Klondike Nuggets by Edward Sylvester Ellis (books to read in your 30s .txt) 📕

which Jeff hoped he had made.

Going up the stream for a short distance, they turned off into a narrow valley, which never would have attracted the attention of the boys.

The old miner stood for some minutes attentively studying his surroundings, and then, instead of beginning to dig, as his companions expected him to do, he said with an expression of disgust:

"Boys, I've made a mistake; there's no gold here."

"How can you tell until you search?" asked the astonished Roswell.

"It ain't what I thought it was; you don't find the stuff in places like this. There's no use of wasting time; come on."

Wondering at his action, the three, smiling but silent, trailed after him. Climbing over some intervening bowlders, they shortly emerged into a place altogether different from any they had yet seen. It was a valley two or three hundred feet in width, with the sides gently sloping. There was no snow on the ground, and here and there a few green blades of grass could be seen sprouting from the fertile soil. Through the middle of this valley meandered a stream eight or ten feet in width, but shallow, and so clear that the bottom could be plainly seen while yet some distance away. The valley itself soon curved out of sight above, and it was impossible, therefore, to guess its extent in that direction. Below it terminated, not far from where they stood, the rocks coming together so as to form a small canon, through which the creek rushed with a velocity that reminded them of the dangerous ones they had passed on their way from Chilkoot Pass.

"Wait here a bit," said Jeff, as he started toward the stream. The others obeyed, watching his actions with interest.

He strode to the creek, along which he walked a few rods, his head bent as he carefully scrutinized all that passed under his eye. Suddenly he stopped and stared as if he had found that for which he was looking. Then stooping down, he leaned as far out as he could, gathered a handful of the gravelly soil, and put it in the washer which he had taken with him. This was repeated several times. Then he dipped the pan so as nearly to fill it with water, after which he whirled it round several times with a speed that caused some of the water to fly out. That part of his work completed, he set down the pan which served as a washer, and walked rapidly back toward his friends.

"Another disappointment," remarked Frank; "it isn't as easy to find gold as we thought."

"I don't know about that," said Tim McCabe. "Jiff looks to me as if he has hit on something worth while. How is it, Jiff?" he called as the old miner drew near.

"That's our claim," he replied; "we'll stake it out, and then I'm going to Dawson to file it."

"Are you sure there is gold here?" asked Roswell, in some excitement.

"Yes, I hit it this time. We mustn't lose any days in staking it out, or somebody else will get ahead of us."

The assurance of Jeff imparted confidence to the rest. The stakes were cut and driven, according to the rule already stated, and then Jeff breathed more freely.

"We've got sixty days to find the stuff," he said, "and nobody daren't say a word to us. All the same, I'm going to Dawson to file the claim and make things dead sure."

"When will you go?"

"Now, right off. I want to bring back some things with me, and I'll be gone two or three days, but I won't lose no time."

Jeff was one of those men who do not require long to make up their minds, and whom, having reached a decision, nothing can turn aside from its execution. Ten minutes later he was hurrying toward Dawson City, forty miles or more distant.

Inasmuch as Tim McCabe had practical knowledge of placer mining, the three decided to improve the time while Jeff was absent in taking out some of the gold which he assured them was there.

As has been explained, this form of mining is of the crudest and cheapest nature. In winter, after sinking a shaft to bed-rock, tunnels are run in different directions, and the frozen dirt piled up until warm weather permits its washing out. The distance to bed-rock varies from four to twenty feet. The gold is found in dust, grains, and nuggets, the last varying from the size of a hickory-nut or larger to small grains of pure gold.

It quite often occurs that the bed-rock is seamy, with many small depressions. It is supposed that when the _debris_ containing the original gold swept over this bed-rock, the great weight of the metal caused it to fall and lodge in the crevices, where it has lain for ages. Certain it is that the richest finds have been made in such places.

Having fixed upon the spot where the work should begin, Tim McCabe and the boys set to work to clear off the coarse gravel and stone from a patch of ground. At the end of several hours they had completed enough to begin operations. Tim dropped a few handfuls of the finer gravel or sand into his pan, which was a broad, shallow dish of sheet iron. Then water was dipped into the pan until it was full, when he whirled it swiftly about and up and down. This allowed the gold, on account of its greater specific gravity, to fall to the bottom, while the sand itself was floated off by the agitation. Tim had learned the knack of dipping the pan sideways, so as gradually to get rid of the worthless stuff, while the heavy yellow particles remained below.

The boys stood attentively watching the operation, which was carried on with such skill that by and by nothing was left in the bottom but the yellow and black particles. The latter were pulverized magnetic iron ore, which almost always accompanies the gold. Frank's and Roswell's eyes sparkled as they saw so much of the yellow particles, even though it looked almost as fine as the black sand.

"How will you separate them?" asked Frank.

"Now ye'll obsarve the use that that cask is to be put to," replied Tim, "if ye'll oblige me by filling the same with water."

This was done, when Tim flung about a pound of mercury into the cask, after which he dumped into it the black and yellow sand. As soon as the gold came in contact with the mercury it formed an amalgam.

"This will do to start things," said Tim. "When we have enough to make it pay, we'll squaze it through a buckskin bag."

"What is the result?"

"Nearly all the mercury will ooze through the bag, and we can use the same agin in the cask. The impure goold will be placed on a shovel and held over a hot fire till the mercury has gone off in vapor, and only the pure goold is lift, or rather there's just a wee bit of the mercury still hanging 'bout the goold; but we'll make a big improvement whin Jiff comes back. The filing of this claim ain't the only thing that takes him to Dawson City."

"What do you think of the deposit here?"

"I b'lave it's one of the richest finds in the Kloondike counthry, and if it turns out as it promises, we shall go home and live like gintlemen the rist of our lives."


CHAPTER XVII.

A GOLDEN HARVEST.

Tim McCabe and the boys wrought steadily through the rest of the day and the following two days. Inasmuch as the summer sun in the Klondike region does not thaw the soil to a greater depth than two feet, it was necessary to pile wood upon the earth and set it afire. As this gradually dissolved the frozen ground, the refuse dirt was cleared away, so as to reach paying earth or gravel. The results for a time were disappointing. The gold-hunters secured a good deal of yellow grains or dust, and ordinarily would have been satisfied, but naturally they were greedy for more.

There came times of discouragement, when the boys began to doubt the truth of the wonderful stories that had reached them from the Klondike region, or they thought that if perchance the reports were true, they themselves and their friends had not hit upon a productive spot. Tim, when appealed to, had little to say, but it was of a hopeful nature. It would have been unnatural had he not been absorbed in the work in hand.

That there was gold was undeniable, for the evidence was continually before them, but the question was whether it was to be found in paying quantities upon their claim. At the close of the second day all they had gathered was not worth ten dollars.

But the harvest rewarded them on the third day. Tim was working hard and silently, when he suddenly leaped to his feet, flung down his pick, and hurling his cap in the air, began dancing a jig and singing an Irish ditty. The boys looked at him in amazement, wondering whether he had bidden good-by to his senses.

"Do ye obsarve that beauty?" he asked, stopping short and holding up a yellow nugget as large as the one the boys had taken from the brook several days before. Roswell and Frank hurried up to him and examined the prize. There could be no doubt that it was virgin gold and worth several hundred dollars.

Twenty minutes later it was Roswell's turn to hurrah, for he came upon one almost as large. And he did hurrah, too, and his friends joined in with a vigor that could not be criticised. Congratulating one another, the three paused but a few minutes to inspect the finds, when they were digging harder than ever.

"I think it is my turn," remarked Frank; "you fellows are becoming so proud, that if I don't find--by George, _I have found it_!"

Incredible as it seemed, it was true, and Frank's prize was larger than any of the others. Instantly they were at work again, glowing with hope and delight. No more nuggets were taken out that day, but the gravel revealed greater richness than at any time before.

Jeff Graham put in an appearance while they were eating supper, and, to the surprise of all, he was riding a tough little burro, which he had bought at Dawson for five hundred dollars. His eyes sparkled when he learned what had been done during his absence, but he quietly remarked, "I knowed it," and having turned his animal loose, after unloading him, he asked for the particulars.

Although it was quite cold, the four remained seated on the bowlders outside of their primitive dwelling, the men smoking their pipes and discussing the wonderful success they had had, and the still greater that was fairly within their grasp.

"We're not so much alone as I thought," remarked Jeff, "for there are fifty miners to the east and north, and some of them ain't far from where we've staked out our claim, and more are coming."

"They can't interfere with us?" was the inquiring remark of Roswell.

"Not much. As a rule, folks don't file their claims till they've struck onto a spot where the yaller stuff shows; but I've done both, 'cause I was sartin that we'd hit it rich. If anybody tried to jump our claim, the first thing I'd do would be to shoot him;