HOMEWARD BOUND
The steamer was crowded with men who had also made the turn at the
end of the trail. There were groups of prospectors (disappointed and
sour) from Copper River, where neither copper nor gold had been
found. There were miners sick and broken who had failed on the
Tanana, and others, emaciated and eager-eyed, from Dawson City going
out with a part of the proceeds of the year's work to see their wives
and children. There were a few who considered themselves great
capitalists, and were on their way to spend the winter in luxury in
the Eastern cities, and there were grub stakers who had squandered
their employers' money in drink and gaming.
None of them interested me very greatly. I was worn out with the
filth and greed and foolishness of many of these men. They were
commonplace citizens, turned into stampeders without experience or
skill.
One of the most successful men on the boat had been a truckman in the
streets of Tacoma, and was now the silly possessor of a one-third
interest in some great mines on the Klondike River. He told every one
of his great deeds, and what he was worth. He let us know how big
his house was, and how much he paid for his piano. He was not a bad
man, he was merely a cheap man, and was followed about by a gang of
heelers to whom drink was luxury and vice an entertainment. These
parasites slapped the teamster on the shoulder and listened to every
empty phrase he uttered, as though his gold had made of him something
sacred and omniscient.
I had no interest in him till being persuaded to play the fiddle he
sat in the "social room," and sawed away on "Honest John," "The
Devil's Dream," "Haste to the Wedding," and "The Fisher's Hornpipe."
He lost all sense of being a millionnaire, and returned to his
simple, unsophisticated self. The others cheered him because he had
gold. I cheered him because he was a good old "corduroy fiddler."
Again we passed between the lofty blue-black and bronze-green walls
of Lynn Canal. The sea was cold, placid, and gray. The mist cut the
mountains at the shoulder. Vast glaciers came sweeping down from the
dread mystery of the upper heights. Lower still lines of running
water white as silver came leaping down from cliff to cliff--slender,
broken of line, nearly perpendicular--to fall at last into the gray
hell of the sea.
It was a sullen land which menaced as with lowering brows and
clenched fists. A landscape without delicacy of detail or warmth or
variety of color--a land demanding young, cheerful men. It was no
place for the old or for women.
As we neared Wrangell the next afternoon I tackled the purser about
carrying my horse. He had no room, so I left the boat in order to
wait for another with better accommodations for Ladrone.
Almost the first man I met on the wharf was Donald.
"How's the horse?" I queried.
"Gude!--fat and sassy. There's no a fence in a' the town can hold
him. He jumped into Colonel Crittendon's garden patch, and there's a
dollar to pay for the cauliflower he ate, and he broke down a fence
by the church, ye've to fix that up--but he's in gude trim himsel'."
"Tell 'm to send in their bills," I replied with vast relief. "Has he
been much trouble to you?"
"Verra leetle except to drive into the lot at night. I had but to go
down where he was feeding and soon as he heard me comin' he made for
the lot--he knew quite as well as I did what was wanted of him. He's
a canny old boy."
As I walked out to find the horse I discovered his paths everywhere.
He had made himself entirely at home. He owned the village and was
able to walk any sidewalk in town. Everybody knew his habits. He
drank in a certain place, and walked a certain round of daily
feeding. The children all cried out at me: "Goin' to find the horsie?
He's over by the church." A darky woman smiled from the door of a
cabin and said, "You ole hoss lookin' mighty fine dese days."
When I came to him I was delighted and amused. He had taken on some
fat and a great deal of dirt. He had also acquired an aldermanic
paunch which quite destroyed his natural symmetry of body, but he
was well and strong and lively. He seemed to recognize me, and as I
put the rope about his neck and fell to in the effort to make him
clean once more, he seemed glad of my presence.
That day began my attempt to get away. I carted out my feed and
saddles, and when all was ready I sat on the pier and watched the
burnished water of the bay for the dim speck which a steamer makes in
rounding the distant island. At last the cry arose, "A steamer from
the north!" I hurried for Ladrone, and as I passed with the horse the
citizens smiled incredulously and asked, "Goin' to take the horse
with you, eh?"
The boys and girls came out to say good-by to the horse on whose back
they had ridden. Ladrone followed me most trustfully, looking
straight ahead, his feet clumping loudly on the boards of the walk.
Hitching him on the wharf I lugged and heaved and got everything in
readiness.
In vain! The steamer had no place for my horse and I was forced to
walk him back and turn him loose once more upon the grass. I renewed
my watching. The next steamer did not touch at the same wharf.
Therefore I carted all my goods, feed, hay, and general plunder,
around to the other wharf. As I toiled to and fro the citizens began
to smile very broadly. I worked like a hired man in harvest. At last,
horse, feed, and baggage were once more ready. When the next boat
came in I timidly approached the purser.
No, he had no place for me but would take my horse! Once more I led
Ladrone back to pasture and the citizens laughed most unconcealedly.
They laid bets on my next attempt. In McKinnon's store I was greeted
as a permanent citizen of Fort Wrangell. I began to grow nervous on
my own account. Was I to remain forever in Wrangell? The bay was most
beautiful, but the town was wretched. It became each day more
unendurable to me. I searched the waters of the bay thereafter, with
gaze that grew really anxious. I sat for hours late at night holding
my horse and glaring out into the night in the hope to see the lights
of a steamer appear round the high hills of the coast.
At last the _Forallen_, a great barnyard of a ship, came in. I met
the captain. I paid my fare. I got my contract and ticket, and
leading Ladrone into the hoisting box I stepped aside.
The old boy was quiet while I stood near, but when the whistle
sounded and the sling rose in air leaving me below, his big eyes
flashed with fear and dismay. He struggled furiously for a moment and
then was quiet. A moment later he dropped into the hold and was safe.
He thought himself in a barn once more, and when I came hurrying down
the stairway he whinnied. He seized the hay I put before him and
thereafter was quite at home.
The steamer had a score of mules and work horses on board, but they
occupied stalls on the upper deck, leaving Ladrone aristocratically
alone in his big, well-ventilated barn, and there three times each
day I went to feed and water him. I rubbed him with hay till his coat
began to glimmer in the light and planned what I could do to help
him through a storm. Fortunately the ocean was perfectly smooth even
across the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound, where the open sea
enters and the big swells are sometimes felt. Ladrone never knew he
was moving at all.
The mate of the boat took unusual interest in the horse because of
his deeds and my care of him.
Meanwhile I was hearing from time to time of my fellow-sufferers on
the Long Trail. It was reported in Wrangell that some of the
unfortunates were still on the snowy divide between the Skeena and
the Stikeen. That terrible trail will not soon be forgotten by any
one who traversed it.
On the fifth day we entered Seattle and once more the sling-box
opened its doors for Ladrone. This time he struggled not at all. He
seemed to say: "I know this thing. I tried it once and it didn't hurt
me--I'm not afraid."
Now this horse belongs to the wild country. He was born on the
bunch-grass hills of British Columbia and he had never seen a
street-car in his life. Engines he knew something about, but not
much. Steamboats and ferries he knew a great deal about; but all the
strange monsters and diabolical noises of a city street were new to
him, and it was with some apprehension that I took his rein to lead
him down to the freight depot and his car.
Again this wonderful horse amazed me. He pointed his alert and
quivering ears at me and followed with never so much as a single
start or shying bound. He seemed to reason that as I had led him
through many dangers safely I could still be trusted. Around us huge
trucks rattled, electric cars clanged, railway engines whizzed and
screamed, but Ladrone never so much as tightened the rein; and when
in the dark of the chute (which led to the door of the car) he put
his soft nose against me to make sure I was still with him, my heart
grew so tender that I would not have left him behind for a thousand
dollars.
I put him in a roomy box-car and bedded him knee-deep in clean yellow
straw. I padded the hitching pole with his blanket, moistened his
hay, and put some bran before him. Then I nailed him in and took my
leave of him with some nervous dread, for the worst part of his
journey was before him. He must cross three great mountain ranges and
ride eight days, over more than two thousand miles of railway. I
could not well go with him, but I planned to overhaul him at Spokane
and see how he was coming on.
I did not sleep much that night. I recalled how the great forest
trees were blazing last year when I rode over this same track. I
thought of the sparks flying from the engine, and how easy it would
be for a single cinder to fall in the door and set all that dry straw
ablaze. I was tired and my mind conjured up such dire images as men
dream of after indigestible dinners.
O THE FIERCE DELIGHT
O the fierce delight, the passion
That comes from the wild,
Where the rains and the snows go over,
And man is a child.
Go, set your face to the open,
And lay your breast to the blast,
When the pines are rocking and groaning,
And the rent clouds tumble past.
Go swim the streams of the mountains,
Where the gray-white waters are mad,
Go set your foot on the summit,
And shout and be glad!