Read Ebook: The Great Gold Rush: A Tale of the Klondike by Jarvis W H P William Henry Pope

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Ebook has 1592 lines and 57810 words, and 32 pages

also the grub."

So Dude was aroused from his sleep; four other doggy noses were withdrawn from under four bushy tails, and to the accompaniment of howls the load was removed to the hay-tent, the dogs unharnessed, the load unpacked. Hugh undid the bedding and spread it on a pile of straw.

"This will be the last bed we'll strike for some time after we leave here," was his remark.

He grabbed the sack with the meat, and went off to see if he could find space on a stove to boil it. He soon returned with the meat, as well as a bucket in which were canine dainties--kitchen scraps.

"Chuck it into you," was Hugh's remark to the dogs as he threw them the food; "you'll have to work to-morrow."

As there was nothing to do now till that morrow, the three again strolled out to look at the trail, up which the full flow of traffic was now toiling. Profanity filled the air. The travellers cursed the trail; they cursed their horses, cursed their dogs, the wind, the country generally.

They wandered into a saloon, which, as ever, was reeking with tobacco, and vibrating to the notes of "Home, sweet Home," reeled off on a gramophone. Hugh looked cautiously at the company. "Soapy's men!" he whispered; so he and his companions went. John noticed that a good deal of money was being won at the tables; but Hugh told him that the men who were winning were Soapy's staff.

"They seem to run a wonderful system," said John.

"Yes; Soapy pretty nearly owns the whole shop from the Lynn Canal to the summit."

"But why does he stop at the summit?"

"Police."

"But they have police on this side."

"Not the same."

"How do you account for that?"

"Don't know: discipline! The Canadian police are not grafting. Fellows I've met from the inside tell me that Cap Constantine gave records for all the rich claims in Bonanza, and neither he nor any of the rest of the Mounted Police grafted any. That's what I call honest; but now, since the records have been taken away from the police, there's nothing but grafting going on. Fellows have to give up half interest in claims to the officials before they can get record; and even the Government is grafting officially with this ten per cent. royalty. If some of those Members of Parliament back in Canada were here, with this proposition, getting over these Passes, they'd think they had a right to all they'd found in this country. And now they are taking part of it away--it's a shame, I call it."

They had walked up the lower trail leading to the summit. Whatever men and horses were to be seen were making down the Pass, for the trail that clung to the side of the mountain was so narrow that two horses, going in opposite directions, could not pass each other; so in the morning the horses passed up the trail, and in the afternoon down. That was the unwritten law. They returned to the sleeping quarters.

Every dog, except Dude, had his nose under his tail, and was apparently oblivious to all outside concerns. Dude's tail was not long enough to cover his nose, and Hugh noticed his eyes quiver and open slightly. On the floor was the empty meat sack. The five dogs had demolished the large piece of dead horse.

"That's Dude," said Hugh.

"Which?" asked John.

"Why, stealing that meat. Before we get to Dawson you'll know what a high-class article in the stealing line he is. However, there'll be lots more dead horses: they kill about a dozen a day between here and Bennett."

"How do they manage that?"

"Wait till to-morrow, and you'll see."

HUGH'S PHILOSOPHY

The stars were still shining when the friends tore themselves, stiff and sore, from under their lynx-skin robe on the morrow to dress in the chill atmosphere of the tent; but the sounds of movement were everywhere. Commands, embellished with profanity, were being shouted. When the three adventurers, after a hurried breakfast, eagerly went out a sickly light was spreading over the mountains, which seemed spectral and immense.

"We'll take the flour, sugar, and hardware in the first two loads," remarked Hugh, as he began selecting these supplies; "and it won't do any harm to hang our bacon sack from a rafter while we are away, as a stray malamoot might get in here. These blamed dogs will chew a tin can open to get at the meat inside."

The plan of campaign suggested by Hugh and endorsed by the others was to divide the supplies in three loads; to take two, comprising the reserve stores, to the summit and cache them; then, on the following day, to carry the remainder of the stuff right through to Log Cabin, or to Bennett if they could manage it, and establish a camp there. This depended on the condition of the trail.

Early as they were, there were scores of outfits setting out, and many were ahead of them.

They had not gone far when they met two men and a dog-team; one of the men was belabouring the dogs with a whip, making them howl dreadfully. Dude and the rest of the team halted, and, with their masters, watched the proceedings. The dogs belaboured were soon tangled among the traces in fine confusion. Each animal, as he saw a stroke coming his way, jumped sideways with a howl and buried his nose and feet in the snow. The cruelty aroused the anger of John and George, who made a move towards the brute with the whip. Hugh caught him by the arm and pulled him back.

"Better not make yourself a Humane Society in this country; you'll only get into trouble--besides, he ain't hurting the dogs: wait!"

When the man rested from the belabouring, Hugh asked to be allowed to "try the dogs."

The fellow glared angrily at him; but then, with a surly nod, gave the permission. Hugh started with the leaders, and worked down the whole line, placing the dogs in order once again, hauling them about, but saying nothing. Then he took the gee-pole, and ordered "mush." The leader looked back over his shoulder, as did the dog next him. "Mush!" again cried Hugh. The dogs drew steadily at their collars, glancing furtively at their new master. Hugh once more encouraged them, and when the load began to move passed on his charge to the owner, who had the grace to look sheepish.

"To handle dogs," said Hugh, when he had rejoined his party and had resumed the trail, "you've got to get them frightened of you; and moving round them, silent-like, puts fear in their souls. You see, that fellow wasn't really hurting them; they could hardly feel that light whip through their fur, and their feet and noses, where they are tender, they stuck in the snow. As for howling--it comes natural to malamoots. No--you've got to treat them just as you do women."

The trail often became precipitous, but as the combined strength of the three men and the dogs was sufficient to lift the load bodily, their difficulties were well overcome.

They had not been out of the White Pass City an hour when George shouted "Look!" and pointed to the mountain-side to the left. The trail away above them was lined with horses, moving slowly forward; but down the mountain-side eight burroes were plunging--head tied to tail as is the custom. Every dog team on the lower trail had stopped to watch the sight, for there was a great rattling of rock and a general shout calling attention to the catastrophe. The unfortunate creatures soon reached the base of the slide and were lost in the soft snow. They struggled, and they disappeared. One more sacrifice to that dreadful trail, which, during the Klondike rush, had claimed the lives of thirty-five hundred animals! In that canyon, between White Pass City and the summit, during the spring of 1898, it was possible to walk long distances on the bodies of dead horses, and to this day the line of march is marked by protruding bones, indicating the graves of the patient and faithful creatures, sacrificed to man's insatiable greed for gold.

"Now you see where the dog-food comes from," remarked Hugh.

The accident had occurred a little in front of them, and shortly afterwards two men were seen floundering through the soft snow down the side hill to the beaten trail, along which the dog-teams were pressing.

"You had hard luck," Hugh called to them.

"Yes, I couldn't keep that blame bell burro from experimenting how near he could go to the side without falling off, till at last he got his needings," replied one of the drivers.

"Whose outfit were they?"

"Rivers; and the Canadian Government owns the supplies--police stuff. They can stand it."

The two drivers went on down the trail to White Pass City.

The Canadian Government was evidently not popular. The iniquities of the royalty on gold, and the grafting current in the Gold Commissioner's office in Dawson were resented.

As the party progressed up the Pass, they found its walls coming closer together, making the canyon so narrow that the horse trail on the mountain-side appeared directly overhead. Numbers of dead cattle appeared by the side of the path, telling of the calamities of the trail. Veterans of the trail will tell weird tales of horses, goaded by whip and burden, deliberately throwing themselves into the canyon below--seeking surcease from suffering in death. As the canyon became narrower, so did the trail become more congested. It also grew steeper as they neared the summit, and men and dogs had frequently to pause for rest. It appeared to John a curious struggling mass that surrounded him, strange oaths in all accents came to his ears. The multitude were striving in a race in which brute force alone could conquer.

They came to a party in trouble, and overheard an argument.

"I tell you the territory clear through to Lake Bennett belongs to the United States, and I'm convoy for the United States Customs. I ain't going to let you get over the summit until you pay my wages for four days more, that is, two days from the summit to Lake Bennett loaded, and two days back again from Bennett to Skagway, travelling light, and that's going some too. It amounts to thirty-two dollars, at eight dollars per day--so all you've got to do is pay up."

"No, you don't own the land beyond the summit. Don't you see the English flag up there--that red thing flying from the tent pole? All you've got to do is show me over the summit, and we're quits. I've paid you forty dollars already: three days doing nothing at White Pass City during the storm; and you lost the money playing Black Jack. I ain't got any more money to pay you, anyway. I can't pay you when I ain't got the money."

"Well, dig for it; sell part of your outfit. You can't bluff me. I'm an officer of the United States Customs, and I'm on to my job."

"More grafting," muttered Hugh.

So it was that these convoys, armed with authority more or less real, harassed and blackmailed the victims.

They were now near the summit, in the midst of the last struggle which would put them over the most difficult portion of the trail, and the excitement was general. There was a deal of shouting, and a great renewal of effort. The horse trail and the lower trail merged into one.

At last they were through. The narrow defile curved to the right; an open basin appeared, with strewn tents and an endless promise of supplies; and--most conspicuous of all!--side by side the flags of Britain and the United States were flying.

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