl, as much surprised as his
brother. Forgetful of their outfits for the time being, both ran forward
and picked up the son of the squire of Basco. Fred's eyes were closed,
his face was as white as chalk, and they saw at a glance that he had
fainted.

[Illustration: "WITH A FINAL KICK THE STOWAWAY WAS RUN OFF THE
GANG-PLANK."--_Page 72._]

"Get some water, Randy," said Earl, as he began to work over the
prostrate figure. "I wonder if there is a doctor handy. He looks as if
he was half starved to death."

As Randy ran off, a crowd began to collect, a few to sympathize, but the
majority to look on merely in curiosity or to make audible comments that
it served the boy right, since he had no business to steal a trip.

"Got a crazy notion to go to the gold fields, I reckon," said one
bystander. "He ought to be home where his mamma could spank him."

At this there was a coarse laugh, which was quickly hushed when another
man, a young fellow of not more than twenty-three, stepped forward, and
announced that he was a doctor. He soon succeeded in bringing Fred
around.

"He wants something to eat as much as anything," said the newcomer.
"There is a restaurant over yonder. Better take him there and get him
some soup and stale bread--his stomach isn't strong enough to bear a
regular meal."

Randy and Earl thanked the doctor and did as advised, while the crowd
gradually melted away to tend to its own affairs. Fred was ravenously
hungry, yet he ate with difficulty when the food was set before him.

"I've had nothing to eat for about forty hours," he said, when he felt
strong enough to talk. "I spent that four dollars you two gave me in
buying provisions, crackers, cheese, and the like, but on the second day
out the rats got at the crackers and cheese and ate nearly the whole of
them. Then one of my bottles of water was smashed during that storm, and
though it was as close as pepper down there I hadn't a mouthful to
drink. I thought I was going to die just before they opened the hold and
began to remove the cargo."

"But, Fred, what made you do it?" asked Earl, reproachfully. "It was the
height of foolishness."

"I'm bound to go to the gold fields, Earl. You two are going there to
make a fortune, and why can't I make a fortune, too?"

"Because you are not fit for life out there, that's why. You suffered a
good deal in coming this far, but let me tell you that I expect to
suffer a good deal more than that before the Klondike River is reached
and we have endured the hardships of an Alaskan winter. Supposing you
succeed in getting away up in Alaska and are taken sick, who is going to
care for you, and how are you going to get back home? Now I don't want
to preach, but my advice is, to go back to Basco at once."

"And that's my advice, too, Fred," broke in Randy. "I know you are as
old as I am, but you know you never did such work as Earl and I are used
to, and some of the experienced miners even laugh at us. If Uncle
Foster hadn't known that we were used to hard work out in the open, in
midwinter at that, he would never have dreamed of asking us to go with
him; he told us so."

Randy and Earl both spoke earnestly, and it was not their fault that
what they had to say did not take effect. But Fred Dobson was both wild
and reckless, and he shook his head.

"I'm bound to go if I have to walk the rest of the way," he said. "I
thought I would strike your uncle again when we reached the place, but
if you are so dead set against me I'll not say another word, but try to
paddle my own canoe, as the saying is. Of course I'm much obliged for
what you did for me in San Francisco and here, and some day I'll make it
up to you, see if I don't."

"We don't want you to make it up, Fred; only act sensible and steer for
home when you next strike out," said Earl. He was about to go on, when
the entrance of his uncle and Captain Zoss into the restaurant caused
him to stop.

"Humph! so you've turned up again!" were Foster Portney's words. "I
heard there had been a stowaway on board of the _Golden Hope_. It was
the most foolish move you could make, lad." The prospector turned to his
youngest nephew. "Randy, where are our outfits?"

"Oh my!" burst out Randy, leaping to his feet. "Earl, we forgot all
about them!"

Earl said nothing, but he reached the door of the restaurant almost as
quickly as his brother. There was a crowd in the roadway outside, but
they quickly forced a passage through, and ran for the steamer dock. A
large number of outfits were spread here, there, and everywhere, but the
spot where they had left those belonging to their own party was vacant.




CHAPTER X.

UP THE LYNN CANAL.


Randy and Earl gazed about them in hopeless bewilderment. The outfits
belonging to themselves, their uncle, and to Captain Zoss were gone. Who
had taken them, and was there any chance of recovery?

"We should have looked after them," said Earl, bitterly. "It was
foolishness to leave the stuff, especially after Uncle Foster had warned
us."

"I wonder if any of those miners who lost their outfits from the steamer
are guilty," said Randy, as they started on another tour of the Juneau
wharf. "I remember one fellow with a red beard and a scar on his nose
who looked at the stuff rather closely when we came ashore."

"Let us start to make inquiries, Randy. We must get our outfits back. If
we don't, Uncle Foster will never forgive us."

"Yes, and we'll be in a pickle besides," groaned the younger brother.
"By the look of things in this settlement mining outfits are rather
scarce."

"Yes, I heard one man saying that about everything worth having had been
gobbled up several weeks ago and the storekeepers were awaiting new
consignments from San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle."

With anxious hearts they walked around the wharf and along a side road,
also piled high with miners' goods and steamer freight. Presently a man
joined them. It was Captain Zoss.

"Well, whar's our packs?" he questioned, and looked glum when told of
what had occurred. "By the boots, lads, we must find 'em--ain't no two
ways about that! Why, to go to the mines without tools would be wuss nor
a hen sittin' on a nest without eggs. Been all over the dock, yer say?"
He paused an instant. "I'll make a round o' the saloons. If the things
was stolen, like as not the thieves would want to git 'em out of sight
in quick order, eh?"

He was about to leave them, when they were hailed by a man standing near
the entrance to a new store that was going up on the opposite side of
the way. It was the doctor who had so kindly come to Fred Dobson's
assistance.

"What's up?" he called out. "Looking for your traps? They're all right.
I had them brought up here for safe keeping when you went off with the
sick lad. I knew they wouldn't be secure down on the wharf. There are
half a dozen quarrels on down there over lost and mixed-up baggage."

Randy and Earl felt much relieved, and so did the captain. They ran over
to the new store, and sure enough, everything was there in a heap,
alongside of the packs owned by the doctor. They thanked the medical man
for his kindness, and a short talk followed. The doctor's name was
Kenneth Barwaithe, and he was an Englishman who had practised for a year
in Victoria. He, too, was bound for the new gold fields, either for
mining purposes, or to set himself up in business.

"The hundreds of miners going up there will need doctoring," he
explained. "And I am all prepared to dose them with medicine, set a
broken leg, amputate an arm, or pull an aching tooth."

"Thar'll be work for you," said Captain Zoss, with a laugh. "But the
wust disease up thar will be one ye can't touch nohow."

"Indeed! And what is that?" questioned Kenneth Barwaithe, with interest.

"Starvation," was the solemn reply.

In order to relieve their uncle of further anxiety, Randy and Earl
returned to where they had left Mr. Portney. They found him in earnest
conversation with Fred Dobson. The face of the squire's son was very red
and his eyes were downcast.

"I'll write home at once," they heard Fred say, in a low voice. "I'm
glad Earl wrote from San Francisco. My folks will at least know I am
alive and well--that is, as well as a fellow can be who was half starved
to death," he added ruefully.

"And you ought to go home, lad--it's the proper place for you."

"Well, maybe I will--after I have earned enough around here to take me,
Mr. Portney."

Foster Portney's hand was in his pocket, and Earl and Randy saw him hand
Fred a ten-dollar bill. "Pay me back whenever you feel rich enough to do
so," he said, and the squire's son gave him a ready promise to that
effect.

Foster Portney and Captain Zoss had been fortunate enough to secure
passage up to Dyea, on a little steamboat, which was to leave early the
next day. The craft was a freight boat, but carried passengers whenever
she could get them. No time was lost in transferring their goods to this
craft, Fred Dobson helping them carry their loads. Doctor Barwaithe had
also secured passage in the craft, and soon became one of the party.
Later on, matters were talked over by him and the others, and it was
agreed that the five should stick together until the Klondike region was
reached. The forming of little parties of five or more was popular among
those who travelled by the overland route into Alaska. By such means
there was less danger of a man getting lost in the mountains, and the
preparation of meals along the way was easier, for each man of a party
took his turn at feeding the rest, so that only one set of packs had to
be unstrapped and packed again, instead of the lot. Besides this, the
building and sailing of a boat down the lakes and through the rapids by
one man was next to impossible.

It was very difficult to obtain accommodations at any of the so-styled
hotels in Juneau, so all hands encamped for the night on the deck of the
freighter, Fred Dobson managing to smuggle himself in with the regular
party. In the morning Fred approached the captain of the boat for a
situation, but was turned off in language far from fit to transcribe to
these pages.

"Got more on board than we want now, boy, so git ashore in a hurry, for
we're on the point of sailing," and with a wistful good-by to Randy,
Earl, and the others, the squire's son leaped to the dock. Five minutes
later the lines were cast off, and the wheezy, overloaded craft started
northward on the Lynn Canal.

The distance from Juneau to Dyea is a hundred and eighteen miles, past
Berner's Bay and Katsehan River into Chilkoot Inlet and finally up Dyea
Inlet. The run for the most part is past gigantic glaciers on one side
and mountains covered with snow and ice on the other.

"Gracious, this is a touch of winter and no mistake!" ejaculated Randy,
as the steamboat ploughed steadily on her way, and they stood by the
rail taking in the desolate sight. "See how those little icebergs
sparkle in the sunshine."

"Far off to the west of this canal is the great Muir Glacier," said
Foster Portney. "It is the largest glacier in the world. That island
which we just passed is Douglas, and there is situated the great
Treadwell Mine, one of the richest gold mines heretofore discovered in
Alaska."

"Have we got to climb mountains like that?" questioned Earl, as he
pointed to the snow-capped summits to the eastward.

"Have we got to climb 'em?" burst in Captain Zoss. "Why, them ain't an
ant hill to the ones we're to crawl over, lad. Just wait till we get up
into Dyea Inlet, and you'll catch sight o' mountains as will give you
the yellow shakes, as the boys call it. Now I don't want to discourage
ye," he went on, as he saw Earl take a deep breath. "I want to prepare
ye for the wust, that's all. That pass--the Chilkoot--is the wust part
o' the whole trip, being about three-quarters of a mile high and betwixt
mountains twice that size."

"Well, we can climb three-quarters of a mile, I guess, if the grade
isn't too steep," said Randy.

The captain turned away and smiled to himself. He was more than doubtful
if the boys would ever get safely over to Lake Linderman, the first of
the lakes on the other side of the mountain range.

It was well that they had dressed themselves warmly; for, on account of
the sun shining on the glaciers the air was filled with a mist which
chilled them to the bone. The channel was filled with loose pieces of
ice, and ever and anon the steamer would strike a miniature iceberg
with a crash which was clearly heard by all on board.

After a few hours of gazing at the monotonous presentation of glaciers
and snow-covered hills and mountains, the boys turned their attention to
those on board. It was a motley collection of people. Most of the men
were Americans, but there was also a fair sprinkling of Canadians,
Germans, and half a dozen Indians. The latter were of the Chilkoot
tribe, and interested Randy more than anything else. They were a
round-faced, stalwart set of fellows, and several of them had bands of
black painted across the upper parts of their faces.

"They paint the black around their eyes as a preventive of
snow-blindness," explained Foster Portney. "As soon as either of you
find your eyes hurting from the glare you had better put on a pair of
the smoked goggles."

Dinner on the steamer was served under the rather scanty shelter on the
upper deck. But fifteen could be accommodated at once, and as there were
over sixty people on board, it took some time to satisfy them all. The
fare was principally beef stew, bread, coffee, and rice pudding, but the
cold air gave every one a good appetite, and the boys did full justice
to all that was offered them.

At turning-in time there was more than one little row, for sleeping
accommodations were limited. Berths were at a premium, and had been
secured by the more fortunate ones when the steamer had landed at
Juneau. Foster Portney gathered his party around him in the shelter of
the wheelhouse, on deck, and here they slept huddled together like sheep
in a cattle car.

"Not like stopping at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, is it?" said
his uncle to Randy. "But never mind; as soon as we leave Dyea we'll have
all the room we want, and more."

"Sleeping like this keeps a fellow warm," said Randy, who felt somehow
as if he was out for a lark. But by and by, when somebody passed over
him in the dark and slipped on his chest, he did not think it quite so
much fun.

However, the night passed quickly enough, and at daybreak all were
stirring, for they had reached Dyea Inlet, and a landing was expected
before noon. A stiff breeze was blowing, and the Inlet, a long, narrow
arm of Chilkoot Inlet and the canal, was filled with angry waves blowing
from off shore. Presently the first sight of Dyea was gained, and half
an hour later an anchor was dropped, and the voyage so far as the
steamer was concerned was over.




CHAPTER XI.

THE START FROM DYEA.


Randy and Earl found Dyea but a small settlement. There was one store
which had been established for some time, and half a dozen others which
had sprung up to accommodate the miners and adventurers who were pouring
into the place. The total white population did not number a hundred, but
there were a very large number of Indians,--men, women, and
children,--all anxious to obtain employment as pack-carriers over the
mountains.

The steamer had anchored some distance from the beach, and it was no
light work to get the packs ashore in the heavy sea that was running.
Four small boats were employed for the purpose, and more than one bundle
was lost overboard in making the transfer to land.

"There goes one of my packs!" suddenly sang out Dr. Barwaithe, as a
small boat loaded high above the gunwales capsized just as the shore was
struck. A wild scramble by the miners was made to recover their goods.
The doctor would have gone into the icy water also, but he could not
swim.

Several Indians who were watching the scene rushed up to the medical
man. "Get heem fo' one dolla!" said the largest of the redmen, and the
doctor made the bargain on the spot. At once the Indian and his helper
leaped into the surf and swam toward the pack, which contained the
doctor's clothing and bedding, and was becoming rapidly water soaked.
They reached the pack as it was about to sink, and after ten minutes of
hard work brought it out on the pebbly shore.

By the middle of the afternoon all hands found themselves encamped along
the half-dried-up stream back of the settlement. Here there were nearly
a hundred tents of miners and prospectors who were not quite ready to
attempt the trip over Chilkoot Pass.

The Indian who had rescued the doctor's pack stuck to the medical man
for the job of transferring his goods over to Lake Linderman, stating he
and his companions would do the work for fifteen cents a pound.

"What do you think of that rate?" asked Dr. Barwaithe of Foster Portney,
while Randy and Earl looked on with interest.

"I don't know but that it's fair enough," was the reply.

"But wouldn't it be better to take horses from here and use Indians only
over the pass? You know we have about thirteen miles to travel before
the pass is reached."

"We had better take the Indians from here," put in Captain Zoss. "Thar's
no tellin' if we can git 'em further on, eh?"

"Yes, and we might as well get used to walking it from here, too," added
Mr. Portney. "It will do Randy and Earl some good, not but that I
imagine they can tramp as well as any of us."

"We've tramped for many a mile through the Maine woods, when we were out
hunting," said Randy. "By the way," he went on, "I haven't seen any game
yet, outside of a few birds."

The big Indian, who rejoiced in the name of Salmon Head, was waiting for
an answer, his squaw and two boys standing close by. The squaw was a
tall, thin woman of forty, whose face was painted a greasy black down to
the tip of her nose, the balance of her countenance being left its
natural color, yellowish red. The boys were sturdy lads of perhaps ten
and twelve, as used to carrying heavy burdens as their parents.

The bargain was struck with Salmon Head to have the goods of the entire
party packed over from that spot to the shore of Lake Linderman for
fifteen cents a pound, the work to be accomplished within the next four
days, weather permitting. The boys had expected to carry some of the
goods, but at this Foster Portney shook his head.

"You couldn't carry over forty or fifty pounds and maybe not that over
the Pass," he said, "and I would rather pay the price and have you
reserve your strength. You can each carry a knapsack filled with food,
in case you wander from the trail, although don't let this happen if you
can possibly avoid it. The best rule, in going over any pass, is to keep
at least two other members of the party in sight constantly."

In spite of the close proximity of the snow-capped mountains, the night
was a comparatively warm one, and no inconvenience was experienced by
the party in their tents. They had two, one belonging to Mr. Portney and
the boys, the other being one Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe had
purchased at Juneau for mutual comfort. The tents were put up end to
end, and being both water and wind tight were almost as good to sleep in
as a cabin.

The outfits had been carefully parcelled out to the Indians, Salmon Head
carrying a load of over a hundred and twenty-five pounds, his squaw
carrying a hundred pounds, and the sons loads of about half that weight.
Relatives of these Indians carried the remainder of the loads; for these
Chilkoot people, like other redmen, believed in keeping all they could
in the family.

Usually the journey to Lake Linderman was made in two stages, the first
from Dyea to the entrance to Chilkoot Pass, and the second over the Pass
itself and down to the lake, which may fairly be called the southern
headwaters of the Yukon River. This course was to be pursued by the
present party, and bright and early on the following morning they
started out on what was destined to be the most perilous trip of their
lives. Captain Zoss went ahead with the Indians, while the boys and
their uncle and the doctor kept in a bunch behind.

At the start, the trip was along the bottom of a deep canyon, on either
side of which arose mountains and cliffs for the most part covered with
snow and ice. Down in this canyon flowed what is called the Dyea River,
a mere mountain torrent, dashing over rocks and crags and here and there
broadening out into a shallow flow over sand and pebbles. Walking was
rough, for at times they had to leap from one great rock to another or
else let themselves down, to wade through water and sand up to their
knees. The wind had calmed down, yet once in a while it sent upon them a
flurry of fine snow from the distant mountain tops.

"We are not getting ahead very fast!" puffed Randy, as he and the others
came to a halt on a flat rock to rest. "We've been walking for three
hours, and I doubt if we have covered more than five miles."

"I heard at Dyea that the thirteen miles to the entrance to the Pass is
considered a good day's journey," said Earl. "I'm rather glad I'm not
carrying that load Salmon Head has strapped to his back."

"It would take me a week to get that load up," said Randy. "I can't
understand how those boys get along."

"It's a matter of training," said Foster Portney. "I dare say either of
you can cut down a tree in half the time that those Chilkoots can do
it."

On they went again, the trail now growing steeper and more barren. A few
stunted firs lined the canyon, and here and there could be seen a
half-dead vine twisted about the fir branches, and that was all, so far
as vegetation went. And this was coming summer time!

"It must be dreariness itself in winter," remarked Earl, to his uncle,
as they trudged along side by side. "I never saw anything so desolate,
not even in the wildest parts of Maine."

"It is this desolate look which has kept men out of Alaska, Earl. Many
have known of there being gold there, but they preferred to remain down
in the States, where living, at least, was more certain and congenial.
You'll find, my lad, that you will need all your nerve and backbone to
withstand what is before you. Perhaps I did wrong in urging you to join
me."

"No, you didn't--I'm glad I came, and so is Randy, and we'll get
through," answered Earl, hastily. "Oh, look!" he pointed to where a
flock of birds were circling far overhead. "Shall I give them a shot?"

"No! no!" cried Foster Portney, hastily. "I forgot to tell you. I
arranged with the Indians that no shot should be fired on the trip
excepting some one was in trouble and needed assistance. I'll inform the
others." And he halted for the others to come up.

Captain Zoss provided the dinner at about one o'clock, all hands taking
it easy on some clear rocks in the sunshine. As may be supposed, the
fare was a plain one, yet to Randy and Earl nothing had ever tasted
better, for climbing and the bracing mountain air gave them enormous
appetites. They could have eaten more than was provided but understood
that from henceforth until further supplies were assured, rations would
be dealt out with a sparing hand.

As soon as the dinner dishes had been cleaned and repacked the journey
to Sheep Camp, as the stopping-place was called, was renewed. The trail
was now steeper than ever, and more than once the stream of water had to
be crossed. Every one was suffering from wet feet, but as all had on
several pairs of heavy socks, this did no further damage than to render
them cold in their nether limbs. As the trail grew rougher the Indians,
who knew every footstep, forged ahead, and the others were allowed to
shift for themselves.

It was about the middle of the afternoon that Randy and his uncle were
walking one behind the other, with Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe just
in the rear. The captain had been relating one of his experiences in
mountain climbing in Colorado, to which all had listened with interest.
The story was finished, and they were congratulating themselves that
the end of the day's tramp was close at hand, when Randy suddenly looked
around in alarm.

"Where is Earl?" he asked.

"Earl!" exclaimed Mr. Portney. "Why, he is ahead, isn't he?"

"No, he dropped behind, to fix his boot," was the quick reply. "Earl!
Earl!"

The cry was repeated, and the others also took it up. Then they waited
for an answer, but none came. Earl had disappeared. They waited for five
minutes for him to make his reappearance, but he did not come; and then
they started on a search for him.




CHAPTER XII.

EARL HAS AN ADVENTURE.


As Randy had explained, Earl had stopped on the trail to fix his boot.
In crossing the mountain stream he had shipped a lot of water, and he
sat down on a rock and held up his foot, to allow the water to run out
on the ground.

Unfortunately for the youth he had rested on a rock which was by no
means secure on the bank of the stream, and now, as he leaned to one
side, the rock slipped from its resting-place, and down went poor Earl
into the water head first. As luck would have it, he struck in some
loose sand, otherwise he would have been seriously injured. Even as it
was he was stunned for the moment, and before he could turn he had
gulped down a great deal of water. He was nearly blinded by some fine
sand getting into his eyes and began to flounder around as though in the
midst of an ocean instead of a watercourse less than fifty feet wide and
five feet deep.

It took several minutes for him to save himself by reaching a large rock
in the centre of the stream. Collecting his scattered senses, he
cleared his eyes as best he could and took a view of his situation.

The rock was six feet in diameter and two feet above the top of the
water. On either side flowed the stream at a rate which he knew would be
quite sufficient to take him off his feet should he attempt to ford to
shore. What was to be done in this emergency he did not at first know.
The others had gone on ahead, and although he called to them, no one
heard his cry.

Had he had his gun he would have fired it, had the weapon been in
condition. But less than quarter of an hour before he had passed the
fowling-piece over to Captain Zoss, the captain having asked to inspect
it. He must help himself, or go without assistance.

Standing on the rock, he saw that escape to either side was out of the
question, and escape up the stream was also cut off. Below, however,
were a series of rocks running off to shore, and after some hesitation
he dropped into the stream and allowed himself to be carried down to
these rocks.

Five minutes of struggling in the current found him safe on the opposite
shore to that upon which the lower portion of the trail to Chilkoot Pass
lay. The question now was, how to get back to the other side of the
river.

"I'll walk along on this side until I get a chance to cross over," he
said, half aloud, and then the loneliness of his situation dawned upon
him. He struck out without delay, determined to catch up with the
others of the party as quickly as possible.

For the first quarter of a mile Earl did very well, but soon he noted to
his dismay that the stream was widening, and that, consequently, he was
getting further and further away from the other side. He had been making
his way along a cliff lined with short firs. Now the cliff came to an
abrupt end, and beyond he beheld nothing but a mass of jagged rocks and
a jungle of brush, to pass through which would be next to impossible.

"Stumped now!" he muttered to himself, and his face fell as he surveyed
his situation. The stream at this point was all of one hundred and fifty
feet wide, and the trail opposite was not close to the water's edge, but
wound in behind the rocks and fir trees.

"I've got to get over to that trail, that's certain!" he went on, after
a disagreeable pause. "Here goes to try the water again," and with
extreme care he began the descent of the cliff, which was some twenty
feet high. The bottom was reached in safety, and he found himself
standing in water and sand half up to his knees.

Because of the widening of the stream at this point the current was not
so strong, and he began to wade in deeper and deeper, until one-quarter
of the width had been passed and he found himself up to his waist. He
shivered with the cold and felt like going back, but a few steps more
brought him to a sand-bar, where the water scarcely touched his knees.
Overjoyed at this, he attempted to follow up the bar, soon reaching and
passing the middle of the river. He was wading on more confidently than
ever, when of a sudden the bar came to an end, and down he plunged into
a pool over his head.

The one thing to do now was to swim, and Earl struck out boldly for the
shore, still thirty feet away. The weight of his heavy clothing was
against him, and the current carried him on and on down the stream and
toward a mass of jagged rocks fearful to behold. Had he been of a less
rugged temperament the cold water might have given him both a chill and
a cramp.

Five minutes of fearful anxiety passed, and Earl was almost exhausted,
when, putting his foot down, he struck bottom at a depth of four feet.
This encouraged him, and he renewed his effort to reach the bank beyond.
Yet another pool had to be crossed, and when finally he did pull himself
out of the stream and safe up on a sloping rock he was too exhausted to
do aught but lie down on his side and pant for breath.

It was here that Randy and his uncle found him, just as he was making an
effort to gain his feet and continue his search for them. They were
overjoyed to learn that he had not suffered serious injury. They called
to Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe, who were close by, and soon all were
together again.

Captain Zoss had an extra shirt in his pack, and this Earl borrowed,
along with a dry coat belonging to his uncle. Both articles of wearing
apparel were too large for him, but he gladly exchanged them, for the
time being, for his wet ones; and then the delayed journey toward Sheep
Camp was continued.

When the resting-place for the night was gained, it was found that all
of the Indians had come in over an hour before and had sought out a
comfortable camp for them under a large overhanging rock. A number of
others had also arrived, and over a dozen tents had been pitched in
addition to those already there. According to lot, it was Randy's turn
to get a meal ready, and he set to work without delay, starting a
roaring fire of pine branches and logs, that Earl might warm and dry
himself. Dr. Barwaithe had brought with him a newly patented sheet-iron
camp stove, and on this a pot of water was soon boiling, to be used in
making coffee, while Randy also offered them fried potatoes and a
deliciously cooked fish one of the Indians brought in.

Outside of the doctor, who was not used to walking over such rough
ground, no one felt any ill effects of the day's journey, although all
were glad to turn in at the earliest possible moment. The doctor had
worn a slight blister on his heel, and, in order to prevent this giving
him serious concern later, he put some salve on it and bound it up
before retiring.

Ere they crawled into the tent, both boys took a look at the great,
white mountains, which loomed up before them. Here was the entrance to
Chilkoot Pass, and there, almost lost among the clouds, was the dreaded
summit, with mountains still higher on either side of it. Randy drew
closer to Earl as he surveyed the awe-inspiring scene.

"Earl, we've got an everlasting hard climb before us," he whispered. "Do
you think we'll make it?"

"We must make it, Randy," was the low and earnest reply. "It won't do to
show the white feather now. Uncle would never forgive us."

"Some parts of it look like crawling up the side of a house," and Randy
shuddered. "If a fellow should fall, he'd break his neck sure."

"I guess you're right, Randy; although it may not be so bad when one is
right on top of it. There is a sort of a trail, you know, although it's
not much. I heard Salmon Head tell Uncle he hoped it would be cold
to-morrow night, and that we should start for the Pass about four or
five o'clock in the afternoon. I wonder what he meant by that."

"I heard Captain Zoss speaking of it. They start toward evening so as to
pass the deepest snows on the summit about midnight when a crust forms
to walk on, for at this season of the year the deep snows are too soft
to be trusted when the sun is shining."

"And what happens to a fellow, I wonder, if he breaks through the
snow?"

"I don't know, I'm sure--I guess he goes to kingdom come," and Randy
shuddered again. "We'll know all about it by this time to-morrow night."
And then both boys retired, to dream of perilous climbs over the
snow-clad mountains and fearful falls into gigantic crevasses, until
both awoke in a fright and covered with cold perspiration.

It was not until late that anybody was stirring the next day. It was
Earl's turn to get breakfast, and he told them if they would wait he
would treat them to freshly baked beans and hot bread; and all waited.
While Earl was at work, with Randy helping him, two of the Indian boys
came up, and their efforts at making themselves understood were
laughable. Finally Randy made out that they wanted an old silk
neckerchief he possessed, and he gave it to Tomablink, the older youth,
who was as proud of the article as if it had been worth a small fortune.

Under the advice of Foster Portney, all took it easy in camp that day,
in order to reserve their strength for the struggle to come. Even the
Indians seemed to grow a bit uneasy concerning what was before them;
for, although they had climbed over the Pass a number of times, they
well knew what a rough and highly dangerous proceeding each new trip was
likely to be. On this terrible Pass more than one Indian and white man
had been lost, never to be heard of again.

At last, at exactly four o'clock in the afternoon, Salmon Head
announced his readiness to start. As chief of the Indian party, he had
looked to it that each carrier's pack was properly adjusted, and now he
gave several directions to the whites to the effect that they should
keep together as much as possible and always in sight of his own people.

"Don't think there be an easy this way or that," he said in broken
English. "Indian know best way in the end--you follow him day and night,
or you lost. Stick foot deep down when climb, and no let go with hands."

His manner was so earnest, all promised to remember his words. Then the
crowd of whites and Indians was gathered together, the tents were struck
and packed; and the terrifying journey over the dreadful Chilkoot Pass
was begun.




CHAPTER XIII.

AT THE SUMMIT OF CHILKOOT PASS.


At Sheep Camp, which lay in something of a hollow, there had been a
goodly collection of trees and brush, but now, as the little party
started on the journey to the summit of Chilkoot Pass, all this was left
behind, and nothing confronted them but immense beds or glaciers of
snow, which crunched under their feet and gave forth a hollow sound. At
certain points they could plainly hear the rushing of water far beneath.

"Gracious, if a fellow went through this crust of snow what would happen
to him?" said Randy, as he trudged on, with his uncle just ahead of him
and Earl behind.

"Let us hope that no such fate overtakes any of the party," replied Mr.
Portney, gravely. "It is not likely that one can break through here," he
added, "for the snow in the trail is pretty well packed down."

The blinding glare of the sun had caused all to put on their smoked
glasses, or goggles, but now, as the great orb of day was lost to sight
behind the mountain tops, these protectors for the eyes were removed,
that they might see their way clearer. The Alaskan twilight was creeping
on them, causing all their surroundings to turn to a pale blue color.
The mists of the mountains were also rising, and on every hand were
weird, ghostlike shadows which enhanced this scene of wild desolation.

On and on went the white members of the party, doing their best to keep
the sturdy Indian pack-carriers well in sight. But the red people, with
their hideously painted faces, knew every foot of the way, and made
rapid progress, and it was all the others could do at times to keep up.

By ten o'clock it began to grow colder, and even the boys could feel the
crust of snow on which they were trudging becoming firmer beneath their
feet. It was far from dark, a pale glimmer of light hanging on every
mountain top. But now the trail became suddenly steeper, and they found
themselves going straight up the side of a hill several hundred feet
high.

"Plant your feet firmly at every step," were Foster Portney's words of
caution. "And remember, looking back will do you no good."

This last warning was for Randy's benefit, for the lad had just looked
back and shivered over the awful descent below him. A fall would mean a
long roll, and a broken neck over a cliff below.

Captain Zoss had gone on ahead with the Indians and just before midnight
he came back with a warning to watch out for several splits, or
crevasses, in the glaciers they were now traversing.

"Salmon Head says he heard a report of several new ones just before
starting, and these are as yet unmarked," he said.

"We'll be as careful as we can," said Dr. Barwaithe. "We can do no
more."

They now passed over a broad plain of snow where the mists hung more
thickly than ever. They had almost reached the centre of the plain when
a loud cry from the Indians ahead caused them to halt.

"What can be the meaning of that?" questioned Earl. "Can they be in
trouble?"

Presently, from among the mists appeared the form of one of the Indian
carriers, without his bundle. He soon explained in broken English that
he had been sent back by Salmon Head to warn them of a split in the ice
field just ahead. One of the Indian women had slipped in, and it was by
mere good fortune that some of the men had rescued her.

This Indian remained with them until the crack was reached, where he
resumed his pack and went on. The opening was an irregular one, from
four to eight feet wide and of unfathomable depth. Fortunately the sides
were well defined and firm, so they had small trouble in leaping
across.

"It was good of them to send a man back," said the doctor, as he paused
to peer down into the crevasse. "Had we not been warned we might have
slipped into that without knowing it."

The trail now wound in and out among a number of small hills, and once
again the party ahead was lost to sight. With the increasing cold came a
stiff wind through the passes, bringing down upon their heads a
veritable storm of snow, swept from the mountain tops above.

"I can readily understand how impossible it would be to make one's way
through this Pass during the winter," said Dr. Barwaithe. "A regular
fall of snow would mean a blizzard down here and a snowing in from which
there would be no escape until spring arrived."

"And think of the cold!" said Earl. "Phew! the thermometer must go to
about forty below zero!"

"It does go as low as that at times," replied his uncle. "No; travelling
through this Pass during the long Alaskan winter is entirely out of the
question. The man to undertake it would be a madman."

They had come to the end of the comparatively level portion of the
trail, and now climbing so dangerous was at hand that little more was
said. From one steep icy elevation they would crawl to the next, until
several hundred feet up. Then came a turn around a cliff where the
passageway was scarcely two feet wide, with a wall on one side and what
appeared misty, bottomless space on the other. Here the Indians had
fastened a hand-rope which each was glad enough to clutch as he wormed
his way along to safer ground.

"Well, I don't want any more of that!" said Earl, with a long sigh of
relief. "A slip there, and it would be good-by, sure!"

"Yes, and I guess they would never even get your body," added Randy.

There was no time left to halt, for the Indians were pressing on, their
endurance, and especially the endurance of the women and the boys,
proving a constant wonder to Randy and Earl, the latter declaring that
they must be tougher than pine knots to stand it.

"One more big climb, boys, and we'll be at the summit!" was the welcome
announcement made by Captain Zoss; but when Earl and Randy looked at the
climb he mentioned their hearts fairly sank within them and they
wondered how in the world they were going to make it without its costing
them their lives.

An almost sheer wall of ice and snow confronted them, rising in an
irregular form to a height of four hundred feet. This cliff, if such it
might be called, was more light at its top than at the base, and
consequently it appeared to stand out towards them as they gazed up at
it. Along the face the Indian pack-carriers were crawling, like flies on
a lumpy whitewashed wall.

"We can't do--" began Randy, when he felt his arm pinched by Earl.

"We must do it, Randy," came back in a whisper. "The Indians are doing
it, and so can we--if we'll put our grit into it."

"Now take it slow and be sure of one foot before you move the next,"
said Foster Portney, warning them again. "Dig as deeply into the ice and
snow as you can. And above all things, Randy and Earl, _don't look
back_!" And the uncle shook his fist to emphasize his words.

A breathing spell was taken, and then they started slowly for the base
of the cliff, where Captain Zoss got down on his knees to make sure that
they were on the right trail, if trail it could be called. He soon
announced that one party had gone up at one place and the others at a
spot about thirty feet to the left.

"I'll try my luck here," he said, and the doctor agreed to follow him.
There was no telling which trail was the better, and the Portneys took
the other, Mr. Portney going first, with Randy next and Earl last. The
uncle wished to make sure of the footing before he allowed the boys to
come after him.

The first hundred feet up were not as difficult as Randy and Earl had
imagined, but now every step had to be calculated, and when half way up
Foster Portney came to a halt.

"Here's a very steep place," he announced, without, however, looking
back. "Randy, when you reach it, catch hold of the spur of ice with your
left hand and put your foot just beneath it. Tell Earl to do the same."

"I will," answered Randy, but when the spot mentioned was reached poor
Randy's heart leaped into his throat. The sheer wall before him was
nearly as high as a house, and there was nothing to cling to but little
lumps of ice which stuck out here and there. The lumps might crack off,
and then--he did not dare to think further than that. He was strangely
tempted to look below him, but his uncle's words of warning rang in his
ears--"_Don't look back!_" and he did not.

One step was taken, and then another, and Randy felt as if he was
suspended in the air, with nothing above or beneath him. A brief vision
of himself lying mangled far below flashed across his mind, and he
wished himself safe back in the woods of Maine again. What was all the
gold in Alaska worth alongside of such an agonizing risk of life as
this?

But he must go on; he could not remain where he was forever. The next
step was even more difficult, and he held his breath as he took it. He
had been climbing up the cliff for less than quarter of an hour, yet he
felt a year older than when he had begun. Would the climb never come to
an end?

"Take it easy, boys; we are almost there," came the encouraging voice of
Foster Portney, although the uncle was almost as fearful as his
nephews. "A little to the right now, and beware of those snow lumps;
they are not firm enough to hold to. I can see the top just above my
head. Ah, here I am. Now, Randy, another step and give me your hand.
Now, Earl, take the same step Randy took. There you are. Thank God we
are safe so far!"

The two boys echoed their uncle's sentiment, with a deep feeling in
their hearts which they never forgot. The summit of Chilkoot Pass had
been reached at last.




CHAPTER XIV.

BOAT-BUILDING AT LAKE LINDERMAN.


The Portneys, having reached the highest point of Chilkoot Pass, were
presently joined by Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe, who had gone through
a similar experience to that just described. The doctor had once come
very close to losing his footing, and he declared that he would not make
the climb again for a million dollars.

They stopped for a few minutes to view the scene from the edge of the
cliff. On either side were the still taller mountains, while below them
stretched that portion of the Pass just travelled, like a valley of
glittering ice, thick with mist and wind-swept snow. An intense silence
reigned, broken occasionally by the booming and crunching of some
immense glacier in the distance.

"A grand scene, but one not particularly suited to my feelings," said
the doctor. "Let us go on."

"Yes; the sooner we git out o' this yere Pass, the better I will be
pleased," added the captain. "I've had enough climbin' ter last me two
lifetimes, eh?" and he gave a grunt and strode off, and the others
followed.

"That is, I believe, the most perilous part of the trip to the gold
fields," remarked Foster Portney. "Of course we have still a good bit of
rough country to traverse and rapids in the rivers to shoot, but nothing
quite so bad as that."

The ice fields from the summit sloped gradually downward to a basin some
distance below, called Crater Lake. This little lake was frozen solid
from top to bottom and covered with snow. It was hemmed in on three
sides by tall mountains, while on the fourth there was a canyon-like
opening, where an ice-bound stream led the way over rocks and tiny
cliffs to Lake Linderman, at the end of the Pass. Just before reaching
the latter lake, they passed several large posts set up close to the
trail, which was now once more clearly defined.

"Those are surveyors' posts," said Foster Portney, in reply to a
question from Earl. "We have just passed from United States into British
territory."

"This, then, is the Northwest Territory," said Earl.

"Yes, my boy; and the entire Klondike region, from Ogilvie to Belle
Isle, is in that territory."

As they descended to the lower level of the Pass, the solid ice gave way
to rotten ice and slush, in which they frequently sank to their ankles.
Here the stream broadened out into several ponds, and finally ended in
a wide, marshy expanse, forming the upper end of Lake Linderman. Along
the edge of this marsh they picked their way, first, however, stopping
for dinner, for the night had passed and the forenoon had been consumed
in the journey from Crater Lake. The Indians kept pressing on, and they
followed.

It was dark again when they came up at last with their pack-carriers
encamped under some timber, which stood on a little bluff not over two
hundred feet from the lake. Salmon Head's party had started a rousing
fire, and this was a welcome sight, for it made all feel more at home.
No time was lost in getting out the cooking utensils and the doctor's
stove; and while they were preparing other things, the Indians brought
several fish from the lake to be baked.

"I guess we'll get our fill of fish before long," remarked Earl.

"Don't you want any now?" smiled his uncle.

"Want any, Uncle Foster? Indeed I do! Why, I'm so hungry I could almost
eat horse meat!" was Earl's earnest reply; and he bustled around with
the cups and plates, that they might not be delayed as soon as the
coffee, biscuits, and fish were done.

The Indians remained near by all night, and early in the morning a
general reckoning-up took place, and the pack-carriers were paid off in
gold and silver, not caring to take the paper money which was offered.
All had done very well, and Foster Portney, Captain Zoss, and Dr.
Barwaithe did not dispute the amounts asked, although they were a trifle
high. As soon as they were paid off, the Indians packed up their own
articles, but a handful in number, and hurried away in the direction
whence they had come.

"Good gracious! are they going right back to Dyea?" exclaimed Randy, in
amazement.

"Yes, my lad," was Captain Zoss's answer. "Salmon Head calculates to
pilot another lot o' miners over as soon as possible. It's his hayin'
time, ye see, an' he intends ter make the most o' it."

At this Earl laughed. "I guess he's not going to let his legs get
stiff," he cried. "I'm as stiff as an old mule this morning. What's to
do to-day?"

"We'll locate some timber for boat-building," said his uncle, "and get
our traps into shape, and then rest. There is no use in killing
ourselves all at once. We've got a matter of five hundred miles to
journey yet."

"If we go up into the timber, I suppose we can try our hand at shooting
something if anything turns up," said Randy.

"Certainly; shoot all the game you can, boys. We'll want it to help eke
out our stores."

There were numerous odds and ends to do about the camp, and it was not
until after dinner that they started into the timber to select some wood
which might be used in boat-building. It was now that the boys'
knowledge of timber stood them in good stead; and it took but a short
while to pick out a tree which was close-grained and comparatively free
from knots. They had brought their axes with them, and had the tree down
in short order. Then they lopped off the branches and cut off the top,
and left it in the sun to dry out as much as possible before attacking
it with their boat-building tools.

This accomplished, Earl and Randy set off, the former with the shot-gun
and the other with his pistol, to stir up whatever might be around in
the way of game. They followed the edge of the cliff to where it sloped
down to the lake shore.

Presently Earl thought he saw something in the brush along the water
front, and, taking up a half-decayed stick, he threw it at the spot. At
once there was a squawk, and half a dozen wild geese arose in the air.
Bang! went the shot-gun, and crack! went Randy's pistol, and three of
the geese were seen to throw back their heads and sink.

"We hit 'em!" cried Randy, and ran down, followed by his brother. Two of
the fowls were dead, and the other was speedily put out of its misery by
Earl with a blow from the gun-stock. They had been cautioned not to
waste their ammunition, so had not ventured a second round at the
balance of the flock.

"These ought to make good eating," observed Randy, as he picked up the
game. "That is, if they don't taste too fishy. Here is my bullet hole,
right through the neck. You killed the other two."

With the dead geese over their shoulders, they continued their hunt for
game, and presently stirred up a number of wild birds, at which Earl
blazed away, bringing down five. The birds were small and hardly worth
the trouble of cleaning and cooking, yet they took them along.

"Geese, eh?" exclaimed Captain Zoss, as they entered camp. "Wall, that's
not so bad! We kin have a goose pot-pie o' one, and stuff the other with
bread an' beans, eh?" All hands agreed this would be an excellent plan,
and the boys set about cleaning the game without delay, the captain
assisting them at the work.

Toward night they espied a band of Indians coming down the trail with
their packs and followed by half a dozen miners, a hardy but not an
evil-looking crowd. The miners had left Dyea twenty-four hours later
than themselves and had brought with them the material for a
flat-bottomed scow, fifteen feet long and four feet wide. The Indians
had carried this material over the Pass, but how it had been
accomplished was a mystery to the boys and the others.

"Hang me, if I don't reckon they have a secret way o' their own," was
Captain Zoss's comment. "They couldn't cart them boards up that steep
cliff, nohow!" And Randy and Earl were half inclined to believe the
captain's suspicions to be true.

The miners, who went by the name of the Idaho crowd, because they came
from that State, encamped next to the doctor's crowd, as they were
speedily termed, on account of having a medical man with them, and all
became well acquainted before night. The Idaho crowd had just heard of
an extra large find being made on Gold Bottom Creek, which flowed into
the Klondike River, and they were anxious to get up there without delay,
and consequently spent half the night in putting their boat together for
an early start on the following morning.

"You're the fust boys I've heerd tell on bound for the gold diggin's,"
said one of the men to Randy and Earl. "I'm afeard ye'll find it kinder
tough luck, for as far ez I kin understand it is tough even on a man.
Whar are ye from? Californy?"

"No, from the backwoods of Maine," answered Earl. "And we are used to
roughing it."

"Gee shoo! Didn't know the news had struck out so all-fired far ez thet.
Wall, if you're from the backwoods, 'tain't likely you'll suffer ez much
ez some of the tenderfoots wot's older. Wish ye the best o' luck." And
the man turned away to his boat-building again.

Eight o'clock of the following morning found the Idaho crowd on its way
down Lake Linderman. In the meantime the boys, Foster Portney, and
Captain Zoss had started into the timber with their tools, leaving Dr.
Barwaithe to watch camp and bake several days' supply of bread and
biscuits, and also to parboil some beans for baking.

The tree selected for cutting up had been allowed to fall over a large
flat rock, and now the first work was to prop up the lower end. This
done, both ends were sawed off even and a good portion of the bark was
scaled off. Then Earl and Randy sharpened up several wedges and tried
their hands at splitting up the trunk into a suitable size for
whipsawing.

This was no light work, and had they not had a knowledge of woodcraft it
would have been next to impossible to do what the lads, aided by their
uncle and the captain, accomplished. By nightfall the tree was split and
sawed up into more than a dozen slabs, of varying thickness, and these
were laid out for working up in the morning.

When the party returned to the edge of the lake they found that three
other crowds had come in over the Pass, and there was quite a settlement
of tents alongshore. In one of the parties there was a young woman, the
wife of a prospector, who had stood the arduous climb nearly as well as
any one.

"Hullo, Portney!" suddenly cried a voice to Earl, as he was walking
around among the tents. "I didn't know you had got this far."

Earl turned swiftly, and was nearly dumfounded to find himself
confronted by Tom Roland, while Jasper Guardley stood but a few feet
away.




CHAPTER XV.

ON TO LAKE BENNETT.


The face of Tom Roland wore a smile, but in his eyes was an anxious look
which Earl did not fail to notice as he surveyed the two acquaintances
from Basco. The young prospector was much taken aback by this sudden
appearance, for he had not dreamed of meeting Roland and Guardley in
this out-of-the-way spot.

"Ain't you glad to see a feller from Maine?" went on Roland, as Earl did
not speak; and he held out his hand, which the youth took rather coldly.
Guardley had come up to shake hands too, but now he did not risk making
the offer.

"Are you two bound for the Klondike?" at length asked Earl.

"Of course," was Roland's sharp reply. "What else would we be doing up
here?"

"What started you--the fact that we were going?"

"Well, I allow as that had a little to do with it, Earl; but Guardley
got a letter from a friend of his who is up there now--a man named
Stephens. He said Guardley ought to come up at once, and as he didn't
want to go alone, I came along. How are you making out?"

"We are doing very well."

"You and your brother came on with your uncle, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Any others in the party?"

"Yes; two men."

Tom Roland's eyes dropped for a moment. "Me and Guardley have been
havin' rather a hard road of it, all alone," he went on. "We've been
thinking of joining forces with somebody."

"Well, our crowd is complete," answered Earl, quickly.

"Then you won't consider taking in two more, providing, of course, we do
our share of work and pay our share of the expenses."

"I don't think so, Roland."

"Who is at the head of your party?"

"Nobody in particular; we all work together."

"Maybe you had better speak to the boy's uncle," put in Guardley. "Come
on."

He stalked off, and after some slight hesitation Tom Roland followed,
with Earl at his side. Foster Portney was found mending a corner of the
tent, which had become torn in packing. Randy was beside him and uttered
a cry when he beheld the two men from Basco.

"Tom Roland and Jasper Guardley!" he whispered to his uncle. "Those are
the fellows we thought got that money on a false identification!"

"Is that so?" returned Foster Portney. "What can Earl be bringing them
here for?"

"This is Mr. Portney, I take it," said Guardley, after clearing his
throat awkwardly. "I was thinking--"

"He and his friend want to join us," put in Earl. "I told them that our
party was complete."

"Hullo, Randy!" broke in Roland, carelessly. "You'd like us to come into
your crowd, wouldn't you?"

Randy was staggered at the request, coming so unexpectedly. He glanced
at Earl before replying. "No, I guess not," he said.

"Why, what's the matter with you?" cried Roland, half angrily. "We are
all Maine folks, and friends ought to stick together, seems to me."

He turned to Foster Portney and introduced himself and Guardley, and
stated his case, adding that he and his companion only wanted to join
some party until Dawson City was reached. Mr. Portney listened quietly,
and then turned to Captain Zoss, who stood near.

"I don't believe we want any more in our crowd, do you?"

"I reckon we've got a-plenty," was the captain's answer. "Still, if they
are friends to the boys--"

"But they are not," whispered Earl. "And what is more, we consider them
doubtful characters."

"Then we don't want 'em, nohow."

"This camp is full," came from inside, where Dr. Barwaithe sat,
examining his sore foot, which was neither better nor worse. "That boat
we are building won't hold more than five people, along with our
outfits."

The faces of both Roland and Guardley grew dark. "All right; if you
don't want us, we'll hook fast somewhere else," muttered Roland, and
turned on his heel.

"Maybe you'll regret throwing us off some day," came from Guardley, as
he passed Earl; and then the two men were lost to sight among the tents
up the lake shore.

"Oh, what cheek!" burst from Randy, when they were gone. "I wouldn't
have Roland in the party for a farm."

"I'd be afraid of Guardley's stealing everything we had," said Earl. "As
if we didn't know his real character, and that he had been up before
Judge Dobson lots of times!"

"I reckon they'll stand watching, especially that last cur--from what he
said to Randy," said Captain Zoss. "He's got a bad eye, he has, eh?"

All hands slept soundly after their hard day's work in the timber, and
it was not until they heard others stirring in the morning that they
arose. As he was not working on the boat, Dr. Barwaithe took it upon
himself to perform the "household duties," as he expressed it, and soon
a well-cooked breakfast was arranged on a rude table Captain Zoss had
stuck up. The doctor was an excellent cook, and Foster Portney could not
help but ask him whence his knowledge had been derived.

"It's easily explained," said the doctor. "I have an older sister who
was once the head of a cooking school in Montreal. She insisted on it
that every one should know how to cook, especially a bachelor like
myself, and she used to deliver her lectures to me, at home, before
delivering them at the school. I believe I was an apt pupil, but I never
dreamed at that time of how useful the knowledge would become."

"Which goes for to prove a feller can't know too much," remarked Captain
Zoss. "But come on," he added, draining off his big tin cup of coffee,
and springing up. "That ere boat ain't going to build itself." And off
he hurried for the woods, carrying all of the tools he could carry. In a
moment the boys and Foster Portney followed him.

They found the rough slabs of lumber as they had left them, and sticking
them up in convenient places, began the task of smoothing them off into
boards, working first with their axes and then with the drawing-knife
and the plane. It was no light labor, and night was again upon them by
the time the boards were ready and hauled to the edge of the lake.
After supper Foster Portney brought out a measuring-rule and marked off
the different parts of the boat, which was to be a flat-bottom affair,
with a blunt stern and rather a long-pointed bow.

Another day at Lake Linderman saw the craft put together, false bottom,
seats, and all. It was a clumsy affair, and they were glad that they had
enough oakum and pitch along to make her fairly water-tight. The other
parties in camp were also boat-building, and the scene in the clear and
fairly warm weather was a busy one.

Randy had cut down a small, straight tree for a mast, and this was
easily set in place and held by guards running across from one gunwale
to another. The yard and the boom of this mast were primitive affairs,
to be put up whenever desired.

As soon as the pitch had hardened, preparations for leaving the camp
were made. All the goods and tools were packed up into the smallest
possible space, and stored on board of the _Wild Goose_, as Randy had
christened the craft, the eatables, clothing, and blankets being placed
on top, so as not to be injured by the water which might get in. The
last thing to be taken down was the tent, the fly of which was then
adjusted for a sail.

"All aboard!" cried Randy, as he leaped into the bow, with Earl behind
him. Captain Zoss followed them, to help keep a lookout ahead, while
Mr. Portney and Dr. Barwaithe took places in the stern, one to manage
the rudder and the other with an oar ready for use, should they run upon
a bar or mud-flat.

Lake Linderman is but a few miles long, lying in the midst of snow-clad
mountains, similar to those left behind, although not quite so high. At
its lower end it connects with Lake Bennett by a short river where are
situated the Homan Rapids. These rapids are among the most dangerous
encountered in sailing along the headwaters of the Yukon, and are feared
more by some miners than are the famous White Horse Rapids, which the
party must pass through later on. To avoid the Homan Rapids many miners
travelled straight from Chilkoot Pass to Lake Bennett before stopping to
build their boats.

But it was all new territory to our party, for even Foster Portney, in
his previous trip to Alaska, had not passed in this direction. A stiff
breeze sent them on their way down Lake Linderman, and all expressed
themselves as well satisfied with the sailing qualities of the _Wild
Goose_.

"We're coming to the end of the lake," observed Earl, when scarcely an
hour had passed. "There is the river, over to the right."

In a few minutes more the sail was lowered, and they came to anchor at
the mouth of the river. The water at this point was smooth enough, but
some distance ahead could be seen the leaping and swirling whitecaps
of the rapids leading to the lake below.

[Illustration: "THE WATER WAS BOILING ON EVERY SIDE."--_Page 125._]

"I reckon we'll have to take a line ashore and haul her through,"
observed Captain Zoss, after an examination of the situation. "We don't
want to run no risk of bein' upsot so early in the game."

This was agreed to, and the captain and Dr. Barwaithe took one line to
the left shore and Foster Portney and Randy another to the right,
leaving Earl to steer or use the rudder, as might be best.

Some loose ice, floating along the lake shores, had partly choked the
stream, but there was a clear place near the centre, and into this the
_Wild Goose_ drifted. It was not long before she was caught in the
strong current, which sent the ice cakes crunching and banging along her
sides and the spray flying up into Earl's face. He had started to use
the rudder, but now saw this was useless, and sprang forward with the
long oar.

"Steady to the left! Not to the right! Swing her around a bit, you
fellows over there! Easy now, easy! Shove off from that rock, Earl! Now
then, let her down a few feet! That was a narrow shave, boys! There you
go again! Steady now! steady! steady!"

So the cries and directions ran on, as the boat proceeded on her
perilous voyage. The water was boiling on every side, and the lines
which held the craft were as tight as whipcords. Considerable water had
been shipped, and Earl was wet from head to foot. But he kept his place
and shoved off, this way and that, with might and main.

"Hold hard!" suddenly shouted Foster Portney. "Look out, Earl; the line
is going to break!"

The words were hardly spoken when snap! went the line, the boat end
hitting Earl a sharp crack in the neck. Thus released, the _Wild Goose_
swung around and made straight for a series of rocks which all had been
working hard to avoid. Should she strike she would become a total wreck,
beyond a doubt, and all their outfits would be lost.




CHAPTER XVI.

AN EXCITING NIGHT IN CAMP.


When the line parted, Foster Portney and Randy were thrown flat on their
backs in the six inches of slush and water in which they had been wading
along the edge of the rapids. But they did not care for this, the one
thought of both was of Earl and how the boat would fare now that there
was only one line by which to guide her.

As for Earl, the shock also caused him to lose his balance, and he went
down heavily on one of the packs with which the _Wild Goose_ was
freighted. But he recovered instantly, and sprang to the bow, oar in
hand. The craft had swung around, as has been related, and was on the
point of smashing on the rocks when he put out the oar and tried to
sheer off.

"Hold her! hold her!" roared Captain Zoss to Earl. "Take the line, but
don't pull!" he added to the doctor, and the next instant he was in the
icy water up to his waist. He could not reach the bow of the boat, but
he gained the stern, and catching hold of the rudder he swung the _Wild
Goose_ in toward a rock and held her there.

"Throw the broken line to Earl and let him tie it, quick!" he shouted to
Foster Portney; but the broken line was floating amid the loose ice, and
it was several seconds before it could be secured. In that time the
current again caught the boat from another direction, and sheering along
the rocks in front, the craft made a wild plunge ahead and downward,
dragging the captain in her wake.

"Earl will be killed!" groaned Randy, and his heart leaped into his
throat as the _Wild Goose_ seemed swallowed up in the foaming and
boiling waters below them. His uncle did not reply, but darted out of
the water and down the bank of the river as fast as his feet could carry
him. Dr. Barwaithe, who had been compelled to let go the line in order
to save himself, was also running, and now Randy likewise took to his
heels.

Fortunately for Earl he kept his wits about him, even though he realized
the great peril he was in. In previous years he had helped raft lumber
in Maine during the spring freshets, so that the situation was not such
a novel one. But there was a vast difference between steering logs which
could not be harmed and navigating a boat loaded with all their
possessions, and he felt the responsibility. He clung to the long oar
and used it as best he could, whenever the opportunity offered, which
was not often.

In less than ten minutes the ride was over and the _Wild Goose_ shot
with a swish into Lake Bennett. By this time Captain Zoss had managed to
crawl on board and give Earl a helping hand. The craft had struck a
dozen times, twice rather sharply, but beyond a scraping on one side and
a slight crack in the bow, which was speedily caulked up, she escaped
injury. The two on board ran to one shore, to take Dr. Barwaithe on
board, and then stood over to where Mr. Portney and Randy awaited them.

"That was a providential escape!" were Foster Portney's words, when he
saw that Earl was safe. "I wouldn't have you run such a risk again for a
fortune!"

"And I don't want to run such a risk again," replied Earl, with rather a
sickly smile. He was greatly shaken up, and it was a long while before
he felt like himself. Randy could hardly keep from hugging his brother
because of the escape.

"It was a fool move of ours from the start," said Captain Zoss, speaking
plainly, for the icy bath had not improved his temper. "We should have
packed our outfits along the river and let the boat take care of
herself, with plenty of lines to guide her. I won't stand fer any such
move as that ag'in; not much, eh?"

"You are right, captain," said Foster Portney, gravely. "We'll be more
cautious in the future."

"Yes! yes!" broke in the doctor. "What should we have done had this
young man been killed and all our traps been lost? It would have been
better to have carried boat and all around from one lake to the next."

It was a sober party which went into camp that night on the rather rocky
shore of Lake Bennett, sober and rather out of sorts in the bargain. The
captain insisted on building an immense fire, and while he sat drying
himself by it he found fault with everything which came into view. Later
on the others of the crowd found that the captain got these moods every
once in a while and never meant all he said, but now they did not know
this and it made the two boys, at least, unhappy.

"Might have knowed it," grumbled Captain Zoss, "with two kids along,
instead o' nothing but growed-up men as know their business. The next
time I jine a crowd it will be o' those as has at least voted, eh?"

"I can't agree with you that it was the boys' fault," replied Dr.
Barwaithe. "The line broke, and that started the whole thing."

"Well, boys is boys, and men wouldn't have let sech a thing happen!"
snapped the captain. "See yere, I want my coffee hot!" he roared to
Randy, who was preparing supper. "No lukewarm dishwater fer me, eh?"

"I'll give it to you as hot as the fire will make it; I can't do any
more," was Randy's short answer. He was as much out of sorts as any one.
Then the captain turned to Earl, and found fault with the timber in the
boat; and by the time they sat down to eat, all felt thoroughly put out.

The doctor tried to enliven matters by relating some of his experiences
in college, and he even gave them a song or two, for he was a good
singer with a sweet tenor voice. All enjoyed the singing, but the
captain looked as glum as ever.

"I'm sorry we've got that old curmudgeon along," said Earl, as he and
Randy turned in together, on the rubber blanket. "Gracious, I never
imagined he could be so disagreeable!"

"Nor I," grumbled his brother. "And to think that we have got to put up
with him until we reach the gold diggings!"

The tent had been pitched in the shelter of a number of high rocks and
at some distance from the lake front. The _Wild Goose_ rested in a tiny
cove, secured by a painter attached to a stake driven deeply into the
sandy shore. There was a little swell on the water, caused by the rising
wind, but no one supposed this would prove sufficient to do the craft
any harm.

As they expected to remain in that camp but one night only, a single
tent had been erected for the entire party, so all hands were huddled
closely together. It was not long before they were all asleep.

When Earl awoke it was still dark. He roused up with a start, to find
the wind blowing violently. Outside it was raining and snowing
together, and it was some snow on his face which had caused him to
awake. He was about to get up, when Randy called to him.

"What's up?"

"There's a storm on, snow and rain, and I guess we'll have to look to
the fastenings of the tent," answered Earl.

The talking awoke the others. The wind was increasing rapidly, and
already the front left end of the tent was flapping violently, torn
loose from its pegging. Earl donned his overcoat and ran outside to hold
it down, while he called to Randy to bring the hammer with which to bury
the pegs anew.

"Fasten her tight; I'll take a look after the boat!" cried Captain Zoss,
and rushed off in the darkness, followed by Foster Portney. By this time
the doctor was also out, and he and the boys began the task of securing
the shelter. A heavy gust of wind came on, and in a flash the canvas was
sailing high in the air, held down only by the pegs on one side. To
secure the cloth was no mean work, and they had to wait for fully a
minute in the rain and snow, until the wind abated.

"This is going to the gold diggings with a vengeance," murmured Dr.
Barwaithe.

"A fellow could 'most fly there in this wind!" panted Randy. "Earl, have
you a peg handy?"

"Not a one."

"Neither have I, and it's as dark as pitch."

"Here are two pegs," said the doctor. "I wonder if I can stir up that
fire," he added, starting to where the campfire had been. The fire was
out, and the sheet-iron stove lay over on its side, with a mess of beans
overturned in the oven. To light a new fire under existing circumstances
was out of the question, and the medical man went back to assist the
boys.

The tent had hardly been secured when there came a great flurry of snow
which almost blinded them. Randy had been for running down to the lake,
but now he crawled under the canvas and hesitated. In the meantime Dr.
Barwaithe set the stove up once more and tried to rescue such of the
beans as were worth it.

"The rain is giving way to snow--" began Earl, when he stopped short, as
a faint shout reached them through the whistling wind. "It's Uncle's
voice! We are wanted down there!" he added, and started off on a run. As
the cry was repeated Randy followed. A minute's run and they reached the
beach a hundred feet above where Captain Zoss and Foster Portney were
standing.

"What's the matter?" demanded Earl, quickly.

"The boat is gone," was his uncle's alarming reply. "She has drifted off
in the storm, and we can't catch sight of her anywhere!"




CHAPTER XVII.

A HUNT FOR FOOD.


Randy and Earl were much dismayed by their uncle's announcement. The
_Wild Goose_ had disappeared! Where to? Ah, that was the question. In
vain they tried to pierce the darkness of the night and the snow-squall.
Nothing in the shape of a craft could be discerned upon the broad waters
of Lake Bennett.

"I told ye to mind how ye tied up that yere craft," growled Captain
Zoss, wrathfully, to Earl. "Any lubber could have tied her up better
than you did."

"You expect me to do everything!" retorted Earl, beginning to lose his
temper, too. "I did the best I could. Why didn't you look after it?"

"He was too busy taking it easy by the fire," put in Randy, bound to
stand up for his brother, as well as to put in a "shot" for himself.

"None o' your impudence, boy!" roared the captain, and he turned as if
to strike Randy. But now Foster Portney caught his arm and threw it
back.

"Stop it, all of you!" said he. "This is no time to quarrel. The wind,
and not Earl, is responsible for this, for I looked to the tying up
myself, after he was done. We're all out of sorts, but we needn't act
like children over it. Our duty is to find the boat, and that as quickly
as possible."

"I reckon she's gone down the lake," grumbled the captain, after an
awkward pause. "The wind's that way."

"We'll go down and see if we can't sight her," answered Foster Portney.

Away they went on a run. Earl, who was tall and light in weight, easily
outdistanced the rest and reached a rocky cliff, where the lake made a
slight bend. He went up the cliff, to stumble headlong into a narrow
gulch, cutting his chin and his left hand. Picking himself up, he
started on, but soon stopped. "I ought to warn the others," was his
thought, and he turned and hurried back.

Captain Zoss was ahead of the others and was on top of the cliff when
Earl shouted to him. "Stop, captain, stop, or you'll get hurt!" came at
the top of his voice, and the captain halted just in time to save
himself from a disastrous fall. He climbed down the gulch and up at the
other side, and yelled a warning to those behind. Soon all four stood
upon another level stretch of the lake shore.

Nothing was to be seen--that is, nothing but the flying snowflakes
dropping into the wind-swept and white-capped waters beneath. They
continued to walk on, until the cold chilled each to the marrow of his
bones.

"We might as well get back and wait till morning," said Foster Portney,
with a heavy sigh. "We can do nothing in the darkness. Let us hope the
boat will beach herself somewhere and remain right-side up."

With chattering teeth they started on the return, Randy by his uncle's
side and Earl behind Captain Zoss. Half the distance to the tent had
been covered when the captain paused and ranged up beside Earl.

"Earl, you mustn't mind me when I git in my tantrums," he said jerkily.
"I git 'em every once in a while, see? It's nateral with me--allers was.
But I ain't bad at heart, an' I shan't forgit ye for savin' me a dirty
fall, mark that! And it's not your fault the boat is gone--anything
would have torn loose in this yere gale." He paused for a moment. "An' I
didn't mean ter hit Randy--it's only a way I have ter frighten folks--a
poor way, too, as I acknowledge. Come on." And before Earl could reply
he was stalking on, his head bent far down, to keep the snow from his
eyes. Earl clung close to him, and from that night he and the captain
were better friends than ever. Later on Randy received a like "apology,"
and when he got to know the captain better voted him "all right, though
a bit cranky at times."

Dr. Barwaithe was as dismayed as any of them had been, when the news
was broken to him, but he agreed that nothing was to be accomplished
while the darkness and the storm lasted. He had dragged the cooking
stove up to the entrance to the tent and was trying to start a fire.
Twice the tiny flames had flickered and gone out, but now, fanned
vigorously, the wood caught, and soon the stove was red-hot, the top
spluttering with the snowflakes which fell upon it. The fire warmed the
air in the tent, and for the balance of the night the party rested
comfortably in body if not in mind.

With the coming of morning the storm abated, and by eight o'clock the
sun was struggling to shine through the drifting clouds. The captain, as
if to atone for his misdeeds, prepared breakfast, giving to Earl and
Randy the best of the flap-jacks turned out. The captain was a great
hand at these cakes, and the party was certain to get them whenever he
was cook.

"For all we know, the boat may have gone clear down to the entrance to
Tagish Lake," remarked Foster Portney, while finishing the repast. "I
see nothing for us to do but to walk along the lake shore and keep our
eyes open."

"Shall we take our traps along?" asked the doctor. "I can carry the cook
stove if you can divide the rest of the stuff among you."

A short discussion followed, and feeling certain the boat had gone down
the lake, if anywhere, it was decided by all hands to pack the outfit
and take it along. The packing took some time, and when the start was
made the storm had cleared away entirely, leaving the sky as bright as
one could wish.

A mile of the shore had been covered when Foster Portney called a halt
and directed attention to an object floating in the direction from which
they had come. "It's a boat!" he cried, a moment later.

"Our boat?" questioned Randy, eagerly.

"I can't say." Mr. Portney and the others watched the craft with
interest. "No, it's not our boat, but another, and there are several
people on board."

"Let's hail 'em, and git 'em to search for the _Wild Goose_," said
Captain Zoss, and they walked back, and after some trouble succeeded in
attracting the attention of the party on the water. There were three men
in the boat and a woman, the latter being the same they had met in camp
at Lake Linderman. To all the newcomers Foster Portney told his story.

"O' course we'll help you," said the miner who had his wife on board.
"One o' you can git aboard here, and we'll cruise around the lake on a
hunt. Ain't got room fer more 'n one," he went on; "and say, who's the
doctor among ye?"

"I am," responded Dr. Barwaithe.

"Then you might ez well do the trick, fer Lizy here don't feel extry
well, an' it will be fair play fer you to give her some medicine, I take
it."

"I'll do what I can for her," said the doctor. "But most of my medicines
are on board of the lost boat."

"Then we've got ter find her, sure pop, fer Lizy does feel most
distressin' like, with a pain in her head an' a crick in her back," went
on Wodley, the miner.

The doctor hopped on board, and after a few words more the boat set off
in search of the _Wild Goose_, and the hunt from the lake shore was
continued. Slowly the forenoon wore away and still nothing was seen of
the missing craft. The other boat with the doctor had long since been
lost to view up the lake.

It was getting toward supper time when Foster Portney turned to Earl,
who, in addition to some of the camping outfit, carried the shot-gun. "I
just caught a glance of something on legs up among yonder rocks," he
said. "If you can, you might as well knock it over, for it won't be long
before all of us will want something to eat."

Earl was glad enough to try his hand at hunting, and turned over his
traps to his companions. Soon he was climbing the rocks to which his
uncle had pointed. He had not gone over five hundred feet when he beheld
a small deer gazing at him in alarm. Before he could draw a bead on the
animal the deer was gone behind a neighboring cliff.

Feeling moderately sure that this was the animal his uncle had seen, and
that the deer would not go far, but might even come back out of
curiosity, Earl began to climb the cliff. A profusion of brush grew
among the rocks, and these afforded him a good hand-hold, and he was
soon at the top.

Although hemmed in on three sides by mountains, the way to the lake was
clear, and looking in that direction he saw, far to the opposite shore,
the boat containing Dr. Barwaithe and their newly made friends. He
watched the boat for a minute, when a clatter of sharp hoofs on the
cliff made him whirl around, just in time to catch a second sight of the
deer. His gun came up quick enough now, and the charge took the animal
full in the breast.

Struck in this fashion, many an animal would have rolled over dead. But
the deer of Alaska, which are growing more scarce every year, are a
sturdy lot, and though terribly wounded, this specimen did not drop.
Staggering for a brief moment, he turned and then fled in the direction
from which he had come.

Earl was amazed, but, determined not to lose his game after such a shot,
he hastily reloaded and made after the game. Less than two score of
steps brought him almost to the end of the cliff, and he discovered the
deer crouched in the shelter of the rocks, its dark eyes glaring
angrily. Up came his gun, and the weapon was discharged just as the
animal sprang forward. The shot was a glancing one, doing little harm,
and the next instant the wounded beast was upon the boy.




CHAPTER XVIII.

ON TO THE WHITE HORSE RAPIDS.


For a brief instant, as the deer rushed upon him, Earl was fairly
paralyzed, having had no idea that the wounded animal might attack him.
But as those glaring eyes came closer and the antlers were lowered, he
realized that something must be done, and leaped to the inner side of
the narrow cliff.

Crash! the deer had struck him on the arm. It was a heavy blow, and only
the sharp rock to one side of him saved the youth from serious injury.
Then, as the animal bounded back for a second attack, Earl shoved out
the gun, pressed it at the deer's breast, and sent the beast tumbling
from the cliff into the gulch below. It was done so rapidly that the
animal had no time to save itself. It went down with a crash and a dull
thud, and, looking over the rocks, the boy saw that it lay on its back
unable to run off on account of a broken leg. As soon as he could, he
reloaded the shot-gun and put his game out of its misery.

"That was a narrow escape, and no fooling!" he half muttered, as he
looked about for some place where he might descend to the bottom of the
gulch. A quarter of an hour later he had the deer bound on top of a tree
branch, and was dragging it toward the lake shore.

"A deer!" cried Randy and Foster Portney, simultaneously, as they caught
sight of the prize. "Well, that was well worth going after!" continued
the latter.

"You had a narrow escape!" exclaimed Randy, when Earl's story was told.
"If you hadn't shoved him over, he would have gored you to death."

It was quite dark by the time they went into camp. The deer was soon cut
up, and they dined that evening on the choicest of venison steak. The
remainder of the meat was hung up to dry, while a portion of it was
thoroughly salted.

In addition to the fire in the camp stove, a big blaze was lit on the
shore, that Dr. Barwaithe and the others might be guided hither if they
succeeded in finding the _Wild Goose_. But the night wore away without
interruption, and by six o'clock the next morning the search for the
missing craft was renewed.

"We're most down to Tagish Lake, I reckon," remarked Captain Zoss. "I
don't believe the _Wild Goose_ could go through, 'ceptin' she was bottom
side up and minus our traps, which I don't hope fer, eh?"

The entrance to Tagish Lake was reached, and they were speculating on
what to do next, when Randy shouted, "Here they come, and they have the
_Wild Goose_ in tow!"

His announcement proved correct, and quarter of an hour later Wodley
sent his own craft up to the bank with a swish through the water-grass
and tundra, or moss, which was now beginning to show itself on every
side. The _Wild Goose_ was close behind, and they noted with
satisfaction that she seemed to be in the same condition as they had
left her.

"We found her stuck in the mud on the other side," announced Dr.
Barwaithe. "The wind had just sent her along and left her, and the only
damage done is to some of the provisions which were soaked by the rain
and snow."

"We can be thankful it's not worse," replied Foster Portney. "If she had
not turned up, I don't know what we would have done."

Dr. Barwaithe had become well acquainted with the party, and had given
Mrs. Wodley some medicine containing a large quantity of quinine, for
the woman was suffering from chills and fever, something frequently met
with in Alaska.

It did not take long for both parties to haul their boats into Tagish
Lake, and once on that broad sheet of water, all sail was set for the
six miles of river which connects that body of water with Marsh Lake,
called by many Mud Lake, on account of its shallowness and soft bottom.

As they skimmed along, Earl and Randy, under the directions of their
uncle, sorted over the provisions, putting aside for immediate use such
as would not keep after being wet. This had scarcely been finished when
the end of Tagish Lake appeared in sight.

"There is some sort o' a camp ahead," announced Captain Zoss. "Don't
look like er miner's strike, either. Injuns, I'll bet!"

The captain was right. The camp was a rude one, consisting of half a
dozen huts and dugouts. The Indians numbered about two score, and they
were the most disagreeable Randy and Earl had yet beheld. Each was
painted from forehead to chin with greasy black and red paint, and all
wore filthy skin suits which could be smelt "further than you could see
them," according to Randy's notion. The Indians tried to sell them some
fish, but the members of the party declined, and pointed to the deer
meat. Then one of the Indians begged Earl to let him have the deer's
head and antlers for a string of beautiful pike, and the youth made the
trade; for although he would have liked to keep the trophy, carrying it
up into the gold regions was out of the question. The deer meat had been
divided with the Wodley party, and now a similar disposition was made of
the fish.

The day was fine, with the wind in the right direction, and soon they
came to the end of Marsh Lake, which is fifteen miles long, and heavily
fringed on all sides with timber and brush. On several occasions they
ran in water so shallow they were in danger of going aground; but the
sharp eyes of Captain Zoss saved them, and the second day saw them
encamped within sight of the fifty-mile river which connects Marsh Lake
with Lake Labarge, the last of the lakes they were to traverse on the
way to the gold regions.

"By day after to-morrow we'll strike the White Hoss Rapids," said
Captain Zoss. "Then, I reckon we'll have jest sech a time as we had up
ter Homan Rapids."

"Excuse me!" rejoined Earl. "One such experience is enough in a
lifetime."

"I have been talking to Wodley," put in Foster Portney. "He has been
through the rapids, and he says he will give us a hand when we get
there. He advises taking the boats through almost empty."

The captain "allowed" this would be safer, although, to be sure, it
would also be far more laborious, for everything not left in the boat
would have to be carried over the roughest kind of a trail, running some
distance away from the stream.

The two parties camped side by side, and it made each feel more at home
to have the other at hand, for among these lofty and cold-looking
mountains one was very apt to have a lonely feeling creeping over him if
no companion were at hand.

"How a man could attempt this trip all alone is something I can't
understand," observed Randy. "Imagine getting lost in those mountains
over yonder! It makes a fellow shiver to think of it!"

"Men have been lost out here," replied Dr. Barwaithe, gravely, "and lost
so thoroughly they have never been heard of again. If a man gets lost in
the mountains, and he is of a nervous temperament, the chances are that
after a week or a month of it he will lose his mind and go crazy."

"I guess that is what would happen to me," answered Randy. "Oh, what's
that stung me? A mosquito, I declare! Who would expect to find one of
those pests at this season of the year?"

"You'll get mosquitoes enough presently," replied Foster Portney. "Don't
you remember the mosquito netting I brought along? During the short
summer here the insects are apt to worry the life out of a person."

"I suppose they thrive in this moss that I see around," said Earl. "What
did you say it was called, Uncle Foster? tundra?"

"Yes, tundra, Earl. The moss is thicker than this up in the north and
covers everything. If it wasn't for the moss, I think the ground might
thaw out more in the summer, but as it is, the moss prevents the sun
from striking in, and the ground is as hard as in midwinter six or eight
feet below the surface."

"The moss doesn't seem to have any effect on the berry bushes, though,"
said Randy. "I see 'em everywhere. Do they bear fruit?"

"Oh, yes, they have everything in the way of berries up here, Randy. But
they are rather small, and they haven't the flavor of those at home. The
berries have to take the place of larger fruits, such as apples, pears,
and peaches, and the birds live on them."

"Well, we won't starve as long as we have berries, birds, and fish,"
said Earl. "I don't see where this cry of starvation comes in, I must
say."

"O' course ye don't--not now!" burst in Captain Zoss. "But wait till
winter sets in. Then the berries will be gone, an' birds will be mighty
scarce."

"But we'll have the fish, captain. We can cut holes in the ice on the
river and spear them, as we do down in Maine."

"Wall, maybe, my lad. But ye don't catch me a-tryin' it when I kin git
anything else--not with the ice eight or ten feet thick an' the mercury
down to forty below nuthin' at all!"

It was not long after that they turned in, and never did they sleep more
soundly, although a number of mosquitoes visited them. Foster Portney
was the first to get up, and by the time the boys followed, a delicious
smell of frying fish and boiling coffee was floating through the air.

A ten minutes' ride on the lake brought them close to the entrance of
the river. Here the water was broken up into a dozen currents, swirling
this way and that and throwing the spray in every direction. On either
side of this watercourse were high walls.

"Now fer the tug o' war!" said Captain Zoss, and immediate preparations
were made to shoot the canyon and the falls of which Randy and Earl had
heard so much. Once past that dangerous spot, the remainder of the trip
to the gold regions would be an easy one.




CHAPTER XIX.

NEARING THE END OF A LONG JOURNEY.


Both Earl and Randy had heard from the miner Wodley that it was only of
late years that prospectors after gold in Alaska had had the daring to
shoot the White Horse Rapids, of which even the Indians in their light
canoes were afraid. Formerly white men had packed everything, even to
their boats, round the dangerous runs of water, a task which to them
looked herculean, when they gazed at the tall mountains, and at the
crooked trail Wodley pointed out.

After much talking by all hands, it was decided that Wodley's boat
should go through first, loaded down only with the mining tools, which
would not suffer from getting wet. Wodley was at first going to take the
trip alone, leaving his wife and the other miners of the party to join
the Portney crowd, but at the last moment Captain Zoss asked to be
allowed to take a hand, and the offer was accepted.

The sail was taken from the _Buster_, as Wodley had named his craft, a
heavy-set affair, built to stand some rough usage, and, each armed with
an oar and a heavy pole, the two men shoved off from the rocky shore. A
few strokes sufficed to send them into the current, and fairly caught,
the boat swung around and started on her mad career through the canyon
of rocks and water and flying spray.

"She's off!" shouted Earl, and followed by Randy he sped alongshore and
up to the edge of the canyon, where he might see what progress was made.
But hardly had they reached a convenient spot when the _Buster_ shot
along far beneath them, and around a bend, and was hidden from view in
the midst of a whirlpool of waters that threatened each instant to
ingulf her.

"If she isn't smashed up before she reaches the end of the canyon, then
I'll miss my guess!" ejaculated Earl. "My, but how she did spin along!"

"Wodley ought to know what he's doing," answered Randy. "If she is
smashed up, I hope he and the captain come out alive."

They returned to where the others had been left, and took up the heavy
packs which had been assigned to them. All the things to be carried had
been equally divided among the men and the boys, and it was calculated
that three trips would be necessary to move the outfits.

That day proved the hardest they had yet experienced, and by the time it
was dark both Randy and Earl felt as if their backs were broken and
their feet, to use Earl's expression, "walked off." They had carried
one-third of their traps to a beautiful spot just at the head of the
worst of the White Horse Rapids, which, it may be well to add here, are
many miles in extent.

Contrary to the expectation of the boys, Wodley and Captain Zoss had
brought the _Buster_ through in safety. They had had only one alarm,
just at the end of the canyon proper, when the boat had swung around on
a hidden rock and shipped about half a barrel of water. They were wet
to the skin, and this, along with the story they told, made Mrs. Wodley
insist upon it that her husband allow the other men of the party to
bring the _Wild Goose_ through, on the day following.

As Captain Zoss had made the trip once, it was decided that he and Earl
should take the next trip, while the others made another tramp over the
trail with more of the traps. They encamped at the White Horse Rapids,
but started back toward Lake Marsh before sunrise.

"It's easy enough, Earl," said the captain, on embarking on the _Wild
Goose_. "All you've got to do is to keep your wits about you and your
eyes on the rocks. Tie the pail fast to the seat, so it won't float away
if the boat gives too much of a lurch. If we have to bail any, you had
better do it."

They were soon on the way, out of the brightness of the early sunshine
into the gloom of the yawning canyon, which seemed to swallow them up.
The roar of the waters between the rocks was deafening, and the flying
spray sent a shiver through Earl. Yet he stood to his post manfully,
realizing that there was no turning back, now that the perilous trip was
once begun.

"To the left shore!" roared Captain Zoss, presently, and Earl scarcely
heard him. The captain waved his elbow frantically, while using his
pole, and Earl saw what was wanted. They were running close to some
half-submerged rocks. A vigorous use of the pole, a slight grating which
made the youth hold his breath, and that danger at least was past.

But more were ahead, and they grew thicker and thicker as the _Wild
Goose_ leaped, turned, and twisted, first in one mad current and then
another. Swish! came a huge wave into the craft, nearly taking Earl from
his feet. Then, before he could make up his mind whether to begin
bailing or not, the boat slid up almost on her stern's end, and most of
the water went flying forth. "Now for the left shore, and mind the
channel!" roared the captain, once more, and then the oars came into
play, and on they bounded through a clear cut in the rocks not over
twenty-five feet wide. The cut at an end, the captain threw down his oar
with a deep breath of satisfaction.

"The wust on it's over," he announced. "Jest pole her along easy-like
now, and we'll be down to camp inside of half an hour."

The strain on the _Wild Goose_ had caused several of the seams to part,
but it was decided to do nothing with these until after the worst of the
White Horse Rapids had been passed. They must now take their crafts out
of water and carry or ride them on rollers to the foot of the falls.

This was a job lasting several days, for both the _Wild Goose_ and the
_Buster_ were heavy, and it took all the men in both parties to move one
boat at a time. But at last the greatest of the falls was passed, and
then it was decided to draw the boats along through what remained, and
after another hard day's labor they had the satisfaction of finding
themselves free from further obstacles, and encamped midway between
Tahkheena River and the head of Lake Labarge. That day was Sunday, and
it was spent in perfect rest by all.

Thus far since the snow-squall on Lake Bennett, fine weather had favored
them, but now Monday set in cloudy and threatening. As soon as breakfast
was over, the _Wild Goose_ was patched up and pitched over, and all of
the outfit placed on board. The _Buster_ was already loaded, and with
the wind from the westward they tacked down the river and into Lake
Labarge, a clear sheet of water, some twenty odd miles in length, and
varying from two to four miles in width. About midway from either end of
the lake there was an island, and on this rocky shore they were
compelled to seek shelter about the middle of the afternoon, for the
wind had increased to a good-sized blow, and to sail in such a boat
was, consequently, out of the question.

Both the _Wild Goose_ and the _Buster_ had hardly been drawn up out of
harm's way than it began to rain. Seeing this, all lost no time in
pitching the tents and in building fires to keep warm, for in this
section of Alaska a rain even in the summer is sure to make one feel
cold. The tents were pegged down with extra care, and this was a good
thing, for by nightfall the wind had increased to a hurricane.

The travellers to the gold regions were stormbound at Lake Labarge for
two days. It did not rain all this time, but the wind blew too strongly
to venture from shore. The time was spent inside the tent and hung
rather heavily, although occasionally relieved by a song from the
doctor, or a yarn told by Captain Zoss, or Wodley, who, along with his
wife, and Crimmins and Johnson, the other two miners, made themselves
quite at home with the Portney party.

"The wind has moderated at last!" said Randy, who was the first out on
the third morning. "Now let us make the most of the fine weather while
it lasts."

The others were more than willing, and the stove and camping outfit were
taken down to the _Wild Goose_ without delay. The Wodley party was also
stirring, but did not start until some time later on; and the two
parties did not see each other again until many a day later.

The journey to the end of Lake Labarge was quickly made, and they
entered the thirty-mile watercourse, at that time unnamed, which
connects the lake with the Big Salmon and the Lewes rivers. Randy and
Earl were in charge, the men taking it easy over their pipes, for the
captain was an inveterate smoker, and Mr. Portney and the doctor
indulged occasionally in the weed.

A good many miles had been covered, when Earl, happening to glance at
his pocket compass, announced that they were sailing almost due
southward. "And that can't be right," he said to Randy. "We ought to be
headed for the northwest."

"Well, we're on the river all right," answered Randy. Nevertheless, he
spoke to his uncle about it, who at once consulted his pocket map.

"I'll tell you what you've done," he announced presently. "Instead of
sticking to the river that flows northward, you have turned into the
Teslin, which flows to the south. Swing the _Wild Goose_ around at
once."

Much crestfallen over their mistake, the boys did as requested. They had
to go back nearly four miles, as they calculated, before they saw the
opening which had previously escaped their notice. But once right, they
found the wind directly in their favor, and with the sail set to its
fullest, they bowled along until the Big Salmon was reached, and they
swept into the broad waters of the Lewes River.

"And now for the Yukon and the gold regions!" cried Dr. Barwaithe. "How
much further have we to go?" he questioned, turning to Foster Portney.

"About three hundred and fifty miles," was the answer. "And with the
exception of the Rink and Five Finger rapids, which don't amount to
much, so I have heard, we'll have straight sailing. Ten days more ought
to see us at Dawson City, ready to stake our claims."




CHAPTER XX.

THE GOLD FIELDS AT LAST.


On the following day the wind died down utterly, and no progress could
be made in the _Wild Goose_ excepting by the use of oars, and this was
slow and laborious work. They took turns at rowing, two at a turn, with
the others taking it easy on the blankets, for the river was now broad
and deep and as smooth as a mill-pond.

On the second day they seemed to leave the rocks behind, and emerged
into a slightly hilly country. Here the banks of the stream were
overgrown with bushes and flowers, the latter just starting to push
forth their buds in countless profusion of variety and color. The
transformation was almost magical and more than one spoke of it.

"That's the way of things in Alaska," said Foster Portney. "There are no
spring and autumn; just winter and summer, and that's all. The warm
weather which is now coming on will last until September, and then
winter will come almost before you know it."

Earl had noticed the increase in heat since leaving the lakes, and now
he perspired freely while pulling at the long oar. Randy sat in the bow
taking in the sights. A flock of wild geese came sweeping toward them,
and he asked for permission to take a shot with the gun. His aim was a
good one, and two of the creatures fell where they were readily picked
up.

"We'll have stuffed goose to-night," said the captain, with a grin.
"It's a pity we ain't got sage an' onions ter stuff it with."

"Perhaps I can find something to take the place of sage," said the
doctor. "This variety of bushes and vines ought to produce some similar
herb."

During the past two days they had noted a number of islands in the
river, and that night they made a landing on one of these, in preference
to tying up on shore. Mosquitoes were more numerous than ever, but a
smudge built by Foster Portney soon drove the most of the insects off.

The island was several acres in extent, and while the captain busied
himself in roasting a goose and frying some potatoes he had "traded in"
from Wodley for a bit of bacon, Randy and Earl took a tramp around, to
stretch their legs and prospect on the sly. One carried a pick and a
shovel and the other a gold-washing pan, and coming to a hollow where
they could work unobserved, they set about getting out some dirt from
under a series of rocks. The pan was soon full, and then Earl started to
wash by pouring water on top and giving it the rotary motion he had
heard his uncle mention.

The labor was harder than either of them had imagined, and four panfuls
of dirt were washed out, leaving nothing but smooth stones behind. They
were about to continue the process, when they heard their uncle calling
them, and a moment later Foster Portney appeared. He started to laugh,
but quickly checked himself.

"Digging for gold, eh?" he said. "Well, I don't think you'll find any
here. The formation of the ground isn't right. If there is any precious
metal around at all, it's at the bottom of yonder river. Might as well
give it up." And somewhat disgusted the boys returned to camp. It was
the only time they tried prospecting until the regular gold fields were
reached.

Two days later found them at the Rink and Five Finger rapids. Owing to
the melting of the snow and ice under the increasing heat of the sun,
the river was very high now, and, consequently, both spots were passed
with comparative ease, the dangerous rocks being covered to a depth of a
yard or more. In consequence of this increase of water, the river had
over-flowed its bank for miles, forming great lakes and marshes
everywhere, and at times it was almost impossible for them to keep to
the channel. Once they did make a false turn, only to find themselves,
half an hour later, in a "blind pocket," as Dr. Barwaithe put it.

The rapids and the Tachun River passed, it was almost a straight sail
northwest to the ruins of old Fort Selkirk. But little could be seen of
the former fort, the Indians having overturned the very foundations in
their search for trinkets and articles of value. They encamped at the
spot over-night and were joined on the following morning by two other
parties who had crossed Chilkoot Pass two days after themselves.

Of these parties Earl asked for news of Tom Roland and Jasper Guardley,
and was informed that the men had joined a crowd of Irishmen from
Portland, who were coming through on a large raft. "They're a tough
crowd, too--all of 'em," said the speaker. "If they don't get into
trouble before they leave the gold diggings, it will be mighty queer."

From old Fort Selkirk to Dawson City is a distance of one hundred and
sixty miles, through a country so varied that it is next to impossible
to describe it. At times the voyagers found themselves sailing calmly
along on a broad expanse of water dotted here and there with wooded
islands, rich in new foliage and evergreen trees, and again the stream
would narrow, with high and rocky hills on either side. Here the water
would flow swiftly over and around jagged rocks, and the utmost care
would have to be exercised in avoiding a smash-up. Once they did receive
a severe shaking-up and had to run for a low island with all possible
speed, to avoid becoming waterlogged. This happened in the forenoon,
and it took the balance of the day to make the _Wild Goose_ as seaworthy
as before.

A week and more had slipped by since leaving the Rink Rapids, and now
all were on the watch for the first sight of the new gold fields. Every
one was in a state of suppressed excitement. They had met half a dozen
miners sailing back and forth on the river and from these had learned
that everything was "booming," and that strikes were panning out big.
The eyes of both Randy and Earl glistened when they heard these stories,
and the hardships endured since leaving Dyea were forgotten.

"Hurrah! there's a miner's tent!" suddenly shouted Randy, late one
afternoon. "We've struck the diggings at last!"

"There are half a dozen tents and a board cabin!" added Earl, pointing
still further on. "I guess you're right, Randy. I wonder if that is the
Klondike River over yonder. It looks mighty small."

"That's only a creek," said Foster Portney. "We'll land and see how far
we are from Dawson."

The _Wild Goose_ was easily beached, and they lost no time in hunting up
the miners to whom the tents and the cabin belonged. They were a party
of Frenchmen from Canada and could speak but little English. Dr.
Barwaithe spoke to them in their native tongue and soon learned that the
place was Baker's Creek and that Dawson City was about six miles further
on. The Frenchmen were very conservative, but admitted that they were
doing very well at placer-mining, taking out an average of thirty
dollars a day per man.

"Thirty dollars a day!" cried Randy. "A fellow can get rich quick enough
at that rate."

"Hardly--with such a short season," answered his uncle. "Yet thirty
dollars isn't bad by any means."

"I'm up yere to strike a fortune," put in the captain. "No measly little
thirty dollars a day fer me!"

Both Randy and Earl wished to remain behind to see the Frenchmen wash
out the gold dust, but the others were impatient to go on, and they were
soon on the way once more.

"If the claims are good around here, it won't be long before they are
taken up," said Foster Portney. "For, as you can see, men are pouring in
over the mountains every day, not to say anything of those who make the
long trip by way of the ocean and up the Yukon."

"Well, I'm just crazy to get to work," declared Randy. "Just think of
the gold lying around ready to be picked up!"

His uncle smiled. Poor Randy! Little did he dream of the many backaches
and privations in store for him.

To the left of the river there now arose a long chain of hills and
mountains, sloping gradually to the water's edge; on the right were
smaller hills and great marshes, fairly choked with bushes and wild
growths of vines and flowers. The tundra was everywhere, and over all
circled flocks and flocks of wild birds, a few mosquitoes, and something
they had not yet seen--horseflies. The horseflies were black and green
in color, and a bite from one of them made Captain Zoss utter a mighty
yell of pain. "It was like the stab of a dagger!" he declared
afterwards, and so angry did the bite become, and so painful, that the
doctor was called upon to treat it with a soothing lotion.

It was after seven o'clock, but still daylight, when Dr. Barwaithe
raised his hand for the others to become silent. "Listen!" he said. "I
think I heard a steamboat whistle. Ah! I was right. A boat is on the
river!"

A few minutes passed, and they heard the whistle again. Then Earl
pointed ahead excitedly. "There's the boat, and she is tied up to the
river bank. There are half a dozen buildings and fifty tents or more.
I'll wager it's Dawson!"

With hearts which beat quickly they sailed forward, using the oars to
make the _Wild Goose_ move the faster. Another turn of the stream and
the mining town could be seen quite plainly. Ten minutes later they ran
up just behind the steamboat and tied fast. The long trip was at an end.
The new diggings, with all their golden hopes, lay before them.




CHAPTER XXI.

A DAY IN DAWSON CITY.


At the time of which I write, Dawson City was little better than a rude
mining camp, containing, as has been previously mentioned, a half dozen
board buildings and fifty tents, strung along what was known as the
principal "street." Back in the timber land a rude saw-mill had been set
up, and this was beginning to get out lumber at the moderate price of
one hundred and twenty-five dollars per thousand feet!

A year before Dawson City had been unknown, but the rich finds of gold
on Bonanza and Gold Bottom creeks had caused the miners to leave Circle
City and Forty Mile Post and boom the new El Dorado, as it was termed,
and the settlement grew as if by magic. From the wild rush to stake
claims many rows resulted, but the cooler heads speedily took matters in
hand, and each man was allowed a claim from five to fifteen hundred feet
long and extending the width of the creek or gulch in which it was
located.

These claims were not located upon the Klondike River, which joins the
Yukon at Dawson City, as has been often supposed, but upon the little
watercourses running into the Klondike. These gold-bearing diggings
are, or were, variously called Bonanza, Gold Bottom, and Bear creeks,
which flow into the Klondike direct, and Hunker, Last Chance, El Dorado,
Adams, Shantantay, and other creeks and semi-wet gulches which are
tributaries to the creeks first named. The names were arbitrary, and
were often changed to suit the miners' tastes.

To Randy and Earl, the camp presented the appearance of having "just
moved in," as the younger brother termed it. On every side were miners'
outfits stacked in little piles, while their owners were either at hand
erecting tents, or off prospecting or buying supplies. There was but one
store, a rude board building not over twenty by thirty feet, in which
everything on hand was offered at most extravagant prices. Flour sold
for sixty dollars per barrel, beans fifty cents per pound, bacon and
canned meats seventy-five cents per pound, and other goods in
proportion. There were no fresh meats excepting two sides of beef just
brought in by the little flat-bottomed steamboat from Circle City, and
which were rapidly disposed of at two dollars to five dollars per pound.
A crate of eggs were at hand, to be purchased at one dollar per dozen,
but as most of the eggs were stale, the contents of the crate went
begging. Of miners' tools, a pick or a shovel brought ten dollars to
fifteen dollars, while washing pans were not to be found, and had to be
manufactured by the miners themselves. Wearing apparel was also scarce,
and Earl saw twenty dollars given for a flannel shirt, and five dollars
for a pair of socks, both articles being paid for in gold dust.

As it was evening, most of the miners had given up work and come into
the camp to talk, trade, and learn the latest news. Every one was in a
quiver of excitement, and the announcement that an extra good find had
been made on Hunker Creek caused many to strike out during the night to
make new claims in that vicinity.

"Let us go, too!" cried Randy, and Earl joined in; but the men talked it
over and decided to remain in Dawson City until they learned more about
the "lay of the land." They pitched their tent as close to where their
boat lay as possible, but it is doubtful if any of the party slept
through that short night, which had hardly anything of darkness.

All told, there were not over six hundred white men in camp, and, in
addition, there were perhaps a hundred Indians, with their squaws,
children, and dogs; for no Alaskan Indian family is complete without
from one to a half-dozen canines attached. The Indians were there to
sell fish and game, and to pick up odd jobs of pack-carrying. They took
but little interest in the gold strikes, and it was but rarely that they
could be found mining, and then never for themselves.

One of the first lessons to be learned by the boys and the others, was
that of keeping their outfits intact. Hardly were they up in the
morning than a dozen miners and prospectors came shuffling around
offering them various prices for this and that. Had they been willing to
sell, they could have disposed of all they possessed by noon, but,
cautioned by Foster Portney, they were firm, and nothing was allowed to
change hands but a small bottle of cough syrup which the doctor sold for
an ounce of gold, worth sixteen dollars, to a poor fellow suffering with
a slight attack of pneumonia. The doctor wanted no pay, but the miner
insisted on giving it, saying he would pay a thousand dollars if the
physician would make him as well and strong as ever again.

After many careful inquiries, it was decided that the party should first
try its luck on Gold Bottom Creek, at some spot near to where the
watercourse was joined by Hunker and Last Chance creeks. They had
learned that while Bonanza and El Dorado creeks were paying well, all
the best claims in those localities were already staked out.

Two days later found them encamped at the entrance to a tiny
watercourse, which flowed into Gold Bottom Creek. They had come in from
the Klondike with their outfits on their backs and half a dozen Indians
to aid them, for the trail was over rough rocks and through lowlands of
berry bushes and tundra,--a wearisome walk which to Randy, at least,
seemed to have no end. Often they sank up to their knees in the muck and
cold water, and once the doctor got "stuck" and had to be hauled forth
by main strength and minus one boot, which was afterward recovered. A
promising spot was reached by nightfall, the Indians were paid and sent
off, and they set about making themselves a home, temporary or
permanent, as fortune might elect.

A flat surface on the side of a small hill was selected, and the tents
were placed end to end, as before, but tightened down to stay. Then a
trench was dug around the sides and the back, so that when it rained the
water might drain off. This done, the interior was carpeted with small
branches of pine and evergreen.

"A good, healthful smell," said the doctor, referring to the greens;
"and one that will ward off many a cold. On the top of those branches
one ought to sleep almost as comfortably as on a feather bed."

The interior of the tents arranged, a fireplace was next in order, a
semicircular affair of stone, in which the sheet-iron stove might be
sheltered from the wind. Then came a cache for the provisions to be
stored away; and their domestic arrangements were complete.

It was bright and early on the day following that all hands set off to
prospect along the bottom of the gulch, which the boys had named
Prosper. They were divided into two parties, the doctor and the captain
in one, and the boys and their uncle in the other. The latter turned up
to the left arm of the gulch and presently came to a little hollow,
where the tiny stream of water flowing along had deposited some coarse
sand to a depth of eight to twenty inches.

"Now we'll shovel up some of this sand in the pan and see what it
amounts to," said Foster Portney. "Don't take what is right on top,
boys. If there is any gold, it is down next to the bed rock. And don't
fill the pan too full." The boys worked eagerly, and soon had the pan
nearly full of the sand. Mr. Portney then carried it to a nearby pool
and allowed the water to run over the top, then brushed off the surface
and began to "wash down." This took several minutes, and Randy and Earl
stood by almost breathless during the process.

At last only a handful of sand and dirt remained at the bottom of the
pan. All three examined it with care. Here and there could be seen a
tiny grain of dull yellow.

"That is gold," explained Foster Portney. "But there is hardly enough to
pay; probably three or four cents' worth in all."

"Is that all!" cried Randy, and his voice was full of disappointment.
Earl said nothing, but gathered up the pick and shovel and moved on.

In two days a dozen other spots had been tried with even worse success,
and the three in the party began to imagine that the gulch was of no
consequence, so far as staking a claim there was concerned. To add to
their discomfiture a miner came along who said he had gone all over that
locality a month previous.

"Ain't nothin' thar," he announced; "nothin' wuth over four or five
cents a panful. Better try your luck elsewar, friends."

"We'll put in another day over here," announced Foster Portney. "One day
won't count very much, and ground is often gone over a dozen times
before the right strike is made."

They had brought a lunch with them, and now sat down on the edge of a
small stony cliff to eat it. The boys were tremendously hungry and could
have devoured twice as much as what was on hand, but they were beginning
to learn that short rations would be something to look forward to for
some time to come.

Having eaten what was allotted to him, Randy began to poke around with
the pick, while his uncle and Earl still rested. The cliff was divided
into two sections, and between was a lot of rotten stone, dirt, muck,
and rubbish. Striking the pick deeply into this, Randy loosened a
portion of the stone, and out it rolled into the gulch, bringing the
dirt and a good portion of the rubbish after it. He began to scatter the
stuff to the right and the left when something shiny caught his eye, and
stooping he picked it up, while his heart leaped into his throat.

"Uncle Foster! Earl! Look at this!" he cried, and ran to them, holding
up the object as he did so. It was larger than an egg and quite heavy.
Foster Portney gave one glance and then leaped forward, dropping what
food still remained in his hand.

"Where did you find it, Randy?" he exclaimed.

"Over yonder," was the hasty reply. "But is it gold, Uncle Foster?"

"Yes, Randy, it's a nugget as sure as you're born--a nugget worth at
least two hundred dollars. And what's better yet," went on Mr. Portney
as Randy began to dance with delight, "the chances are that there are
more where this came from!"




CHAPTER XXII.

DIGGING FOR GOLD.


A nugget worth two hundred dollars! Randy could scarcely believe his
eyes and ears. He gazed at his uncle for a moment in open-mouthed
wonder.

"You're in luck, and no mistake!" broke in Earl, as he also examined the
yellowish lump. "Say, but that's a strike to start on, isn't it!"

He had hoped to make the first find himself, but he was too unselfish to
begrudge his brother that pleasure. Leaving the lump in his uncle's
possession, Randy led the way back to where the find had been made, and
all three set to work without delay to empty the "pocket," as Foster
Portney called it, and examine the contents.

"Here's another!" cried Earl, presently. "It's not quite so large,
though."

"But it's worth at least a hundred dollars, Earl," answered his uncle.
"And see, here are a number of little fellows worth from ten dollars to
fifty each. Randy has struck a bonanza beyond a doubt. Don't scatter
that dirt too much, for we must wash out every ounce of it for little
nuggets and dust."

"And maybe there is a vein of gold back there," said Randy, proudly.
"If there is, we can all work it, can't we?"

"Yes, unless the captain and the doctor have struck something equally
good. There, that seems to be the last of the nuggets. Let us count
them. Fourteen in all, and worth at least four hundred dollars. It paid
to stay over in spite of what that miner said, didn't it?" And Foster
Portney laughed, and the boys joined in readily, for the discovery of so
much gold had put all into the best of humor.

The nuggets picked out, they set to work to wash out the sand and dirt.
While Foster Portney filled the pan and washed, the two boys took turns
in bringing up water from the pool, using for the purpose a rubber water
bag the man had thoughtfully provided for just such an emergency. The
washings continued until it was quite dark, and by that time half of the
dirt had been gone over and something like two ounces of gold dust
extracted.

"Not so bad," said Mr. Portney. "Perhaps to-morrow we'll do even
better."

"I could keep on all night," declared Randy, who was loath to quit the
locality. "Somebody may come in and take the claim away from us before
morning."

"We'll leave the pick and the shovel in it, and that will prevent them,"
was the answer; and this was done. No miner dares to touch another's
"prospect" so long as any tools remain in it.

When they got back to camp they found the doctor and the captain already
there. The two had tried half a dozen spots, but only one had yielded
sufficient gold dust to warrant their continuing to work it. They
listened with keen interest to the account of the find made by Randy,
and were quite willing to take a hand at prospecting that locality the
next day.

Eight o'clock found all hard at work. While the captain and Earl washed,
the others went into the opening of the cliff and brought out all that
remained of the dirt and loose stones. There was not a great deal, and
shortly after noon every shovelful was heaped up close to the artificial
pool of water Dr. Barwaithe had constructed. While the washing
continued, Foster Portney examined the sides and the bottom of the
opening, and then moved forward through a tangled mass of brushwood and
tundra until he came to the bed of a second gulch a hundred feet
distance from the first.

"There is nothing more in the pocket," he declared. "And if there is any
more gold, it is either in that gulch or this, and I am half inclined to
think it is over there, although we may as well prospect this gulch
thoroughly first."

By the morrow the washings from the pocket came to an end, with four
more ounces of gold to the credit of the prospectors, making in all a
find of about five hundred dollars. Previous to going into camp it had
been decided that for the present everything found should be divided
into five parts, one to go to the captain, one to the doctor, and three
to Foster Portney for himself and his nephews. The Portney share, as we
know, was to be divided, one-half to Mr. Portney and one-quarter to each
of the boys. Thus the boys received each three-twentieths of the entire
amount found; not a large portion, but then they had nothing to pay out
for expenses, which were bound to be considerable, and each was
perfectly willing that his uncle should have the one-tenth extra of the
whole amount on that account.

"Three-twentieths of five hundred dollars is seventy-five dollars," said
Randy to Earl, when they were alone. "We've each earned that, free and
clear, so far. That's not bad."

"If only we can continue, we'll make our fortunes," replied Earl,
earnestly. "But the pocket's at an end, and now we've got to prospect
elsewhere."

The days went by, and they tried the first of the gulches from end to
end, sometimes working together, and then each man and boy for himself.
But though they struck gold often it was never in paying quantities, and
the end of the week saw them somewhat discouraged.

"It wouldn't be so bad, only we made such a fine start," grumbled Randy.
"Now there's no telling when we shall find gold again."

"That's the fortunes o' prospectin'," said the captain. "It may be we
won't git a smell o' gold in the hull district ag'in!"

"I move we try that other gulch on Monday," put in the doctor. "It's
full of loose sand, isn't it?" he went on to Foster Portney.

"Yes, the sand and gravel are at least two feet thick," was the answer.
"I believe there is gold there, as I said before, but to clear off the
brush and moss will be no easy task."

"We came out here for work," said Earl. "I didn't expect to sit around
and sun myself." And all laughed at this remark.

It was Sunday, and late on Saturday night a miner had been around
announcing a religious meeting to be held over at the Bottom at noon.
Mr. Portney, the boys, and the doctor walked over, nearly half a mile,
leaving the captain in charge of the camp. They found about fifty miners
collected around an improvised platform, where an earnest-looking young
man was reading a chapter from his Bible. A song by three of the women
present followed, and then came a short sermon on the brotherhood of man
and the value of a faith which would carry a man above the temptation to
do wrong, even in that desolate region. At the close of the service a
collection was taken up, for the preacher's benefit, some of the miners
giving ordinary money, and others pouring gold dust into the little
chamois bag the preacher had provided for that purpose.

At this meeting the Portneys again met the Wodley crowd, who had located
about a mile up Gold Bottom Creek, at a place called Rosebud, a name
particularly inappropriate, since no roses were to be found in the
vicinity. Wodley and his companions were doing fairly well, and thought
the "doctor's flock" might do worse than to locate just above them.

"We'll remember that," said Foster Portney. "But first we are going to
try again over where we are."

Wodley had heard again from Tom Roland and Guardley. He said the gang,
as he termed it, which they had joined had gone up Hunker Creek and
staked out three claims somewhere above Discovery, as the first claim on
a creek or gulch is called. The claims had overlapped some already
staked out, and the miners in that section had had several fights and
had threatened to drive out all the newcomers if they did not do what
was right.

"I was going over to Hunker Creek myself," concluded Wodley. "But I
don't want to quarrel with anybody."

Monday morning found the entire Portney crowd over to Tangle Gulch, as
Mr. Portney christened it. It was a name well chosen, for the tangle of
bushes, vines, and moss was "simply out of sight," so Earl said,
although as a matter of fact it was very much in sight--that and
nothing else. No one could move forward more than a yard before having
to stop to loosen himself, either from the bushes and vines or the
clinging moss, and muck under the moss. And to add to their discomfort
they stirred up a legion of mosquitoes, gnats, and black flies, which
hovered over their heads like a cloud.

"Let us burn the brush first of all," said the doctor, when at last the
middle of the gulch was reached. "That will clear the surface and
scatter those pests overhead. Oh, my!" He broke off short as he went
down into a concealed water hole which was several feet deep. "Here's
another of the pleasures of hunting gold in Alaska!" and this was said
so comically that everybody roared.

Axes and knives had been brought along, and soon a large pile of the
brush had been cut and piled in a heap and set on fire. As it was green,
it burnt slowly and raised a large smoke, which made the mosquitoes
scatter immediately. From that day until the end of the summer they kept
a smudge fire for protection. The brush cleared from the sides of the
gulch, which was very narrow, they went at the tundra, throwing the moss
wherever it would be out of the way. This took a long time, and it was
not until almost nightfall that they got down to the sand and gravel of
the choked-up watercourse.

"Now we'll see if there is anything in this gulch or not," said the
captain, as he scooped up the first panful off the bedrock. "If there
isn't, then we've had most all-fired hard work fer nuthin', eh?" And he
started in to wash up the sand, gravel, and dirt, while the others
looked on in breathless interest.




CHAPTER XXIII.

GOOD LUCK AND BAD.


As the captain wanted to save every grain of gold in the pan, he washed
very carefully, and it was fully five minutes before the last of the
sand and dirt was disposed of and they could come to a calculation as to
the value of the yellow metal left.

For gold there was, true enough, shining brightly before their eyes--and
there was more than this, too, for some of it was of a blackish color.
The others could not believe in the value of this until Foster Portney
assured them that he had frequently heard of black gold being turned up
in the Yukon district.

"Half an ounce at least," was the verdict arrived at by both the captain
and Mr. Portney; "and that's eight dollars."

"Then we had better stay, hadn't we?" said Earl.

"Why, of course, Earl; you didn't expect to do much better than that,
unless you struck nuggets."

"One fellow over to Gold Bottom said he was taking out a hundred dollars
to the panful," put in Randy.

"Fairy stories, my lad," answered the captain. "A claim as will turn
out eight dollars to the pan is mighty good--as good as I'm a-lookin'
fer just now."

"And we haven't gone very far into this gulch," put in the doctor. "It
may be better further up."

"And it may be worse," said Foster Portney, "although I'm inclined to
think it will be better. We had best stake out our claims without
delay."

This was readily agreed to, and before they went back to the tents they
had staked out three claims, one for each of the men. Earl might have
taken up a claim, too, being just old enough, but the three covered all
the ground which the party thought of any account. Each claim was five
hundred feet long and the upper one covered both gulches, which was an
excellent thing, as it would give them a fair amount of water by which
to do their washing. The posts firmly planted and marked, they walked
slowly back to camp, talking over the prospects and mapping out their
future work.

It was decided to move the tents to a more convenient locality, and a
spot was readily found at a point above where the two gulches joined, or
rather where the one gulch split into two. The transfer to this new
home-spot was made the next day by Earl, Randy, and the doctor, Mr.
Portney and the captain going back to uncover several other portions of
the claims, to ascertain, if possible, just what their values might be.

The next week was a busy one. The camp removed and put into comfortable
shape, the next work was to dam up the gulch where the pocket had been
found, so that all the water might flow through Mosquito Hollow, as the
doctor had facetiously dubbed the new diggings,--a name that stuck to
it. This work was done by Randy and Dr. Barwaithe, while Earl joined the
captain and his uncle in burning down the brush and getting rid of the
tundra.

Before turning the water from Prosper Gulch into Mosquito Hollow, Foster
Portney advised sinking several holes along the latter gulch, that any
gold washed along by the flow would be caught. The captain put these
down, and then came the long labor of cleaning the sand and dirt from
the bedrock below. As it would have taken all summer to clean out the
entire bottom of the gulch, only the deeper part was attacked and here a
runway for the water was made, a foot to two feet wide.

The water had just been turned along Mosquito Hollow and washing begun
when a party of prospectors from Forty Mile Post came along and espied
the claims. They at once wished to know the particulars of the find
made, and, assured that there was gold there, one of the men lost no
time in putting up his stakes below them, while two others went above.
Inside of a week after this the Hollow boasted of eight claims, and a
little settlement sprung up at the Fork, as the miners named the spot
where the Portney crowd had located.

"We'll have a town here before the summer is over," said Earl; but he
was not sorry to have company, especially as the newcomers were all
hail-fellows-well-met and apparently honest to the core. Among them was
a young lawyer from Dakota, and he and Dr. Barwaithe soon became the
warmest of friends.

The short Alaska summer was now reaching its height, and flowers and
berries were growing everywhere in the wildest profusion, while during
the middle of the day the sun beat down so fiercely that they were often
compelled to seek the shade for hours at a time.

"My gracious, the Hollow is like a pepper box!" said Randy one day, as
he came into camp with his shirt wet through with perspiration. "Not a
breath of air stirring."

"And the hotter it is, the worse the flies are," added Earl. "I declare,
they seem to bother me more than even the mosquitoes."

Usually it cooled off toward seven or eight o'clock, even though the sun
still shone well up in the sky, but this night proved as warm as the day
had been, and most of the party went to sleep outdoors, unable to stand
it inside of the close tents. Outside, they had to wind their heads and
necks in mosquito netting and cover up their hands, to keep from being
pestered to death. It was the most uncomfortable twenty-four hours they
had yet put in.

"The old Harry take Alaska!" burst out Dr. Barwaithe, finally. One
mosquito had alighted on his nose, and two others on his neck. "It's
worth all the gold you can get, and more, too, to stand these impudent
pests. Oh!" And making half a dozen wild slashes he finally scrambled up
and ran around the tents to throw his tormentors off.

The captain was suffering from a slight attack of scurvy, brought on by
eating so much salt food. The doctor had given him some medicine, but
this did little good, and the captain was getting into a bad way when
one of the old miners, who had just come in, came to his aid.

"Eat tomatoes, cap'n," he said. "Best thing on airth fer scurvy. Bill
Watson wuz down with it wust way an' nuthin' helped him but tomatoes. He
eat 'most a bushel o' 'em, an' they made a new man o' him. Eat
tomatoes."

"Tomatoes may be very good," said the doctor. "They are a very strong,
green vegetable, you know. You might try them."

And the captain did try them, first using up some of the cans brought
along, and then buying a quart of fresh tomatoes at Dawson City, for two
dollars. Sure enough, the tomatoes helped wonderfully, and about a week
later the scurvy left him.

Nearly a month had now passed since the party had located at Mosquito
Hollow, and in that time they had taken out three small nuggets worth
probably fifty dollars apiece, and a little short of a hundred and
fifty ounces of gold dust. Counting the gold dust as worth sixteen
dollars an ounce, this gave them, in round figures, twenty-five hundred
dollars for their labor.

"Twenty-five hundred dollars!" said Earl. "That's a good deal more than
we could earn at home."

Captain Zoss gave a deep sigh and shook his head. "I ain't satisfied,"
he said. "I didn't come up to Alaska to work fer no five hundred a
month. I'm goin' elsewhar fer luck."

"You won't stay here?" asked Randy, quickly. He had begun to like the
captain very much.

"No, lad; I'm yere to make a fortune or nuthin'. I quit the hollow
ter-morrow."

"Well, you have that right, captain, although I'm sorry to see you go,"
said Foster Portney.

"Which means thet you an' the boys stay," answered the captain, quickly.
"I'm sorry ye won't go with me. I want ter try Hunker Creek."

"I think I'll stay," said Foster Portney, quietly. "I'll give the gulch
a few weeks longer, for the way I look at it we're making wages and have
the chance to make a strike. What do you say, boys?"

Randy was in for following the captain, but a look from Earl made him
change the words on the end of his tongue. "I'll do as you think best,
Uncle Foster."

"And so will I," said Earl.

Then they looked at the doctor, who was kicking the toe of his boot
against the tent pole in speculative way. It was several seconds before
the medical man spoke.

"I--I think I'll go with the captain," he said finally. "Not but that I
hate to part company," he added hastily. "But I came up here to make a
big hit, and if I wanted to work for what we've been making here, I
could get it easier by going into Dawson City and hanging out my
shingle--you all know that. I hope we part the best of friends."

"We will," said Foster Portney. "We'll divide our gold as per agreement,
and also the outfits."

"And I'll give you my share of this gulch free," said the captain, and
the doctor said the same.

Of this, however, Foster Portney would not hear. He insisted on paying
each of them a hundred dollars, and drawing up regular papers, which
were signed in the presence of two of the outside miners. On the day
following the doctor and the captain packed up their traps, hired four
Indians to help them, and set off, first however, giving Mr. Portney and
each of the boys a hearty handshake. In a few minutes they were out of
sight.

"And now to work the Hollow for all it is worth," said Foster Portney,
when they were left alone. "And remember, from henceforth, whatever we
turn up belongs to us and to nobody else."




CHAPTER XXIV.

AN UNLOOKED-FOR ARRIVAL.


Although the boys missed Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss greatly, there
was much of satisfaction in the thought that their uncle had expressed;
namely, that henceforth whatever was taken out of the three claims on
Mosquito Hollow gulch would belong to them and to nobody else.

"Of course, we can't expect to do as much work as was done before," was
the way Earl reasoned. "But we are just as liable as ever to make a big
strike."

During the following week the weather turned off somewhat cooler, and
this made work easier and more rapid. All three went at it with a will,
and the six days brought in six hundred dollars in dust.

"That's a hundred and fifty apiece for us, Earl," said Randy, after
figuring up. "It beats lumbering down in Maine all hollow, doesn't it?"

"I'll tell you better after we've gone through a winter up here, Randy.
From all accounts the weather is something awful, and we've got to stand
it, for getting away is out of the question after the first of
September."

"Well, let's not anticipate trouble. I guess Uncle will see that we are
as well provided for as possible," answered Randy, who could think of
nothing but the gold dust brought in daily.

So far they had done all their washing with hand pans. Foster Portney
had tried to obtain a cradle, or a "Long Tom," but had failed. Now he
announced his intention to go over to the saw-mill at Dawson and buy the
necessary boards for several sluice boxes. He left on Friday, stating he
would probably not return before Monday or Tuesday.

The week had brought a number of newcomers to the vicinity, who had
staked claims on other gulches within a radius of half a mile. Some of
these late arrivals had come over the mountain pass, while the majority
had taken the longer route up the Pacific Ocean and the Yukon. The Fork
seemed to be a favorite camping ground, and there were times when as
many as a score of tents were pitched there.

One of the newcomers was from Hunker Creek, and he brought news of the
doctor and the captain. The pair had staked two claims some distance
above Discovery and were doing fairly well, although they had by no
means struck it as rich as anticipated.

It was on Saturday evening, when Randy and Earl were busy washing out
some of their underwear--for they of course had to play their own
washerwoman--that news was brought to them that there was a young
fellow down at a camp below who had expressed a desire that Randy or
Earl come to see him.

"He ain't give no name, but he's a slim-built chap an' don't look like
he was cut out fer roughing it," said the messenger. "He's half sick,
and he was grub-struck when me and my pard picked him up."

"A slim-built chap--" began Randy, when Earl broke in: "It's Fred
Dobson, the crazy fool!"

"Fred!" cried Randy. He turned to the messenger and asked the miner to
give him a better description of the boy; but this was not forthcoming,
and he hurried off with the man, leaving Earl in charge of the tent.

The camp below was quarter of a mile away, over a hill thick with
blackberry bushes. But something like a trail had been tramped down from
the Fork, and it did not take the two long to cover the distance. They
had just come over the hill in sight of several tents when Randy beheld
somebody get up from a seat on a fallen log and totter toward him.

"Randy Portney!" It was Fred Dobson's voice, but so thin and hollow
Randy scarcely recognized it. "Oh, how glad I am to see somebody I
know!"

"Fred! How in the world did you get up here!" burst out Randy. He took
the hand of the squire's son, and led the way back to the seat. "How
thin and pale you look! I thought you had gone back to Basco!"

Fred heaved a deep sigh. Then he looked Randy full in the face for a
moment. His eyes were moist, and he tried in vain to keep back the
tears. But it was impossible, and throwing his head on Randy's shoulder,
he wept like a child.

The tears touched Randy to the heart, and he caught the thin hands and
pressed them warmly. "Never mind, Fred," he said. "Now you are up here
I'll do what I can for you. So let up and tell me your story."

It was several minutes before Fred could do this. "I came up by the way
of the Chilkoot Pass," he said, when he felt able to speak. "I joined a
party I met in Juneau, a crowd of men from Chicago, and they promised to
see me through if I would do my share of work. But the work was too hard
for me, and they treated me like a dog, and at Baker's Creek they kicked
me out of camp and compelled me to shift for myself."

"How long ago was this?"

"A week ago. Since that time I've been knocking around from pillar to
post, looking for something I could do, so as to earn at least enough to
eat. I did get one job in Dawson City washing dishes in the restaurant,
but even there the food the boss wanted me to eat was more than I could
stand, as it was nothing but leavings."

"And when did you hear of us?"

"Yesterday. I struck a miner named Wodley and he gave me your
directions. Oh, Randy, what a fool I was to come to Alaska! If only I
had taken your advice and gone back to Basco!" And it was only by an
effort that Fred Dobson kept himself from crying anew. He felt
miserable, weak, and hungry, had had scarcely a kind word for weeks, and
was on the point of giving up in despair.

"Do your parents know where you are?" asked Randy, after another pause.

"Yes, I wrote to them just before leaving Juneau--I couldn't think of
going so far away without doing that."

"Well, that was at least one sensible move, Fred." Randy thought for a
moment. "Our camp is about half a mile from here, over that hill. Can
you walk that far?"

"Oh, yes, Randy; I can walk a good way now I've found a friend." Fred
arose as quickly as he could. "Are you and your friends all together
yet?"

"No; there are only my uncle, Earl, and myself now."

The two were soon on the journey over the hill. Fred was still rather
shaky, and Randy gave him his arm to help him at the difficult places.
When they reached camp, Earl had all the washing out and everything
tidied up.

"So it is you, Fred?" he said, as he held out his hand. "I thought you
back in Basco by this time."

"I only wish I was! I made the biggest mistake of my life when I ran
away, so there! and I don't care who knows it!" And Fred threw himself
on a bench in front of the tent.

"If there is any of that bean soup left, you had better give Fred some,"
said Randy, with a knowing glance which did not escape Earl. "And I'm
going to fry some of the fish I caught over in the river last night."

Half an hour later the wanderer was sitting down to as appetizing a
supper as he had tasted since leaving the States. While he ate he told
his story in detail, to which Randy and Earl listened with much
interest. That Fred had had a hard time of it there could be no doubt;
and that he had learned a lesson he would never forget was also
apparent.

"If there was only some way of getting home, I'd start to-morrow," he
said. "But I'm up here now, and I've got to do for myself--somehow." He
looked wistfully at Earl and Randy. "Do you think I could make some kind
of a deal with your uncle to keep me? I know I am not as strong and
hardy as you, but I can do something, and I won't look for any pay."

"I don't know what uncle will say," said Earl. "He has gone to Dawson,
and won't be back before Monday or Tuesday. I guess you can stay here
till that time."

"Yes; and if he won't take you in, I'll help you some," added Randy.
"We've been more fortunate than you."

Fred was curious to know how they had made out, and Earl and Randy told
him. He was amazed to think they had done so well; and his face
brightened a good deal when he remembered how Randy had said he would
help him.

Sunday was spent in camp. Fred, who was completely tired out, slept the
greater part of the day, although at meal times, weak as he was, he
insisted on washing the dishes and the pots and kettles, just to show
that he was in earnest about working. This made Earl and Randy smile to
themselves.

"Think of Fred washing dishes like that at home," whispered Earl to his
brother. "If only the squire could see him now, I guess he'd almost
forgive him for running away!"

On Monday the two brothers went to work as usual in the Hollow. Fred
followed them over and was much interested in their labors. Once he
tried shovelling up the sand and dirt, but Earl told him he had better
take it easy and get back his strength; and then he walked back to the
tent, to spend the balance of the day in mending his clothing, which was
sadly in need of repairs. When the boys came back, he had supper ready
for them, and never had they had a meal in camp that was better cooked.

"Cooking was the one thing I learned coming up here," Fred explained.
"There was a negro in the party who had been a chef in a Chicago hotel;
and he was the one soul in the crowd that treated me half decently."

"Perhaps uncle will retain you as cook," said Randy, mischievously, and
then he stopped short, for he did not wish to hurt Fred's feelings. The
supper passed off pleasantly, and Fred announced that he felt a hundred
times better than the day previous.

It was around ten o'clock, and the sun had just set over the mountains
to the westward, leaving the Hollow in an uncertain, pale-blue light,
which would last until sunrise at four, when a messenger on mule-back
dashed along the trail from Gold Bottom. "Thar's a lynchin' goin' on
down to Smedley's!" he yelled, as he sped by. "They've caught a sneak
thief by the name o' Guardley, an' they're goin' ter make him do er
dance on nuthin'. Better be gittin' down thar, if ye want ter see
justice done!"




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?"

[Illustration: "I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE PRISONER, PLEASE."--_Page 196._]

"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.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

SNOWED IN.


Although everything in the gulch was frozen up, it must not be supposed
that mining there came to an end. While it was true no more washing
could be done that season, there was dirt, gravel, and sand to be heaped
in convenient spots, ready for the first run of water in the spring.

At one end of the claims there was a bank which had been examined by
Foster Portney and found to contain very rich pay dirt, and this bank
was now attacked by all hands and the dirt brought out to the nearest
sluice box. To thaw the ground a fire was built up against the bank
every night and allowed to burn until morning. Even in extremely cold
weather this thawed the bank to a depth of several feet, and when they
had scooped out a hole which resembled a baker's oven the thawing-out
process was still more effectual.

But it was hard and bitter work at the best, and as the cold increased,
Fred found he could not stand it, and had to remain in the cabin the
greater part of the time, coming out only during the middle of the day.

"This cold gets into the marrow of a fellow's bones," he said to Randy.
"I don't see how you can put up with it."

"Earl and I were used to pretty tough weather up in the Maine woods, as
you know," replied Randy. "I guess an out-and-out city chap would freeze
stiff before he had been here a week. The thermometer was down to six
below zero this morning."

The cold had cut off their water supply, and every drop for drinking or
cooking had to be obtained by melting ice on the stove. To keep them in
fuel, all hands spent four days up in the woods cutting timber, which
was allowed to dry out for two weeks, and was then hauled over to the
edge of the cliff and tumbled down to a spot between their cabin and
that of their nearest neighbor, two hundred feet away.

By Foster Portney's advice another trip was made by him and Earl to the
Yukon River in search of fish for winter use, for fish could now be kept
by simply being frozen in a chunk of ice and laid away. The two found
the ice on the Yukon over two feet thick, and had to cut fishing-holes
with an axe they had brought along for that purpose. They spent a day on
the river, fishing and spearing, and were rewarded with a catch of over
fifty pounds. Earl had brought the shot-gun, and to the fish were added
a dozen small sea-fowl, which were caught on the wing while flying
southward.

"We had better be getting back," observed Foster Portney, early on the
following morning. "Unless I am greatly mistaken we shall have a heavy
fall of snow by to-night."

As they did not wish to be caught in a storm, they started on the return
to the gulch as rapidly as their loads would permit. They were still in
the woods when the first flakes began to fall. With the coming of the
snow the wind began to rise, shaking the bare limbs above them savagely
and causing a lively tumble of dead branches on every side. Not to
become stormbound, they increased their pace, reaching the lower end of
the gulch by six o'clock in the evening. They could hardly see before
them, so thickly did the flakes come down, and both considered
themselves fortunate in having struck familiar ground. By the time the
cabin was reached the snow was six inches deep.

"We thought you'd be snowed under!" cried Randy, as he opened the door
to let them in. He had been watching anxiously since the snow began to
fall. "It's going to be an awful night."

He was right; it was an awful night--more so than any of them had
anticipated. After a hot supper they retired to their bunks to sleep,
only to be aroused about midnight by the roar of the wind as it tore
through the woods and along the gulch with the force of a hurricane. The
snow was coming down "in chunks," as Randy put it, and mingled with it
were tree branches, small brush, and dried tundra. In one corner of the
cabin the wind had found a crack about six inches long and less than a
sixteenth of an inch wide, and through this crack the snow had sifted
over the entire floor.

"Jerusalem! the roof is coming down!" cried Earl, when they had been up
a few minutes, and while his uncle was stuffing a piece of cloth in the
crack mentioned. There was a great noise overhead as the hurricane tore
away the top joint of the stovepipe. Through the opening poured a lot of
snow, which, falling on the hot stove, sent up a cloud of steam. To stop
the snow from coming in, Foster Portney climbed up on the top of the
table and nailed a bit of a board over the hole.

"We can't have that stovepipe up there, that's certain," he said. "We'll
have to stick it out of the side window. It won't look very elegant, but
I reckon we're not keeping house on looks up here." And by their united
efforts the stove was swung around in front of the little window, and
the upper end of what was left of the pipe was twisted around and
pointed outside, after one of the small window panes had been taken out.
Around the pipe Mr. Portney fitted a square sheet of tin, obtained from
an empty tomato can. Then the floor was cleared of snow and the fire
started up afresh.

The hurricane, or blizzard, lasted until six o'clock in the morning, and
during that time nobody thought of going to sleep again. The cabin
shook and rocked, and had it not been for the shelter of the cliff would
have gone to pieces. The snow kept piling higher and higher until it
threatened to cut off the smokepipe again.

"Perhaps we'll have to swing the stove around to the front," said Foster
Portney. "We can let the pipe out near the roof, and build a little hood
over it, so that the snow from the cliff can blow right over into the
gulch." And later on this was done.

"This will stop work in the gulch," said Randy. "It's too bad! What on
earth are we going to do with ourselves from now until next spring?"

"We'll try to keep alive and well, Randy," returned Mr. Portney,
seriously. "Remember, from now on comes the tug-of-war, as the old
saying goes."

But work was not over, as Randy had surmised. To be sure, when the storm
ceased at noon it was found the snow was nearly three feet deep on the
level. But a day's labor sufficed to beat down a path to the bank in the
gulch, and once again the fires were started and the work of getting the
dirt to the sluice boxes resumed. The clearing of the storm had left it
stinging cold, and all were glad enough to hustle lively in order to
keep warm. They worked with their overcoats on and with their feet
encased in several pairs of woollen socks, and even then spent much time
around the fire, "thawing out," to use Randy's words.

The work in the bank, however, paid them well. Four days after the fall
of snow, Foster Portney struck several rocks to one side of the rise and
located another pocket of nuggets. They were all small fellows, the
largest about the size of a hickory nut, but the nuggets numbered nearly
half a hundred and caused a good deal of excitement.

"It's another fifteen hundred or two thousand dollars to our credit,"
said Mr. Portney. "And not only that, but this dirt is as rich as that
taken from the pocket over yonder. We haven't struck a million, but we
are doing remarkably well."

"I wonder how Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe are making out," said Earl.
They had not heard from their former partners for nearly a month, when a
miner had brought word to the effect that they had just located a claim
on a gulch heading into Hunker Creek, the third strike since leaving
Mosquito Hollow.

"I imagine they are not doing any better than we are," replied his
uncle. "If they were, we should have heard of it. It may pay to strike
around, more or less, but I believe in giving a claim a fair trial
before abandoning it."

Less than a week later it began to snow again. The sky was heavy, and
even at midday it did not brighten up. They had gone down to the gulch
directly after breakfast, but now returned to the cabin, to fix up the
stovepipe as previously mentioned, and to cut enough small wood to last
for several weeks. All were hard at work when they saw two white men and
two Indians approaching, the latter driving before them two dog teams
attached to a pair of Alaskan sledges, piled high with miners' outfits.
The two men were Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss.

"It's a sight good fer sore eyes to see ye ag'in!" exclaimed the
captain, as he shook hands with Mr. Portney and the boys. "I couldn't
keep away no longer. How are ye all?"

"We are very well," said Foster Portney. "How have you been doing?"

"Only fairly well," answered the doctor. "To tell the truth, I don't
think it paid to strike out. We have a little dust, but no more, I
imagine, than we should have had had we remained with you."

The pair had come over to see if they could not arrange to remain at the
cabin through the winter, fearing that they would find it very lonesome
if they went off by themselves. They had brought along all their things,
including a stock of provisions, and were willing to pay whatever was
fair in addition. As their company would no doubt prove very acceptable
during the long, cheerless days to come, they were taken in without
question.

"We can put up two more bunks somewhere," said Foster Portney. "And
though we may be rather crowded, I reckon we'll manage it." He had taken
a great fancy to the doctor, and was pleased to think he would not have
to depend altogether on the boys for companionship. As for the boys,
Randy declared that the presence of the jovial captain would make every
day seem several hours shorter. Fred, whose story had been told in
secret, also took to the newcomers, and all together they formed a happy
family.

But the height of the winter was now on them, and it was destined to
keep its grip for many long weeks and months to come. The storm that had
started on the day the doctor and the captain arrived kept up with more
or less vigor for a week, and by that time they found themselves snowed
in completely. The thermometer kept going down steadily, registering as
low as fifteen degrees below zero, and on more than one occasion the
pail of water standing up against the side of the stove was frozen
solid. To keep thoroughly warm was impossible, even though they wrapped
themselves in all the clothing and blankets their outfits afforded.




CHAPTER XXIX.

WAITING AND WATCHING FOR SPRING.


"Perhaps it isn't cold! I never felt so frozen up in my life!"

It was Randy who uttered the words, as he danced around the floor of the
living-room, almost on top of the stove. The fire had burned low during
the night, and he had just shoved in some fresh wood and opened the
draughts. Going to the little window of the sleeping-apartment, he
looked through the single pane of glass at the thermometer, which hung
on the casement outside. The mercury registered twenty-two degrees below
zero.

"Twenty-two degrees below, and this is Christmas morning!" he went on,
with another shiver. "The best thing Santa Claus can bring us is warmer
weather."

"Merry Christmas!" cried Fred, tumbling out of his bunk, and his cry
awoke the others, and the greeting went the whole round. The fire was
now blazing with a vigor which threatened to crack the stove, yet as
they talked they could see each other's breath. Every one was stamping
around to get his blood in circulation.

"I'll give ye some hot coffee and Christmas flap-jacks!" said the
captain; and soon a smell which was most appetizing was floating through
the air, and they sat down at the table, which had been placed as close
to the fire as possible. Indeed, "hugging the stove" was a common trick
all day long, and Fred often grumbled because he could not take the
stove to bed with him. The boys were waking up to the fact that an
Alaskan winter was "two winters in one," as Earl said, when compared
with those experienced at home.

It had been snowing again; indeed, it snowed about half the time now,
and even in the middle of the day it was so dark they could scarcely
see, excepting right in front of the windows. Some time previous several
Indians had appeared with fish oil and some dried fat fish to sell, and
they had purchased a quantity of both for lighting purposes. The oil was
used in a lamp made of a round tin having a home-made wick hanging over
the side. The fat fish, dried very hard, were slit in strips and set up,
to be lighted and burnt as tallow candles. Many of the Indians and the
Esquimaux have no lights but these dried-fish candles. The smell from
them is far from pleasant, but they are certainly better than nothing.

As it was a holiday, the boys felt they must do something. But what to
do was the question, until Fred suggested they try their hand at making
some candy. They were allowed just a pound of sugar by the men, and
worked themselves half sick over the wood fire until noon, when the
candy was declared done. It was a sort of taffy; and although it would
not have added to the reputation of a skilled confectioner, all hands
partook of their share of it, and declared it excellent.

Just before being snowed in Mr. Portney had become the possessor of two
newspapers and a magazine, and much of the time was spent by one or
another over these. The magazine was rather a heavy one, yet the boys
read it through from cover to cover, including all the advertisements.
It contained among other stories one which was continued, and to pass
away the time they tried to invent a conclusion. This self-imposed task
amused the doctor also, and he took a hand and finished the tale in a
manner which took three evenings to tell.

And so New Year's Day came and went, and still they found themselves
housed up with the thermometer continually at fifteen to twenty degrees
below. Once it went down to twenty-six below, and everything fairly
cracked with the cold. To keep from being frozen, one and another stood
guard during the night, that the fire might not go down. During that
time they received but scant news from their neighbors, although the
cabins along the under side of the cliff were less than seventy yards
apart. Nobody cared to venture out, and even opening the door was
something to be considered, although the doctor insisted on having a
little fresh air.

"Providence help the poor chaps who are not well provided for this
winter," said Mr. Portney, one day. "I shouldn't wonder if some of them
are found dead in the spring."

"To be sure," answered the captain. "I looked ter somethin' putty bad
myself, but I didn't expect nuthin' like this. Why, we might jest as
well be a-sittin' on the top o' the North Pole. Hain't been a blessed
streak o' sunshine fer eight days, an' every time it snows the stuff
piles up a foot or so more! It must be nigh on to thirty feet deep in
yonder gulch."

"We'll have to economize with our store before long," put in the doctor.
"Flour is running pretty low. Captain, you'll have to give us less
flap-jacks--they're too toothsome."

"Yes, we'll have to come down to plain bread," said Foster Portney. "And
maybe eat it stale too," he added.

Economizing began that day, after Mr. Portney had taken an account of
the provisions still left to them. Whatever they had must be made to do
for three months yet, and three months meant ninety days, a goodly
number for which to provide.

Slowly the days wore on, every one so much like the others that it
seemed impossible to tell them apart. Sunday was the one day they
observed through it all. On the morning of that the doctor invariably
read a chapter out of the Bible he carried, and one or another of the
rest offered prayer. "It's right an' proper," said the captain, speaking
of this. "We don't want ter live like no heathens, even if we are cast
away in an ocean o' snow!"

February proved the worst month of all. It snowed nearly the whole time,
and it was so dark that they kept the lights lit as long as they dared
to consume the fish oil and the dried fish. During that time they saw or
heard nothing of their neighbors, who might have died of starvation
without their being any the wiser. The snow against the door was five
feet high and water was obtained by shovelling this into the pot instead
of ice and melting it.

"Well, it's a dog's life and that's the truth," said Earl one day, in
the middle of March. "It's worth all the gold we've found--that's my
opinion." It was the first time Earl had grumbled since winter set in,
but as he had not had what he called a square meal for a month he can
well be pardoned for the speech.

"If I thought I could get there and back, I would try for some extra
provisions from Dawson," said Foster Portney; but none of the others
would hear of his attempting such a trip, feeling certain he would lose
his way and perish.

"We'll make out with what we have," said the doctor. "Divide the rations
so they'll hold out until the middle of April. I fancy by that time
this winter siege will about end." His advice was followed out, and they
waited with all the patience possible for the coming of spring.

The fish and game had long since come to an end, and they were now
living on plain bread, beans, and bacon or pork, and half a can of fresh
vegetables per day, with an occasional taste of stewed dried apples or
apricots as a side dish. They were all tired of the beans, especially
Fred and the doctor, who had been used to good living all their lives.

"They're too much for me," said Fred, one day, as he pushed his small
plateful back. "I'd rather eat a crust of bread and drink snow water."
And the beans remained untouched for two days, when he was forced, out
of sheer hunger, to go at them again.

They had also reached the last half pound of coffee, and by a general
vote this was reserved for dinner each Sunday. As the amount on hand
decreased they made the beverage weaker and weaker, until the doctor
laughingly declared that the snow flavored the water more than the
coffee did. The lack of coffee hit the captain more than the others, for
he loved his cupful, strong, black, and without sugar.

It was on the last day of March that they heard a noise outside and then
came a faint hammering on their door. All leaped up and ran to open the
barrier. When it had been forced back a distance of a foot, they beheld
two miners there, so weak they could scarcely stand, much less speak.
"Sumthin' to eat!" whispered one of them hoarsely, and the other echoed
the word "Eat!" as being all he could say.

The two were taken into the cabin and warmed up, while Earl prepared a
thin vegetable soup for them, that being best for their stomachs,
according to the doctor. They could hardly swallow at first, and it was
not until the following morning that they were strong enough to sit up
and tell their stories. They had been wintering back of the woods, but
starvation had driven them forth in an attempt to reach Dawson City for
supplies. Their strength had failed them, they had lost their way, and
here they were.

"Take care of us, and we'll pay you well," said one of the miners.
"We've got over a thousand dollars in gold dust with us and ten thousand
in dust and nuggets hidden up at the camp."

"I'm afraid your money won't count up here," replied Foster Portney,
sadly. "We're almost as badly off ourselves. Yet I am willing to share
what I have." A vote was taken, and the miners remained; and that made
two more mouths to feed out of their scanty store.

The first week in April saw them reduced to next to nothing. The flour
was gone, so was the bacon and the canned goods, and it was pork and
beans and stewed dried apples twice a day and nothing more. Every one
looked haggard, and all felt that something must happen soon. Would
spring ever come?

"Pork and beans enough to last about three days yet," said Foster
Portney, as he surveyed the scanty store, with the others standing
around. "Three days, and after that--" He did not finish, and a silence
fell on the crowd. Were they to suffer the pangs of actual starvation,
after all?




CHAPTER XXX.

LAST WASHINGS FOR GOLD.


Just one day before their provisions gave out the skies brightened as if
by magic and the sun came out warmly. They could scarcely believe their
eyes, so sudden was the change. The snow was cleared away from the door,
and every one lost no time in rushing out into the fresh air.

"This is living again!" cried Earl. And then he added: "Let us beat down
a path to Wompole's cottage and see how he is faring."

The others agreed, and soon they had a trail to the next cabin, where an
old Alaskan gold hunter had gone into quarters all by himself. Wompole
was also out, and they shook hands. When questioned he said he had run
out of everything but beans, dried peas, and some smoked salmon, and he
agreed to let them have enough of his stores to last them three days
longer.

"Winter is broke up now," he remarked. "An' I reckon thar ain't no doubt
but wot ye kin git ter Dawson an' back, if ye try."

"And I shall try," said Foster Portney; and an hour later he and Captain
Zoss started off on snowshoes which they had made during their many
idle hours. Randy and Earl saw their uncle depart with much anxiety, but
did nothing to detain him, for food they must have, and that appeared
the only manner in which to obtain it.

"If we could only bring down a bird or something with the gun," said
Earl, some time later, and then he climbed the cliff and beat a path to
the first belt of timber. But though he thrashed around three hours, not
a sign of game was to be discovered anywhere.

The night was cold, but not nearly as much so as other nights had been,
and on the following day the mercury when held in the sun actually
crawled up to ten degrees above zero. And so it kept gradually becoming
warmer, until the snow started to melt and they knew for a certainty
that the long and tedious winter was a thing of the past.

It took Foster Portney and Captain Zoss five full days to find their way
to Dawson City and back again. The return for the larger portion of the
way was made on dog sledges driven by Indians. They had found provisions
very scarce and high in price in Dawson City, but had brought back
enough to last a month. One of the Indians had also brought provisions
for the two miners, this commission having been executed through Mr.
Portney, and the next day the miners set off for their own cabin with
many sincere thanks for the assistance which had been rendered them.

On the day the provisions came in, they celebrated by having what Dr.
Barwaithe called "a round, square meal." To be sure there was nothing
but the plainest kind of food, but there was enough, and that was of
prime importance.

After this they watched eagerly for the day to come when they might get
to work again. A bargain had been struck all around, whereby the doctor
and the captain were to work the single sluice box on the upper claim
and have four-fifths of the findings, the other fifth going to Foster
Portney for keeping them--the contract to hold good so long as the pair
were content to remain in the present camp.

"The water is running in the gulch!" was the welcome announcement made
by Earl one day, and all went down to see the thin stream, which soon
became stronger. The snow was almost gone now, and the sand, gravel, and
dirt which was exposed to the sun was quite free from frost. The picks,
shovels, and other tools were brought out and cleaned up, and two days
later found them at work as during the previous summer. It was
marvellous how the seasons changed when once there was a start.

Before the end of the month Mr. Portney made another trip to Dawson
City, and this time he took with him both Randy and Earl. They had
settled that they should remain in the gulch until the first of August,
and now they took back, by Indian carriers, enough provisions to last
the camp until that time.

The stop in Dawson lasted two days, and the boys had a chance to walk
about the town and see how it had improved. There were now at least
two-score of buildings, and several of them were quite pretentious. At
the dock were two steamboats, both nearly free of the ice which had held
them fast all winter.

In the town there was much news to be heard of the many wonderful
strikes which had been made. Several had taken out over a hundred
thousand dollars in dust and nuggets, and were waiting for navigation to
open on the Yukon, that they might sail for home with their riches. No
one who had accumulated a pile cared to remain in that forsaken country.

Just before they were to start for the gulch, Mr. Portney brought news
of Tom Roland. The man had been captured at Circle City two months
before, and the gold stolen from Cozzins taken from him. He had escaped
from his temporary jail and fled to the mountains, and now his dead body
had been found at the foot of a lofty canyon, down which he had most
likely tumbled during the snowstorm which was then raging. It was a sad
ending to a misspent life, and the boys could not help but shudder as
they heard the story. They wondered what had become of Jasper Guardley,
but nothing further was ever heard of that cowardly rascal.

By the first of June the gulch was as active as it had ever been during
the previous summer, and the mosquitoes and flies were just as numerous
and troublesome. No more finds of nuggets of large size were made, but
the sluice boxes yielded heavy returns of dust, and all were very well
content, and Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss gave up all thoughts of
leaving.

"We know what we have here," said the doctor, "and I am convinced that
too much prospecting does not pay."

"An' besides, it's something ter be in company which is congenial,"
added the captain. "Over to the other claim it was nuthin' but fight the
whole day long with yer neighbors about stake lines."

By the end of July the sand and gravel taken from the bedrock of
Mosquito Hollow gulch had been disposed of, and now a month was given to
a general clearing up of the dirt taken from half a dozen little hollows
which lay on either side. It was terribly hot again, but the workers
took their time over what they did, and often rested during the middle
of the day. Three days before the first of September they were done.

"There, that settles it!" cried Foster Portney, as he flung down his
shovel. "No more work for me until I have paid a visit to the States."

"Hurrah!" shouted Randy, and he gave his pick a whirl which sent it
thirty feet off. "I'm just aching for a sight of civilization."

"And for an old-fashioned meal," added Earl.

Fred's eyes glistened, but he said nothing. He was wondering what sort
of a reception he would receive when he got home. He had sent on two
letters from the gulch, but no answer had come back and there was no
telling if the communications had reached their destination.

The next day was spent in the delightful task of counting up the
proceeds of their venture. Of course it was impossible to calculate
closely, yet they were conservative in their estimates, and in the end,
when their nuggets and dust were turned over to the United States mint
in San Francisco, they were not disappointed as to the check received in
return.

The upper claim during the time it was worked by Dr. Barwaithe and
Captain Zoss in the spring had yielded five thousand dollars. Of this,
as per agreement, two thousand dollars went to the doctor, a like sum to
the captain, and one thousand dollars to Foster Portney. Added to what
they had made previously, the doctor and the captain now held a matter
of nine thousand dollars' worth of gold between them. Not a fortune, but
still a tidy sum, all things considered.

The Portneys, of course, had fared much better. The total yield of gold
to them from start to finish footed up to fifty-two thousand dollars. Of
this amount, as we know, one-half went to Earl and Randy, which gave the
lads exactly thirteen thousand dollars apiece. Twenty-six thousand
dollars was Foster Portney's share, but out of this he had been
compelled to spend three thousand dollars in bringing the party up and
keeping them, and he would have to spend nearly another thousand in
getting them home.

During the early summer of the present year, Earl, Randy, and Foster
Portney had held a private talk concerning the amount to be granted to
Fred, and it had been decided that he should have an even thousand
dollars, one half to come from the two boys' share and the other from
their uncle. Fred's fare was also to be paid clear through to Basco. The
lad, when told of this decision, said he was more than satisfied, as the
amount of work he had been able to do had really been very small on
account of frequent attacks of sickness.

"I can't stand the climate," he said. "And I shan't attempt to come up
here again. If father will let me, I'll go to college and become a
lawyer."

The doctor was going on to Dawson City to give up mining and establish
himself in his profession, having become satisfied that he could do
better at this than he could in working a claim. But the captain decided
to remain where he was.

"I'm bound ter strike it rich some day," he said. "An' I'm goin' ter
rustle till I do."

"I certainly hope you strike it rich," said Randy; for the pair were now
greater friends than ever.

It was a warm, clear day when the party of five left the gulch, with
their faces set toward Dawson City. The Portneys had decided to return
to the States by the way of the Yukon and the Pacific Ocean, and a
voyage of five thousand miles still lay before them. They carried all
their findings with them, and now the question arose,--having found so
much gold, would they be able to get it out of this wild country in
safety?




CHAPTER XXXI.

DOWN THE YUKON AND HOME.


Foster Portney knew that the regular terminus of travel on the Yukon
steamboats was Fort Cudahy, which was situated forty-eight miles below
Dawson City. But owing to the rush to the new gold fields, which was now
stronger than ever, two small boats were making regular trips between
these two points.

When the party reached Dawson City, now the scene of great activity, it
was found they would have to wait a week before they could secure
passage to Fort Cudahy, as the tickets for the two following trips were
all sold. This wait, when they were impatient to get home, was not an
agreeable one, yet it gave them a chance to look around the settlement
and become better acquainted with the various persons who were there.

"Dawson is bound to grow," said the doctor, who had hired a room at the
so-called hotel and hung out his sign on the day he arrived. "See, there
are actually three streets already, two stores, three saloons, a barber
shop, and a reading and pool room; and I understand that a fellow has
just arrived who is going to open a clothing store, and another is on
his way with medicines for a drug store. We are bound to boom!"

"'We' is good!" said Earl, with a laugh. "I guess you had better strike
up a partnership with that druggist when he arrives."

"Not much, Earl! I'll put him in the way of getting the gold fever, and
when he is ready to strike out, I'll buy his outfit and run the whole
thing myself. I'm bound to make money." And it looked as if the doctor
was right, for during their stay in Dawson City he had eleven calls for
his services, for which he charged the fee of five dollars per call,
which was moderate for that place.

At last came the day to part, and with a hearty handshake from the
doctor the Portneys and Fred boarded the little side-wheeler _Alice_,
and the long homeward trip was begun. The boat was crowded with
returning miners, and as nearly all of them had struck gold, it was a
happy congregation which spent the time in eating, drinking, smoking,
playing cards, and "swapping yarns." "Swapping yarns" went on
continually, and many were the wonderful stories told of great finds,
perilous climbs, and escapes from starvation during the awful winter.

"I've made seventy thousand dollars, boys," said one elderly miner. "But
I never did so much starving in my life, an' ten hosses couldn't drag
me back to put in another such winter--hear me!"

"I'm with ye," said another; "leas'wise, I think I am. But thar's no
tellin' wot I might do ef the gold fever struck me ag'in," he added
reflectively.

Fort Cudahy was a small settlement on the Yukon, at the mouth of Clinton
Creek. Just above the creek was another settlement, called Forty Mile.
Between the stores in the two settlements there was a fierce rivalry,
and consequently prices here were more reasonable than at Dawson City.

The party was fortunate in obtaining immediate passage to Fort Get
There, on St. Michael's Island, which is situated sixty miles above the
entrance to the Yukon. An offer was also made by the agent of the
transportation company to take charge of their gold from there right on
through to San Francisco, but as the commission for doing this would be
fifteen per cent, this offer was declined.

"I think we can get it through," said Foster Portney. "At any rate, I am
willing to risk it." And the boys agreed with him.

The next stop of importance was Circle City, of which the boys had heard
through Mr. Portney. In former days Circle City had been the banner
mining town on the upper Yukon, but now its glory was departed, for over
three-quarters of its inhabitants had pulled up stakes and moved on to
the Klondike district.

From Circle City the river, already broad, widened out to such an extent
that it looked more like a lake than anything else. It was dotted with
numerous islands, and the pilot of the boat had his head full with
keeping track of the proper channel to pursue. The run was north to the
ruins of Fort Yukon, the highest point gained by the mighty river upon
which they were sailing.

From Fort Yukon the run was mostly to the southwestward, past the
settlements of Shaman's, We Are, Nulato, and a dozen similar places,
Indian villages, the home of fur traders, missionaries, and of fishers.
At many of the places the main things to be seen were the totem poles
stuck up in front of the Indian huts--poles of wood, curiously carved
with hideous-looking images and undecipherable hieroglyphics.

At last St. Michael's Island was gained, and here they found themselves
again in luck, for an ocean steamer was in waiting to take the
passengers from the river boat. The transfer was made before nightfall,
and at dawn of the day following the steamer started on her long voyage
down Norton Sound, Bering Sea, and the Pacific Ocean to Seattle. But one
stop was made, that at Dutch Harbor, on one of the Aleutian Islands, and
then one glorious afternoon early in the fall they steamed through the
Straits of San Juan de Fuca and swept into the grand harbor at Seattle.

"The United States at last!" cried Randy. "Oh my, how good civilization
does look!"

"We don't know what we have at home until we miss it," said Fred, but in
such a low tone that nobody heard him.

They stopped in Seattle two days, and then took steamer direct for San
Francisco. The trip down the coast was an uneventful one. They were
impatient to finish it, and a glad cry rang everywhere through the
vessel when land was sighted and they ran through the Golden Gate.

A crowd was at the wharf to receive the latest news from the gold
fields. "How are the diggings up there?" "Is there any show for a fellow
staking a good claim?" "How much did you bring along?" "Is it true about
provisions being scarce?" These and a hundred other questions went the
rounds, as the fortunate ones came ashore. Foster Portney managed to
keep the boys together and get them through the jam, and quarter of an
hour later found them on the way to the mint with their precious
burdens. Here they were given receipts for their nuggets and dust, and
then they turned away with a big load lifted off their minds, for they
knew that their fortunes were now safe.

And here properly ends the tale of the fortune hunters of the Yukon. How
Fred Dobson returned home a penitent runaway, and how he was readily
forgiven and later on allowed to study for college, I will leave my
readers to imagine. As for Earl and Randy, there was nothing which
called for their return to Basco, and they remained with their uncle in
San Francisco until their gold was reduced to coin and they received a
check on the treasurer of the United States for its value. Then they
paid a visit to Colorado, remaining there until the following spring.
During the winter a company was organized to work their claims by
machinery, and early spring found them again in the land of gold. And
there we will leave them, wishing them all the success that their pluck
and industry deserve.



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