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.