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The Young Treasure Hunter
Or
Fred Stanley's Trip to Alaska
BY
FRANK V. WEBSTER
AUTHOR OF "ONLY A FARM BOY," "THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS," "THE BOY FROM THE
RANCH," "BOB THE CASTAWAY," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
[Illustration: "The moose plunged on"
_Page 85_]
BOOKS FOR BOYS
_By FRANK V. WEBSTER_
12mo. Illustrated. Bound in cloth.
ONLY A FARM BOY, Or Dan Hardy's Rise in Life
TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY, Or The Mystery of a Message
THE BOY FROM THE RANCH, Or Roy Bradner's City Experiences
THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER, Or Fred Stanley's Trip to Alaska
BOB THE CASTAWAY, Or The Wreck of the Eagle
THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE, Or Herbert Dare's Pluck
THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS, Or Who Was Dick Box?
THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES, Or Nat Morton's Perils
TWO BOY GOLD MINERS, Or Lost in the Mountains
JACK THE RUNAWAY, Or On the Road with a Circus
_Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York_
Copyright, 1909, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
* * * * *
THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. IN NEEDY CIRCUMSTANCES 1
II. SEEKING A JOB 9
III. THE BURIED TREASURE STORY 18
IV. FRED HAS HOPES 24
V. MRS. STULTS CONSENTS 30
VI. THE OLD GOLD HUNTER 38
VII. OFF FOR ALASKA 45
VIII. AMID FROST AND ICE 53
IX. INTO THE INTERIOR 61
X. ATTACKED BY WOLVES 71
XI. SHOOTING A MOOSE 78
XII. LOST IN THE SNOW 86
XIII. IN THE WILDERNESS 92
XIV. THE LOST MAP 100
XV. IN THE CAVE 108
XVI. DIGGING FOR TREASURE 116
XVII. THE SPYING INDIAN 125
XVIII. FOLLOWED BY THE ENEMY 131
XIX. THE ATTACK 137
XX. BURYING THE TREASURE 146
XXI. CAPTURED 153
XXII. ANXIOUS HOURS 161
XXIII. CALLACK'S CRUEL THREAT 168
XXIV. DOUBLE HARDSHIP 174
XXV. THE RESCUE--CONCLUSION 193
The Young Treasure Hunter
CHAPTER I
IN NEEDY CIRCUMSTANCES
"How are you feeling this morning, father?" asked Fred Stanley as his
parent came slowly into the dining-room, leaning heavily on a crutch.
"Not so well, Fred. My leg pained me considerable last night, and I did
not sleep much. You are up early, aren't you?"
"Yes. I am going over to the new diggings and see if I can't get a job,
so I want to start soon."
"Where are the new diggings, Fred? I hadn't heard of any. But that is
not surprising, as I don't hear news as I used to before the accident,
when I could get around among the miners."
"Why, there is a rumor that several prospectors have struck it rich near
Cartersville. They've formed a settlement and called it New Strike. I
heard they wanted boys to drive the ore carts, and I thought I'd go over
and try for a place."
"It's too bad you have had to stop school, Fred, and go to work. If I
wasn't crippled I could make lots of money at mining."
"Never mind, father. When you get well again you'll make more than ever.
And I don't mind giving up school--very much."
The last words Fred added in a lower tone of voice, for the truth was,
he greatly liked his studies, and it had been quite a sacrifice for him
to stop going to school. But when his services were needed at home he
did not complain.
Norman Stanley, Fred's father, had been injured in a mining accident
about six months before this story opens, and, though he was now
somewhat improved, he could not walk without the aid of a crutch. The
physician said he would eventually get entirely well, but the process
seemed very slow, and at times Mr. Stanley was almost discouraged.
The Stanley family, of which Fred was the only child, lived in the town
of Piddock, California. It was not far from a mining region, and within
a short distance of the coast. Mr. Stanley had been in good
circumstances when he was able to work, but since his accident, having a
large doctor bill to pay, his savings had been used up. As he could not
earn any more, the family was in needy circumstances, though,
occasionally, Fred was able to make small sums by doing odd jobs here
and there. Mrs. Stanley took in sewing, and they just managed to get
along, paying a small rent, and eating only the most common food, though
the doctor had said Mr. Stanley would recover more quickly if he could
have a special diet.
"Well, Fred," went on Mr. Stanley, "I hope some day I can send you back
to school, and perhaps to college. If only my leg would get better," and
he uttered a sigh.
"Don't worry, father. We'll get along somehow. But where is mother? I
would like to get my breakfast and hurry over to New Strike. All the
best jobs may be taken, and I'll only get a chance to be superintendent,
or something like that," and he laughed at his joke, for Fred was not a
gloomy-spirited boy.
"Your mother is not up yet, Fred," said Mr. Stanley. "She was sewing
quite late last night, and I told her to take a rest this morning. She
needed it. I thought maybe you and I could get our own breakfast."
"Of course we can, dad. It won't be the first time I have done it, for
when I went camping with the fellows I used to be cook part of the
time."
"And I haven't forgotten the time when I was prospecting in the
mountains and used to have to get my own flapjacks and coffee," added
the former miner. "I guess we can make out all right, and then you can
go see if you can strike a job. If they insist on making you part owner,
or manager of a good mine, I suppose you will have to take it."
He smiled at his son in spite of his rather gloomy feelings. But he was
sad at the thought of how hard his wife had to work to earn a little
money, while he, a strong man, save for his injured leg, could do next
to nothing.
"Oh, I guess I can stand it to take half shares in a new lead," replied
Fred. "Now if you'll set the table, dad, I'll put the kettle on, make
coffee and fry some eggs."
Mr. Stanley could manage to move slowly about the room with the aid of
his crutch, and by degrees he had the table set. Meanwhile Fred had made
a fire in the kitchen stove, and the kettle was soon humming, while he
ground the coffee, cut some slices of bacon, and got the fresh eggs from
the cupboard.
In the midst of these operations Mrs. Stanley, a little woman with
slightly gray hair, but a sweet face and kindly, laughing blue eyes,
came downstairs.
"Well!" she exclaimed. "You're ahead of me this morning, aren't you?"
"I thought you would like to rest a bit," said her husband. "That is why
I did not call you."
"Oh, I'm not so tired. I slept well, and I wanted to be up early and get
Fred's breakfast, for he has quite a journey ahead of him."
"I wish he didn't have to take it," murmured Mr. Stanley to his wife
when Fred was out of the room. "If I only could get back to work
myself."
"Now, Norman, I thought you promised me you wouldn't worry."
"I'm not, but----"
"Yes, you are. Now please don't do it any more. We are getting on very
nicely, and I think Mrs. Robinson will pay me well for the sewing I did
for her last night. She is very much pleased with my work."
"I wish you didn't have to work."
"Oh, my! I don't! What a queer world it would be if no one had to work.
I just love to be busy," and she laughed joyously, though, to tell the
truth, she was still weary from her toil of the night before. Fred heard
his mother's voice and looked in from the kitchen.
"Breakfast will soon be ready, Mrs. Stanley," he said in imitation of a
servant girl they had had when they were in better circumstances. "The
water is jest comin' on to a bile, ma'am, an' the eggs am almost done,
ma'am."
"That's just what Sarah used to say," remarked Mrs. Stanley. "It sounds
quite natural. Now, Fred, you come in and sit down and I'll finish
getting the meal."
"No, indeed, mother, let me do it. Pretend you are a visitor, and I'll
bring the eggs and toast in, piping hot for you."
"No, Fred. I'll do it."
The boy was so much in earnest that his mother gave in, and with a laugh
seated herself by her husband's side, while Fred rattled away among the
dishes out in the kitchen as if he was a regular Chinese cook, which
many families in California keep in preference to a woman.
"Do you feel any better this morning, Norman?" asked Mrs. Stanley.
"Not much. Perhaps a little. It is very slow."
In spite of herself tears came into the eyes of Mrs. Stanley at her
husband's misfortune, but she turned her head away so he would not see
them.
"Here we are!" cried Fred suddenly, as he came in with a platter of
bacon and eggs in one hand, and some nicely browned toast, on a plate,
in the other.
"Grub call!" he added, in imitation of the camp cry.
"Well, you did get up a nice breakfast," complimented his mother.
"I'll bring the coffee in a minute," added the boy as he went back to
the kitchen. "You dish out, mother."
The little family gathered around the table, and soon Mr. Stanley had
temporarily forgotten about the pain in his leg, while he told Fred
something of how to drive an ore cart.
"Perhaps I'll not get a chance at one, dad."
"Oh, yes, you will. If you see any old miners there, at the new
diggings, just mention my name, and they'll help you. They all know me,
for I've prospected with a number of them, and grub-staked lots of 'em.
Yes, and some of them have grub-staked me."
Grub-staked, it may be explained, means that a man with money provides a
poor miner with food or "grub" and an outfit to hunt and dig for gold.
If the miner finds a good lead, or mine, a large share of it goes to the
man who grub-staked him.
Mrs. Stanley placed two eggs and some toast on her husband's plate, and
was about to help Fred to the same quantity, when she noticed that her
son was engaged on a big dish of oatmeal.
"Don't you want some eggs?" she asked.
"Don't care for 'em," replied Fred quickly. "I'd rather have oatmeal. It
will stick by me longer, if I get a job to-day."
The truth was there were only four eggs in the house, and no money to
send out and buy more. And Fred wanted his mother to have the remaining
two. So he took oatmeal, though he did not like it.
"Why, Fred!" exclaimed his mother. "You always used to like eggs. Why
don't you take them? I don't feel very hungry."
"Those eggs were cooked especially for you, mother," said the boy. "If
you don't eat them I'll think you don't like my way, and I'll leave."
His mother laughed, but, once more, there came a mist of tears to her
eyes. Slyly she tried to put one of the eggs on Fred's plate, but he
would not let her.
"This toast is fine, if I did make it myself," said Fred, "and the bacon
isn't half bad," he added as he took several slices, for there was
plenty of that. "Guess I'll take some along for my dinner, as I'll not
come back until night--if I get a job."
"That's so, Fred, I must see if there is anything in the house for your
lunch. I--I don't believe I'll have any money until Mrs. Robinson pays
me. I'll take her work home right after breakfast."
"A light lunch will do for me, mother. I can get some grub from one of
the miners, if I run short."
This was true enough, for the gold-diggers would share their last crust
with a hungry traveler.
The meal was soon over, and, with a small package of bread and bacon,
and a piece of pie, saved from the day before, Fred Stanley started off
to look for work.