OVER THE SUMMIT
Hugh's prediction came true, for, on the morning following, a gentle
breeze was blowing from the south, soft with the touch of spring. The
first light that came over the mountains was a softening blue.
"Roll out and get the kinks out of you, fellows, we've got to be first
on the trail to-day."
They had breakfast, the dogs were harnessed, and the party on the march
by half-past four. Though the light was uncertain it was not hard to
keep the trail. By six they were at the summit, greeting the police
sentinel who had been on guard there through the night, and marvelling
at the wealth of colours that lit the eastern sky.
"Mush!"
The dogs were off. The sleigh slid down upon the frozen plain of Summit
Lake. The lightness with which it glided along seemed to assure the
party that their troubles were over. As the dogs trotted along it
required a pace faster than a walk to keep up with them; so Hugh induced
his two companions to sit on the load, saying that he would take a ride
after a while. At nine they reached Log Cabin--passed without a halt, it
being merely a police depot used for cutting firewood, though it had
been the Customs post before the Canadian Government had asserted
proprietary rights to the summit. Almost invariably, when greetings were
exchanged with those met on the trail, the humour played about Soapy.
"Say, you're hustling. I guess you ain't chechachoes. How's Soapy? going
to run for President next trip?"
"I guess so, if he ain't hung in the meantime. Looks like that he was
the whole thing in the Passes."
As the party at one o'clock drew into Bennett, they saw one party eating
dinner in the open, with sleigh loaded and dogs harnessed beside them. A
pile of spruce boughs denoted where these strangers had slept, and where
their tent, now drawn up on their sleigh, had been erected.
"Moving camp?" asked Hugh.
"Yes."
"I don't suppose you're going to take your location away with you?"
"I guess not."
"Then it will just suit us, and we can use your fire. This is what I
call lucky," said Hugh, as he began unlashing the load and throwing the
bundles of supplies on the spruce bed.
George was busying himself undoing the supplies while John replenished
the fire. George cooked bacon; Hugh mixed flour, baking-powder, and
water for slap-jacks--the large pancakes of the frontier. As they worked
Hugh re-opened conversation with the strangers.
"Where's your new location?"
"Down the lake, five miles. Got wind of a good bunch of timber there,
and hauled a load down this morning. One of our fellows stayed down
making camp while us two came back for the rest of the stuff."
"How long have you been coming from Skagway?"
"Three weeks--a week here, and two weeks getting over the Pass.
Contracted with a fellow to put through our stuff at thirty cents a
pound, but finally had to buy dogs and haul it ourselves. And then the
storms have been something fearful up to the last few days: sort of
Dakota blizzard every day almost, after which trails was mighty bad
hauling. This sort of weather comes hard on a fellow who was reared in
California."
"I guess it would come hard on a fellow reared at the North Pole! You
fellows will have your boat built in lots of time."
"Yes, if we don't take to quarrelling like the rest of the blame fools
around here."
"What are those fellows doing here?" Hugh nodded to the great array of
tents spread over the sand hills that lie between Lake Bennett and Lake
Lindeman.
"Most of them don't know what they are doing; but I guess they put in
their time quarrelling. Old Moss-backs from the East, who have lived
neighbours all their lives, and been best of friends, have come up here
partners, and before they got through the Passes were calling each other
the names they heard used by the old-timers to their dogs! It takes the
police all their time settling disputes. The habit seems to have took
all round, now that they are through their troubles and have only
straight hard work, whip-sawing lumber, ahead of them. Why, say! I saw
two fellows the other day dividing their outfit. They took a two-faced
axe and drove it into a log, and with the face sticking up and a hammer
they cut a whip-saw in two, making it no good for either, and swearing
at each other all the time till you could smell sulphur. They cut stoves
in two, and boats, after working hard to build them. It seems a new kind
of bughouse that has got hold of them."
The strangers were now washing up their dishes and packing them away.
"Here, take this, hand me a plate," and one of them poured some stewed
prunes out of a pot, and from another emptied into a second plate beans
and bacon.
"But you fellows could take these along!" protested Hugh.
"No, we couldn't; they'd get spilled; besides, we have some beef-steak
for supper. Some fellows down near the lake killed an ox this morning,
and you can get steak for six bits per pound--if it ain't all gone.
Good-bye!"
The strangers went off down the hill to the lake.
Pipes were lit, and the three lay in the sun smoking. The day was
glorious and the party had removed their snow-glasses, so that they were
able to view their surroundings to the full. Mountains gleamed and
glistened everywhere in the distance, but did not appear so overpowering
or inspiring as in the Pass, though more beautiful. How pure the air
seemed, and spotless the snow!
Though the sun was warm and the party comfortable, there were duties to
be performed; so, not without groans, Hugh and his friends started to
erect camp. After the tent was up, Hugh put pots of beans, prunes, and
rice on to boil--the rice being for the dogs, as there was small
prospect of getting dead horse in Bennett.
After the bed had been made and the supplies stored in the tent, and
more wood cut, there was nothing to be done; so Hugh went off among the
tents on a "mooch round"--with an eye for beef-steak! George, acting as
cook, stayed at home.
John also went sight-seeing. He took a different trail from his friend,
crossed to the west side of the stream that led from Lake Lindeman to
Lake Bennett, and walked in the direction of a smoke stack, the local
saw-mill, half a mile distant.
As he strolled through the array of tents, he heard angry voices
proceeding from one of them.
"I tell you he's no good," one was shouting. "I had to pull most all the
way up the Chilkoot--him saying he had rheumatism, backache, toothache,
heartburn--everything but the mumps, for them I could see. An' then,
when we did get over the summit, it's me who had to do all the pulling."
"It's a lie--you're a low dog; and didn't I have to take whisky along
before you'd travel at all? I tell you, Mr. Policeman, he's no good,
he's a skunk, and I wouldn't take a skunk into Dawson with me, not if I
never got there, nor never saw the million dollar claim I guess I'm
going to get--if ever I get there."
John, passing beside the tent, could see the two disputants each seated
on a log of wood, with a red-coated policeman standing in front of them.
"Well," said the policeman, "if you fellows can't get on together, the
only thing to do is split up the outfit and each take what belongs to
him."
"I own the whole outfit," said the man with the many diseases.
"No, you don't; I own the tent, the stove, the sleigh, and a whole lot
of the grub," shouted the other.
John passed on. Another petty problem for the Mounted Police! They are
great men, great workers, those yellow-legs!
There were some industrious 'prentices at Lake Bennett, for down along
the shore were numerous groups of men, building boats.
"Like beef-steak?" asked Hugh, as John returned.
"Yes--rather."
A big frying-pan, with sizzling meat, was busy on the little tin camp
stove.
"Keep an eye on the meat, John, while I get some water."
Hugh took a pail and went off to the river.
George Bruce was away with an axe getting wood, so John was left in
charge. Shortly afterwards George came along, hauling a log of firewood
by an axe driven into it. John ran to assist him, and when the two had
returned with the wood Hugh was arriving with the water. John again
turned his attention to the frying-pan: the largest piece of steak was
gone!
"What has happened to the steak?" John asked.
Hugh looked. A grim smile came over his face.
"Dude!"
"Dude could not steal steak out of a frying-pan?"
"Not Dude? You bet your life that's where the steak has gone to. And
there is no use licking him; the only way to cure Dude of stealing is to
cut his tail off behind his ears. I told you Dude would rather steal
than eat: and this shows how careful you must be."
Dude was lying a picture of innocence on the snow. How he could maintain
an appearance of unconcern with a broiling hot beef-steak inside him was
a marvel! John looked at him amazed: the smallest slit of a black eye
was watching him.
"I was only away about three minutes."
"Half a minute is enough for Dude. He likes beef-steak!"
Hugh refilled the pan and then--civilization knows no artifice to better
the enjoyment of such a meal!
They were partakers, too, of another repast--their souls were fed by the
glories of nature: the sun was setting; its splendour spread from high
in the heavens to the rugged range that yesterday had resisted them. On
that vast canvas were painted salmon-coloured clouds with long ribbons
of yellow, bearing the lustre of burnished gold.
It was the extreme of grandeur, awe-inspiring and ennobling. The evening
was very still.