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[Illustration: _The heart of Alaska in winter_]
THE TRAIL OF A
SOURDOUGH
_Life in Alaska_
BY
MAY KELLOGG SULLIVAN
_Author of "A Woman Who Went to Alaska"_
[Illustration: ARTI et VERITATI]
RICHARD G. BADGER
THE GORHAM PRESS
BOSTON
Copyright 1910 by Richard G. Badger
All Rights Reserved
THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U. S. A.
SOURDOUGH DEFINED
While the word _Sourdough_ (sour dough) is perfectly familiar to those
in Alaska and along the Pacific Coast it may not be amiss to give a
brief explanation to our Eastern readers.
A _Sourdough_ is a miner who has spent one winter in Alaska and "has
seen the ice go out." Mrs. Sullivan is a _Sourdough_ herself. In all she
has made seven trips to Alaska extending over a period of ten years.
When miners are beyond the pale of civilization, with a supply of flour
but no baking powder, yeast or potatoes, they cut from each batch of
bread dough a little piece, to be kept until it turns sour, and then
used as leaven for the next baking.
It is through this custom that the miners themselves came to be called
sourdoughs.
PREFACE
This little book is my second Brain-child. The first, entitled "A Woman
Who Went to Alaska," has been so cordially received by the reading
public that I have been induced to send another in its footsteps. It is
with great pleasure and perfect confidence that I do this.
To my Alaskan readers it is unnecessary to state that these little tales
are deduced from every day life, as they are easily recognizable. To
those not yet favored by a residence in this Northland I would say that
I have written each tale with a well defined purpose. With truthfulness
could each one have been more vividly, yes startlingly, told; but I have
no wish to unduly disturb my readers. It has been my aim, however, to
picture not only character, but also the vast and wonderful gold
producing region, so plainly that even the young may better know Alaska,
and learn somewhat from glimpses of the trials, privations and successes
of its early pioneers.
To these last Trail-blazers no "_Chee-chako_" can ever do justice. Their
courage, bravery, patience under difficulties, and stoicism under severe
trial can never be properly appreciated except by their fellow
sufferers.
My readers will find in the book much of the folklore and a touch of the
mysticism so common to all people of the northland.
Counting myself one of the least among them I have been a witness to
their struggles and triumphs, and for this reason I do most heartily
dedicate this little book to the memory of each horny-handed pack-laden
miner "musher" who has ever lifted a finger to assist, encourage, or
strengthen the author of The Trail of a Sourdough.
The name of these helpers is Legion. That their cabins may be warm and
roomy, winter dumps high and numerous, sluice boxes filled with nuggets,
and lives long and happy is the earnest wish of
MAY KELLOGG SULLIVAN
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
_I The Miner's Reasons_ 11
_II Under the Tundra_ 22
_III The Hidden Ledge_ 44
_IV A New Klondyke_ 81
_V Estella the Eskimo_ 106
_VI Why Midas Failed_ 132
_VII The Old Stone House_ 172
_VIII A Miner's Own Story_ 192
_IX Eyllen's Water Witch_ 214
_ILLUSTRATIONS_
_Page._
_The Heart of Alaska in Winter_ _frontispiece_
_A Huskie_ 21
_Dressed in his fresh miner's rig_ 25
_A welcome shelter_ 43
_The scene on shore was a repetition of
that on the neighboring beach at
Skagway_ 51
_A Messenger of cheer_ 80
_Panning out_ 105
_Upon his mother's back, beneath her
parkie_ 115
_The little one clinging tightly to her hand
she approached the door_ 121
_The pretty woman was a full-blooded
Eskimo_ _to face page_ 138
_Poling up the river_ 171
_When Old Tillie was Young_ 181
_She scanned the horizon_ _to face page_ 216
_"Holy Mother Mary! I believe it's gold"_ 223
_Father Peter_ 229
_The Lord of the Northland_ 258
_The cover design is a picture of Cape Nome, Alaska._
The Trail of a Sourdough
CHAPTER I
THE MINER'S REASONS
A furious blizzard was raging. Six or eight miners of various ages were
huddled around the stove in a little road-house where they were likely
to remain storm-bound for several days.
"Chuck some more wood into that bloomin' fire and fill up my pipe if you
fellers want a yarn from me," said one, when they had besieged him for a
story with which to pass the time.
"You wanted to know yesterday when I staked that claim for the woman,
who and where she is, also my reasons for stakin' it; and I promised to
tell you when I got the chance. One or two of you grumbled considerable
at my stakin' for a person away in the States, and maybe when I have
finished my story you won't feel any different; but I can't help it, and
it is none of your ---- business. The deed is done, and well done, and
Rosa Nell (that ain't her name, as you can see by the initial stake if
you want to dig it out from under the snow) is the half owner today of
one of the handsomest quartz ledges on the whole Seward Peninsula. Walls
of grey slate and trachyte, and the yellow stuff is good and plenty.
Zounds, boys! I wish I had a bumper," and the speaker threw his furry
cap to the ceiling.
"Never mind the bumper, pard, you know it's the last of March when no
live mining camp in this country has a thing but empty bottles to bump
with. Behold the size of the glass dump outside yonder if you don't
believe me", remarked the keeper of the place in vindication of his
house; but with sore regret in his voice.
"The story, the story! We want the story", sang out one and another by
the stove, "the fire is just a whoopin' and 'twill soon be goin' out".
"Well, then, here goes," said the miner addressed. "It happened two
years ago. I sold one of my Nome claims for fifteen hundred dollars with
slight prospecting, (like a blasted fool that I was) and after blowin'
in a good third or more of the money concluded to buy a thousand dollar
outfit and go to Norton Sound. It was late in October; the storms came
on, and the upshot of it was that we were ship-wrecked off the coast and
were finally put in at a small camp nearly a hundred miles from where we
wanted to winter. I had taken two men with me named Long and Hartley,
and though we saved, by hard fightin' in one way and another, the most
of our supplies, we were without shelter, except a couple of tents, with
an Arctic winter--our first in this country, upon us.
"Gee-Whilikins! Boys, it makes my black hair white to think of it! What
we suffered for two months in those tents was awful; for the camp was
full and there was not a vacant cabin anywhere. If there had been, you
know we were absolutely without money to buy or build with. How I cursed
myself for havin' foolishly spent hundreds of dollars on 'box rustlers'
at the Casino,--but that is another story, boys, so we'll pass it.
"In our new camp we had many Eskimos and all kinds of people. Among
others there was a little blue-eyed woman perhaps thirty years of age;
maybe more--maybe less. She was also evidently not where she had
intended to be, just like ourselves, but was a teacher, left over from
some stranded expedition, probably. Anyhow, there she was, and there we
were. We a-livin' in the tents, and the thermometer forty degrees below
zero. The teacher was stayin' with some of the Missionary folks only a
quarter of a mile away, and she was all right.
"In December the dogs of the camp began to go mad. Every few days one or
two had to be killed. Some men, you know, don't water their dogs once in
six weeks, if at all, and as everything is froze hard in winter, the
poor brutes go mad, exactly as in summer in the States, from heat.
"One night, Long and I smoked in the little road-house close by, but
Hartley went to his bunk in the tent and turned in. He had not slept,
but lay with closed eyes, he said, tryin' hard to get warm under his fur
robe; when the tent flap was brushed aside, and in rushed a mad dog,
snapping and foaming. At the first movement Hartley supposed we had
returned to go to bed, but was instantly undeceived as the crazy brute
made directly for him.
"Hartley threw out his hands and leaped from his bunk, seizing an axe
that lay upon the floor. With that he made for the dog, and finally
drove him from the tent; but only after he had been badly bitten in
several places.
"The first we knew he rushed in, half dressed, where we were. He was
pale with fright, covered with blood, and his eyes seemed starting from
their sockets.
"Whiskey, for God's sake!' he pleaded, panting for breath. 'Hydrophobia,
and so far from home. This is hard lines, ain't it, boys?' between
gulps, the blood dripping from the hand that tremblingly held the glass.
"With that he broke down utterly and cried like a baby. We washed and
dressed his wounds as best we could, and put him to bed in the
road-house as it was then past midnight, while three of the boys rigged
themselves in their furs and hunted the blasted brute that had done the
mischief. They found him gnashing his teeth alongside an outhouse, and a
good dose of cold pills settled him forever.
"Next mornin' we sent a man to the little teacher to ask for medicine
for Hartley, and immediately she and another woman came over. They
brought lint bandages, carbolic acid, and other things and bathed the
wounds; but, best of all, they cheered up the poor fellow by telling him
that he need have no fear of hydrophobia, as the bite of the Eskimo dogs
in winter does not have the same effect that the bite of other dogs has
in hot weather. By the repeated visits and ministrations of the women,
poor Hartley, in a few weeks, recovered.
"However, the little teacher was not satisfied. She knew we must suffer
terribly in our tents, and wanted us to make other arrangements. At last
she thought of a plan for us: An old log school-house, long since
deserted for the new one built near by, was unused except as a
store-room. This building had been originally made warm and tight by
moss chinking, a heavy door, and closely caulked windows. Some of the
latter were now broken, and the snow sifted in upon the dirt floor, but
these things could be remedied.
"The little woman had planned it all before we knew it. She had asked
and gained consent of the owners before she opened her story up to us.
The baggage then in the cabin was to be piled in one corner, the
windows were to be mended as well as possible along with the chimney in
the middle of the roof; and for a trifling consideration each month we
were to have the use of the building. It was a god-send to three men
only partly sheltered by canvas in January, latitude sixty-five; and if
you don't believe me, boys, just try tents yourselves next winter, and
find out.
"Did we spend the remainder of the winter in that old school-house? You
bet we did. After puttin' considerable time on the old chimney, makin'
some new stove-pipe and a patent damper of our own from coal-oil cans,
and usin' the sides of some of the same in place of glass in the
windows, we did get fixed some sort of comfortable. Anyhow, we had a
house over our heads that could not blow down in a blizzard, and a solid
door which kept out mad dogs at night. To be sure, when the spring rains
came, the roof of turf, upon which the grass began to grow, leaked in
several places; but we spread our canvas tent over it, weighted it down
with stones at the corners, and got along finely.
"The gist of my story is still to come. One day along in February the
little woman sent for me. She wanted to see me very particular, the
messenger said. When I saw her a few minutes later her eyes were shinin'
like stars in the night time. She wanted me to go with another man to
stake a creek about fifteen miles to the north of us. She had heard from
some source that the creek was good.
"Would I go the next day if she furnished the outfit? Of course I said,
yes, and our plans were hastily laid for the next day. We had some
trouble to get good dogs for the trip, and before our preparations were
completed the whole camp was onto our racket and wanted to go along.
"Now, you know on such occasions, above all others, one does not want
the whole country at one's heels, so we tried our best to shake them. We
postponed our trip until the second day; the women in the meantime
gettin' our grub cooked. We then took the bells off our dog collars and
packed our sleds behind closed doors; but it was no go. In spite of all
our precautions three dog-teams followed our trail as we slipped
stealthily out of camp at midnight. The moon shone brightly and the
snow was not too deep. The boys kept at a respectful distance behind us,
and we mushed along between low hills mostly up the streams on the ice.
"To make my story shorter, we staked what we wanted of the creek, and
let the other fellows in on what was left. After that, without sleeping,
but with a hasty meal, we put back home again as fast as our dogs would
travel.
"Three months later, when the snow was about gone, and we thought the
time ripe for prospectin', I took my two men and an outfit and gave that
blamed old creek a fair trial. We hustled and rustled to beat the band.
We shovelled, panned, built dams, and worked like beavers in water above
our knees. We moved our tents further up on the bank at midnight at the
risin' of the creek durin' a hard rain--but, egad! after two weeks of
that sort of thing, no gold could we find. Not a color! We cursed and
tore around something fierce among the Queen's English, but it did not
help matters a particle.
"There was no gold there.
"When we reported to the little woman she would not believe a word of
it. She did not think we had tried to find it. Perhaps we had not gone
deep enough. We should have waited until midsummer when we could have
done better work; and a lot of other things of like description. When I
insisted that we had done the very best we possibly could, and that
there was positively no gold there, she still persisted in sayin' she
wanted that bunch of claims recorded. In vain I told her it was no use;
the creek was no good, and to record the claims was a waste of money.
"While I talked, the little woman stood lookin' in an absent-minded way
before her. When I had finished she turned toward me with considerable
spirit, and almost with anger said, the tears comin' into her eyes
meanwhile, 'I will never again ask you to stake a claim for me, so
there! and she ran into the next room and shut the door.
"The claims were never recorded.
"Well, boys, she kept her word, and I wish she hadn't. I would be
willin' to let her pick out creeks for me forever, for, say, let me tell
you, fellows," dropping his voice and taking the pipe from between his
teeth he knocked its ashes out upon the cold hearth, "that creek bed was
solid stream tin; pure cassiterite, the best on the Seward Peninsula,
and a whole fortune for anyone; but we did not know it.
"Next time a woman like that one tells me to do any recordin' of claims
I'll do it, you bet; for somehow, I can't explain it, but there are
others besides Eugene Field's kids who are good at 'seein' things at
night,' and a woman can sometimes feel things that we fellows can't see
in broad daylight.
"Now you have my reasons for stakin' for her yesterday. If any of you
fellows want to kick at what I have done, you can just take it out in
kickin'--yourselves. Our new ledge is a jim-dandy; and seem' as I
cheated the woman out of her cassiterite, I'm bound to make it good in
yellow gold.
"But I'm goin' to turn in now, boys, and I'll listen to you to-morrow.
Good night."
[Illustration]