THE YUKON
The boys were delighted with the way their visitor ate. "I am ashamed of
myself," he said as he passed his plate a third time, "but everything
tastes so good. Especially after a man has been eating his own
poorly-cooked grub for a year. We do not do much cooking on the trail.
One cannot carry great quantities of food on sleds and make much
progress. It's the curse of the North that one is always possessed of a
gnawing hunger without the means of satisfying it. Men seem to thrive
under it, though. Few of them carry an extra ounce of flesh on them, but
they are as hard as iron. One of them can do as much hard labor in a day
as three well-fed chekakos. And while I am talking, son," addressing
Alex, "let me warn you not to pull your gun in this region unless you
mean to kill or be killed. Mere bluff does not go in this country
without a bad reputation to back it, and sometimes not even then. You're
a pretty fair shot, boy, I noticed that today, but lad, there are old
timers who can give a good hair cut at twenty paces without breaking the
skin. Better not draw your gun unless you have to. Pluckiness is all
right, but it's suicide to try to stack up against too heavy odds. Don't
think I am trying to lecture," he added apologetically. "It's just good
advice I got hammered into me when I first hit this country. If you'll
excuse me, I'll take a look at that pile of magazines and books I see
over there. They stack up like a heap of gold dust to me."
The five of them clustered around, while the Kid handled the books with
reverent fingers. He laid a few books and a couple of magazines one
side. The boys looked at them with surprise. They consisted of a book on
surgery and two law books, which belonged to Clay, whose private
ambition was to be a lawyer. Clay glanced at the titles, "Chitty on
Pleadings" and "Bishop on Contracts."
"Gee!" he said. "You've chosen some heavy stuff. Why, it took me a year
to get all of 'Chitty on Pleadings' through my head."
"Light reading is all right for summer," said the Kid, "but for winter
give me the heavy books like these that keep your mind so busy that you
do not think of the long darkness, the great silence, and the
everlasting whiteness. Besides, I need that book on surgery. I meet so
many injured men on the trail and there isn't a doctor between Nome and
Dawson. As to the law books, well, this is going to be a great country
some day, I guess, and the man on the ground who knows the miners as
well as the laws will stand a good chance of making good--anyway it will
beat traveling the long trail, and I'm for it."
Case brought out some cigars which they had brought along with them for
just some like occasion.
"Take a handful," he said, hospitably, but the Kid only took one. "I
have sorter got used to my old pipe and cut plug," he apologized. "Say,
don't none of you boys smoke?"
"No," said Clay, but don't stop for that. Light up."
"No," said the Kid decidedly. "I am not going to stink up this dainty
little cabin of yours with stale tobacco fumes. Let's go up on deck if
you don't mind. It's the finest hour in the twenty-four, according to my
notion."
The five seated themselves on the edge of the cabin, silent for the
moment. Twilight had set in and the day's work was over. Outside the
shanties small fires were blazing from which came the savory odor of
frying bacon and boiling coffee. A keen, clear wind fanned their faces,
while from the huddled settlement came to their ears, faintly, the
weird, soul-stirring wail of the wolf dogs. But, because they were well
fed, and happy, and young--above all, young--they began to sing. Clay
first, by some hidden chord, had been touched by that soul-touching wail
and dearly his fresh young voice rang out, softly at first, but
gradually growing in volume.
"Back in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the earth the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng,
Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song."
"Know any more of it?" asked the Kid, eagerly.
"Sure, a part of it," Clay said with a glance at his companions. None of
the boys had cultivated voices but they were clear and ringing and bore
the thrilling note of youth. They had often sang together on their long
trips and when Clay started again the other three joined in
harmoniously.
"And in the even when fell the firelight gleam,
Slowly it wove itself into our dreams."
A shanty door slammed, another and another until it seemed to Clay as if
all Nome was banging doors. He stopped. "We're going to be mobbed," he
said, "and it's your fault, Ike. That golden note in your voice is
starting a stampede."
"Go on," commanded the Kid, who was lying back on the cabin top, his
face upturned to the stars.
Clay hurried to the end filled with apprehension at the sight of many
dim forms filing out on the dock, but in spite of his fears he sang on
to the end, the words ringing out sweetly over the water.
"And in the end when earth's dim shadows fall.
Love will be found the sweetest song of all."
Uproarious applause came from the now densely packed crowd on the dock.
Clay sat down in amazement. "An audience! and I thought it was a mob!"
he gasped.
"You green, green chekako," grinned the Kid. "Don't you realize that
most of these men have been up here for years without hearing any music
but the tin pan din of the saloons and dance halls. Sing to them, boys,
not cheap rag time, but some of the old, old songs they sang in the
States years and years ago.
Clay grasped the cue and one after the other, followed by his
companions, sang all the old familiar songs he could remember, the crowd
on the dock occasionally joining in on some old time favorite. When they
had finished, he sought in his mind for something that would appeal to
them all. As he looked down for a moment upon the rough faces, marked
with scurvy, frost bite and famine, there came to him a realization of
what it was that drove these men to endure the cruelties of the
Northland. It was not gold, alone, but shining above the brilliant
metal, the face of some woman; wife, mother or sweetheart. He closed his
eyes for a second and the vision was strong upon him of a slender girl
in a white dress with a blue sash, seated at a piano, her soft white
fingers wandering over the keys and her gentle voice singing--what was
she singing forty years ago, what was she singing today? What did that
girl in Chicago in the white dress and blue sash always sing to him when
he called? He had it, but that first verse he never could remember, so
he softly sang the second.
"Her brow is like the snow drift.
And her throat is like the swan's.
Her face it is the fairest that
E'er th' sun shon' on."
When the final--
"An' for Bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me down an' dee"
died away the crowd stood quiet and silent for a minute.
"Now's the best time to pass the hat, Clay, you understand," whispered
the commercial Ike. "That song was too sad-like--it sends them all home.
You should have sung them something pretty, like the Hebrew Lovers'
Dream."
"They're dreaming enough about gold already," retorted Clay, tartly, as
he noted a man moving in and out amongst the crowd. He divined his
intention. "Friend," he called. "We don't want a collection. If we have
given a little diversion for a couple of hours, we are pleased and want
no money," but the crowd was not listening. They were now talking
amongst themselves. "Can't hear that song without thinking of my girl in
Florida that's waiting for me to make good. One of those slim little
gals what wears white dresses with a blue sash and a bunch of orange
blossoms stuck in it." "Just like my wife," assented a rough bearded
miner, "only she lives in Connecticut, an' we don't have orange
blossoms, but she's always got something catchy pinned on her dress."
"Case, for goodness sake, start some parting song," whispered Clay. I
can't think of a thing, and that man keeps on taking up a collection."
Case promptly stepped into the breach and his mellow tenor voice rang
out the good old parting hymn:
"God be with us 'till we meet again,
By His counsel guide, uphold you,
With His sheep securely fold you,
God be with you 'till we meet again."
"Hanged if I just like that," grumbled a miner whose bowed legs told of
a cow-boy life. "I don't want to be folded up with no sheep. If it was
cattle now I wouldn't kick so much."
The crowd departed slowly, and as silently as they had come, only one, a
little, energetic man with a spade-like beard remained. He approached
the boat slowly and the boys thought he was coming on board, but just as
he came opposite the cabin, he flung some heavy object up on it and ran
for shore like a rabbit.
"Look out," cried Clay, as the Kid reached out to pick it up. "It may be
a bomb."
The Kid chuckled. "We ain't civilized enough for bombs up here yet. I
would be glad to stand up and let a man throw bombs like this at me all
day long. Why, little chekako, this is a miner's poke, and if I am any
judge of gold dust weight, it must be worth $400.00. I reckon that Annie
Laurie business got them in a soft spot. That little spade-bearded man
is Cook, the richest man in Nome and mighty generous when his mean old
cat of a wife isn't around. Reckon he didn't marry his Annie Laurie."
"I guess we done better than if we had taken up a collection. I guess
maybe you got a good business head on you after all, Clay," said Ike
happily.
"But we don't want all that money for doing such a little thing," Clay
stormed. "Let's give it back to them."
"Don't get excited, son, just keep it. It belongs to you. Everyone knew
what he gave and could afford it too. Why, half the wealthy of Nome were
here tonight. Well, I'm too short of dust tonight but maybe I can put
you wise to a few things. I don't generally give advice to chekakos for
this is a country where every man has got to play his own game, but you
all seem clean, gritty chaps and I like you, so I'm going to put you
wise to a few things. I understand that you are going up the Yukon to
trade for pelts with the Indians. The idea is all right, but you've come
too late. All the furs got last summer were traded out during the winter
and spring and there won't be but a few to be got until just after the
hunters come in from their big hunt just before the big cold."
The boys' faces were a picture of disappointment.
"We hate to go back now," Case said gloomily. "We've put all the money
we had in on this trip, and I, for one, hate to go back and to be
laughed at too."
"I am not advising you what to do. But I know what I would do myself in
like case," said the Kid slowly. "I wouldn't give up. A thing not worth
pushing through is not worth starting. I'd go on up as far as Dawson
maybe, kinder going along easy and learning the ways of the Yukon and
having as much sport as I could, and buying more supplies when I could
get them cheap. As soon as it started to get cold at Dawson, I'd start
down the river, stopping only at a few big settlements to trade. I would
try to get close to the lower Yukon before the river froze up. I
wouldn't take any chances. As soon as floating ice began to form, I'd
run my boat in some cozy cove, pull her out on shore, and make myself
cozy for the winter. Then I'd find me a sled and dogs and hit for the
nearest settlement. I'd be pretty liberal with my first buying and it
wouldn't be long before the Indians would be coming from hundreds of
miles to exchange their pelts for tobacco, beads and trinkets. Tobacco
tempts them most, tobacco and cheap watches. Did you bring any of those
cheap watches?"
"We've got a case of the kind that is making the dollar infamous,"
grinned Alex.
"Them's the kind," grinned back the Kid. "Just show them how to keep
them wound up and ticking and they will fall for them all right. They
think the ticking inside is a spirit and they back it up to keep the
evil spirit of the Yukon from bothering them. But to go on, by spring I
would have my boat loaded with valuable furs and when the ice went out,
I would make Nome and hike back for the States with the satisfaction of
knowing that I had cleaned up a few thousand dollars on the trip."
"But a winter on the Yukon!" gasped Case.
"A winter on the Yukon is largely what a man makes of it, as in all
things," said the Kid gently. "If a man is strong of soul, he will thaw
out with ice a still stronger man. If he's a weakling, it's just as well
for him to find it out early in life. You boys are fixed comfortable for
the winter and had ought to go through it all right. The main thing is
to keep busy and cheerful. Remember, boys, I am not advising you boys to
do this, for you might come to grief and I would always blame myself. I
am merely telling you what I would do in your case."
"Thanks for what you have told us," said Clay, gravely. "We know that
you know what you are talking about, but it knocks the wind out of us
for the moment. We had built so on the plans made in our ignorance that,
now they are all shattered, we don't just know what to do until we have
slept over it and talked it over. Now, I have got a question to ask
you," he said abruptly. "Do you know or have you ever seen two men that
fit this description," and he described Jud and Bill.
"I've crossed their trail many a time, and Jud is one of the most
powerful men on the Yukon and a right gentle good man when you get him
away from his partner, but Bill is as full of poison as a rattlesnake.
Don't know why Jud sticks to him, but he does. Bill seems to have some
hold on him. You seldom see them apart. Don't know as any serious crime
could be proved against them, but the Injins have brought me some ugly
stories and I believe they are true. Anyway, they are men I want nothing
to do with."
"Say, Mr. Kid," Ike asked, eagerly. "How far up the Yukon is Rainbow
Bend?"
"Don't know of any such place," replied the Kid, promptly. "And I know
the Yukon like a book. Yet the name has a familiar sound. I'll try and
think it up. I will remember in time what it is, for I never really
forget anything. Well, so long, boys. It's time for all of us to go to
bed. I expect to go up on the steamer tomorrow afternoon. I make my trip
by water when the ice is out. If you start early, I reckon we'll catch
you at the mouth of the Yukon and you can keep in our wake as long as
you can see us.
"What time does the steamer make?" inquired Case.
"Ten miles an hour against the current," said the Kid, proudly.
"Then we'll see you on the Yukon," promised Case with a grin.
As soon as the Kid was gone, the tired boys sought their bunks and
sleep.