CHAPTER X

THE YUKON

The boys were delighted with the way their visitor ate. "I am ashamed of myself," he said as he passed his plate a third time, "but everything tastes so good. Especially after a man has been eating his own poorly-cooked grub for a year. We do not do much cooking on the trail. One cannot carry great quantities of food on sleds and make much progress. It's the curse of the North that one is always possessed of a gnawing hunger without the means of satisfying it. Men seem to thrive under it, though. Few of them carry an extra ounce of flesh on them, but they are as hard as iron. One of them can do as much hard labor in a day as three well-fed chekakos. And while I am talking, son," addressing Alex, "let me warn you not to pull your gun in this region unless you mean to kill or be killed. Mere bluff does not go in this country without a bad reputation to back it, and sometimes not even then. You're a pretty fair shot, boy, I noticed that today, but lad, there are old timers who can give a good hair cut at twenty paces without breaking the skin. Better not draw your gun unless you have to. Pluckiness is all right, but it's suicide to try to stack up against too heavy odds. Don't think I am trying to lecture," he added apologetically. "It's just good advice I got hammered into me when I first hit this country. If you'll excuse me, I'll take a look at that pile of magazines and books I see over there. They stack up like a heap of gold dust to me."

The five of them clustered around, while the Kid handled the books with reverent fingers. He laid a few books and a couple of magazines one side. The boys looked at them with surprise. They consisted of a book on surgery and two law books, which belonged to Clay, whose private ambition was to be a lawyer. Clay glanced at the titles, "Chitty on Pleadings" and "Bishop on Contracts."

"Gee!" he said. "You've chosen some heavy stuff. Why, it took me a year to get all of 'Chitty on Pleadings' through my head."

"Light reading is all right for summer," said the Kid, "but for winter give me the heavy books like these that keep your mind so busy that you do not think of the long darkness, the great silence, and the everlasting whiteness. Besides, I need that book on surgery. I meet so many injured men on the trail and there isn't a doctor between Nome and Dawson. As to the law books, well, this is going to be a great country some day, I guess, and the man on the ground who knows the miners as well as the laws will stand a good chance of making good--anyway it will beat traveling the long trail, and I'm for it."

Case brought out some cigars which they had brought along with them for just some like occasion.

"Take a handful," he said, hospitably, but the Kid only took one. "I have sorter got used to my old pipe and cut plug," he apologized. "Say, don't none of you boys smoke?"

"No," said Clay, but don't stop for that. Light up."

"No," said the Kid decidedly. "I am not going to stink up this dainty little cabin of yours with stale tobacco fumes. Let's go up on deck if you don't mind. It's the finest hour in the twenty-four, according to my notion."

The five seated themselves on the edge of the cabin, silent for the moment. Twilight had set in and the day's work was over. Outside the shanties small fires were blazing from which came the savory odor of frying bacon and boiling coffee. A keen, clear wind fanned their faces, while from the huddled settlement came to their ears, faintly, the weird, soul-stirring wail of the wolf dogs. But, because they were well fed, and happy, and young--above all, young--they began to sing. Clay first, by some hidden chord, had been touched by that soul-touching wail and dearly his fresh young voice rang out, softly at first, but gradually growing in volume.

"Back in the dear dead days beyond recall, When on the earth the mists began to fall, Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng, Low to our hearts love sang an old sweet song."

"Know any more of it?" asked the Kid, eagerly.

"Sure, a part of it," Clay said with a glance at his companions. None of the boys had cultivated voices but they were clear and ringing and bore the thrilling note of youth. They had often sang together on their long trips and when Clay started again the other three joined in harmoniously.

"And in the even when fell the firelight gleam, Slowly it wove itself into our dreams."

A shanty door slammed, another and another until it seemed to Clay as if all Nome was banging doors. He stopped. "We're going to be mobbed," he said, "and it's your fault, Ike. That golden note in your voice is starting a stampede."

"Go on," commanded the Kid, who was lying back on the cabin top, his face upturned to the stars.

Clay hurried to the end filled with apprehension at the sight of many dim forms filing out on the dock, but in spite of his fears he sang on to the end, the words ringing out sweetly over the water.

"And in the end when earth's dim shadows fall. Love will be found the sweetest song of all."

Uproarious applause came from the now densely packed crowd on the dock.

Clay sat down in amazement. "An audience! and I thought it was a mob!" he gasped.

"You green, green chekako," grinned the Kid. "Don't you realize that most of these men have been up here for years without hearing any music but the tin pan din of the saloons and dance halls. Sing to them, boys, not cheap rag time, but some of the old, old songs they sang in the States years and years ago.

Clay grasped the cue and one after the other, followed by his companions, sang all the old familiar songs he could remember, the crowd on the dock occasionally joining in on some old time favorite. When they had finished, he sought in his mind for something that would appeal to them all. As he looked down for a moment upon the rough faces, marked with scurvy, frost bite and famine, there came to him a realization of what it was that drove these men to endure the cruelties of the Northland. It was not gold, alone, but shining above the brilliant metal, the face of some woman; wife, mother or sweetheart. He closed his eyes for a second and the vision was strong upon him of a slender girl in a white dress with a blue sash, seated at a piano, her soft white fingers wandering over the keys and her gentle voice singing--what was she singing forty years ago, what was she singing today? What did that girl in Chicago in the white dress and blue sash always sing to him when he called? He had it, but that first verse he never could remember, so he softly sang the second.

"Her brow is like the snow drift. And her throat is like the swan's. Her face it is the fairest that E'er th' sun shon' on."

When the final--

"An' for Bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down an' dee"

died away the crowd stood quiet and silent for a minute.

"Now's the best time to pass the hat, Clay, you understand," whispered the commercial Ike. "That song was too sad-like--it sends them all home. You should have sung them something pretty, like the Hebrew Lovers' Dream."

"They're dreaming enough about gold already," retorted Clay, tartly, as he noted a man moving in and out amongst the crowd. He divined his intention. "Friend," he called. "We don't want a collection. If we have given a little diversion for a couple of hours, we are pleased and want no money," but the crowd was not listening. They were now talking amongst themselves. "Can't hear that song without thinking of my girl in Florida that's waiting for me to make good. One of those slim little gals what wears white dresses with a blue sash and a bunch of orange blossoms stuck in it." "Just like my wife," assented a rough bearded miner, "only she lives in Connecticut, an' we don't have orange blossoms, but she's always got something catchy pinned on her dress."

"Case, for goodness sake, start some parting song," whispered Clay. I can't think of a thing, and that man keeps on taking up a collection."

Case promptly stepped into the breach and his mellow tenor voice rang out the good old parting hymn:

"God be with us 'till we meet again, By His counsel guide, uphold you, With His sheep securely fold you, God be with you 'till we meet again."

"Hanged if I just like that," grumbled a miner whose bowed legs told of a cow-boy life. "I don't want to be folded up with no sheep. If it was cattle now I wouldn't kick so much."

The crowd departed slowly, and as silently as they had come, only one, a little, energetic man with a spade-like beard remained. He approached the boat slowly and the boys thought he was coming on board, but just as he came opposite the cabin, he flung some heavy object up on it and ran for shore like a rabbit.

"Look out," cried Clay, as the Kid reached out to pick it up. "It may be a bomb."

The Kid chuckled. "We ain't civilized enough for bombs up here yet. I would be glad to stand up and let a man throw bombs like this at me all day long. Why, little chekako, this is a miner's poke, and if I am any judge of gold dust weight, it must be worth $400.00. I reckon that Annie Laurie business got them in a soft spot. That little spade-bearded man is Cook, the richest man in Nome and mighty generous when his mean old cat of a wife isn't around. Reckon he didn't marry his Annie Laurie."

"I guess we done better than if we had taken up a collection. I guess maybe you got a good business head on you after all, Clay," said Ike happily.

"But we don't want all that money for doing such a little thing," Clay stormed. "Let's give it back to them."

"Don't get excited, son, just keep it. It belongs to you. Everyone knew what he gave and could afford it too. Why, half the wealthy of Nome were here tonight. Well, I'm too short of dust tonight but maybe I can put you wise to a few things. I don't generally give advice to chekakos for this is a country where every man has got to play his own game, but you all seem clean, gritty chaps and I like you, so I'm going to put you wise to a few things. I understand that you are going up the Yukon to trade for pelts with the Indians. The idea is all right, but you've come too late. All the furs got last summer were traded out during the winter and spring and there won't be but a few to be got until just after the hunters come in from their big hunt just before the big cold."

The boys' faces were a picture of disappointment.

"We hate to go back now," Case said gloomily. "We've put all the money we had in on this trip, and I, for one, hate to go back and to be laughed at too."

"I am not advising you what to do. But I know what I would do myself in like case," said the Kid slowly. "I wouldn't give up. A thing not worth pushing through is not worth starting. I'd go on up as far as Dawson maybe, kinder going along easy and learning the ways of the Yukon and having as much sport as I could, and buying more supplies when I could get them cheap. As soon as it started to get cold at Dawson, I'd start down the river, stopping only at a few big settlements to trade. I would try to get close to the lower Yukon before the river froze up. I wouldn't take any chances. As soon as floating ice began to form, I'd run my boat in some cozy cove, pull her out on shore, and make myself cozy for the winter. Then I'd find me a sled and dogs and hit for the nearest settlement. I'd be pretty liberal with my first buying and it wouldn't be long before the Indians would be coming from hundreds of miles to exchange their pelts for tobacco, beads and trinkets. Tobacco tempts them most, tobacco and cheap watches. Did you bring any of those cheap watches?"

"We've got a case of the kind that is making the dollar infamous," grinned Alex.

"Them's the kind," grinned back the Kid. "Just show them how to keep them wound up and ticking and they will fall for them all right. They think the ticking inside is a spirit and they back it up to keep the evil spirit of the Yukon from bothering them. But to go on, by spring I would have my boat loaded with valuable furs and when the ice went out, I would make Nome and hike back for the States with the satisfaction of knowing that I had cleaned up a few thousand dollars on the trip."

"But a winter on the Yukon!" gasped Case.

"A winter on the Yukon is largely what a man makes of it, as in all things," said the Kid gently. "If a man is strong of soul, he will thaw out with ice a still stronger man. If he's a weakling, it's just as well for him to find it out early in life. You boys are fixed comfortable for the winter and had ought to go through it all right. The main thing is to keep busy and cheerful. Remember, boys, I am not advising you boys to do this, for you might come to grief and I would always blame myself. I am merely telling you what I would do in your case."

"Thanks for what you have told us," said Clay, gravely. "We know that you know what you are talking about, but it knocks the wind out of us for the moment. We had built so on the plans made in our ignorance that, now they are all shattered, we don't just know what to do until we have slept over it and talked it over. Now, I have got a question to ask you," he said abruptly. "Do you know or have you ever seen two men that fit this description," and he described Jud and Bill.

"I've crossed their trail many a time, and Jud is one of the most powerful men on the Yukon and a right gentle good man when you get him away from his partner, but Bill is as full of poison as a rattlesnake. Don't know why Jud sticks to him, but he does. Bill seems to have some hold on him. You seldom see them apart. Don't know as any serious crime could be proved against them, but the Injins have brought me some ugly stories and I believe they are true. Anyway, they are men I want nothing to do with."

"Say, Mr. Kid," Ike asked, eagerly. "How far up the Yukon is Rainbow Bend?"

"Don't know of any such place," replied the Kid, promptly. "And I know the Yukon like a book. Yet the name has a familiar sound. I'll try and think it up. I will remember in time what it is, for I never really forget anything. Well, so long, boys. It's time for all of us to go to bed. I expect to go up on the steamer tomorrow afternoon. I make my trip by water when the ice is out. If you start early, I reckon we'll catch you at the mouth of the Yukon and you can keep in our wake as long as you can see us.

"What time does the steamer make?" inquired Case.

"Ten miles an hour against the current," said the Kid, proudly.

"Then we'll see you on the Yukon," promised Case with a grin.

As soon as the Kid was gone, the tired boys sought their bunks and sleep.

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