A Claim on Klondyke Part 25

"But, Mr Bain," quoth May, "I must get home to my mother. I am strong and able; surely, surely we can move on."

"It's impossible; no possible, my la.s.sie," he answered her. "No; you'll just hae to bide here, as I say, whether ye're willin' or no', until ye can gae doon stream in boats."

"And when will that be?" she asked, and I replied, for I had heard all about it before from Bain, and was pretty sure that he was right. "It will not be till the end of May, perhaps not till June," I told her.

"Indeed, I hear that often the Yukon is not open to traffic till the middle of July."

"What a country! what an awful country!" exclaimed May, distressfully.

She looked to me for corroboration of what had been stated, or to contradict it, but I could only say I feared that our friends were right. I added, "However, our intention was to go down to Dawson and wait for a boat to leave. From all we hear we are far better off with these good friends than we should be there, and as they a.s.sure us we can easily get down long before a boat can possibly navigate the Yukon, I really think we must rest content--nay," I went on, "more than content; thankful for the good quarters we have come to. The only thing is, how can we thus inconvenience these friends? We must come to some arrangement about paying them at least, or else you and I, May, really will start on and camp beside the river for the few weeks that we must pa.s.s up here. What d'ye think?"

The dear girl looked at me, sadly dismayed; but our host and hostess declared that I was right, and wise in all that I had said--as to "pay," however, that was a business question which we would now discuss. Mrs Bain would not hear of any discomfort or trouble being caused by May--she should stay with her as her guest and friend, she declared; and Bain said he was more than agreeable. "But, my woman,"

said he to his wife; "it's no' want o' wull, it's just want o' means, ye ken. We can buy naething here--there's just food enough to last you and me and Sandy and Frank till we expect the river will open. How can we promise to feed these freends? It's just that, and only that, which fashes me."

Here I could simplify matters. "See here," said I; "on our sled is food enough for we two for several weeks, and up at our dug-out, that I've told you of, we have quite a food-supply, enough for a dozen people for several months. I will make an effort and go up there and fetch a load of it. Will that do?"

"Do? why, of course it will," they replied; "fine that. In a couple of weeks or so the upper waters will be free from ice, then twa o' ye can gang up quite easy and bring your boat down, laden. So, it's a'

settled. You, Miss Bell, will stay in this hoose wi' me and my wifie here; and you, Mr Singleton, will chum up wi' Frank and Sandy; but, of coorse, oor meals will a' be thegither eaten here."

Thus it was arranged; and after the day's discussion--for we took all day coming to this decision--May and I, having a moment's privacy, satisfied each other that it was wisely settled.

Of course I was not idle. I went to work next day with the men. The diggings were about a quarter of a mile from Bain's shanties, on a little creek running into the Klond.y.k.e. From a couple of hundred yards above the junction, claims were pegged out for half a mile or more, and tents and rough cabins were set up along its margin. It was not thickly timbered there, and what trees there were they were cutting down for mining purposes and fuel. It was very quiet, as most of the miners were working underground, and had shelters over their shafts and windla.s.ses--so little was visible.

Heaps of gravel were being piled upon each claim, but it would not be till summer, when they were was.h.i.+ng, that any real excitement would be seen. Most of these heaps were reported to be very rich.

The Bains' claim was some distance up the creek. They had traced the pay-streak in from a bar on it. They had not sunk a shaft, but were removing the entire alluvium down to bed rock. They had four feet of pay-dirt, and only about the same quant.i.ty of moss, muck, and gravel from the surface down to it.

They worked in the usual way through the solidly frozen ground, with fires. I, being well used to axe-work, went in for cutting the fuel for the purpose.

The claim-owners were paying as much as ten dollars a-day, gladly, to any one who would work for them. There were very few who would do so for wages, though; so, as I did not reckon to take any pay from our friends, I felt that May and I were not under so great obligation to them. Moreover, the stores we had brought, and the supply we possessed up-stream, was of the utmost value.

It was a comfortable life we pa.s.sed now--at least it seemed so to me after my experience; and May a.s.sured me that she was not dissatisfied--except, naturally, at the delay in getting homewards.

But as that certainly could not be helped, we were both making ourselves contented.

I met May at every meal, and pa.s.sed the evenings in her company, but never alone. Mrs Bain never went outside the shanty. But occasionally, rarely, when it was what we called fine, May m.u.f.fled up and came out, when she and I were able to compare notes, and plan.

One very great perplexity we had, was about our gold cached up the creek. As yet we had only admitted to our friends that we had the fifty pounds' weight of it. We had spoken of our claims, certainly, and had said how sure we were that they would pay; but they had no idea of their richness.

May and I talked whenever we had a chance together about this matter: she was all for telling these new friends and getting their advice.

She was certain that they were perfectly true and trusty. So was I, and yet I advised caution. We could not easily decide.

Mrs Bain was about eight-and-twenty,--a well-read, clever Scotswoman, and very religious. She had in Scotland considerable lung trouble.

Ontario had helped her, and now, strange as it may appear, in the intense cold and dreariness of this Yukon country she had lost all signs of weakness, and considered herself a strong woman. Still, her husband objected to her putting her head outside the place. "My woman," he was often saying, "you see to a' things ben the hoose; we'll see that ye get all ye want--wood, and snow for watter and a' things; and noo that ye hae this bonnie la.s.sie for company, ye'll do fine."

The weather was quite calm for two weeks after we arrived--cold, of course, except at midday for an hour or so. But we could see signs of spring coming. The snow was packing; there were bare patches on the hills and on the creek; the slush beneath the upper layer of snow was deeper and softer. I had the curiosity to go out on to the Klond.y.k.e, and I found it very much worse than when May and I were on it. In places the ice was burst up, and I realised that it would have been impossible for us to move along it if we had been unwise enough to start. We would surely have had to camp somewhere on the way, and live in misery, perhaps many miles from any help. We were very far better off than that.

A couple of miles up the Klond.y.k.e the ice was at this time broken up, and by the strong current was being piled up on the bars and banks.

Every day made a change, and we saw that we could soon bring our boat down as was planned. Therefore the time had arrived when we must make our journey up to my place, and so it became absolutely necessary that we two should settle what should be done about the gold.

I fortunately got May outside, and had a talk with her about it.

"Shall I leave it where it is?" I asked, "and trust all will be well; or shall I try to bring some down secretly?"

She was all for telling the truth to the Bains and Frank, and bespeaking their help. I was as certain as she was of their honesty and integrity, but I knew what a fascination gold has, and I thought it just possible that the knowledge of our riches might affect them, and cause them to do something unpleasant, and complicate affairs in some way. But May would not hear of this. "No, no!" she exclaimed; "they are good, true people. I say tell them all, and get their help."

We talked this over for some time, and the result was that when we were gathered round the fire that evening, I made a clean breast of it. I told them what Meade and I had found, and what May and her father had, and that, besides the stock of food which I had told about, there was this immense quant.i.ty of gold, and that the fifty pounds we had with us then was merely a sample of it.

Our story staggered them, especially our coming away and leaving it unprotected. We had, May and I, to go over again and again the history of our find, and the statement of the actual quant.i.ty we had obtained.

We were obliged to explain about the lay of the gravel in which we had found it, and to give all the information we could about the likelihood of there being more about both places.

As to this latter point we a.s.sured them that we believed the whole district was very rich. We told them what we had discovered even inside my dug-out, and before we separated that night they all became so excited that I foolishly began to dread they would do something troublesome.

Such is the effect of gold. I suppose nothing else could have made me suspicious of such worthy people.

The following morning there was more discussion and more enthusiasm.

In the end it was settled that Sandy, Frank, and I should go up, taking two sleds, with Patch and their two dogs, who were trained, to help in hauling them. As they knew the Canadian mining laws quite thoroughly, which we did not, they would help me to mark out our claim properly, then they would stake out one for themselves--for, as Bain said, "The moment it is known in Dawson what you have found up there, there'll be such a crowd o' folk rush up that it'll be better to hae freends alongside ye than strangers."

This being quite true, we were well pleased.

We also arranged to go on up to May's claim, and mark that out properly too. We laid some other plans, which will be explained later on.

The trail up the Klond.y.k.e,--which May and I had not used when we came down, because I fancied it was a bear-path,--it appeared, was the way by which all the miners went up the river in winter. It led up to the head, where for years a little mining had been going on. During the time we had been at Bain's several parties had come down it. Their reports had not been very favourable. I had questioned some of them closely, being anxious to discover if any of them had gone up what I called Meade's Creek; but so far as I could make out, no one had. They described some tracks they saw going up at one place though, which seemed to me to be ours, and they rather jeered at the idea of any one having been foolish enough to go there prospecting, as they declared, as all did then, that no gold, to pay grub even, was to be had, except clear up at the head of the main Thronda stream. How little they knew; and how differently they talk about it now!

We were off at once. The trail we found fairly good up to where our boat was cached. Hereabouts the ice was disappearing from the stream.

We saw we could easily get her out and afloat, which was satisfactory.

We camped there that night.

Turning up Meade's Creek in the morning, it was all but free of ice; we found the way very bad beside it. The snow was gone in some places, but having light loads, we pushed on slowly but surely.

We were, however, very much disgusted to notice the tracks of others having gone up rather recently. Had they followed May's and mine, we wondered? Had they come to our claim, and found our stores and gold?

I was quite anxious, as you may guess.

Two persons had gone up: one wore moccasins, and drew a sled; the other wore boots--we saw the heel marks.

This brought to my mind instantly the two May and I had seen when we were coming down. I was sure they were the same men's tracks.

Sandy knew them, too. He said they were all right, and decent fellows--the moccasins were worn by an old miner he called White-eyed Williams, and the boots by an Englishman who had come up during winter, who foolishly, he thought, stuck to knee-high boots. His name, he said, was Coney.

Coney! why, that was the name, I remembered, of the young fellow who had showed us some attention, Meade and me, when we arrived at Skagway.

I wondered if it could be the same.

We hurried on excitedly, full of anxiety, for if they had discovered we had found gold there rich, there was no telling what they might be doing.

With our light loads we got on very much faster than May and I did, in spite of the horrid state of the trail--half slushy snow, half mora.s.s; frozen every night, thawing every day.

On the fourth evening out, when we were camped a few miles only below our old den, as darkness fell we perceived a fire burning in the distance. On investigation we found it to be two men halted on their way down. Sandy hailed them. It was White-eyed Williams and Coney.

I at once recognised the latter; he did not remember me, or our former meeting.

We sat by their huge fire beside their one little tent, smoking and comparing notes. They informed us that they had tried here and there for many miles up the main river, as they called the Klond.y.k.e, and had had no luck. They had seen a trail (my trail and May's) coming down this creek as they pa.s.sed the mouth of it on their outward journey.

They supposed it was just a couple like themselves who had been prospecting, and were returning disgusted. But on their own way back, unsuccessful, when they noticed the traces again, they followed them up, just for curiosity, to ascertain what their makers had been doing up there.