DANGERS OF THE SUMMER FORDS
Two more days were occupied in ascending the valley of the Alsek to its
headwaters. The trail crossed many tributary streams, through which
our pedestrians were obliged to wade, and twice it was necessary to
cross the Alsek itself. Although the stream was here much narrower and
shallower than at Dalton's Post, its current was still so turbulent
that on each occasion the Bradfords took advantage of the pack train.
Not infrequently they saw the bodies of horses and cattle which had
either become hopelessly mired or had broken a leg among the rocks, and
been shot and abandoned by their owners.
Beyond Rainy Hollow the summer trail was quite independent of the
winter one, and led across a bleak summit now devoid of snow save the
grimy remains of a few old drifts. Here they were startled by a sudden
deep booming and thundering which seemed to proceed from nowhere in
particular. The boys thought it an earthquake, but Uncle Will said he
had no doubt the noise was similar to those they had heard in that
vicinity in March, and was occasioned by a tremendous avalanche or the
disintegration of a glacier on the lofty peaks across the Klaheena.
On the highest point of the pass they met an inbound pack train
belonging to the Thirty-six, in charge of one Paddock.
"Is this the Bradford party?" asked Paddock, as he came up. On being
assured that it was, he continued, "I was on the lookout for you. I
met Bud Beagle's outfit about an hour ago, and he said you was close
behind. I've got some mail for you."
He fumbled in an inner pocket of his coat, which was tied to the pommel
of his saddle, and presently extracted a little bundle of letters,
which he handed to Mr. Bradford.
"Mebbe there ought to be more," he said with a trace of embarrassment,
"but the fact is, we lost a hoss in the Klaheena River. He carried
one o' the mail-bags, besides all our cooking outfit and consid'rable
provisions."
"Lost the horse?" said Mr. Bradford. "How did that happen?"
"Well, you see, sir," explained Paddock, "that hoss got sep'rated from
the others when we crossed the river, and he struck a deep hole. His
load was jest heavy enough so he couldn't swim, and away he went. We
follered along the bank for two good miles, but didn't find him."
After eagerly reading their letters, they descended the steep
mountain-side and soon found themselves at Pleasant Camp, where they
discovered that the mounted police had built two snug log cabins with
real shingled roofs, and a corral for horses; and a roving sutler had
set up a store-tent where one could buy almost anything, though the
articles most in evidence were bad cigars and "tanglefoot" whiskey.
This being the boundary station of the police, they recorded the names
of the Bradfords and the packers, the number of horses in the train,
and various other items. Since the establishment of the station all
incoming travellers had been obliged to pay customs duties at this
point.
There was one person at Pleasant Camp whose arrival a few days before
had awakened no little curiosity. This was a young woman introduced to
the Bradfords by the police sergeant as Miss MacIntosh. She appeared
to possess a fun-loving, yet quiet and ladylike disposition, while her
flashing black eyes revealed unusual determination and spirit. She was
travelling independently, with saddle horse and pack horse, with the
object of reaching Dawson City; but her progress had been so slow and
the season was so far advanced that she had abandoned her original
idea, and was now intent only on reaching Dalton's Post. Owing to
the difficulties and dangers of the way, she had found it advisable
to travel in company with pack trains or the police, and intended to
proceed with the next inbound party. She had many questions to ask
about gold-mining and the Klondike, which gave Uncle Will the clue to
the business upon which she was engaged.
"'I know the breed,' as Kipling says," declared Uncle Will. "I used to
be a reporter myself, and I'll wager Miss MacIntosh is performing this
feat in the interests of some newspaper. She's going to write all about
it when she gets home."
"It's a foolhardy adventure, though," said Mr. Bradford. "I should have
looked for more Scottish caution in the girl."
"On the contrary, Charles, I think she's to be admired for her pluck.
She believes a self-respecting woman may go anywhere without fear,
and if she travels with pack trains or the police, so as not to meet
rascals like those robbers, I'm sure her confidence will be vindicated.
Miners and soldiers and packers may be rough, but they all respect a
lady."
The Bradfords began the descent of the Klaheena valley on the following
morning, keeping to the hillsides on the left through forests far more
varied than those of the interior. This part of the trail had been
extensively improved by men in Dalton's employ, and in place of the
narrow and uneven path over which they had picked their way, they now
gloried in a smooth, hard trail almost wide enough for a wagon. Hills
had been cut through, hollows filled in, small bridges thrown across
several of the brooks, and corduroys of logs laid through every swamp.
[Illustration: FORDING THE KLAHEENA]
At length they came down to the gravel flats and beheld, some distance
below, Bud Beagle and Phil sitting on a log and evidently awaiting
their appearance. Two saddle horses stood near. They had reached the
dreaded ford of the Klaheena.
"We thought you wouldn't care to wade this here river," said Bud, with
a twinkle in his eye, as the four approached.
"Right, Bud," responded Uncle Will; "your thinking apparatus is in
perfect order. I trust you got the pack train over safely."
"Well," said Bud, slipping his quid into the other cheek, "I don't see
no drownded horses anywhere."
With this reassuring remark he mounted, and invited David to climb up
behind him and clasp him tightly about the body,--a performance which
required some agility, owing to the restiveness of the horse. Meanwhile
Roly had scrambled upon the other prancing steed behind Phil, and off
they started, Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will watching their progress
intently. Several side channels not more than a foot in depth were
crossed before the main river was reached, but presently the horses
stood at the edge of the mighty flood.
The stream was not more than two hundred feet wide, but it filled
its gravelly banks to the very brim with an impetuous current so
impregnated with glacial silt that it looked like a mixture of coffee
and milk. It was impossible for the eye to penetrate much more than an
inch beneath the surface, and as the horses stepped cautiously over the
crumbling bank the boys had no idea how deep they would go.
The water proved to be shallow at first, rising only to the knees, but
a moment later the bottom shelved abruptly down, the current surging
higher and higher on the animals' sides till they began to yield before
it, and it became necessary to head them up-stream a little. They
stepped slowly and carefully, picking their footing, yet now and then
stumbling on some unseen boulder. The nearness of the rushing water
made the boys fairly dizzy. But just when it seemed as if they must be
overwhelmed, the river grew shallower, and soon, with much scrambling,
they mounted the bank.
"That wasn't so bad, after all," said Roly, as he slipped to the ground.
"No," said David, "it's easy enough on horseback, but no wonder Mr.
Green performed gymnastics!" And the nervous tension being now relaxed,
they laughed heartily at the recollection.
Bud and Phil turned back and brought over Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will.
"The worst o' these fords," said Bud, as he landed his second
passenger, "is that the river-beds are all the while changing. We may
hit on a good place like this, one day, and the next time we try it
we'll slump into a hole that'll raise the mischief. The bottom drops
out in a single night."
In the next few miles the trail crossed the watershed separating the
valley of the Klaheena from that of the Salmon River, and near the
latter, camp was pitched for the night. On the march thither the horses
were almost thrown into a panic by a bear which went crashing off into
the bushes near the trail, but so precipitately that no one was able to
take a shot.
The two fords of the Salmon River were essayed next morning. The first
was for some distance of the same general character as that of the
Klaheena, but it was necessary to ride with the stream a few hundred
feet to round the base of a high cliff. Near these crags the water
became so deep that it nearly covered the backs of the horses, but
fortunately at that point the current slackened.
The second ford was reached soon afterward. This was not a crossing;
the horses were forced to take to the river-bed because, for a quarter
of a mile, no trail had yet been cut through the dense thickets of the
shore. Here at last our travellers were destined to experience the
treachery of an Alaskan river.
At Uncle Will's suggestion they did not mount behind the riders as
before, but climbed upon the backs of those pack horses which carried
the lightest loads. These horses had no bridles, but as they always
willingly followed the packers, no trouble was anticipated. All being
ready, Bud, Phil, and Joyce rode into the stream with the whole bunch
close behind.
At first the river divided into so many channels that none were deep,
and the cavalcade proceeded merrily down the valley, now high and dry
upon the gravel, now wading a muddy runlet. The packers came at length
to the point where they were to turn back toward the shore. There
remained but one stream to cross, but it was a very considerable one,
formed by the reunion of several channels. Beyond it rose the steep,
curving bank, on which the trail was corduroyed to the water's edge.
As the packers had experienced no difficulty here on their previous
passage, they rode confidently into the water, heading for the trail.
Before they were half-way across they found that the stream had
deepened; and as they neared the shore, first Joyce's little white
mare and then both the other horses were carried off their feet and
compelled to swim, while the rapid current hurried them all down-stream.
"Stop!" shouted Bud to the Bradfords, as soon as he realized the
danger. "Don't try it there!"
But the warning came too late. The pack horses, with one impulse, had
entered the water close behind their leaders, and among the rest those
bearing the Bradfords, who had no effectual means of checking their
steeds or guiding them. In two minutes every horse in the train had
gone beyond his depth and was snorting and floundering in the current,
or vainly trying to gain a foothold on the steep bank, while some of
the more heavily laden ones, including those to which the Bradfords
were clinging, borne down by their loads and the pressure of their
neighbors, sank beneath the surface more than once. Several became
entangled in submerged tree-roots, but cleared themselves. The whole
mass of frightened, splashing, struggling animals was presently going
down the stream as the steeds of the packers had done. In the midst of
this confusion the Bradfords, drenched and helpless, could only hang
desperately to ropes and packs, holding themselves ready, however, at a
moment's notice, to abandon the horses and swim out independently.
In the mean time the packers by shouts and kicks had urged their
animals close to the shore, where they succeeded in dismounting, and
then pulled the exhausted beasts out of the water almost by main
strength. This done, they turned their attention to the pack horses,
grasping the heads of all which came near, and guiding them down to a
point where the bank was lower. Some of them struggled out unaided, and
all were at last brought safely to the solid ground. But blankets,
packs, and men were thoroughly soaked.
"Speakin' of the bottom droppin' out," said Bud, with a dry smile,--the
only dry thing which remained to him,--"this was one o' them cases."