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

CHAPTER XI.
THE START FROM DYEA

Randy and Earl found Dyea but a small settlement. There was one store which had been established for some time, and half a dozen others which had sprung up to accommodate the miners and adventurers who were pouring into the place. The total white population did not number a hundred, but there were a very large number of Indians, – men, women, and children, – all anxious to obtain employment as pack-carriers over the mountains.

The steamer had anchored some distance from the beach, and it was no light work to get the packs ashore in the heavy sea that was running. Four small boats were employed for the purpose, and more than one bundle was lost overboard in making the transfer to land.

"There goes one of my packs!" suddenly sang out Dr. Barwaithe, as a small boat loaded high above the gunwales capsized just as the shore was struck. A wild scramble by the miners was made to recover their goods. The doctor would have gone into the icy water also, but he could not swim.

Several Indians who were watching the scene rushed up to the medical man. "Get heem fo' one dolla!" said the largest of the redmen, and the doctor made the bargain on the spot. At once the Indian and his helper leaped into the surf and swam toward the pack, which contained the doctor's clothing and bedding, and was becoming rapidly water soaked. They reached the pack as it was about to sink, and after ten minutes of hard work brought it out on the pebbly shore.

By the middle of the afternoon all hands found themselves encamped along the half-dried-up stream back of the settlement. Here there were nearly a hundred tents of miners and prospectors who were not quite ready to attempt the trip over Chilkoot Pass.

The Indian who had rescued the doctor's pack stuck to the medical man for the job of transferring his goods over to Lake Linderman, stating he and his companions would do the work for fifteen cents a pound.

"What do you think of that rate?" asked Dr. Barwaithe of Foster Portney, while Randy and Earl looked on with interest.

"I don't know but that it's fair enough," was the reply.

"But wouldn't it be better to take horses from here and use Indians only over the pass? You know we have about thirteen miles to travel before the pass is reached."

"We had better take the Indians from here," put in Captain Zoss. "Thar's no tellin' if we can git 'em further on, eh?"

"Yes, and we might as well get used to walking it from here, too," added Mr. Portney. "It will do Randy and Earl some good, not but that I imagine they can tramp as well as any of us."

"We've tramped for many a mile through the Maine woods, when we were out hunting," said Randy. "By the way," he went on, "I haven't seen any game yet, outside of a few birds."

The big Indian, who rejoiced in the name of Salmon Head, was waiting for an answer, his squaw and two boys standing close by. The squaw was a tall, thin woman of forty, whose face was painted a greasy black down to the tip of her nose, the balance of her countenance being left its natural color, yellowish red. The boys were sturdy lads of perhaps ten and twelve, as used to carrying heavy burdens as their parents.

The bargain was struck with Salmon Head to have the goods of the entire party packed over from that spot to the shore of Lake Linderman for fifteen cents a pound, the work to be accomplished within the next four days, weather permitting. The boys had expected to carry some of the goods, but at this Foster Portney shook his head.

"You couldn't carry over forty or fifty pounds and maybe not that over the Pass," he said, "and I would rather pay the price and have you reserve your strength. You can each carry a knapsack filled with food, in case you wander from the trail, although don't let this happen if you can possibly avoid it. The best rule, in going over any pass, is to keep at least two other members of the party in sight constantly."

In spite of the close proximity of the snow-capped mountains, the night was a comparatively warm one, and no inconvenience was experienced by the party in their tents. They had two, one belonging to Mr. Portney and the boys, the other being one Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe had purchased at Juneau for mutual comfort. The tents were put up end to end, and being both water and wind tight were almost as good to sleep in as a cabin.

The outfits had been carefully parcelled out to the Indians, Salmon Head carrying a load of over a hundred and twenty-five pounds, his squaw carrying a hundred pounds, and the sons loads of about half that weight. Relatives of these Indians carried the remainder of the loads; for these Chilkoot people, like other redmen, believed in keeping all they could in the family.

Usually the journey to Lake Linderman was made in two stages, the first from Dyea to the entrance to Chilkoot Pass, and the second over the Pass itself and down to the lake, which may fairly be called the southern headwaters of the Yukon River. This course was to be pursued by the present party, and bright and early on the following morning they started out on what was destined to be the most perilous trip of their lives. Captain Zoss went ahead with the Indians, while the boys and their uncle and the doctor kept in a bunch behind.

At the start, the trip was along the bottom of a deep cañon, on either side of which arose mountains and cliffs for the most part covered with snow and ice. Down in this cañon flowed what is called the Dyea River, a mere mountain torrent, dashing over rocks and crags and here and there broadening out into a shallow flow over sand and pebbles. Walking was rough, for at times they had to leap from one great rock to another or else let themselves down, to wade through water and sand up to their knees. The wind had calmed down, yet once in a while it sent upon them a flurry of fine snow from the distant mountain tops.

"We are not getting ahead very fast!" puffed Randy, as he and the others came to a halt on a flat rock to rest. "We've been walking for three hours, and I doubt if we have covered more than five miles."

"I heard at Dyea that the thirteen miles to the entrance to the Pass is considered a good day's journey," said Earl. "I'm rather glad I'm not carrying that load Salmon Head has strapped to his back."

"It would take me a week to get that load up," said Randy. "I can't understand how those boys get along."

"It's a matter of training," said Foster Portney. "I dare say either of you can cut down a tree in half the time that those Chilkoots can do it."

On they went again, the trail now growing steeper and more barren. A few stunted firs lined the cañon, and here and there could be seen a half-dead vine twisted about the fir branches, and that was all, so far as vegetation went. And this was coming summer time!

"It must be dreariness itself in winter," remarked Earl, to his uncle, as they trudged along side by side. "I never saw anything so desolate, not even in the wildest parts of Maine."

"It is this desolate look which has kept men out of Alaska, Earl. Many have known of there being gold there, but they preferred to remain down in the States, where living, at least, was more certain and congenial. You'll find, my lad, that you will need all your nerve and backbone to withstand what is before you. Perhaps I did wrong in urging you to join me."

"No, you didn't – I'm glad I came, and so is Randy, and we'll get through," answered Earl, hastily. "Oh, look!" he pointed to where a flock of birds were circling far overhead. "Shall I give them a shot?"

"No! no!" cried Foster Portney, hastily. "I forgot to tell you. I arranged with the Indians that no shot should be fired on the trip excepting some one was in trouble and needed assistance. I'll inform the others." And he halted for the others to come up.

Captain Zoss provided the dinner at about one o'clock, all hands taking it easy on some clear rocks in the sunshine. As may be supposed, the fare was a plain one, yet to Randy and Earl nothing had ever tasted better, for climbing and the bracing mountain air gave them enormous appetites. They could have eaten more than was provided but understood that from henceforth until further supplies were assured, rations would be dealt out with a sparing hand.

As soon as the dinner dishes had been cleaned and repacked the journey to Sheep Camp, as the stopping-place was called, was renewed. The trail was now steeper than ever, and more than once the stream of water had to be crossed. Every one was suffering from wet feet, but as all had on several pairs of heavy socks, this did no further damage than to render them cold in their nether limbs. As the trail grew rougher the Indians, who knew every footstep, forged ahead, and the others were allowed to shift for themselves.

It was about the middle of the afternoon that Randy and his uncle were walking one behind the other, with Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe just in the rear. The captain had been relating one of his experiences in mountain climbing in Colorado, to which all had listened with interest. The story was finished, and they were congratulating themselves that the end of the day's tramp was close at hand, when Randy suddenly looked around in alarm.

"Where is Earl?" he asked.

"Earl!" exclaimed Mr. Portney. "Why, he is ahead, isn't he?"

"No, he dropped behind, to fix his boot," was the quick reply. "Earl! Earl!"

The cry was repeated, and the others also took it up. Then they waited for an answer, but none came. Earl had disappeared. They waited for five minutes for him to make his reappearance, but he did not come; and then they started on a search for him.

CHAPTER XII.
EARL HAS AN ADVENTURE

As Randy had explained, Earl had stopped on the trail to fix his boot. In crossing the mountain stream he had shipped a lot of water, and he sat down on a rock and held up his foot, to allow the water to run out on the ground.

Unfortunately for the youth he had rested on a rock which was by no means secure on the bank of the stream, and now, as he leaned to one side, the rock slipped from its resting-place, and down went poor Earl into the water head first. As luck would have it, he struck in some loose sand, otherwise he would have been seriously injured. Even as it was he was stunned for the moment, and before he could turn he had gulped down a great deal of water. He was nearly blinded by some fine sand getting into his eyes and began to flounder around as though in the midst of an ocean instead of a watercourse less than fifty feet wide and five feet deep.

It took several minutes for him to save himself by reaching a large rock in the centre of the stream. Collecting his scattered senses, he cleared his eyes as best he could and took a view of his situation.

The rock was six feet in diameter and two feet above the top of the water. On either side flowed the stream at a rate which he knew would be quite sufficient to take him off his feet should he attempt to ford to shore. What was to be done in this emergency he did not at first know. The others had gone on ahead, and although he called to them, no one heard his cry.

Had he had his gun he would have fired it, had the weapon been in condition. But less than quarter of an hour before he had passed the fowling-piece over to Captain Zoss, the captain having asked to inspect it. He must help himself, or go without assistance.

Standing on the rock, he saw that escape to either side was out of the question, and escape up the stream was also cut off. Below, however, were a series of rocks running off to shore, and after some hesitation he dropped into the stream and allowed himself to be carried down to these rocks.

Five minutes of struggling in the current found him safe on the opposite shore to that upon which the lower portion of the trail to Chilkoot Pass lay. The question now was, how to get back to the other side of the river.

"I'll walk along on this side until I get a chance to cross over," he said, half aloud, and then the loneliness of his situation dawned upon him. He struck out without delay, determined to catch up with the others of the party as quickly as possible.

For the first quarter of a mile Earl did very well, but soon he noted to his dismay that the stream was widening, and that, consequently, he was getting further and further away from the other side. He had been making his way along a cliff lined with short firs. Now the cliff came to an abrupt end, and beyond he beheld nothing but a mass of jagged rocks and a jungle of brush, to pass through which would be next to impossible.

"Stumped now!" he muttered to himself, and his face fell as he surveyed his situation. The stream at this point was all of one hundred and fifty feet wide, and the trail opposite was not close to the water's edge, but wound in behind the rocks and fir trees.

"I've got to get over to that trail, that's certain!" he went on, after a disagreeable pause. "Here goes to try the water again," and with extreme care he began the descent of the cliff, which was some twenty feet high. The bottom was reached in safety, and he found himself standing in water and sand half up to his knees.

Because of the widening of the stream at this point the current was not so strong, and he began to wade in deeper and deeper, until one-quarter of the width had been passed and he found himself up to his waist. He shivered with the cold and felt like going back, but a few steps more brought him to a sand-bar, where the water scarcely touched his knees. Overjoyed at this, he attempted to follow up the bar, soon reaching and passing the middle of the river. He was wading on more confidently than ever, when of a sudden the bar came to an end, and down he plunged into a pool over his head.

The one thing to do now was to swim, and Earl struck out boldly for the shore, still thirty feet away. The weight of his heavy clothing was against him, and the current carried him on and on down the stream and toward a mass of jagged rocks fearful to behold. Had he been of a less rugged temperament the cold water might have given him both a chill and a cramp.

Five minutes of fearful anxiety passed, and Earl was almost exhausted, when, putting his foot down, he struck bottom at a depth of four feet. This encouraged him, and he renewed his effort to reach the bank beyond. Yet another pool had to be crossed, and when finally he did pull himself out of the stream and safe up on a sloping rock he was too exhausted to do aught but lie down on his side and pant for breath.

It was here that Randy and his uncle found him, just as he was making an effort to gain his feet and continue his search for them. They were overjoyed to learn that he had not suffered serious injury. They called to Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe, who were close by, and soon all were together again.

Captain Zoss had an extra shirt in his pack, and this Earl borrowed, along with a dry coat belonging to his uncle. Both articles of wearing apparel were too large for him, but he gladly exchanged them, for the time being, for his wet ones; and then the delayed journey toward Sheep Camp was continued.

When the resting-place for the night was gained, it was found that all of the Indians had come in over an hour before and had sought out a comfortable camp for them under a large overhanging rock. A number of others had also arrived, and over a dozen tents had been pitched in addition to those already there. According to lot, it was Randy's turn to get a meal ready, and he set to work without delay, starting a roaring fire of pine branches and logs, that Earl might warm and dry himself. Dr. Barwaithe had brought with him a newly patented sheet-iron camp stove, and on this a pot of water was soon boiling, to be used in making coffee, while Randy also offered them fried potatoes and a deliciously cooked fish one of the Indians brought in.

Outside of the doctor, who was not used to walking over such rough ground, no one felt any ill effects of the day's journey, although all were glad to turn in at the earliest possible moment. The doctor had worn a slight blister on his heel, and, in order to prevent this giving him serious concern later, he put some salve on it and bound it up before retiring.

Ere they crawled into the tent, both boys took a look at the great, white mountains, which loomed up before them. Here was the entrance to Chilkoot Pass, and there, almost lost among the clouds, was the dreaded summit, with mountains still higher on either side of it. Randy drew closer to Earl as he surveyed the awe-inspiring scene.

"Earl, we've got an everlasting hard climb before us," he whispered. "Do you think we'll make it?"

"We must make it, Randy," was the low and earnest reply. "It won't do to show the white feather now. Uncle would never forgive us."

"Some parts of it look like crawling up the side of a house," and Randy shuddered. "If a fellow should fall, he'd break his neck sure."

"I guess you're right, Randy; although it may not be so bad when one is right on top of it. There is a sort of a trail, you know, although it's not much. I heard Salmon Head tell Uncle he hoped it would be cold to-morrow night, and that we should start for the Pass about four or five o'clock in the afternoon. I wonder what he meant by that."

"I heard Captain Zoss speaking of it. They start toward evening so as to pass the deepest snows on the summit about midnight when a crust forms to walk on, for at this season of the year the deep snows are too soft to be trusted when the sun is shining."

"And what happens to a fellow, I wonder, if he breaks through the snow?"

"I don't know, I'm sure – I guess he goes to kingdom come," and Randy shuddered again. "We'll know all about it by this time to-morrow night." And then both boys retired, to dream of perilous climbs over the snow-clad mountains and fearful falls into gigantic crevasses, until both awoke in a fright and covered with cold perspiration.

It was not until late that anybody was stirring the next day. It was Earl's turn to get breakfast, and he told them if they would wait he would treat them to freshly baked beans and hot bread; and all waited. While Earl was at work, with Randy helping him, two of the Indian boys came up, and their efforts at making themselves understood were laughable. Finally Randy made out that they wanted an old silk neckerchief he possessed, and he gave it to Tomablink, the older youth, who was as proud of the article as if it had been worth a small fortune.

Under the advice of Foster Portney, all took it easy in camp that day, in order to reserve their strength for the struggle to come. Even the Indians seemed to grow a bit uneasy concerning what was before them; for, although they had climbed over the Pass a number of times, they well knew what a rough and highly dangerous proceeding each new trip was likely to be. On this terrible Pass more than one Indian and white man had been lost, never to be heard of again.

At last, at exactly four o'clock in the afternoon, Salmon Head announced his readiness to start. As chief of the Indian party, he had looked to it that each carrier's pack was properly adjusted, and now he gave several directions to the whites to the effect that they should keep together as much as possible and always in sight of his own people.

"Don't think there be an easy this way or that," he said in broken English. "Indian know best way in the end – you follow him day and night, or you lost. Stick foot deep down when climb, and no let go with hands."

His manner was so earnest, all promised to remember his words. Then the crowd of whites and Indians was gathered together, the tents were struck and packed; and the terrifying journey over the dreadful Chilkoot Pass was begun.

CHAPTER XIII.
AT THE SUMMIT OF CHILKOOT PASS

At Sheep Camp, which lay in something of a hollow, there had been a goodly collection of trees and brush, but now, as the little party started on the journey to the summit of Chilkoot Pass, all this was left behind, and nothing confronted them but immense beds or glaciers of snow, which crunched under their feet and gave forth a hollow sound. At certain points they could plainly hear the rushing of water far beneath.

"Gracious, if a fellow went through this crust of snow what would happen to him?" said Randy, as he trudged on, with his uncle just ahead of him and Earl behind.

"Let us hope that no such fate overtakes any of the party," replied Mr. Portney, gravely. "It is not likely that one can break through here," he added, "for the snow in the trail is pretty well packed down."

The blinding glare of the sun had caused all to put on their smoked glasses, or goggles, but now, as the great orb of day was lost to sight behind the mountain tops, these protectors for the eyes were removed, that they might see their way clearer. The Alaskan twilight was creeping on them, causing all their surroundings to turn to a pale blue color. The mists of the mountains were also rising, and on every hand were weird, ghostlike shadows which enhanced this scene of wild desolation.

On and on went the white members of the party, doing their best to keep the sturdy Indian pack-carriers well in sight. But the red people, with their hideously painted faces, knew every foot of the way, and made rapid progress, and it was all the others could do at times to keep up.

By ten o'clock it began to grow colder, and even the boys could feel the crust of snow on which they were trudging becoming firmer beneath their feet. It was far from dark, a pale glimmer of light hanging on every mountain top. But now the trail became suddenly steeper, and they found themselves going straight up the side of a hill several hundred feet high.

"Plant your feet firmly at every step," were Foster Portney's words of caution. "And remember, looking back will do you no good."

This last warning was for Randy's benefit, for the lad had just looked back and shivered over the awful descent below him. A fall would mean a long roll, and a broken neck over a cliff below.

Captain Zoss had gone on ahead with the Indians and just before midnight he came back with a warning to watch out for several splits, or crevasses, in the glaciers they were now traversing.

"Salmon Head says he heard a report of several new ones just before starting, and these are as yet unmarked," he said.

"We'll be as careful as we can," said Dr. Barwaithe. "We can do no more."

They now passed over a broad plain of snow where the mists hung more thickly than ever. They had almost reached the centre of the plain when a loud cry from the Indians ahead caused them to halt.

"What can be the meaning of that?" questioned Earl. "Can they be in trouble?"

Presently, from among the mists appeared the form of one of the Indian carriers, without his bundle. He soon explained in broken English that he had been sent back by Salmon Head to warn them of a split in the ice field just ahead. One of the Indian women had slipped in, and it was by mere good fortune that some of the men had rescued her.

This Indian remained with them until the crack was reached, where he resumed his pack and went on. The opening was an irregular one, from four to eight feet wide and of unfathomable depth. Fortunately the sides were well defined and firm, so they had small trouble in leaping across.

"It was good of them to send a man back," said the doctor, as he paused to peer down into the crevasse. "Had we not been warned we might have slipped into that without knowing it."

The trail now wound in and out among a number of small hills, and once again the party ahead was lost to sight. With the increasing cold came a stiff wind through the passes, bringing down upon their heads a veritable storm of snow, swept from the mountain tops above.

"I can readily understand how impossible it would be to make one's way through this Pass during the winter," said Dr. Barwaithe. "A regular fall of snow would mean a blizzard down here and a snowing in from which there would be no escape until spring arrived."

"And think of the cold!" said Earl. "Phew! the thermometer must go to about forty below zero!"

"It does go as low as that at times," replied his uncle. "No; travelling through this Pass during the long Alaskan winter is entirely out of the question. The man to undertake it would be a madman."

They had come to the end of the comparatively level portion of the trail, and now climbing so dangerous was at hand that little more was said. From one steep icy elevation they would crawl to the next, until several hundred feet up. Then came a turn around a cliff where the passageway was scarcely two feet wide, with a wall on one side and what appeared misty, bottomless space on the other. Here the Indians had fastened a hand-rope which each was glad enough to clutch as he wormed his way along to safer ground.

"Well, I don't want any more of that!" said Earl, with a long sigh of relief. "A slip there, and it would be good-by, sure!"

"Yes, and I guess they would never even get your body," added Randy.

There was no time left to halt, for the Indians were pressing on, their endurance, and especially the endurance of the women and the boys, proving a constant wonder to Randy and Earl, the latter declaring that they must be tougher than pine knots to stand it.

"One more big climb, boys, and we'll be at the summit!" was the welcome announcement made by Captain Zoss; but when Earl and Randy looked at the climb he mentioned their hearts fairly sank within them and they wondered how in the world they were going to make it without its costing them their lives.

An almost sheer wall of ice and snow confronted them, rising in an irregular form to a height of four hundred feet. This cliff, if such it might be called, was more light at its top than at the base, and consequently it appeared to stand out towards them as they gazed up at it. Along the face the Indian pack-carriers were crawling, like flies on a lumpy whitewashed wall.

"We can't do – " began Randy, when he felt his arm pinched by Earl.

"We must do it, Randy," came back in a whisper. "The Indians are doing it, and so can we – if we'll put our grit into it."

"Now take it slow and be sure of one foot before you move the next," said Foster Portney, warning them again. "Dig as deeply into the ice and snow as you can. And above all things, Randy and Earl, don't look back!" And the uncle shook his fist to emphasize his words.

A breathing spell was taken, and then they started slowly for the base of the cliff, where Captain Zoss got down on his knees to make sure that they were on the right trail, if trail it could be called. He soon announced that one party had gone up at one place and the others at a spot about thirty feet to the left.

"I'll try my luck here," he said, and the doctor agreed to follow him. There was no telling which trail was the better, and the Portneys took the other, Mr. Portney going first, with Randy next and Earl last. The uncle wished to make sure of the footing before he allowed the boys to come after him.

The first hundred feet up were not as difficult as Randy and Earl had imagined, but now every step had to be calculated, and when half way up Foster Portney came to a halt.

"Here's a very steep place," he announced, without, however, looking back. "Randy, when you reach it, catch hold of the spur of ice with your left hand and put your foot just beneath it. Tell Earl to do the same."

"I will," answered Randy, but when the spot mentioned was reached poor Randy's heart leaped into his throat. The sheer wall before him was nearly as high as a house, and there was nothing to cling to but little lumps of ice which stuck out here and there. The lumps might crack off, and then – he did not dare to think further than that. He was strangely tempted to look below him, but his uncle's words of warning rang in his ears – "Don't look back!" and he did not.

One step was taken, and then another, and Randy felt as if he was suspended in the air, with nothing above or beneath him. A brief vision of himself lying mangled far below flashed across his mind, and he wished himself safe back in the woods of Maine again. What was all the gold in Alaska worth alongside of such an agonizing risk of life as this?

But he must go on; he could not remain where he was forever. The next step was even more difficult, and he held his breath as he took it. He had been climbing up the cliff for less than quarter of an hour, yet he felt a year older than when he had begun. Would the climb never come to an end?

"Take it easy, boys; we are almost there," came the encouraging voice of Foster Portney, although the uncle was almost as fearful as his nephews. "A little to the right now, and beware of those snow lumps; they are not firm enough to hold to. I can see the top just above my head. Ah, here I am. Now, Randy, another step and give me your hand. Now, Earl, take the same step Randy took. There you are. Thank God we are safe so far!"

The two boys echoed their uncle's sentiment, with a deep feeling in their hearts which they never forgot. The summit of Chilkoot Pass had been reached at last.