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Great Gold Rush: A Tale of the Klondike

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<h3>HUGH'S PHILOSOPHY</h3> 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 sup[Pg 63]plies 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[Pg 64] 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[Pg 65] 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[Pg 66] 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.[Pg 67] 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.[Pg 68] 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. A dozen members of the Canadian Mounted Police, wearing the uniform of England's Queen, were examining freight, with their backs to the wind, or passing in and out of a tent, half buried in snow, which served as an office. This was the second great depot out from Skagway, and piled about everywhere were loads of freight. Outfits stood about in disorder, awaiting the returning tide of men, while constantly teams were arriving from, or setting out to, Bennett. The outfit of Hugh and his companions was finally passed by eleven o'clock. Goods of Canadian manufacture were allowed to pass free, and the charges against the few American goods were of no great amount. Hugh selected a projecting rock on which to make his cache, and the policeman who examined his baggage, and whose[Pg 69] good offices the party had won, promised to keep an eye on their goods. "Soapy doesn't operate on this side," said the man in uniform significantly. "We could coast back in half an hour if the trail was clear," Hugh remarked, as they started on the return. As it was, they sat on the sleigh most of the way to White Pass City, which they reached at noon—as a man was pounding a great triangle of steel with an iron rod, announcing dinner. The three were very well pleased with their morning's work. There were not quite so many teams on the trail in the afternoon, and they reached the summit by half-past three. The sun had been shining all day, so that the atmosphere seemed mellower; and the wind did not blow so strongly. After passing the goods they had time to climb the ridge on which the police tents were erected. From thence they gazed down the valley, which they knew was the uppermost watershed of the mighty Yukon, whose course makes a great curve of twenty-four hundred miles ere it flows into the Behring Sea. Far in the distance they could see a stunted growth of timber, but their immediate surroundings were mountains, hardly less overpowering than in White Pass City. The view impressed them—the scene was weird[Pg 70] in its desolation; they felt that stirring incidents were to take place in that great valley before them. "Looks as if we would have a touch of spring to-morrow, and I guess we had better have our snow-glasses ready before we set out," said Hugh. <hr style="width: 65%;"/>[Pg 71] <h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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