THROUGH THE DRIFTS
Sledging over snow four feet deep--Making a camp in the
snow--Finding traces of gold--A grand slide down a
snow-covered hill--My polka breaks with disastrous
results--Prospecting over the Stanovoi range.
The next morning we had before us ten miles of forest in which the
snow lay four feet deep, and the trail was unbroken. This meant
serious work for our teams. At the advice of Chrisoffsky I hired two
reindeer narties to go ahead and break the trail, but they had to keep
a mile in advance, out of sight of our dogs. The snow had been falling
all night, and when we came out in the morning, we saw only a lot of
little snow hummocks, like baby graves in the snow. Chrisoffsky cried,
"Hyuk, hyuk!" and there occurred a most surprising resurrection. Every
dog jumped clear of the ground from his warm bed and clamored to be
off. I looked to see them fed, but nothing were they to have till
their day's work was done. When fed during the day they are lazy and
useless, but with the anticipation of salmon heads before them they
push on heroically. It would be difficult to express adequately my
admiration for these animals. They are patient, faithful, and always
ready for work.
A mile, then, in the lead went the reindeer narties to break the
trail; and ahead of them were two Tunguse villagers on snow-shoes to
mark the way for the deer.
A mile in the rear came the dogs, and heavy work it was, as is shown
by the fact that when lunch-time came we had made only five miles.
When we came up with the Tunguses they had already built a fire, and
water was boiling. The deer were tethered in the bushes about two
hundred yards away, out of sight of the dogs. The latter smelled them,
however, and were making desperate efforts to break out of their
harness and give chase, but their efforts seemed futile, so we paid no
more attention to them. As we were busy drinking tea I happened to
look around, and was dismayed to see that the worst dog in the pack
had broken loose and was already near the deer, who were plunging and
making desperate efforts to escape. When the dog was almost at the
throat of the nearest deer it broke its fastenings and made off
through the snow, followed by the rest of the herd. We hurried after
them on our snow-shoes at our best speed. The deer could easily
outstrip the dog in the deep snow, but we wanted to stop the chase
before they were completely frightened away. But we were too late. By
the time that we had secured the dog the deer were a mile away, making
straight for home, and we knew that nothing could stop them till they
found themselves in their own village.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip and Reindeer Team.]
Thus it came about that we had to break our own trail for the balance
of the way through the woods. This proved to be extremely difficult.
Every man had to put his shoulder to the wheel, or rather to the
sledge, and frequently it was necessary to use several teams of dogs
on a single sledge, and then return for the other sledge. When night
came we found that we had covered nine miles, after an exceedingly
hard day's work. We were still a mile from the river, where we were
sure to find a good road on the ice.
We had now to prepare for the night. With our snow-shoes for shovels
we cleared a space twelve feet square right down to the ground, and
built a roaring fire in the center of the cleared spot. The loaded
sledges were placed on the banks about the sides, while the dogs lay,
as usual, in the snow. Our sleeping-bags were placed about the fire on
piles of fir boughs, and after a good supper of reindeer soup, bread,
and tea, we lay down and went to sleep. A light snow covered us with a
mantle of down, which ensured our warmth.
When I awoke in the morning and opened my hood, I found two inches of
snow over me. That day we floundered through the remaining mile of
deep snow to the river. I was pushing one of the sledges, when we came
to the steep bank that leads down to the river. The sled began to
glide down the declivity, settling deeper and deeper. Chrisoffsky
called to me to get on quickly, as there was open water beneath, but
he was too late. I was already in the icy water up to my knees. We had
unfortunately struck a snow-bridge over open water. The sled was fast
in the snow, and the dogs were struggling madly. By vigorous pulling
and pushing we managed to get the sledge out on to the ice. The other
drivers, who were behind, saw our predicament and went up-stream,
prodding with their polkas until they found solid ice beneath.
Chrisoffsky immediately began taking the lashings off the pack on the
sled to get me dry fur socks and boots. Almost before I could undo the
lashings, those I wore were frozen stiff. The last one was cut away
with a knife. I applied a vigorous rubbing with snow to my feet and
they were soon glowing with warmth. Then pulling on the warm, soft fur
socks and fresh boots, I found that I had suffered no harm; but
Chrisoffsky warned me that whenever I had wet feet I must change
immediately or serious consequences would result. At the time, the
thermometer stood between ten and fifteen degrees below zero.
On examining the wind-swept bars of the creek there seemed to be good
promise of gold, so making camp near timber I prepared for a three or
four days' stay. The ground was frozen to bed-rock, and it was
necessary to thaw it out all the way down. The following day I
unloaded the sledges and sent them into the woods under the direction
of Chrisoffsky to haul in fuel for the fires. I selected a likely spot
and proceeded to thaw out a shaft. As this was very slow work, I
determined to try it in several places at the same time. After the
fires had burned three hours the picks and shovels would be called
into play, and we could take out about twelve or fifteen inches of
gravel. The surface gravel showed some small "colors" in the pan, and
I determined to set watches and keep the fires going night and day. A
windlass was rigged over one of the shafts, and we went down
twenty-five feet, till we came to boulders which showed that we were
near bed-rock. Six inches more brought us to the end. I eagerly panned
out some of the gravel and found several tiny nuggets, but was forced
to admit that there was not enough gold to pay for working. The other
shafts showed the same results; so we were compelled to move on after
four days of exhausting and fruitless work. We repeated this
operation at several other points on the river, and carefully examined
the outcroppings all along the stream. Coming to the head of the
river, we crossed over the summit of the ridge. The aneroid showed
that we were seven thousand six hundred feet above the sea level. When
we reached the top, we found that a long, smooth stretch of snow swept
down into the valley beyond. For a quarter of a mile the smooth, hard
surface was unbroken by bush or stone. I asked Chrisoffsky how it
would do to slide down, but he shook his head and replied that it
would be dangerous for dogs and sledges alike. I had, however,
conceived the foolish notion that it would relieve the monotony of
life a little to slide down that incline, and I over-persuaded my
driver to make the attempt. Moreover, it would save several miles of
travel over a safer but more circuitous route. The dogs were
unhitched. Chrisoffsky's two sons took one of the sledges, and, by
sticking their heels into the snow, slid about half way down somewhat
slowly, then they both climbed on to the sledge, stuck their polkas
into the snow for brakes, and "let her go." They went the remaining
distance like an arrow, and shot out into the plain below
triumphantly. They stopped and waved their hands as much as to say,
"See how easy it is." Chrisoffsky then sent down one team of dogs,
still fastened to the tug. This was a mistake, for the leaders went
cautiously and the others crowded on them. In an instant they were one
howling, wrangling ball of dog-fur rolling down the hill. The natives
were all shouting and cursing their liveliest, but I could only hold
my sides with laughter. I utterly refused to see the serious side of
the adventure. The remaining dogs were sent down two and two.
Chrisoffsky and I, with one sled, were the last to go. Sitting on
opposite sides of the sledge with our polkas carefully adjusted, we
slipped over the brink and shot down the hill. By some perverse chance
my polka broke in my hands, the sledge slewed around, and we both went
head over heels. I landed on my head some yards from the careening
sledge and continued my journey down the hill in a variety of
attitudes, all of which were exciting, but none very comfortable. Had
I not been so heavily bundled up I could not have escaped serious
injury. Old Chrisoffsky and the sledge were a good second in the race,
first one and then the other being on top. They held together bravely.
When we all rounded up at the bottom and took an inventory of damages,
we found that there were no bones broken and that no harm had been
done, except to my Winchester rifle, the barrel of which was sprung.
[Illustration: Native Winter Camp.]
And as the days passed, I continued to busy myself examining the
outcroppings or digging in the creek beds for signs of gold, until
about the middle of December, by which time I had gone over that
section of the Stanovoi range pretty thoroughly as far as their
southern slopes were concerned. And then I essayed to pass over the
lofty range to discover what was on the other side.