Stratemeyer Edward
To Alaska for Gold: or, The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon

CHAPTER VIII.
ON THE WAY TO JUNEAU

"Get up, Randy! Don't you know we are to start for Alaska to-day?" cried Earl, at six o'clock on the following morning. "Come now, turn out."

"Oh my, but I'm tired still!" grumbled Randy, as he stretched himself. Nevertheless, he hopped out of bed a moment later and was dressed almost as soon as his brother. They had barely finished when their uncle came to summon them to breakfast.

"We'll hunt up those tools and then I have a little private business to attend to," announced Foster Portney. "So we must move lively."

Breakfast, the last meal to be eaten in San Francisco, was quickly disposed of, and then followed a half-hour's inspection of various picks, shovels, and gold-washing pans at a hardware store that made a specialty of miners' tools. The boys were greatly interested, and, as Earl said, it made them feel more like prospectors to own a pick and a shovel each. The final bundle was made and shipped to the steamboat dock, and Foster Portney left them.

"Meet me at the dock at eleven o'clock," he said, as he hurried away.

The boys had still several private matters to be settled. Their trunks were to be sold, also some old clothing. At the hotel they obtained the addresses of several dealers in second-hand goods, and they had one of the dealers call and look at the stuff. He offered ten dollars for the lot; and, as they did not see their way to doing better, they accepted his terms, and the goods were removed without delay.

"Let us take a walk around while we have the chance," said Earl. "It is only ten o'clock."

Randy was willing, and off they started up Market Street to the City Hall, and then back and into Montgomery and Kearney streets, taking in all the sights as they went. Almost before they knew it, it was time to go to the wharf.

"We don't want to keep Uncle Foster waiting," said Earl; but when they reached the wharf their uncle was nowhere in sight.

The crowd which had collected to see the gold seekers off was a large one, and more people kept coming every moment. The almost magic name, Klondike, was on every tongue, and there were hundreds who expressed the wish that they were going along.

"Alaska is full of gold!" one man declared. "Full of gold! All you've got to do is to locate it."

"That's just it," said Earl to his brother. "If you can locate it you're all right; if not – " and he finished by a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"You're not sorry we're going, are you?" demanded Randy, quickly.

"Sorry? Not a bit of it. But it doesn't pay to be too sanguine, Randy, my boy."

Quarter of an hour passed, and the jam on the dock began to become uncomfortable. Brawny men predominated, but there were also many others there, – wives to bid good-by to their husbands, girls to wish their lovers good-luck, and children to catch a last embrace from their parents. Many of the women were in tears, and a number of other eyes were moist, and altogether the scene was rather a sober one.

"What can be keeping Uncle Foster?" asked Randy, as the minutes to the time for sailing slipped by. "I don't see him anywhere, do you?"

Earl did not, and he was as anxious as his brother. Back and forth they pushed their way, but without success. Then Earl looked at the silver watch he carried. "Ten minutes to twelve!" he ejaculated.

"Let us go on board and stand where Uncle Foster can see us," suggested Randy, in a tone of voice which was far from steady. Supposing their uncle should not turn up, what should they do? To go alone on that trip seemed out of the question.

Luckily they had their tickets, so getting on board was not difficult. A number of the passengers glanced at them curiously.

"Goin' ter Alaska?" asked one brawny fellow whose face was almost entirely concealed by his tangled beard. "Well, well! Ain't yer most afraid ye'll git done up?"

"We'll try to keep on top," answered Earl. The fellow wished to continue the conversation, but both Earl and Randy were too impatient just then to listen to him, and moved off to another part of the boat.

Five minutes more had passed and an officer was going around shouting: "All ashore that's going! We sail in five minutes!" Those to be left behind began to pass over the gang-plank – it was a hasty handshake and a last good-by on every side. The boys looked at each other doubtfully.

"If he doesn't come – " began Earl, when his quick eye caught sight in the crowd of a hat that he recognized. "Uncle Foster! Uncle Foster Portney! Come on board!" he yelled, at the top of his sturdy lungs.

Mr. Portney, in the jam of people below, heard and looked up. In a moment he had caught sight of his nephews and he shook his hand at them. Soon he was mounting the gang-plank, the last of the passengers to come on board. He was out of breath and gave the boys an odd smile.

"I suppose I gave you a scare," he said. "I didn't mean to be so late, but those business matters took longer than I intended, and then there was a blockade of street cars and I had to walk it. But we're all right now, I reckon," he added, gazing around. "Good-by to San Francisco! When we see her again may our pockets be lined with gold!" And he took off his soft felt hat and waved it at the crowd on shore.

The boat was now swinging clear of the wharf and thousands of hats and handkerchiefs were waving. "There she goes!" "Hurrah for Alaska!" "If you strike it rich, let us know!" "God be with you!" These and a hundred other cries rang out, and they were kept up until the steamer was far out in the stream and on her way up the bay to the Golden Gate.

The run to the Gate did not take long, and by the middle of the afternoon the steamer was standing out boldly into the Pacific Ocean, on her way almost due north. It had been rather muggy, and now a heavy mist set in, and by evening the boys were glad enough to leave the deck and arrange their stateroom. It contained four berths, two for themselves, one for Mr. Portney, and the last for a stranger who was down on the ship's list as Captain Luke Zoss.

"I wonder who Captain Zoss can be?" said Randy to Earl, when the door of the stateroom was suddenly flung open, and the bushy-bearded man who had spoken to them on deck came in. He stared at them in surprise for a second, then burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Wall! wall! So it's you as are goin' ter be my messmates on this yere trip!" he exclaimed. "All right, lads, glad ter have ye." He held out a brawny hand. "My handle is Luke Zoss, but most of the boys know me as Cap'n Luke. May I be so inquisitive as to ask your names?"

"My name is Earl Portney, and this is my brother Randy," answered Earl. The hearty way of the stranger pleased him, and he was sure he should like Zoss.

"Portney, eh? I used ter know a man by thet name – Foster Portney, o' Colorady."

"Why, he's our uncle, and he is with us!" cried Randy, and just then his uncle came in, and he and Captain Zoss shook hands. They had met in Creede, where Zoss had once been a mining superintendent, and knew each other quite well.

"All bound fer the Klondike!" exclaimed the captain. "Hooray! We're sure to strike it, eh, Portney? I know you wouldn't be a-goin' thar unless gold was to be picked up. Goin' over Chilkoot Pass, I take it." Foster Portney nodded. "Then we might as well stick together, eh? It will be better than pairing off with somebody as might be wuss nor a hoss thief, eh? O' course it would!"

Again the captain shook hands. Then he asked the boys where they came from and was pleased to learn they were used to a life in the open air.

"I was a lumberman myself onct – up in Michigan," he said. "But thar wasn't enough excitement, so I gave it up to seek gold and silver. Minin' and prospectin' just suit me – leas'wise so long as the grub holds out. One thing is in our favor – scarcity o' men up in them new gold fields. Now, down in Colorady it's different – all overrun with men, eh, Portney?"

"Yes, we'll have rather an open field," answered Foster Portney. And then followed a long discussion about the new gold fields and what might be expected when Dyea was reached and the terrible climb over the mountains began. The discussion lasted until ten o'clock, and the boys listened with interest and picked up many stray bits of information. Both concluded that the overland trip to the mines would prove every bit as rough and dangerous as they had pictured it.

The distance from San Francisco to Juneau, Alaska, is, in round figures, one thousand miles. The Golden Hope was not as large as a regular ocean liner, yet she was a fast boat, and it was expected that she would cover the distance inside of four days. Much, of course, would depend upon the weather encountered, for she was heavily loaded with both passengers and freight. The freight had given even the owners concern, for much of it was piled high on the outer decks.

On the second day out, and some time after Cape Blanco had been sighted through the glass, the sky to the westward began to darken, and the sailors announced an approaching storm. Soon the sun went under a heavy bank of clouds and a stiff breeze sprung up which threw the long, heavy swells of the ocean into millions of whitecaps, dancing and skipping on every side as far as eye could reach.

"We are in for it now," was the announcement which went the rounds. Presently it began to rain, and all endeavored to seek the shelter of the cabin, which speedily became crowded to suffocation. The boys, their uncle, and Captain Zoss were in the forward part of the boat, and they saw the course changed, so that the Golden Hope stood out straight to meet the blow.

"We are going to have no fun of this," said Foster Portney, with a grave shake of his head. "If I know anything about matters, that storm will be an extra heavy one." And the events of the next hour proved that he was right.

CHAPTER IX.
THE FATE OF A STOWAWAY

"My gracious! We're going to the bottom sure!"

It was Randy who made the observation. The storm had struck the steamer in all its fury, and the pitching of the vessel made it almost impossible for a person to keep his feet. Randy clutched a handrail fastened near by, and Earl did the same; while Mr. Portney and Captain Zoss braced up against a ceiling post. The only thing that kept many from falling was the fact that there was no vacant floor space. "They were in it like sardines in a tin," as Randy expressed it.

"Some of the outside freight is bound to go," remarked Foster Portney, a minute later. "Ah, as I thought – the captain has ordered it cut away. There goes some poor fellows' outfits! Too bad!"

"I hope our stuff isn't among it!" cried Earl. "But they'll be responsible, won't they?"

"Yes, they'll be responsible, Earl. But we don't want their money – we want our goods, for it may be difficult, if not impossible, to duplicate the things at Juneau. But I imagine our goods are in the hold."

"Our clothing and provisions are," said Randy. "I saw them put down just before we started. But the tools may be out there."

"If they – " began Captain Zoss, but broke off short as a mighty crash was heard from the rear deck. The crash was followed by the jingle of broken glass and sharp cries of pain and alarm.

There was every evidence of a panic, but the cooler heads restored order, and then it was found that a miner's outfit had caused all the trouble. It had been loosened from the deck, but before it could be thrown overboard a lurch of the steamer had sent it sailing through the air straight through a cabin window. The miner to whom the outfit belonged had been one of those to be most scared by its unceremonious entrance.

For three hours the storm raged in all its fury, and during that time no one but the officers and crew were allowed on deck. Nearly all the outside freight was thrown away, a loss which amounted to several thousand dollars. At last the wind and the rain gradually abated, and by nightfall the Golden Hope was again proceeding on her journey northward.

On the following day they ran by Vancouver Island, and it was calculated that they would reach Juneau by noon of the day following. All were anxious concerning the outfits which had been lost overboard, and the miners and officers tried to make out a list of them. The work proceeded all day, and it was not until nightfall that it was learned positively that the goods belonging to the Portneys and to Captain Zoss were safe.

The first sight of Juneau was rather disappointing to the boys, who had expected to see a much larger place. Juneau is but a small town, lying on the western coast of a peninsula formed by the Lynn Canal and the wide mouth of the Taku River. Directly opposite is Douglas Island. The town lies on a small patch of flat ground, backed up by several high mountains. It is principally a trading centre. The harbor is a fairly good one, and, on account of the rush to the gold fields, the stores were increasing constantly.

As soon as the steamer reached her landing place a wild rush for shore ensued, and then began a hunt for some vessel which might take the party up to Dyea, where the journey by water would, for the present, come to an end. The water up the Lynn Canal, as it is termed, although it is not at all a canal as we know them, and through Dyea Inlet, is shallow, and, consequently, ocean steamers do not go beyond Juneau.

"I'll hunt up passage on some boat," said Foster Portney to the boys. "You remain here and watch our goods. Those fellows who lost their outfits are angry enough, and some of them would like nothing better than to appropriate ours and let us look to the steamboat company for redress."

While he was gone, the task of bringing the goods from the steamer's hold was started, for no one wanted to be delayed in Juneau any longer than was necessary. Randy and Earl watched the work closely, and as soon as their things appeared they claimed them and had the lot transferred to a spot at the end of the rather rotten and shaky dock.

Presently, as they stood waiting for the reappearance of their uncle and Captain Zoss, who had gone with Mr. Portney, they noticed a commotion on board the Golden Hope. A stowaway had been found in the hold of the vessel, and the sailors and stevedores had brought the fellow out more dead than alive.

"Get off of here!" cried the captain of the steamer, in a rage, as he booted the fellow not once, but half a dozen times. "Get out, I say! If we were down in San Francisco I'd have you locked up in a minute. It's a pity I didn't find you out when we were on the trip – I'd a-made you work your passage, and more! Go, before I heave you overboard!"

And with a final kick the stowaway was run off the gang-plank, to fall in a heap on the dock, too weak from the confinement and want of proper food to stand.

"It's Fred Dobson!" ejaculated Randy. "Oh, Earl, look!"

"It is Fred, true enough!" replied Earl, as much surprised as his brother. Forgetful of their outfits for the time being, both ran forward and picked up the son of the squire of Basco. Fred's eyes were closed, his face was as white as chalk, and they saw at a glance that he had fainted.

"Get some water, Randy," said Earl, as he began to work over the prostrate figure. "I wonder if there is a doctor handy. He looks as if he was half starved to death."

As Randy ran off, a crowd began to collect, a few to sympathize, but the majority to look on merely in curiosity or to make audible comments that it served the boy right, since he had no business to steal a trip.

"Got a crazy notion to go to the gold fields, I reckon," said one bystander. "He ought to be home where his mamma could spank him."

At this there was a coarse laugh, which was quickly hushed when another man, a young fellow of not more than twenty-three, stepped forward, and announced that he was a doctor. He soon succeeded in bringing Fred around.

"He wants something to eat as much as anything," said the newcomer. "There is a restaurant over yonder. Better take him there and get him some soup and stale bread – his stomach isn't strong enough to bear a regular meal."

Randy and Earl thanked the doctor and did as advised, while the crowd gradually melted away to tend to its own affairs. Fred was ravenously hungry, yet he ate with difficulty when the food was set before him.

"I've had nothing to eat for about forty hours," he said, when he felt strong enough to talk. "I spent that four dollars you two gave me in buying provisions, crackers, cheese, and the like, but on the second day out the rats got at the crackers and cheese and ate nearly the whole of them. Then one of my bottles of water was smashed during that storm, and though it was as close as pepper down there I hadn't a mouthful to drink. I thought I was going to die just before they opened the hold and began to remove the cargo."

"But, Fred, what made you do it?" asked Earl, reproachfully. "It was the height of foolishness."

"I'm bound to go to the gold fields, Earl. You two are going there to make a fortune, and why can't I make a fortune, too?"

"Because you are not fit for life out there, that's why. You suffered a good deal in coming this far, but let me tell you that I expect to suffer a good deal more than that before the Klondike River is reached and we have endured the hardships of an Alaskan winter. Supposing you succeed in getting away up in Alaska and are taken sick, who is going to care for you, and how are you going to get back home? Now I don't want to preach, but my advice is, to go back to Basco at once."

"And that's my advice, too, Fred," broke in Randy. "I know you are as old as I am, but you know you never did such work as Earl and I are used to, and some of the experienced miners even laugh at us. If Uncle Foster hadn't known that we were used to hard work out in the open, in midwinter at that, he would never have dreamed of asking us to go with him; he told us so."

Randy and Earl both spoke earnestly, and it was not their fault that what they had to say did not take effect. But Fred Dobson was both wild and reckless, and he shook his head.

"I'm bound to go if I have to walk the rest of the way," he said. "I thought I would strike your uncle again when we reached the place, but if you are so dead set against me I'll not say another word, but try to paddle my own canoe, as the saying is. Of course I'm much obliged for what you did for me in San Francisco and here, and some day I'll make it up to you, see if I don't."

"We don't want you to make it up, Fred; only act sensible and steer for home when you next strike out," said Earl. He was about to go on, when the entrance of his uncle and Captain Zoss into the restaurant caused him to stop.

"Humph! so you've turned up again!" were Foster Portney's words. "I heard there had been a stowaway on board of the Golden Hope. It was the most foolish move you could make, lad." The prospector turned to his youngest nephew. "Randy, where are our outfits?"

"Oh my!" burst out Randy, leaping to his feet. "Earl, we forgot all about them!"

Earl said nothing, but he reached the door of the restaurant almost as quickly as his brother. There was a crowd in the roadway outside, but they quickly forced a passage through, and ran for the steamer dock. A large number of outfits were spread here, there, and everywhere, but the spot where they had left those belonging to their own party was vacant.

CHAPTER X.
UP THE LYNN CANAL

Randy and Earl gazed about them in hopeless bewilderment. The outfits belonging to themselves, their uncle, and to Captain Zoss were gone. Who had taken them, and was there any chance of recovery?

"We should have looked after them," said Earl, bitterly. "It was foolishness to leave the stuff, especially after Uncle Foster had warned us."

"I wonder if any of those miners who lost their outfits from the steamer are guilty," said Randy, as they started on another tour of the Juneau wharf. "I remember one fellow with a red beard and a scar on his nose who looked at the stuff rather closely when we came ashore."

"Let us start to make inquiries, Randy. We must get our outfits back. If we don't, Uncle Foster will never forgive us."

"Yes, and we'll be in a pickle besides," groaned the younger brother. "By the look of things in this settlement mining outfits are rather scarce."

"Yes, I heard one man saying that about everything worth having had been gobbled up several weeks ago and the storekeepers were awaiting new consignments from San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle."

With anxious hearts they walked around the wharf and along a side road, also piled high with miners' goods and steamer freight. Presently a man joined them. It was Captain Zoss.

"Well, whar's our packs?" he questioned, and looked glum when told of what had occurred. "By the boots, lads, we must find 'em – ain't no two ways about that! Why, to go to the mines without tools would be wuss nor a hen sittin' on a nest without eggs. Been all over the dock, yer say?" He paused an instant. "I'll make a round o' the saloons. If the things was stolen, like as not the thieves would want to git 'em out of sight in quick order, eh?"

He was about to leave them, when they were hailed by a man standing near the entrance to a new store that was going up on the opposite side of the way. It was the doctor who had so kindly come to Fred Dobson's assistance.

"What's up?" he called out. "Looking for your traps? They're all right. I had them brought up here for safe keeping when you went off with the sick lad. I knew they wouldn't be secure down on the wharf. There are half a dozen quarrels on down there over lost and mixed-up baggage."

Randy and Earl felt much relieved, and so did the captain. They ran over to the new store, and sure enough, everything was there in a heap, alongside of the packs owned by the doctor. They thanked the medical man for his kindness, and a short talk followed. The doctor's name was Kenneth Barwaithe, and he was an Englishman who had practised for a year in Victoria. He, too, was bound for the new gold fields, either for mining purposes, or to set himself up in business.

"The hundreds of miners going up there will need doctoring," he explained. "And I am all prepared to dose them with medicine, set a broken leg, amputate an arm, or pull an aching tooth."

"Thar'll be work for you," said Captain Zoss, with a laugh. "But the wust disease up thar will be one ye can't touch nohow."

"Indeed! And what is that?" questioned Kenneth Barwaithe, with interest.

"Starvation," was the solemn reply.

In order to relieve their uncle of further anxiety, Randy and Earl returned to where they had left Mr. Portney. They found him in earnest conversation with Fred Dobson. The face of the squire's son was very red and his eyes were downcast.

"I'll write home at once," they heard Fred say, in a low voice. "I'm glad Earl wrote from San Francisco. My folks will at least know I am alive and well – that is, as well as a fellow can be who was half starved to death," he added ruefully.

"And you ought to go home, lad – it's the proper place for you."

"Well, maybe I will – after I have earned enough around here to take me, Mr. Portney."

Foster Portney's hand was in his pocket, and Earl and Randy saw him hand Fred a ten-dollar bill. "Pay me back whenever you feel rich enough to do so," he said, and the squire's son gave him a ready promise to that effect.

Foster Portney and Captain Zoss had been fortunate enough to secure passage up to Dyea, on a little steamboat, which was to leave early the next day. The craft was a freight boat, but carried passengers whenever she could get them. No time was lost in transferring their goods to this craft, Fred Dobson helping them carry their loads. Doctor Barwaithe had also secured passage in the craft, and soon became one of the party. Later on, matters were talked over by him and the others, and it was agreed that the five should stick together until the Klondike region was reached. The forming of little parties of five or more was popular among those who travelled by the overland route into Alaska. By such means there was less danger of a man getting lost in the mountains, and the preparation of meals along the way was easier, for each man of a party took his turn at feeding the rest, so that only one set of packs had to be unstrapped and packed again, instead of the lot. Besides this, the building and sailing of a boat down the lakes and through the rapids by one man was next to impossible.

It was very difficult to obtain accommodations at any of the so-styled hotels in Juneau, so all hands encamped for the night on the deck of the freighter, Fred Dobson managing to smuggle himself in with the regular party. In the morning Fred approached the captain of the boat for a situation, but was turned off in language far from fit to transcribe to these pages.

"Got more on board than we want now, boy, so git ashore in a hurry, for we're on the point of sailing," and with a wistful good-by to Randy, Earl, and the others, the squire's son leaped to the dock. Five minutes later the lines were cast off, and the wheezy, overloaded craft started northward on the Lynn Canal.

The distance from Juneau to Dyea is a hundred and eighteen miles, past Berner's Bay and Katsehan River into Chilkoot Inlet and finally up Dyea Inlet. The run for the most part is past gigantic glaciers on one side and mountains covered with snow and ice on the other.

"Gracious, this is a touch of winter and no mistake!" ejaculated Randy, as the steamboat ploughed steadily on her way, and they stood by the rail taking in the desolate sight. "See how those little icebergs sparkle in the sunshine."

"Far off to the west of this canal is the great Muir Glacier," said Foster Portney. "It is the largest glacier in the world. That island which we just passed is Douglas, and there is situated the great Treadwell Mine, one of the richest gold mines heretofore discovered in Alaska."

"Have we got to climb mountains like that?" questioned Earl, as he pointed to the snow-capped summits to the eastward.

"Have we got to climb 'em?" burst in Captain Zoss. "Why, them ain't an ant hill to the ones we're to crawl over, lad. Just wait till we get up into Dyea Inlet, and you'll catch sight o' mountains as will give you the yellow shakes, as the boys call it. Now I don't want to discourage ye," he went on, as he saw Earl take a deep breath. "I want to prepare ye for the wust, that's all. That pass – the Chilkoot – is the wust part o' the whole trip, being about three-quarters of a mile high and betwixt mountains twice that size."

"Well, we can climb three-quarters of a mile, I guess, if the grade isn't too steep," said Randy.

The captain turned away and smiled to himself. He was more than doubtful if the boys would ever get safely over to Lake Linderman, the first of the lakes on the other side of the mountain range.

It was well that they had dressed themselves warmly; for, on account of the sun shining on the glaciers the air was filled with a mist which chilled them to the bone. The channel was filled with loose pieces of ice, and ever and anon the steamer would strike a miniature iceberg with a crash which was clearly heard by all on board.

After a few hours of gazing at the monotonous presentation of glaciers and snow-covered hills and mountains, the boys turned their attention to those on board. It was a motley collection of people. Most of the men were Americans, but there was also a fair sprinkling of Canadians, Germans, and half a dozen Indians. The latter were of the Chilkoot tribe, and interested Randy more than anything else. They were a round-faced, stalwart set of fellows, and several of them had bands of black painted across the upper parts of their faces.

"They paint the black around their eyes as a preventive of snow-blindness," explained Foster Portney. "As soon as either of you find your eyes hurting from the glare you had better put on a pair of the smoked goggles."

Dinner on the steamer was served under the rather scanty shelter on the upper deck. But fifteen could be accommodated at once, and as there were over sixty people on board, it took some time to satisfy them all. The fare was principally beef stew, bread, coffee, and rice pudding, but the cold air gave every one a good appetite, and the boys did full justice to all that was offered them.

At turning-in time there was more than one little row, for sleeping accommodations were limited. Berths were at a premium, and had been secured by the more fortunate ones when the steamer had landed at Juneau. Foster Portney gathered his party around him in the shelter of the wheelhouse, on deck, and here they slept huddled together like sheep in a cattle car.

"Not like stopping at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, is it?" said his uncle to Randy. "But never mind; as soon as we leave Dyea we'll have all the room we want, and more."

"Sleeping like this keeps a fellow warm," said Randy, who felt somehow as if he was out for a lark. But by and by, when somebody passed over him in the dark and slipped on his chest, he did not think it quite so much fun.

However, the night passed quickly enough, and at daybreak all were stirring, for they had reached Dyea Inlet, and a landing was expected before noon. A stiff breeze was blowing, and the Inlet, a long, narrow arm of Chilkoot Inlet and the canal, was filled with angry waves blowing from off shore. Presently the first sight of Dyea was gained, and half an hour later an anchor was dropped, and the voyage so far as the steamer was concerned was over.