Klondike Nuggets, and How Two Boys Secured Them by Edward Sylvester Ellis (pdf to ebook reader TXT) 📕

The tremulous note had scarcely pierced the air when a shadowy form emerged from the wood and walked the short distance that took him to the waiting Hardman. The two were so far off that it was impossible to identify him; but the lad was as certain it was the man who had exchanged the words and signs with Hardman as if the noonday sun were shining.

Frank Mansley would have given anything he had to be able to steal near enough to overhear what passed between them, but that was clearly impossible. To move from his place by the tent was certain to bring instant detection. Now and then he could catch the faint murmur of their voices, but not once was he able to distinguish a syllable that was uttered.

The interview lasted but a short time. Whatever understanding was reached between the plotters must have been simple, else it would not have been effected so soon. Suddenly the stranger moved off over the snow in the direction of the wood and disappeared among the trees. At the same moment Hardman moved silently toward the tent. Frank was on the alert, and when the man entered he was lying on his couch, his blanket over him, and his chilled body against the warm form of his comrade, who recoiled slightly with a shiver, though he did not awake.

The fear of Frank Mansley had been that the two men were plotting some scheme for the robbery of Jeff, though it would seem that they would prefer to wait until he had made a strike in the gold district. What the youth had seen convinced him that the latter plan would be followed, or at least attempted, and he had hardly reached that conclusion when he fell asleep.

"You're a pretty fellow to stand guard," he remarked to his cousin the next morning, after the men had gone to the wood again.

"YOU'RE A PRETTY FELLOW TO STAND GUARD," SAID FRANK.

"I didn't try to stand guard," replied Roswell with a laugh; "I was lying down all the time."

"Why didn't you keep awake?"

"Because I fell asleep, and you would have done the same if you hadn't kept awake."

"Probably I should—most people do; but what do you think of it, Roswell?"

"First tell me something to think of."

His cousin told all that he had seen the night before.

"There can't be any doubt that Hardman and one, if not all three of those fellows, are plotting mischief. It might have been one of the others who signalled to and met him. I think we ought to tell Jeff."

"We'll do so before night. It isn't likely Hardman suspects anything, and you will have no trouble in finding the chance."

"You think it best that I should tell Jeff?"

"By all means, since you will tell what you saw. Such things are best first-hand; but neither of us will say anything to Tim."

"Why not?"

"Jeff is the leader of this expedition. Tim is so soft-hearted that likely enough he would try to convince Hardman of his wrongdoing, and so put him on his guard. Let Jeff tell him if he chooses."

"I hope he will drive Hardman out of our party; my impression of him is that he would not only rob but kill for the sake of gold."

Roswell looked grave. The same thought had been in his mind, but he disliked to give expression to it. He hoped his cousin was wrong, but could not feel certain that he was.

"Frank, make an excuse for calling Jeff here; he ought to know of this at once."

Looking toward the timber, they saw that their friend had just given up his axe to Hardman, who was swinging it a short distance from where Tim McCabe was lustily doing the same. Frank called to him, and when the old miner looked around, he beckoned for him to approach. Jeff slouched forward, wondering why the boys had summoned him from his work. He was quickly told. He listened, silent, but deeply interested, until the story was finished. Then, without any excitement, he said, "Don't let Tim know anything of this, younkers;" and, with a strange gleam in his keen gray eyes, the old man added, "I've got a Winchester and a revolver, and I keep 'em both loaded, and I've plenty of ammunition. I think I'll have use for 'em purty soon."

CHAPTER VIII.

ON LAKE BENNET.

The men wrought steadily in felling trees, and by the close of the second day had enough timber for their raft. It would have been much preferable could they have constructed a good, stout boat; but it was not feasible, though Jeff and Tim would have built it had they possessed the necessary planking and boards. They had provided themselves with oakum, pitch, and other material; but the labor of sawing out the right kind of stuff would have taken weeks. The Irishman had learned from his late experience; as a result of which a double-decker, as it may be termed, was planned. This consisted first of a substantial framework of buoyant pine logs, securely nailed together, while upon that was reared another some two feet in height. This upper framework was intended to bear their outfits, over which were fastened rubber cloths. The Alaskan lakes are often swept by terrific tempests, the waves sometimes dashing entirely over the rafts and boats, and wetting everything that is not well protected. The upper deck serves also partially to protect the men.

The boys spent a portion of the days in fishing. There was a notable moderation in the weather, the snow and ice rapidly melting. Sitting or standing on the bank, they cast out their lines, baited with bits of meat, and met with pleasing success. Plump, luscious white-fish, grayling, and lake trout were landed in such numbers that little or no other solid food was eaten during their halt at the head of Lake Bennet.

Work was pushed so vigorously that on the third day the goods were carefully piled on the upper deck, secured in place, and with their long poles they pushed out from the shore on the voyage of twenty-eight miles to the foot of the sheet of water. They were provided with a sturdy mast reared near the middle of the craft, but they did not erect a sail, for the reason that the strong wind which was blowing was almost directly from the north, and would have checked their progress.

The unwieldy structure was pushed along the eastern side, where the poles were serviceable at all times. Each took his turn at the work, the boys with the others, and the progress, if slow, was sure.

The first twelve miles of Lake Bennet are quite shallow, with a width barely exceeding a half mile. Fifteen miles down occurs the junction with the southwest arm, and the point had hardly come into sight when Tim said:

"Now look out for trouble, for here's where we'll catch it sure."

All understood what he meant, for a wind was blowing down the arm with such fierceness that it looked as if everything would be swept off the raft. The prospect was so threatening that they ran inshore while yet at a safe distance, and waited for the gale to subside.

"Is it likely to last long?" asked Roswell, when they had secured shelter.

"That depinds how far off the end of the same may be," was the unsatisfactory reply. "I've knowed men to be held here for days, but I have hopes that we may get off in the coorse of two or three weeks."

The boys as well as Jeff could not believe that Tim was in earnest, for his lightest words were often spoken with the gravest expression of face; but their former experience taught them to be prepared for almost any whim in the weather. They recalled those dismal days and nights earlier on their journey, when they were storm-stayed, and they were depressed at the thought that something of the nature might again overtake them. When the boys proposed to put up the tent, the Irishman said:

"It is early in the day; bide awhile before going to that trouble."

This remark convinced them that he was more hopeful of a release than would be implied from his words; so they wrapped their heavy coats closer and hoped for the best. The men lit their pipes, while the boys huddled close together and had little to say. Unexpectedly there came such a lull in the gale early in the afternoon that the voyage, to the delight of all, was resumed.

Ike Hardman was in more genial spirits than at any time since he joined the company. He showed an eagerness to help, declining to yield the pole when Jeff offered to relieve him, and ventured now and then upon some jest with Roswell and Frank. Their distrust, however, was not lessened, and they were too honest to affect a liking that it was impossible to feel. They had little to say to him, and noticing the fact, he finally let them alone. Whatever misgiving Jeff may have felt was skilfully concealed, and the fellow could have felt no suspicion that his secret was suspected by any member of the company.

The wind blew so strongly that there was some misgiving; but observing that it came from the right quarter, the sail was hoisted, and as the canvas bellied outward, the raft caught the impulse and began moving through the water at a rate that sent the ripples flying over the square ends of the logs at the front. All sat down on the upper framework, with the exception of Jeff, who stood, pole in hand, at the bow, ready to guide the structure should it sheer in the wrong direction.

The conformation of the shore and a slight change of wind carried the raft farther out on the lake. Observing that it was getting slightly askew, Jeff pushed the long pole downward until his hand almost touched the surface of the water. While holding it there the other end bobbed up, having failed to touch ground.

"No use," he said, facing his friends, who were watching him, "the bottom may be half a mile below."

"That looks as if we're over our hids," said Tim; "by which token, if this steamer blows up we've got to swim for our lives, and I never larned to swim a stroke."

The boys looked at him wonderingly.

"How is it you did not learn?" asked Roswell.

"I've tried hundreds of times. I kept in the water till me toes begun to have webs between 'em, but at the first stroke me hid went down and me heels up. I can swim in that style," he added gravely, "but find the same slightly inconvanient owing to the necissity of braithing now and thin. I tried fur a long time to braithe through me toes, but niver made much of a succiss of it."

"And I learned to swim in one day," remarked Frank; "strange that you should have so much trouble."

"Undoubtedly that's because yer hid is so light, while me own brains weigh me down; it's aisy to understand that."

"If we should have any mishap, Tim," said Frank, "you must remember to hold fast to a piece of wood to help you float—a small bit is enough."

"I have a bitter plan than that."

"What is it?"

"Niver have anything to do wid the water."

"That would be certain safety if you could carry it out; but you can't help it all times—such, for instance, as the present."

"And I'm thinking we shall have plinty of the same before we raich Dawson."

"After we get to the foot of this lake, what comes next, Tim?"

"Caribou Crossing, which we pass through to Lake Tagish, which isn't quite as big as is this one. I'm thinking," he added thoughtfully, watching the rising anger of the waves, "that bime-by, whin we come near land, we'll be going that fast that we'll skim over the snow like a sled to the nixt lake."

Roswell pointed to the shore on their right, indicating a stake which rose upright from the ground and stood close to the water.

"What is the meaning of that?" he asked.

"That," replied Tim, "marks the grave of some poor chap that died on his way to the Klondike. Do ye obsarve that cairn of stones a bit beyont?"

Each saw it.

"That marks anither grave; and ye may call to mind that we obsarved more of the same along Lake Lindeman."

Such was the fact, though this was the first reference to them.

"And we shall hardly be out of sight of some of the same all the way to the Klondike; and I'm thinking," was his truthful remark, "that hundreds more will lay their bones down in these