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.