MORAN'S CAMP
It required a week of hard work to transport the contents of the cache
at the lake by frequent trips to the claims ten miles away. The tents
were pitched on the grassy top of the bank from which Uncle Will had
panned the gold in April. In the Kah Sha gorge there yet remained a few
old drifts of snow which dwindled day by day, but under the influence
of the almost incessant sunlight, vegetation was everywhere springing
fresh and green.
There were now seven members of the Thirty-six--no longer
mysterious--encamped in the gorge hardly a mile above its entrance,
under the leadership of Moran, a gray-haired veteran of the Civil
War, who was the only practical miner among them. The rest, like the
majority of men who entered Alaska and the Northwest in the great rush
of 1898, were drawn from other walks of life. One had been a railroad
brakeman, another a railroad clerk, a third an ice-man, a fourth a
travelling salesman, a fifth a farmer, and the sixth a steamboat man.
The occupations represented were still more numerous when Pennock's men
arrived several days behind the Bradfords, Pennock himself having gone
out to the coast. One of these had been a grocer, another a foreman
employed by a gas company, and another a journalist.
Still further accessions were made from time to time, as men were
sent back from the camps beyond Pennock's, till Moran's Camp became
a bustling and populous place. A log cabin was built for a kitchen,
dining-room, and storehouse, and half a dozen tents were set up for
sleeping quarters. This little settlement was situated in a wild and
rugged spot, bounded in front and at the sides by the roaring, foaming
torrent of the Kah Sha River. Directly at the rear rose foot-hills,
and beyond them a high mountain, while from the water's edge across
the stream frowned an enormous perpendicular cliff of dark rock three
hundred feet high, from which not infrequently a mass of crumbling
débris came crashing down. The sun now rose over the mountain to the
east at about nine o'clock and set behind this cliff at four, after
which the gorge was always chill and damp.
The Thirty-six had located their claims along the river and on Alder
Creek. They had found numerous colors of gold in the gravel of the
hillside which they had levelled for the cabin, and operations for
taking out the gold were actively begun. As soon as the cabin was
finished, the men turned to whip-sawing boards from spruce logs,
nailing the boards together in the form of sluice-boxes, and digging
prospect-holes here and there along the streams to find the most
promising spot.
They were still hampered by an insufficiency of food, but as the
captain had sent word that he had bought supplies from several
discouraged prospectors at Dalton's Post, a party of six was detailed
to go to the Post with an Indian guide and bring back as much as they
could carry. They returned six days later, footsore and lame, with
loads of from fifty to eighty pounds. There was no late news of the war
at Dalton's, they said. The Alsek was very high and running at least
ten miles an hour. Ike Martin, the storekeeper, had onions already
sprouted in his little garden-patch, and he had sown some barley. One
of the men told with much relish how he had found enough dandelions for
a "mess o' greens."
This meagre batch of news was eagerly seized upon, the least item
possessing no little interest to men so long shut away from all the
world beyond their own camps. The Bradfords, having heard it all as
they passed the cabin, imparted every scrap faithfully to Moore and
King and the latter's partner Baldwin, who had recently returned, and
so every one in the district soon had the latest information from the
Post.
Early in June the gorge became almost impassable by reason of the
rising waters. The snow in the mountains was melting rapidly, and
every brooklet grew into a flood. To ford the main river was no longer
possible, for the heaviest man would have been swept off his feet in an
instant. All but three of the dozen trees which had been felled across
it at various points were carried away like straws.
One of those which remained was an enormous spruce about ninety feet
long, spanning the stream directly against Moran's Camp. This tree had
been raised at the farther and lighter end, so that it barely touched
the water in mid-stream, and was braced with rocks and logs. At its
heavier end it lay firmly against its own stump. Every precaution had
been taken to insure its safety, for at no point was a bridge more
necessary. Furthermore, it would be no easy matter to find and drag to
the spot another tree so tall. Owing to its great length, this rude
bridge swayed dizzily in the centre, hence a rope was stretched tightly
above it as a hand-rail.
It was with no small dismay that the campers, late one afternoon, saw
a giant tree-trunk as solid as a battering-ram come thumping down the
swollen river. It crunched along over the rocky bed of the stream and
showed no sign of stopping until within a hundred and fifty feet of
the bridge, where it lodged rather insecurely against a shallow. As
it was the habit of this glacial river to rise during the afternoon
and evening with the accumulation of the day's meltings and fall more
or less through the morning, it was tolerably certain that if the big
log stuck through the night it would come no farther. The Thirty-six
watched and waited, and speculated upon the threatened disaster.
About the middle of the evening, when it was still broad daylight and
the mountain summits were yet flushed with the lingering sunbeams, the
log betrayed symptoms of restlessness. It began to roll a little in the
violent current, which steadily rose around it. Then one end swung out,
and at last the great mass was free, launched full tilt against the
very centre of the bridge, which at that point dipped slightly into the
water.
Was there room for it between the bridge and the river-bottom? Could
the long tree-trunk withstand the shock? Were the braces firm on the
opposite shore? These were the questions Moran and his companions
asked themselves, for there could be no doubt that the bridge would be
struck. It was an exciting moment as that great bulk came on, its tons
of sodden wood backed by the impetuous forces of the torrent.
There was a tremendous thump as the opposing masses met. The bridge log
trembled from end to end and all but gave way; but it stood the strain.
The battering-ram had met its match, and seemed to appreciate the fact
as, with a sort of bow to its sturdy antagonist, it ducked beneath,
and after much scraping and bumping swung clear and headed down the
stream, while the bridge-builders drew a deep breath of relief and
turned away to their tents.
The Bradfords had by this time finished the transportation of their
goods from the lake, and fortunately, for there was no passing through
the gorge. When the water was at its normal height there was a passage
on one side or the other, and the stream had to be frequently crossed
by ford or log; but now that the river in many places filled all
the space between its rocky walls, the traveller must needs scale
treacherous slopes of loose gravel where a slip would carry him over
the cliffs and into a river whose waters were icy and whose bed was
not composed of feathers. Sometimes he must toil to the very top of
the precipices to avoid the more dangerous spots. So for some days the
party on Alder Creek lived in seclusion, seeing no one but King, Moore,
and Baldwin, whose tents were well above the worst portions of the
river. They busied themselves by constructing a saw-pit where lumber
could be turned out for sluice-boxes and a rocker, not deeming it
practicable to build a cabin where available trees were so few.