THE NEW ARRIVAL AT FORTY MILE
The man known as Strengel was probably as great a rascal as could be
found in all Alaska. His sole object in shipping aboard the steamer
_Norsk_ at San Francisco had been to make his way, by fair means or
foul, to the Yukon gold-fields, of which he had gained extravagant
ideas. On the night before the _Norsk_ left St. Michaels he stole from
the chests of several of his shipmates such small sums of money as they
contained, slipped into a canoe, and deserted the ship. He remained in
hiding until she sailed, and then, claiming to have been discharged at
his own request, offered his services to Gerald Hamer in exchange for
a passage to Forty Mile. This proposition being accepted, and Strengel
regularly shipped as one of the _Chimo’s_ crew, he made a secret
proposal to the old company through one of its clerks, who happened to
be Simon Goldollar, to so delay and cripple Gerald Hamer’s expedition
that he should be forced to abandon it. In attempting to carry out this
programme he was foiled by Phil Ryder’s quick wit and prompt action.
Making his way back to St. Michaels, after Phil set him ashore at the
Pastolik wood-yard, Strengel fell in with Jalap Coombs, and, in company
with Goldollar, so managed the money affairs of that unsuspecting
sailor that he was unwittingly made to defray all their expenses
to Forty Mile, though he only expected to accompany them a short
distance up the river. Strengel’s sole object was still to reach the
gold-fields, while Goldollar was intent on winning a reputation for
himself by forestalling Gerald Hamer at Forty Mile, and at the same
time inflicting what injury he could on Phil Ryder. From the outset
they agreed to rid themselves of Jalap Coombs at some point so far up
the river that he must necessarily remain where they left him for the
rest of the winter. They learned at Nulato that the _Chimo_ was frozen
in at Anvik, but took care that this information should not reach Jalap
Coombs, whom they soon afterwards so cruelly deserted.
As they travelled beyond the point where they left him, the well-mated
pair had such frequent and bitter quarrels that, when Simon Goldollar
fell seriously ill, Strengel did not hesitate to rob him of what money
he carried and desert him at a native village near the abandoned
trading-post of Fort Yukon. Before doing this he discharged the Indians
who had come with them from Nulato, and sent them back, telling them
that he should remain with his sick friend until he recovered or died.
As soon as they were gone he engaged other natives, and set out for the
diggings that had for so long been the goal of his desires.
He planned to enter Forty Mile under a new name, and as a traveller
from one of the interior Hudson Bay trading-posts, who was ignorant of
the lower Yukon, its people, and its happenings. He was confident that
Jalap Coombs would never appear to contradict him, and almost equally
certain that Simon Goldollar would never reach Forty Mile. If by a
miracle he should recover from his illness, he was helpless to continue
his journey before the boats came up in the summer, by which time the
man who had robbed and deserted him would be lost to sight amid the
season’s rush of prospectors. In the meantime he had plenty of money
to live on until he should meet with an opportunity for making a strike
of some kind.
Thus it was that on a pleasant day of late January Mr. Strengel
approached the mining camp of Forty Mile, riding comfortably in
Jalap Coombs’s own sledge, with a light heart and no intimation of
aught but an agreeable reception by its citizens. But in all his
carefully-worked-out plans he had made several miscalculations.
It had never occurred to him that there was any other route than the
one he had followed by which this point might be reached from the lower
river. Nor did he believe it possible that any word of Gerald Hamer’s
expedition could have come up the river unknown to him. Finally, his
gravest mistake lay in supposing the population of this camp to be of
the same lawless class as is to be found in most Western mining camps,
and believing that here he should meet only with as great rascals as
himself. In this he displayed great ignorance of Forty Mile, which
was wholly in the hands of honorable old-time miners, who had framed
a simple set of laws for the regulation of their isolated little
community that they were determined should be respected. They had
chosen one of their own number as judge, and from his decisions they
allowed no appeal. They had also elected a marshal, whom they loyally
assisted in the discharge of his duties. Several lawless characters
had already been driven from the camp, and many others warned not to
venture within its limits.
As Forty Mile had received warning of the expected coming of Goldollar
and Strengel, and had learned many interesting things concerning
the previous history of these gentlemen, their arrival was eagerly
anticipated. Thus, upon Phil Ryder’s announcement that sledges were
coming up the river, an expectant throng was quickly gathered at the
landing.
Mr. Strengel fired several shots from his rifle as he drew near,
and was surprised that his salute was not answered in kind. He was,
of course, gratified to observe the sensation that his approach was
creating, and undertook to arouse some enthusiasm among the silent
spectators by yelling, “Hurrah for Forty Mile! Hurrah for the diggings!
Hurrah for our side!” Then, as his sledge reached the bank and he
sprang out, he cried, in tones meant to convey hearty good-fellowship:
“How are you, boys? You bet I’m mighty glad to see white men again
after camping with a lot of low-lived Injuns for more than two months.
You see, I’ve just come down from Pierre’s House on the Porcupine. My
name’s Bradwick, and――”
Here the speaker’s fluent words seemed suddenly to fail him, his face
turned pale, and his eyes were fixed in a bewildered stare. He had
caught sight of the Yukon Trading Company’s sign.
“Ha, ha!” he laughed, recovering himself with an effort. “Seeing the
name of an old friend who’s long since dead kinder give me a turn. But,
as I was saying――”
“Yes, you were just about to tell us what had become of Goldollar,”
interrupted Mr. Platt Riley, who had received word from Phil that the
new-comer was Strengel.
“Goldollar!” stammered the stranger, at the same time starting as
though he had been shot. “Goldollar!” he repeated, reflectively; “I
don’t know the name; never heard it before in my life. I think I
mentioned that I’d just come down from Pierre’s House on the Porcupine,
and hadn’t seen a white man since leaving there. There wasn’t no one
of that name at Pierre’s House when I left. What do you mean? Who is
Goldollar, anyhow?”
“He’s a feller that we heard was coming up from below with a dog
train,” replied Mr. Riley, deliberately, at the same time gazing full
in Strengel’s face. “And we didn’t know but what you and him might have
met up and concluded to travel together.”
“How could you hear of him?” inquired the new-comer. “I didn’t know
there was any way for news to reach Forty Mile in the winter.”
“Oh, we might have heard by mail, or telegraph, or seen it in the daily
papers, or a dozen other ways. Anyhow, we did hear it, and that another
feller was along with him. So of course when we saw you coming up the
river――”
“You didn’t hear that the other fellow’s name was Bradwick, did you?”
interrupted the stranger.
“No, that wasn’t the name. It wasn’t so good a name as that.”
“Well, then, you didn’t hear that I was coming with him; for Bradwick’s
my name, and I don’t know nothing about any Goldollars, though I hope
to find out something about them right here in these diggings,” replied
Mr. Strengel, boldly, and with attempted jocularity. “Now, seeing that
I’m tired, and cold, and hungry,” he added, “supposing we adjourn to
some place that’s warmer than out here in the snow, and better suited
for making acquaintances.”
“All right,” replied Mr. Platt Riley, who, possessed of a keen sense
of humor, was disposed to prolong the farce that promised so much
entertainment. “We don’t know much about Goldollars ourselves, but
we’ll try and teach you all we do know, and at the same time put you in
the way of meeting acquaintances. As you say, though, this is a cold
place for talking, so I suppose you might as well come up to my select
family boarding-house for the night, seeing as it ain’t overcrowded
just at present. Then in the morning we’ll look round for a place
that’ll suit you better.”
So the new-comer walked away with Mr. Platt Riley, while the spectators
of this interesting meeting chuckled and winked significantly, poked
each other in the ribs, and remarked:
“Ain’t the jedge a honey-cooler, though? He ain’t the kind that’ll hang
a man first and try him afterwards. Not much; that ain’t his style.
Fair play’s his motter, and turn the rascals out every time.”
It is needless to say that during the interview just described Phil,
Serge, and Jalap kept themselves out of sight; nor had any one let fall
an intimation of their presence in the camp.
All that evening a constant stream of visitors flowed in and out of
Mr. Platt Riley’s cabin. Each wore an expression of expectancy and
suppressed mirth, and each bowed gravely, without trusting himself to
speak, when introduced to Mr. “Bradwick.” It was also to be noticed
that none of them shook hands with him. When he complained of this to
his host he was gravely informed that hand-shaking was not one of the
customs of the camp. All the visitors listened with great interest to
his glib talk of the Porcupine and of other regions to the eastward,
while some even went so far as to express regret that he had not met
their friend Goldollar.
He always turned the conversation at this point; nor did he again refer
to the name of his dead friend that had confronted him on the sign of
the Yukon Trading Company. At the same time it caused him a great deal
of uneasiness, and led him to think seriously of shortening his stay in
the camp to a single night.
When he, in turn, inquired about the prospects of the diggings, and
learned that most claims had to be stripped of frozen moss and thawed
out before they could be worked, he declared that he’d see the whole
country and its gold in Jericho before he’d strip moss, which he
denounced as work only fit for “Injuns” and convicts.
On the whole, his impressions of Camp Forty Mile were so unpleasant
that he fully determined to get his dog teams in motion the very next
day, and push on farther up the river. It was only upon the urgent
request of Mr. Platt Riley that he consented to delay his departure
long enough to attend a public meeting of the greatest interest to all
Yukon miners, that was to be held the first thing in the morning.