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!"