A Claim on Klondyke Part 15

You may suppose that in that country, where for eight months of the twelve every drop of water had to be obtained with difficulty by melting ice or snow, that most ideas of cleanliness have to be given up. Yukon miners, as a rule, do not bother much with soap in the long dark winter.

We two, seated by the fire, were silent for a while. I knew well that I had a serious task before me, and the sooner I started to it the better it would be, and the weather being then settled, I ought to make use of it. Supposing another blizzard should arise, then moving about outside would not be practicable, it would mean death to all of us.

I felt a difficulty in questioning this girl, and yet I was sure I ought to know more about her, their position then, what they most needed, and in what way I had better move.

She sat silently gazing into the fierce fire. There were several large sticks of firewood ready to pile on, and a couple of huge knotty logs, which it would take a strong man some trouble to get there. I noticed these and asked her about them, saying that she and her father I supposed had not been very long alone, or else her father had been but a short time laid by, as I saw they had a good supply of fuel.

She smiled sadly. "That is the last of it," she said, "and I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to chop more just yet--perhaps that'll last till I feel better."

"You chopped that! You dragged all that inside!" I exclaimed, astonished. "Why, what are you? You don't look as if you could do such work. Is it really true?"

She a.s.sured me that it was--that she and her father had been alone there, entirely alone, since the end of the previous September; that he was ill then, and that was the reason that they did not go out with the others of their party when they left. I believe she wished to tell me all about it then, but I knew that time was precious, so contrived to lead her into speaking of her father's illness and his most pressing needs. I told her where I was camped, what I possessed, and made her tell me what I had better bring. I explained that I had arranged to start for Dawson, had all preparations made, so that all I would have to do would be to load my sleigh with provisions and necessaries and come up to them instead of going down stream to the Yukon--that I should be some hours on the journey, and that soon after I returned I trusted to see a very great improvement in her health and her father's.

"Why," said she, almost gaily, "I'm better already. Can't you see I am? and so is poor father. Come and see him before you leave."

I did so. He was sleeping peacefully, and really already looked improved.

When I told her all that I possessed, she was quite overcome with excitement. Would I bring some of it? Should I be robbing myself?

Would not I be neglecting my own affairs by devoting time to them? and many such questions she put to me.

I begged her not to trouble about me--that when I returned I would explain all, and she would then understand; but as it was all-important to get what was wanted without delay, I must start at once.

Tears filled her eyes as she thanked me, and called down blessings on me, at which I laughed, asking her if she had met with strangers in distress would she pa.s.s them by unhelped? She said "No, she could not." "Well, then," I proceeded, "neither can I, so say no more, dear lady. I'm going to help you and your father out of this dreadful strait."

Before I left I chopped a heap of firewood and brought it in, for which she was very grateful. Then whistling Patch, I prepared to start.

"Oh! leave me Patch," she begged; "the dear dog will be such company."

I a.s.sured her I would willingly do so if I dared, but that Patch had his work to do; he was a Huskie, trained to draw a sledge; without his help I could not bring much, so it was necessary that he should come with me.

She held out her hand to me, saying with a smile, "It's a very dirty one, but it's the best one I have to offer."

I clasped it gladly, shook it warmly, as I replied, "It's not half as bad and black as mine, but what can we expect in this awful climate, this terrible region!"

"Ah! what indeed," said she.

When I had gone fifty yards from the hut I looked back. She stood framed in the doorway against the light. I called to her "Go inside.

Stay there till I return. I'll not be long; keep up your heart and your father's. All will now be well." Then an idea struck me, and I cried, "But tell me, what is your father's name and yours! Mine is Herbert Singleton, of Blumfield, Bedfords.h.i.+re."

She answered loudly, but in tones I never will forget, "My father is William Bell of Hawkenhurst in Kent, and I am Mary Bell--but they always call me May!"

Then I shouted cheerily, "Farewell, G.o.d bless you!" and calling again to Patch, who was quite reluctant to leave her, I was off.

CHAPTER VIII.

Through the keen air I hurried. It was light enough. The aurora was brilliant. Whether day or night I did not know, or care.

I was enraptured. I seemed to be walking on air. The rough hill-sides, the ice-clad rocks, I pa.s.sed over with the agility of a fawn. I had companions, my loneliness was ended!

And what company had I found? A girl who had instantly affected me in a manner I had never before experienced.

Naturally, after long absence from female society, a man is easily attracted by almost any member of the fair s.e.x. I quite understood this. But I had never been enthusiastic in my admiration of women.

Indeed I had been, whether from diffidence or const.i.tution I cannot say, rather averse to their society, and regarded those of my friends who devoted themselves to them as a bit weak.

I knew this, and yet I felt so elated at meeting this girl so unexpectedly that I forgot all my former notions, and was so joyful, in spite of recent occurrences and our terrible surroundings, that I went on my way gleefully. The awful cold and my loneliness were clean forgotten, the long tramp on snowshoes was as nothing, so, almost before I knew it, I was back at the hut.

Everything that could freeze was frozen, indoors and out. I built a huge fire, I cooked a meal for myself and my dog, and I felt so bright and so exhilarated that I ate as I had not eaten for a long time. I rejoiced in my appet.i.te, my vigour, and health, and thanked Almighty G.o.d for His goodness, and not the least for His mercifully causing us--Meade and me--to economise our food as we had, for now I could appreciate the value of it, as, of course, I had not hesitated, nay, I was eager, to share it with the Bells.

To think of that sweet girl in want of food was so distressing, that I would fain have given her all that I possessed and starved myself, rather than that she should suffer.

Sitting by my fire resting, I smoked and dreamed--waking dreams--about my new friends. I thought lightly of Mr Bell's illness. I believed it was merely want of sustenance, as it was with his daughter May. I thought of her as May, which was a lovely name. I considered, I wondered who they were, what was their history, how they came to be up there in that awful predicament, in that dreadful country.

Mr Bell had spoken of gold as if they had plenty; I knew what I had, and this led me to dreaming of what might be. I pictured May in England, myself with such a woman as she appeared to be as my wife. I thought about all that we could enjoy in England, the comforts and luxuries that money would obtain there for us, and I fell asleep dreaming of such things, and slept until Patch roused me. He had become impatient at my long nap.

I had slept some hours. I was pleased, knowing the task I had before me of hauling a heavy load to the Bells', and then returning without sleep or rest. I was not complaining--far, very far from that--I was indeed rejoiced about it. But I was wise enough to remember that I must go sensibly to work--that as their very lives depended on me and what I had, I must run no risk of breaking down or failing.

There was a quant.i.ty of food, princ.i.p.ally canned meats and vegetables, in the cache which Meade and I built up the trees. I packed the toboggan with a selection, and with a sack of flour, some sugar, coffee, a few bottles of bovril, our only bottle of whisky, and all I could think of suitable for an invalid. I heaped on joints of venison, bear meat, and a few frozen birds I had left. I covered this with the remnant of the tent, lashed all securely, harnessed Patch, and started up the creek.

This was really my first experience of hauling a laden sledge. Patch was out of practice too, so that for a while we did not get on pleasantly.

The toboggan answered well. It sank very little, having a wide base, but the dry snow piled up before it. It was, as they say, "collar work" always.

I had Patch attached by a long trace at first, and I kept closer to the sleigh. He would try to go ahead rapidly. It was surprising the power of that dog, and the more I called to him to go slower the more he hurried. When I had at length forced a halt, I shortened his trace and lengthened mine, so that I was leader. Now he paid more attention to me than his work. If I slowed up or endeavoured to take it easy he jumped on me, barking with delight. No doubt he thought it good fun.

The cold did not appear to affect him in the slightest. He was well fed; but even in the real Arctic the half-starved Huskies pay no heed to it. They sleep contentedly in the snow, with the thermometer marking 100 degrees of frost, as I have learned since I came out that it frequently does on the Yukon.

I next fastened Patch's trace the same length as my own. By this means we got on better, for I could put my hand into his collar and guide him effectually. This answered usually very well, but when our traces became entangled, it was no easy matter to extricate them in the frightful cold.

The actual weight of the load did not trouble us as long as we kept on the frozen creek, as it was usually level; and after a few hours Patch was not nearly so full of life and impetuosity, and things went easier.

We camped for an hour when we were half way. I made some tea; we had found rather a snug corner amongst some thick pine bushes.

When we reached the hill we had to cross, we had as much as we could do to pull the toboggan up the steep incline. Patch worked well; he gave me the idea that he knew we were nearing our destination, and was delighted.

So, after many heavy tugs, we reached the top, when I called a halt; but my companion was for das.h.i.+ng over it, and slithering down the other side without delay. By hanging on behind I stopped him, and addressed him seriously, angrily, at which he looked into my face, then gazed in the direction of the Bells' shanty, and let out a long-drawn howl.

Here I unlashed the gun and fired a couple of shots, a signal I had agreed upon with May.

She had been listening surely, for the smoke from the discharge had barely crept away ere the door flew open and I saw her wave a burning stick in token that my signal was observed, at which Mr Patch began to bark and howl melodiously: he fairly yelled with excitement, and I had difficulty in restraining him from tearing down the hill.

By care and patience we got safely down, and drew our load to the shanty. Indeed we drew it inside, for a breeze had sprung up, and it would have been a risk to handle anything in the open air.

It delighted me to see the pleasure with which my new friend examined what I had brought. "What! bovril!" she exclaimed, "and whisky! Oh, they will cure father! and sago, rice; and this lovely tinned fruit!

Why, what a stock of things you have; are you storekeeping? I thought you were a miner."

I a.s.sured her that I was, and nothing more, but that my partner had been up the season before, had done well, and gained experience, so that when we came in during the summer we had brought a large stock of food--larger than was absolutely necessary--in case of accidents. I added that I was deeply thankful we had done so, as things had turned out. I begged her to use all she could, for her father's good, to say nothing of her own; and to remember that there was plenty more where this came from.