FROM THE STIK VILLAGE TO LAKE DASAR-DEE-ASH
The Bradfords passed through the Stik village early the next day, after
leaving letters with the storekeeper to be sent back when opportunity
offered. This Indian settlement consisted of about a dozen houses,
some built of rough logs, others of hewn boards. A few possessed the
luxury of glass windows. Over the door of one of the more pretentious
was nailed a board on which was painted the name of the chief, John Kah
Sha. The Indians, many of whom appeared abjectly dirty and ignorant,
gazed stolidly for the most part at the travellers, but a few nodded
and smiled as they passed, and called away the swarm of curs which
yelped or fawned at their heels.
Beyond the village the trail turned north and left the river valley,
ascending eight hundred feet by a sharp ridge to the top of a great
table-land. The snow had melted from the ridge, and it was necessary to
unpack the sleds and carry up the goods piece-meal,--an operation which
required many trips and the severest labor, and occupied the entire
day.
In the nick of time Lucky appeared with his younger brother, and having
begged to be allowed to accompany the party,--a request which Uncle
Will granted at once,--he fell to work with such energy and good-will
that the boys were inclined to think the storekeeper had erred in
calling him lazy. Coffee Jack, too, struggled with flour sacks nearly
as heavy as himself, and won golden opinions from everybody. The truth
is, an Indian is every whit as ready as a white man to show gratitude
for kindness.
Reaching the brow of the hill breathless and warm after the first
ascent, the Bradfords threw their loads upon the ground and paused to
rest and look back. A wonderful panorama was outspread before them.
Green spruce forests were sprinkled over the snowy surface of the Alsek
valley and its bordering plateaus. Below them lay the Indian village,
while to the east in a clearing rose a column of blue smoke from the
chimney of the trading-post. They could trace the river for many miles
in its great curve to the south, where on the far horizon glittered the
mighty summits of the St. Elias Range. To the southeast, perhaps ten
miles away, loomed a grand cluster of unnamed mountains, and another
to the southwest, while, to perfectly balance the picture, similar
isolated mountain groups appeared over the tree-tops in the northeast
and northwest.
It was here that a trim, long-tailed bird was first observed, whose
plumage was mostly black, and whose note was loud rather than musical.
Uncle Will said it was a magpie, a bird which, in captivity, can be
taught like the parrot to imitate the human voice. Another bird, of
a gray color, made its appearance at dinner-time, and showed a great
fondness for bacon rinds, coming close up to the party to snatch the
coveted morsels. This was the butcher-bird or shrike, very common in
all the northwestern country, and an arrant thief when there is meat in
sight.
Sledding was resumed next morning. The enlistment of Lucky and Coffee
Jack had swelled their number to seven, and without increasing the
loads to be carried added to the working force, so that in spite of the
softness of the snow good progress was made. Lucky had brought an old
sled, cast aside by some prospector; but as it was too weak to carry
a full load, Uncle Will relegated it to Coffee Jack with one hundred
pounds, while Lucky drew the sleds of the others by turns.
The boys soon had occasion to observe the shrewdness of their young
Indian friend. The gee-pole of Coffee Jack's sled broke on a steep
down-grade, and he was obliged to halt for repairs. The Indians
invariably take much pride in their powers as swift, strong packers and
sledders, especially when in the company of white men, and Coffee Jack
was now at his wits' end to maintain his position and keep the young
pale-faces behind him. He rose to the emergency, however.
"You got hatchet?" he asked innocently, as David approached. "Sled
broke."
"Yes," said David, handing over that article and sitting down
good-naturedly on his sled while the Indian boy went to cut a new
pole. He supposed that as soon as Coffee Jack had secured the pole and
driven it into place, he would return the hatchet, without waiting to
re-fasten the drag-rope and lashings, which it had been necessary to
loosen.
This, however, was just what Coffee Jack did not propose to do. Seeing,
as he had hoped would be the case, that David had stopped to wait for
the hatchet, and Roly had stopped rather than make so long a détour out
of the trail through the deep snow, he pretended to need the hatchet
after the pole was in place, giving a rap here and a tap there, and all
the while adroitly fastening the ropes in place again.
But Yankees have a reputation for shrewdness as well as Indians, and
David and Roly were quick to perceive Coffee Jack's trick. While the
Indian boy's back was turned, the two exchanged signals; then David
quietly turned out of the trail, passed Coffee Jack's sled, though only
with considerable difficulty, and came into the trail again, closely
followed by Roly.
Perceiving that his plans were discovered and frustrated, and
realizing that he had met his match, Coffee Jack laughed and
surrendered the hatchet.
During the next few days, while they were ascending the comparatively
narrow valley of Klukshu River, a small stream emptying into the Alsek
above Dalton's Post, winter made his last dying effort. It was now the
middle of April, and the sun was so high that the snow softened greatly
at midday. It had become impossible to make satisfactory progress
except by rising at two o'clock in the morning and starting as soon
as there was light. For three successive nights the mercury sank to
zero, and the air was so keen and frosty that their fingers were nearly
frozen when, in the early dawn-light, they removed their mittens to
loosen the knots of the tent-ropes; yet by noon it was invariably so
warm that the snow was melting and the sleds stuck fast.
The Klukshu River was not so thoroughly ice-bound as the Alsek, and,
already swollen with the melting snows, it had broken its fetters in
many places, so that it was impossible to follow the stream itself.
Twice, however, the trail crossed it,--first from west to east by a jam
of tree-trunks and débris, and then back again by a narrow span of ice
which cracked ominously and threatened to go down-stream, even as they
passed over it.
Here they met Grant Baldwin, Al King's partner,--a young man not much
older than David, who was travelling alone to the coast with a sled
drawn by two dogs.
At length, after many a tussle with hills and willow thickets and
stumps and roots and ruts, all of which seemed in league to oppose
them, the Bradfords reached the lower end of Klukshu Lake, a long but
narrow body of water at the eastern side of a broad valley. Except a
small spot near the outlet, it was covered with ice and snow. Four
miles to the west among others rose a peak so perfectly conical as to
serve for an excellent landmark, while to the northwest and ten miles
away they could see the extensive mountain system in which lay Al
King's claim.
Uncle Will at once examined the cache which he had left in the deserted
Indian shack. Finding it intact and in good condition, he determined
to keep it there for the present, and the whole party pushed on up
the lake, which proved to be about four miles long, curving to the
east at its upper end. Here a long hill was surmounted in the same
manner as at the Stik village, after which a trail through the woods
brought them over a divide to a larger lake called Dasar-dee-ash, whose
outlet, in contrast to that of Klukshu, flowed from the northern end.
This lake was solidly frozen as far as the eye could see, its surface
being a succession of snowy windrows separated by streaks of ice. The
grand mountain chain which they had seen in the distance rose from its
western edge, while the opposite shore sloped gently back in wooded
hills. Mr. Bradford estimated that the lake was fifteen miles long, and
about twelve broad at its widest part.
That evening the Bradfords in council decided that the three Indians
should bring up Uncle Will's cache on the morrow, they, in the mean
time, making a flying visit to Shorty Creek for the purpose of staking
claims. To be sure, the Kah Sha River and all its tributary creeks,
Shorty included, would be buried deep under snow and ice, and claims
would have to be chosen at random, but even this was better than
ignoring a district where gold was known to be. Later, when they had
visited their principal goal, some thirty miles distant, they could
return, hunt for Lucky's big nugget, and see what kind of claims they
had drawn from the Shorty Creek grab-bag.