“He shall keep me company.” I put him in my coat pocket and half an hour
later I was packing my scanty wardrobe. Six days later I was standing on
the quay at Vancouver, making inquiries for transportation to the Yukon
gold fields. The man to whom I addressed the question was a rough, burly
fellow, none too clean, with a heavy beard covering his face up to the
eyes.
His answer was, “What are you going to the Yukon for?”
“To mine gold.”
“Ha! ha! ha! Jim,” to another man who was loading some packages into a
yawl, “Jim, come here, do you see this spindle,” pointing to me. “Here’s
a new chum who wants to go to the Yukon and hunt for gold. Look at him,
see them legs and hands. Ha! ha!”
“Only another tenderfoot gone mad,” was Jim’s reply as he walked away.
“I’m going to the Yukon,” I said decidedly.
“Right you are my boy. You may start but you’ll never come back. I’ve
seen plenty of new chums on Bendigo and Yackendandah, they always talk
big on the go-in, and cry on the come-out. What’s that you’ve got in
your pocket?”
“A kitten.”
“Is the kitten on the rush too?”
“He goes with me.”
“Bless my eyes, Jim, this slim has got a kitten going with him to the
Klondike.”
“No fear of them ever getting there,” Jim responded.
“Boy, take my advice and go home to your mother,” the man said in a kind
tone.
To be called a boy brought tears of vexation to my eyes. I turned to
walk away.
“Hold on, you are determined to go?”
“Yes.”
“Have you money to pay for your passage and an outfit?”
“Certainly.”
“It will cost a hundred and fifty.”
“I have it.”
“Jim, the new chum has the dust, shall we take him? He will bring the
party up to an even dozen and reduce the expenses.”
“You’re Captain, do as you please, anyway the tenderfoot and the cat
don’t weigh more than a puff ball,” Jim answered.
“My name is Simeon, Simeon of Ballarat and Bendigo and Fiery creek. This
way sharp if you mean business. See that schooner over there, we sail at
four this afternoon.”
For an hour we were busy securing my outfit and provisions. When all
were on board we hoisted sail and were off, I had only fifty dollars
left and the kitten. The men were all experienced miners, some from
Australia, the others from California, Nevada and Colorado. When I took
the kitten out of my pocket and fed him there was a roar of laughter and
a fusilade of remarks. They named the kitten Klondike and ere we reached
Dyea he had become a universal pet and the mascott of the party. It
would have made Edith’s heart glad to have seen the miners fondling
Klondike. At Dyea we unloaded our supplies and hired the Indians to pack
them over Chilcoot Pass. At Lake Linderman a boat was built in which we
floated down the Yukon, I could only make myself useful as cook, being
totally unfitted for the hard work. Simeon counselled that we should not
descend to Dawson City, but turn off and ascend a tributary at a point
estimated to be from one hundred to one hundred and fifty miles from the
city. The object aimed at was to discover a new field and locate the
best claims. His advice was taken. We made our way up the creek until
our progress was stopped by a series of rapids, there we pitched our
tents. I was left in charge of the camp while prospecting parties went
out in every direction. Gold was found in the beds of most of the
streams, but not in paying quantities. Then the boat was hauled up the
rapids with a rope, we were to make a further advance into the interior.
That night the boat broke loose, was swept over the rapids and totally
destroyed. Two of the miners went down to the Yukon to ascertain if they
could get some boat which was descending the river to transport our
supplies to Dawson City. They failed, but brought back the news of the
wonderful strike made on the Eldorado. Instantly all was confusion. The
men became mad. The mines were one hundred miles away. Packs were made
up the following morning, a cache was built, in which to store the
provisions, and in twenty-four hours a start was made. The men each
carried one hundred pounds of provisions in addition to a pick and
shovel. Simeon assisted to make up my pack of fifty pounds. The heat,
during the middle of the day, was intense, the air filled with insect
pests. The route ran over mountains, through bogs, across streams. In
places the moss was two feet in depth. With my load I plunged and fell
and ran, for the men marched at a rapid pace. Not ten miles had been
covered when I fell exhausted. Not even for the coveted fortune for
Edith could I have gone another mile. I was at the rear of the line and
would have been left unheeded but for the watchful care of Simeon, who
came back and sat down by me.
“You can never go through,” he said, “I knew that it was madness for you
to try. You have done much better than I thought you would. Miners on a
rush would leave their best friends to perish. I have been through it
before, I know what it means. If you would save your life go back to the
cache. There is plenty of provisions, you cannot starve. Go to work and
build a hut, dig a hole into the hill-side so that the back and most of
the sides will be of earth, finish it with small logs, put on a roof of
poles, cover them with moss, then with a layer of earth, then more moss
and more earth, make it thick. About a foot distant from the walls of
the hut build another row of logs and fill the space between with moss,
taking care to pack it tightly, then plaster the cracks with mud. Be
certain and have a big fire-place at the rear, make it of stone and the
chimney of green logs standing on end. When you have these things done
you will be safe, but not till then. I promise that I will come back for
you, but it may not be until Spring. Here is my hand and John Simeon
never breaks his word. Cheer up, we will probably have to return for
provisions in a few weeks. Then you shall go through, even if I have to
carry you on my back.”
He gave me a hearty hand-shake, turned and was gone. I sank back on the
moss and cried with a bitterness which I shall never feel again. Then a
great fear came upon me. For a moment I believe my heart ceased to beat.
Could I find my way back? Every other question vanished. I struggled to
my feet and turned back with an energy born of despair. Every few
minutes I stopped and examined the foot-marks. The sun had gone down but
the night only lasts, in that latitude, in summer, for one brief hour. I
was without a watch and could only guess the time. At last I could
proceed no further. I threw off my pack and released Klondike from the
little wicker cage I had made to carry him in, and in ten minutes I was
fast asleep. When I awoke the sun was up, but how long I slept I never
knew. I built a fire, ate a hearty breakfast and started. In half an
hour I came to a point where two trails crossed, which to take I did not
know. I went forward on one, then turned back, took the other and again
turned back. I was lost. Cold beads of sweat stood out on my body, my
brain beat like a trip-hammer. As I stood thus at the parting of the
ways my eye caught sight of a fluff of cotton wool on a branch not five
yards distant. I had lined Klondike’s basket with the material before
leaving the camp. “Saved by Klondike!” I cried. So bewildered was I that
I should have passed the cache had it not have been for the cat. He
began to mew and try to get out of his basket. “Here we are at last,” I
cried. For four weeks I labored at the hut, a miner would have built it
in four days. After three weeks I began to look for the return of my
companions, but at the end of six weeks I abandoned all hopes. The cold
gradually increased. I made everything tight and snug, then I determined
to prospect the near-by creeks for gold. I found gold on every side but
my best work did not exceed five dollars in a day. Klondike was my
constant companion, he had grown strong and agile and roamed about the
camp, at times going into the forest for hours. The cold came down over
the mountains and drove me into the hut. I only ventured out to cut my
supply of wood. I fell into a despondent mood, but for Klondike I
believe that I should have gone mad. With infinite patience I taught him
a variety of tricks and there were times when I talked to him of Edith
and the happy days when he had nestled in her arms. In such hours I
imagined I saw her spirit looking out of his eyes and bidding me be of
good cheer. At night he crept into the fur-lined bag in which I slept
and comforted me in the solitude with his pur. In January I noticed that
every afternoon he wished to leave the cabin and remain outside for
nearly an hour. As this continued day after day my curiosity was at last
aroused and I determined to watch him, which I did the following day.
Leaving the hut he made his way diagonally up the hill-side and then
disappeared. I resolved to ascertain the attraction. I struggled into
the snow which was piled twenty feet deep and sank to my waist. Then I
took a shovel and commenced to dig. My progress was exceedingly slow as
I had to cut the snow down several feet before it would support me.
Twenty feet per day was the best progress I could make. Klondike
evidently believed that I was constructing the road for his convenience
for when he daily returned from his mysterious visit he stopped and
rubbed himself against my legs as if to encourage me in my good work. On
the fourth day I had reached a point where I could see the hole in the
snow in which he disappeared.
It was on the top of a ledge of rock some ten feet wide.
“To-morrow,” I said, “I shall know the reason.” That night I constructed
a short ladder with which to surmount the difficulty. The following day
I placed it against the ledge and climbed up. The crumbling snow,
running down the bank, prevented me seeing what was before me. I brushed
the snow away and looked in. At my very face was a skeleton hand holding
a small black object in its bony fingers. I screamed with terror, the
ladder lost its balance, the next instant I was twenty feet below on my
back in the snow. I ran to the hut and actually barred the door, so
great was my fright. What could it mean? I had read of demons appearing
in the guise of black cats, a thousand grotesque fancies danced through
my brain. Then I called Klondike, he was at my feet. He could not
possibly be in the skeleton hand and also Klondike at the same time. Yet
even that I imagined might be possible. You must bear in mind that for
months I had lived isolated from human companionship, that my brain had
became warped and my thoughts abnormal. Was the skeleton hand a warning?
Should I abandon the quest and leave the mystery unsolved? Perhaps it
was a portend of my fate. Thus I reasoned and surmised, conjured and
imagined. My one consolation was that Klondike had crept into his
accustomed place and was apparently sleeping the sleep of innocence,
unmindful of the skeleton hand. When the sun came up over the mountains
the next day my courage returned. I determined to probe the affair to
the bottom. To prove that there was nothing supernatural about the cat,
I took Klondike in my arms and made my way to the top of the ladder. The
hand was there and the cat was there. He sprang from me and entered the
opening, coming out again with a bone in his mouth, the fore-arm of a
man. “Only the last resting place of some poor miner who has died in
this wilderness,” was my comment. Then, for the first, I noticed that
the object in the grasp of the skeleton hand was a small book. I reached
out and tried to remove it from the bony fingers. They held it in a
death grasp and I was compelled to pick up the hand, which I carried to
my cabin. I pried open the fingers and opened the book. The fly leaf was
closely written over in a language which I was unable to read. The book,
printed in a fine, small, black type, was equally unreadable. From the
chapters and for other reasons I decided that it was a copy of the New
Testament. I carefully wiped it and laid it away on a shelf.
“To-morrow,” I said, “I will close the opening, the stranger’s bones
shall rest in peace.” The next day, provided with pick and shovel, I
climbed the ledge and carefully removed the snow. Then I knelt down and
looked in, the cavern was some three feet in height and eight in length.
The small bones were strewn about, but the trunk remained prone upon the
centre of the cavern. Suddenly something soft touched me on the face, I
sprang back, lost my balance, and for the second time found myself on my
back in the trench below. I scrambled to my feet and ran for the hut.
Then I stopped and turned, Klondike was sitting complacently on the top
of the ladder. “Now I will be a man,” I said, and I walked back heartily
ashamed of myself. I took my tormentor to the hut, fastened him in and
returned. I resolved to replace all of the scattered bones and seal up
the mouth of the cave. To do so I was compelled to crawl inside. In my
task I chanced to move the trunk, the sun shot a beam of light within
and reflected a dull, yellow glitter. There could be no mistake, it was
gold. Then I paused, should I take it or bury it with the bones? It had
been his in life why not in death? If Simeon did not return I too would
be found some day, my bones bleaching beside my handful of yellow dust.
No, I would leave it with its rightful owner. Carefully I gathered the
bones, they were sacred to the memory of the unknown. Edith’s love, hope
and avarice all were but memories, as long passed as if ages had gone
by. Then it came upon me that a trust had been committed to my charge.
The dying man had left a message, a sacred injunction written in God’s
Book. The handful of gold was to be sent to some loved one. Instantly
all my sympathies were aroused. I had something to live for, to work for
I felt like a new man. I went back to the hut and brought with me a
small tin dish in which to gather the last grain. I picked up the
nuggets one by one. So intent was I that it was not until the pannakin
was half full that I noticed that the supply was by no means exhausted.
I went for another and larger dish and another and another, and still
more remained. Night came on and I was compelled to relinquish my task.
The cabin had been transformed into a treasure house. A demon whispered
in my ear, “You are rich. Edith and love and happiness are before you.
Fool, you have but to reach out your hand and take the gold. Dead men
tell no tales.”
A violent trembling seized upon me. My resolution wavered, then my eye
rested upon the little black book and a great calm fell upon me. “No,” I
said, “it is not mine, I will not be a thief.” From that moment I was
firm and I never doubted but that providence would rescue me from the
Yukon. When I had removed all the treasure I closed the mouth of the
cave, then I fashioned a rude cross and planted it firmly in the ground
to mark the burial place. My next step was to make forty small bags out
of heavy cloth into which I poured the gold, the bags I buried in the
hut beneath my bed. The possession of the treasure brought a new fear,
that of robbers, yet so far as I knew, there was not a man within one
hundred miles of me. I frequently awoke in the night and listened
intently, believing that I heard footsteps. One night I suddenly sprang
to my feet, at the very door were snarling and fighting dogs, then
followed a thump on the side of the hut.
“Hello! Hello! are you there!” came in a hoarse voice.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Open the door, new chum.” It was Simeon.
I gave a shout, rushed out and fairly hugged him with joy and Jim too,
who was unharnessing the dogs.
“And here’s Klondike, grown as big as a tiger,” Simeon cried, picking up
the cat. “Have you any grub?”
“Plenty.”
“Boil the billy and make tea. Is any of the brandy left?”
“I never touched it.”
“The best news yet. Knock the neck off a bottle, Jim, brandy.” Jim was
in the hut in an instant. After justice had been more than done to the
meal, Simeon after looking around said, “Well done for a boy. Had a long
wait, eh?”
“I always thought you would come.”
“Hear that Jim, no one doubts the old man’s word. That’s better than
gold. I would have been back in a month, but we got word from a party
who came down from this section that you had left and that the cache had
been robbed. It must have been another camp. Had many visitors looking
for food and stealing what you did not give?”
“I have not seen a man since we parted in the woods.”
“Good heavens! why hundreds and hundreds have gone down the river and
you did not know enough to make for the big stream, get taken on board
and find yourself in Dawson City in two days.”
“No.”
“I told you Jim, that being a new chum he’d sit down as long as the grub
held out.”
“Did you mine any gold?”
“A little.”
“Show it?”