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.