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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trail of the Goldseekers, by Hamlin
+Garland
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Trail of the Goldseekers
+       A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse
+
+
+Author: Hamlin Garland
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 10, 2009  [eBook #28551]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Karen Dalrymple and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital material
+generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/trailgoldseekers00garlrich
+
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+[Illustration: Publisher logo]
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse
+
+by
+
+HAMLIN GARLAND
+
+Author of
+   Rose of Dutcher's Coolly
+   Main Travelled Roads
+   Prairie Folks
+   Boy Life on the Prairie, etc.
+
+
+New York
+The MacMillan Company
+London: MacMillan & Co., Ltd.
+1906
+
+Copyright, 1899,
+by Hamlin Garland.
+
+Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1899. Reprinted January,
+1906.
+
+Norwood Press
+J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
+Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                        PAGE
+
+  I.     Coming of the Ships                                      3
+
+  II.    Outfitting                                              11
+
+  III.   On the Stage Road                                       21
+
+  IV.    In Camp at Quesnelle                                    33
+
+  V.     The Blue Rat                                            37
+
+  VI.    The Beginning of the Long Trail                         45
+
+  VII.   The Blackwater Divide                                   53
+
+  VIII.  We swim the Nechaco                                     63
+
+  IX.    First Crossing of the Bulkley                           73
+
+  X.     Down the Bulkley Valley                                 81
+
+  XI.    Hazleton. Midway on the Trail                           97
+
+  XII.   Crossing the Big Divide                                107
+
+  XIII.  The Silent Forests                                     119
+
+  XIV.   The Great Stikeen Divide                               131
+
+  XV.    In the Cold Green Mountains                            139
+
+  XVI.   The Passing of the Beans                               151
+
+  XVII.  The Wolves and the Vultures Assemble                   163
+
+  XVIII. At Last the Stikeen                                    175
+
+  XIX.   The Goldseekers' Camp at Glenora                       185
+
+  XX.    Great News at Wrangell                                 195
+
+  XXI.   The Rush to Atlin Lake                                 207
+
+  XXII.  Atlin Lake and the Gold Fields                         217
+
+  XXIII. The End of the Trail                                   231
+
+  XXIV.  Homeward Bound                                         241
+
+  XXV.   Ladrone travels in State                               251
+
+  XXVI.  The Goldseekers reach the Golden River                 259
+
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+
+  Anticipation                                                      1
+
+  Where the Desert flames with Furnace Heat                         2
+
+  The Cow-boy                                                       9
+
+  From Plain to Peak                                               19
+
+  Momentous Hour                                                   31
+
+  A Wish                                                           32
+
+  The Gift of Water                                                35
+
+  Mounting                                                         35
+
+  The Eagle Trail                                                  36
+
+  Moon on the Plain                                                43
+
+  The Whooping Crane                                               51
+
+  The Loon                                                         51
+
+  Yet still we rode                                                61
+
+  The Gaunt Gray Wolf                                              79
+
+  Abandoned on the Trail                                           80
+
+  Do you fear the Wind?                                            95
+
+  Siwash Graves                                                   105
+
+  Line up, Brave Boys                                             106
+
+  A Child of the Sun                                              117
+
+  In the Grass                                                    118
+
+  The Faithful Broncos                                            129
+
+  The Whistling Marmot                                            130
+
+  The Clouds                                                      137
+
+  The Great Stikeen Divide                                        138
+
+  The Ute Lover                                                   147
+
+  Devil's Club                                                    150
+
+  In the Cold Green Mountains                                     150
+
+  The Long Trail                                                  159
+
+  The Greeting of the Roses                                       161
+
+  The Vulture                                                     172
+
+  Campfires                                                       173
+
+  The Footstep in the Desert                                      182
+
+  So this is the End of the Trail to him                          190
+
+  The Toil of the Trail                                           193
+
+  The Goldseekers                                                 205
+
+  The Coast Range of Alaska                                       215
+
+  The Freeman of the Hills                                        229
+
+  The Voice of the Maple Tree                                     230
+
+  A Girl on the Trail                                             239
+
+  O the Fierce Delight                                            249
+
+  The Lure of the Desert                                          258
+
+  This out of All will remain                                     262
+
+  Here the Trail ends                                             263
+
+
+
+
+ANTICIPATION
+
+
+    I will wash my brain in the splendid breeze,
+    I will lay my cheek to the northern sun,
+    I will drink the breath of the mossy trees,
+    And the clouds shall meet me one by one.
+    I will fling the scholar's pen aside,
+    And grasp once more the bronco's rein,
+    And I will ride and ride and ride,
+    Till the rain is snow, and the seed is grain.
+
+    The way is long and cold and lone--
+                But I go.
+    It leads where pines forever moan
+            Their weight of snow,
+                Yet I go.
+    There are voices in the wind that call,
+    There are hands that beckon to the plain;
+    I must journey where the trees grow tall,
+    And the lonely heron clamors in the rain.
+
+    Where the desert flames with furnace heat,
+                I have trod.
+    Where the horned toad's tiny feet
+                In a land
+                Of burning sand
+                Leave a mark,
+    I have ridden in the noon and in the dark.
+    Now I go to see the snows,
+    Where the mossy mountains rise
+    Wild and bleak--and the rose
+    And pink of morning fill the skies
+    With a color that is singing,
+                And the lights
+                Of polar nights
+                Utter cries
+    As they sweep from star to star,
+                Swinging, ringing,
+    Where the sunless middays are.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+COMING OF THE SHIPS
+
+
+I
+
+
+A little over a year ago a small steamer swung to at a Seattle wharf,
+and emptied a flood of eager passengers upon the dock. It was an
+obscure craft, making infrequent trips round the Aleutian Islands
+(which form the farthest western point of the United States) to the
+mouth of a practically unknown river called the Yukon, which empties
+into the ocean near the post of St. Michaels, on the northwestern
+coast of Alaska.
+
+The passengers on this boat were not distinguished citizens, nor fair
+to look upon. They were roughly dressed, and some of them were pale
+and worn as if with long sickness or exhausting toil. Yet this ship
+and these passengers startled the whole English-speaking world. Swift
+as electricity could fly, the magical word GOLD went forth like a
+brazen eagle across the continent to turn the faces of millions of
+earth's toilers toward a region which, up to that time, had been
+unknown or of ill report. For this ship contained a million dollars
+in gold: these seedy passengers carried great bags of nuggets and
+bottles of shining dust which they had burned, at risk of their
+lives, out of the perpetually frozen ground, so far in the north that
+the winter had no sun and the summer midnight had no dusk.
+
+The world was instantly filled with the stories of these men and of
+their tons of bullion. There was a moment of arrested attention--then
+the listeners smiled and nodded knowingly to each other, and went
+about their daily affairs.
+
+But other ships similarly laden crept laggardly through the gates of
+Puget Sound, bringing other miners with bags and bottles, and then
+the world believed. Thereafter the journals of all Christendom had to
+do with the "Klondike" and "The Golden River." Men could not hear
+enough or read enough of the mysterious Northwest.
+
+In less than ten days after the landing of the second ship, all
+trains westward-bound across America were heavily laden with
+fiery-hearted adventurers, who set their faces to the new Eldorado
+with exultant confidence, resolute to do and dare.
+
+Miners from Colorado and cow-boys from Montana met and mingled with
+civil engineers and tailors from New York City, and adventurous
+merchants from Chicago set shoulder to shoemakers from Lynn. All
+kinds and conditions of prospectors swarmed upon the boats at
+Seattle, Vancouver, and other coast cities. Some entered upon new
+routes to the gold fields, which were now known to be far in the
+Yukon Valley, while others took the already well-known route by way
+of St. Michaels, and thence up the sinuous and sinister stream whose
+waters began on the eastern slope of the glacial peaks just inland
+from Juneau, and swept to the north and west for more than two
+thousand miles. It was understood that this way was long and hard and
+cold, yet thousands eagerly embarked on keels of all designs and of
+all conditions of unseaworthiness. By far the greater number
+assaulted the mountain passes of Skagway.
+
+As the autumn came on, the certainty of the gold deposits deepened;
+but the tales of savage cliffs, of snow-walled trails, of swift and
+icy rivers, grew more numerous, more definite, and more appalling.
+Weak-hearted Jasons dropped out and returned to warn their friends of
+the dread powers to be encountered in the northern mountains.
+
+As the uncertainties of the river route and the sufferings and toils
+of the Chilcoot and the White Pass became known, the adventurers cast
+about to find other ways of reaching the gold fields, which had come
+now to be called "The Klondike," because of the extreme richness of a
+small river of that name which entered the Yukon, well on toward the
+Arctic Circle.
+
+From this attempt to avoid the perils of other routes, much talk
+arose of the Dalton Trail, the Taku Trail, the Stikeen Route, the
+Telegraph Route, and the Edmonton Overland Trail. Every town within
+two thousand miles of the Klondike River advertised itself as "the
+point of departure for the gold fields," and set forth the special
+advantages of its entrance way, crying out meanwhile against the
+cruel mendacity of those who dared to suggest other and "more
+dangerous and costly" ways.
+
+The winter was spent in urging these claims, and thousands of men
+planned to try some one or the other of these "side-doors." The
+movement overland seemed about to surpass the wonderful
+transcontinental march of miners in '49 and '50, and those who loved
+the trail for its own sake and were eager to explore an unknown
+country hesitated only between the two trails which were entirely
+overland. One of these led from Edmonton to the head-waters of the
+Pelly, the other started from the Canadian Pacific Railway at
+Ashcroft and made its tortuous way northward between the great
+glacial coast range on the left and the lateral spurs of the
+Continental Divide on the east.
+
+The promoters of each of these routes spoke of the beautiful valleys
+to be crossed, of the lovely streams filled with fish, of the game
+and fruit. Each was called "the poor man's route," because with a few
+ponies and a gun the prospector could traverse the entire distance
+during the summer, "arriving on the banks of the Yukon, not merely
+browned and hearty, but a veteran of the trail."
+
+It was pointed out also that the Ashcroft Route led directly across
+several great gold districts and that the adventurer could combine
+business and pleasure on the trip by examining the Ominica country,
+the Kisgagash Mountains, the Peace River, and the upper waters of the
+Stikeen. These places were all spoken of as if they were close
+beside the trail and easy of access, and the prediction was freely
+made that a flood of men would sweep up this valley such as had never
+been known in the history of goldseeking.
+
+As the winter wore on this prediction seemed about to be realized. In
+every town in the West, in every factory in the East, men were
+organizing parties of exploration. Grub stakers by the hundred were
+outfitted, a vast army was ready to march in the early spring, when a
+new interest suddenly appeared--a new army sprang into being.
+
+Against the greed for gold arose the lust of battle. WAR came to
+change the current of popular interest. The newspapers called home
+their reporters in the North and sent them into the South, the Dakota
+cow-boys just ready to join the ranks of the goldseekers entered the
+army of the United States, finding in its Southern campaigns an
+outlet to their undying passion for adventure; while the factory
+hands who had organized themselves into a goldseeking company turned
+themselves into a squad of military volunteers. For the time the gold
+of the North was forgotten in the war of the South.
+
+
+II
+
+
+However, there were those not so profoundly interested in the war or
+whose arrangements had been completed before the actual outbreak of
+cannon-shot, and would not be turned aside. An immense army still
+pushed on to the north. This I joined on the 20th day of April,
+leaving my home in Wisconsin, bound for the overland trail and
+bearing a joyous heart. I believed that I was about to see and take
+part in a most picturesque and impressive movement across the
+wilderness. I believed it to be the last great march of the kind
+which could ever come in America, so rapidly were the wild places
+being settled up. I wished, therefore, to take part in this tramp of
+the goldseekers, to be one of them, and record their deeds. I wished
+to return to the wilderness also, to forget books and theories of art
+and social problems, and come again face to face with the great free
+spaces of woods and skies and streams. I was not a goldseeker, but a
+nature hunter, and I was eager to enter this, the wildest region yet
+remaining in Northern America. I willingly and with joy took the long
+way round, the hard way through.
+
+
+
+
+THE COW-BOY
+
+
+    Of rough rude stock this saddle sprite
+    Is grosser grown with savage things.
+    Inured to storms, his fierce delight
+    Is lawless as the beasts he swings
+    His swift rope over.--Libidinous, obscene,
+    Careless of dust and dirt, serene,
+    He faces snows in calm disdain,
+    Or makes his bed down in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+OUTFITTING
+
+
+We went to sleep while the train was rushing past the lonely
+settler's shacks on the Minnesota Prairies. When we woke we found
+ourselves far out upon the great plains of Canada. The morning was
+cold and rainy, and there were long lines of snow in the swales of
+the limitless sod, which was silent, dun, and still, with a majesty
+of arrested motion like a polar ocean. It was like Dakota as I saw it
+in 1881. When it was a treeless desolate expanse, swept by owls and
+hawks, cut by feet of wild cattle, unmarred and unadorned of man. The
+clouds ragged, forbidding, and gloomy swept southward as if with a
+duty to perform. No green thing appeared, all was gray and sombre,
+and the horizon lines were hid in the cold white mist. Spring was
+just coming on.
+
+Our car, which was a tourist sleeper, was filled with goldseekers,
+some of them bound for the Stikeen River, some for Skagway. While a
+few like myself had set out for Teslin Lake by way of "The Prairie
+Route." There were women going to join their husbands at Dawson City,
+and young girls on their way to Vancouver and Seattle, and whole
+families emigrating to Washington.
+
+By the middle of the forenoon we were pretty well acquainted, and
+knowing that two long days were before us, we set ourselves to the
+task of passing the time. The women cooked their meals on the range
+in the forward part of the car, or attended to the toilets of the
+children, quite as regularly as in their own homes; while the men,
+having no duties to perform, played cards, or talked endlessly
+concerning their prospects in the Northwest, and when weary of this,
+joined in singing topical songs.
+
+No one knew his neighbor's name, and, for the most part, no one
+cared. All were in mountaineer dress, with rifles, revolvers, and
+boxes of cartridges, and the sight of a flock of antelopes developed
+in each man a frenzy of desire to have a shot at them. It was a wild
+ride, and all day we climbed over low swells, passing little lakes
+covered with geese and brant, practically the only living things.
+Late in the afternoon we entered upon the Selkirks, where no life
+was.
+
+These mountains I had long wished to see, and they were in no sense a
+disappointment. Desolate, death-haunted, they pushed their white
+domes into the blue sky in savage grandeur. The little snow-covered
+towns seemed to cower at their feet like timid animals lost in the
+immensity of the forest. All day we rode among these heights, and at
+night we went to sleep feeling the chill of their desolate presence.
+
+We reached Ashcroft (which was the beginning of the long trail) at
+sunrise. The town lay low on the sand, a spatter of little frame
+buildings, mainly saloons and lodging houses, and resembled an
+ordinary cow-town in the Western States.
+
+Rivers of dust were flowing in the streets as we debarked from the
+train. The land seemed dry as ashes, and the hills which rose near
+resembled those of Montana or Colorado. The little hotel swarmed with
+the rudest and crudest types of men; not dangerous men, only
+thoughtless and profane teamsters and cow-boys, who drank thirstily
+and ate like wolves. They spat on the floor while at the table,
+leaning on their elbows gracelessly. In the bar-room they drank and
+chewed tobacco, and talked in loud voices upon nothing at all.
+
+Down on the flats along the railway a dozen camps of Klondikers were
+set exposed to the dust and burning sun. The sidewalks swarmed with
+outfitters. Everywhere about us the talk of teamsters and cattle men
+went on, concerning regions of which I had never heard. Men spoke of
+Hat Creek, the Chilcoten country, Soda Creek, Lake La Hache, and
+Lilloat. Chinamen in long boots, much too large for them, came and
+went sombrely, buying gold sacks and picks. They were mining quietly
+on the upper waters of the Fraser, and were popularly supposed to be
+getting rich.
+
+The townspeople were possessed of thrift quite American in quality,
+and were making the most of the rush over the trail. "The grass is
+improving each day," they said to the goldseekers, who were disposed
+to feel that the townsmen were anything but disinterested, especially
+the hotel keepers. Among the outfitters of course the chief
+beneficiaries were the horse dealers, and every corral swarmed with
+mangy little cayuses, thin, hairy, and wild-eyed; while on the
+fences, in silent meditation or low-voiced conferences, the intending
+purchasers sat in rows like dyspeptic ravens. The wind storm
+continued, filling the houses with dust and making life intolerable
+in the camps below the town. But the crowds moved to and fro
+restlessly on the one wooden sidewalk, outfitting busily. The
+costumes were as various as the fancies of the men, but laced boots
+and cow-boy hats predominated.
+
+As I talked with some of the more thoughtful and conscientious
+citizens, I found them taking a very serious view of our trip into
+the interior. "It is a mighty hard and long road," they said, "and a
+lot of those fellows who have never tried a trail of this kind will
+find it anything but a picnic excursion." They had known a few men
+who had been as far as Hazleton, and the tales of rain, flies, and
+mosquitoes which these adventurers brought back with them, they
+repeated in confidential whispers.
+
+However, I had determined to go, and had prepared myself for every
+emergency. I had designed an insect-proof tent, and was provided with
+a rubber mattress, a down sleeping-bag, rain-proof clothing, and
+stout shoes. I purchased, as did many of the others, two bills of
+goods from the Hudson Bay Company, to be delivered at Hazleton on the
+Skeena, and at Glenora on the Stikeen. Even with this arrangement it
+was necessary to carry every crumb of food, in one case three hundred
+and sixty miles, and in the other case four hundred miles. However,
+the first two hundred and twenty miles would be in the nature of a
+practice march, for the trail ran through a country with occasional
+ranches where feed could be obtained. We planned to start with four
+horses, taking on others as we needed them. And for one week we
+scrutinized the ponies swarming around the corrals, in an attempt to
+find two packhorses that would not give out on the trail, or buck
+their packs off at the start.
+
+"We do not intend to be bothered with a lot of mean broncos," I said,
+and would not permit myself to be deceived. Before many days had
+passed, we had acquired the reputation of men who thoroughly knew
+what they wanted. At least, it became known that we would not buy
+wild cayuses at an exorbitant price.
+
+All the week long we saw men starting out with sore-backed or blind
+or weak or mean broncos, and heard many stories of their troubles and
+trials. The trail was said to be littered for fifty miles with all
+kinds of supplies.
+
+One evening, as I stood on the porch of the hotel, I saw a man riding
+a spirited dapple-gray horse up the street. As I watched the splendid
+fling of his fore-feet, the proud carriage of his head, the splendid
+nostrils, the deep intelligent eyes, I said: "There is my horse! I
+wonder if he is for sale."
+
+A bystander remarked, "He's coming to see you, and you can have the
+horse if you want it."
+
+The rider drew rein, and I went out to meet him. After looking the
+horse all over, with a subtle show of not being in haste, I asked,
+"How much will you take for him?"
+
+"Fifty dollars," he replied, and I knew by the tone of his voice that
+he would not take less.
+
+I hemmed and hawed a decent interval, examining every limb meanwhile;
+finally I said, "Get off your horse."
+
+With a certain sadness the man complied. I placed in his hand a
+fifty-dollar bill, and took the horse by the bridle. "What is his
+name?"
+
+"I call him Prince."
+
+"He shall be called Prince Ladrone," I said to Burton, as I led the
+horse away.
+
+Each moment increased my joy and pride in my dapple-gray gelding. I
+could scarcely convince myself of my good fortune, and concluded
+there must be something the matter with the horse. I was afraid of
+some trick, some meanness, for almost all mountain horses are
+"streaky," but I could discover nothing. He was quick on his feet as
+a cat, listened to every word that was spoken to him, and obeyed as
+instantly and as cheerfully as a dog. He took up his feet at request,
+he stood over in the stall at a touch, and took the bit readily (a
+severe test). In every way he seemed to be exactly the horse I had
+been waiting for. I became quite satisfied of his value the following
+morning, when his former owner said to me, in a voice of sadness,
+"Now treat him well, won't you?"
+
+"He shall have the best there is," I replied.
+
+My partner, meanwhile, had rustled together three packhorses, which
+were guaranteed to be kind and gentle, and so at last we were ready
+to make a trial. It was a beautiful day for a start, sunny, silent,
+warm, with great floating clouds filling the sky.
+
+We had tried our tent, and it was pronounced a "jim-cracker-jack" by
+all who saw it, and exciting almost as much comment among the natives
+as my Anderson pack-saddles. Our "truck" was ready on the platform of
+the storehouse, and the dealer in horses had agreed to pack the
+animals in order to show that they were "as represented." The whole
+town turned out to see the fun. The first horse began bucking before
+the pack-saddle was fairly on, to the vast amusement of the
+bystanders.
+
+"That will do for that beast," I remarked, and he was led away.
+"Bring up your other candidate."
+
+The next horse seemed to be gentle enough, but when one of the men
+took off his bandanna and began binding it round the pony's head, I
+interrupted.
+
+"That'll do," I said; "I know that trick. I don't want a horse whose
+eyes have to be blinded. Take him away."
+
+This left us as we were before, with the exception of Ladrone. An
+Indian standing near said to Burton, "I have gentle horse, no buck,
+all same like dog."
+
+"All right," said partner, with a sigh, "let's see him."
+
+The "dam Siwash" proved to be more reliable than his white detractor.
+His horses turned out to be gentle and strong, and we made a bargain
+without noise. At last it seemed we might be able to get away.
+"To-morrow morning," said I to Burton, "if nothing further
+intervenes, we hit the trail a resounding whack."
+
+All around us similar preparations were going on. Half-breeds were
+breaking wild ponies, cow-boys were packing, roping, and instructing
+the tenderfoot, the stores swarmed with would-be miners fitting out,
+while other outfits already supplied were crawling up the distant
+hill like loosely articulated canvas-colored worms. Outfits from
+Spokane and other southern towns began to drop down into the valley,
+and every train from the East brought other prospectors to stand
+dazed and wondering before the squalid little camp. Each day, each
+hour, increased the general eagerness to get away.
+
+
+
+
+FROM PLAIN TO PEAK
+
+
+    From hot low sands aflame with heat,
+      From crackling cedars dripping odorous gum,
+    I ride to set my burning feet
+      On heights whence Uncompagre's waters hum,
+    From rock to rock, and run
+                As white as wool.
+
+    My panting horse sniffs on the breeze
+      The water smell, too faint for me to know;
+    But I can see afar the trees,
+      Which tell of grasses where the asters blow,
+    And columbines and clover bending low
+                Are honey-full.
+
+    I catch the gleam of snow-fields, bright
+      As burnished shields of tempered steel,
+    And round each sovereign lonely height
+      I watch the storm-clouds vault and reel,
+    Heavy with hail and trailing
+                Veils of sleet.
+
+    "Hurrah, my faithful! soon you shall plunge
+      Your burning nostril to the bit in snow;
+    Soon you shall rest where foam-white waters lunge
+      From cliff to cliff, and you shall know
+    No more of hunger or the flame of sand
+                Or windless desert's heat!"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+ON THE STAGE ROAD
+
+
+On the third day of May, after a whole forenoon of packing and
+"fussing," we made our start and passed successfully over some
+fourteen miles of the road. It was warm and beautiful, and we felt
+greatly relieved to escape from the dry and dusty town with its
+conscienceless horse jockeys and its bibulous teamsters.
+
+As we mounted the white-hot road which climbed sharply to the
+northeast, we could scarcely restrain a shout of exultation. It was
+perfect weather. We rode good horses, we had chosen our companions,
+and before us lay a thousand miles of trail, and the mysterious gold
+fields of the far-off Yukon. For two hundred and twenty miles the
+road ran nearly north toward the town of Quesnelle, which was the
+trading camp for the Caribou Mining Company. This highway was filled
+with heavy teams, and stage houses were frequent. We might have gone
+by the river trail, but as the grass was yet young, many of the
+outfits decided to keep to the stage road.
+
+We made our first camp beside the dusty road near the stage barn, in
+which we housed our horses. A beautiful stream came down from the
+hills near us. A little farther up the road a big and hairy
+Californian, with two half-breed assistants, was struggling with
+twenty-five wild cayuses. Two or three campfires sparkled near.
+
+There was a vivid charm in the scene. The poplars were in tender
+leaf. The moon, round and brilliant, was rising just above the
+mountains to the east, as we made our bed and went to sleep with the
+singing of the stream in our ears.
+
+While we were cooking our breakfast the next morning the big
+Californian sauntered by, looking at our little folding stove, our
+tent, our new-fangled pack-saddles, and our luxurious beds, and
+remarked:--
+
+"I reckon you fellers are just out on a kind of little hunting trip."
+
+We resented the tone of derision in his voice, and I replied:--
+
+"We are bound for Teslin Lake. We shall be glad to see you any time
+during the coming fall."
+
+He never caught up with us again.
+
+We climbed steadily all the next day with the wind roaring over our
+heads in the pines. It grew much colder and the snow covered the
+near-by hills. The road was full of trampers on their way to the
+mines at Quesnelle and Stanley. I will not call them _tramps_, for
+every man who goes afoot in this land is entitled to a certain
+measure of respect. We camped at night just outside the little
+village called Clinton, which was not unlike a town in Vermont, and
+was established during the Caribou rush in '66. It lay in a lovely
+valley beside a swift, clear stream. The sward was deliciously green
+where we set our tent.
+
+Thus far Burton had wrestled rather unsuccessfully with the
+crystallized eggs and evaporated potatoes which made up a part of our
+outfit. "I don't seem to get just the right twist on 'em," he said.
+
+"You'll have plenty of chance to experiment," I remarked. However,
+the bacon was good and so was the graham bread which he turned out
+piping hot from the little oven of our folding stove.
+
+Leaving Clinton we entered upon a lonely region, a waste of wooded
+ridges breaking illimitably upon the sky. The air sharpened as we
+rose, till it seemed like March instead of April, and our overcoats
+were grateful.
+
+Somewhere near the middle of the forenoon, as we were jogging along,
+I saw a deer standing just at the edge of the road and looking across
+it, as if in fear of its blazing publicity. It seemed for a moment as
+if he were an optical illusion, so beautiful, so shapely, and so
+palpitant was he. I had no desire to shoot him, but, turning to
+Burton, called in a low voice, "See that deer."
+
+He replied, "Where is your gun?"
+
+Now under my knee I carried a new rifle with a quantity of smokeless
+cartridges, steel-jacketed and soft-nosed, and yet I was disposed to
+argue the matter. "See here, Burton, it will be bloody business if we
+kill that deer. We couldn't eat all of it; you wouldn't want to skin
+it; I couldn't. You'd get your hands all bloody and the memory of
+that beautiful creature would not be pleasant. Therefore I stand for
+letting him go."
+
+Burton looked thoughtful. "Well, we might sell it or give it away."
+
+Meanwhile the deer saw us, but seemed not to be apprehensive. Perhaps
+it was a thought-reading deer, and knew that we meant it no harm. As
+Burton spoke, it turned, silent as a shadow, and running to the crest
+of the hill stood for a moment outlined like a figure of bronze
+against the sky, then disappeared into the forest. He was so much a
+part of nature that the horses gave no sign of having seen him at
+all.
+
+At a point a few miles beyond Clinton most of the pack trains turned
+sharply to the left to the Fraser River, where the grass was reported
+to be much better. We determined to continue on the stage road,
+however, and thereafter met but few outfits. The road was by no means
+empty, however. We met, from time to time, great blue or red wagons
+drawn by four or six horses, moving with pleasant jangle of bells and
+the crack of great whips. The drivers looked down at us curiously and
+somewhat haughtily from their high seats, as if to say, "We know
+where we are going--do you know as much?"
+
+The landscape grew ever wilder, and the foliage each day spring-like.
+We were on a high hilly plateau between Hat Creek and the valley of
+Lake La Hache. We passed lakes surrounded by ghostly dead trees,
+which looked as though the water had poisoned them. There were no
+ranches of any extent on these hills. The trail continued to be
+filled with tramping miners; several seemed to be without bedding or
+food. Some drove little pack animals laden with blankets, and all
+walked like fiends, pressing forward doggedly, hour after hour. Many
+of them were Italians, and one group which we overtook went along
+killing robins for food. They were a merry and dramatic lot, making
+the silent forests echo with their chatter.
+
+I headed my train on Ladrone, who led the way with a fine stately
+tread, his deep brown eyes alight with intelligence, his sensitive
+ears attentive to every word. He had impressed me already by his
+learning and gentleness, but when one of my packhorses ran around
+him, entangling me in the lead rope, pulling me to the ground, the
+final test of his quality came. I expected to be kicked into shreds.
+But Ladrone stopped instantly, and looking down at me inquiringly,
+waited for me to scramble out from beneath his feet and drag the
+saddle up to its place.
+
+With heart filled with gratitude, I patted him on the nose, and said,
+"Old boy, if you carry me through to Teslin Lake, I will take care of
+you for the rest of your days."
+
+At about noon the next day we came down off the high plateau, with
+its cold and snow, and camped in a sunny sward near a splendid ranch
+where lambs were at play on the green grass. Blackbirds were calling,
+and we heard our first crane bugling high in the sky. From the
+loneliness and desolation of the high country, with its sparse road
+houses, we were now surrounded by sunny fields mellow with thirty
+seasons' ploughing.
+
+The ride was very beautiful. Just the sort of thing we had been
+hoping for. All day we skirted fine lakes with grassy shores. Cranes,
+ducks, and geese filled every pond, the voice of spring in their
+brazen throats.
+
+Once a large flight of crane went sweeping by high in the sky, a
+royal, swift scythe reaping the clouds. I called to them in their own
+tongue, and they answered. I called again and again, and they began
+to waver and talk among themselves; and at last, having decided that
+this voice from below should be heeded, they broke rank and commenced
+sweeping round and round in great circles, seeking the lost one whose
+cry rose from afar. Baffled and angered, they rearranged themselves
+at last in long regular lines, and swept on into the north.
+
+We camped on this, the sixth day, beside a fine stream which came
+from a lake, and here we encountered our first mosquitoes. Big, black
+fellows they were, with a lazy, droning sound quite different from
+any I had ever heard. However, they froze up early and did not bother
+us very much.
+
+At the one hundred and fifty-nine mile house, which was a stage
+tavern, we began to hear other bogie stories of the trail. We were
+assured that horses were often poisoned by eating a certain plant,
+and that the mud and streams were terrible. Flies were a never ending
+torment. All these I regarded as the croakings of men who had never
+had courage to go over the trail, and who exaggerated the accounts
+they had heard from others.
+
+We were jogging along now some fifteen or twenty miles a day,
+thoroughly enjoying the trip. The sky was radiant, the aspens were
+putting forth transparent yellow leaves. On the grassy slopes some
+splendid yellow flowers quite new to me waved in the warm but strong
+breeze. On the ninth day we reached Soda Creek, which is situated on
+the Fraser River, at a point where the muddy stream is deep sunk in
+the wooded hills.
+
+The town was a single row of ramshackle buildings, not unlike a small
+Missouri River town. The citizens, so far as visible, formed a queer
+collection of old men addicted to rum. They all came out to admire
+Ladrone and to criticise my pack-saddle, and as they stood about
+spitting and giving wise instances, they reminded me of the Jurors in
+Mark Twain's "Puddin Head Wilson."
+
+One old man tottered up to my side to inquire, "Cap, where you
+going?"
+
+"To Teslin Lake," I replied.
+
+"Good Lord, think of it," said he. "Do you ever expect to get there?
+It is a terrible trip, my son, a terrible trip."
+
+At this point a large number of the outfits crossed to the opposite
+side of the river and took the trail which kept up the west bank of
+the river. We, however, kept the stage road which ran on the high
+ground of the eastern bank, forming a most beautiful drive. The river
+was in full view all the time, with endless vista of blue hills above
+and the shimmering water with radiant foliage below.
+
+Aside from the stage road and some few ranches on the river bottom,
+we were now in the wilderness. On our right rolled a wide wild sea
+of hills and forests, breaking at last on the great gold range. To
+the west, a still wilder country reaching to the impassable east
+range. On this, our eighth day out, we had our second sight of big
+game. In the night I was awakened by Burton, calling in excited
+whisper, "There's a bear outside."
+
+It was cold, I was sleepy, my bed was very comfortable, and I did not
+wish to be disturbed. I merely growled, "Let him alone."
+
+But Burton, putting his head out of the door of the tent, grew still
+more interested. "There is a bear out there eating those mutton
+bones. Where's the gun?"
+
+I was nearly sinking off to sleep once more and I muttered, "Don't
+bother me; the gun is in the corner of the tent." Burton began
+snapping the lever of the gun impatiently and whispering something
+about not being able to put the cartridge in. He was accustomed to
+the old-fashioned Winchester, but had not tried these.
+
+"Put it right in the top," I wearily said, "put it right in the top."
+
+"I have," he replied; "but I can't get it _in_ or out!"
+
+Meanwhile I had become sufficiently awake to take a mild interest in
+the matter. I rose and looked out. As I saw a long, black, lean
+creature muzzling at something on the ground, I began to get excited
+myself.
+
+"I guess we better let him go, hadn't we?" said Burton.
+
+"Well, yes, as the cartridge is stuck in the gun; and so long as he
+lets us alone I think we had better let him alone, especially as his
+hide is worth nothing at this season of the year, and he is too thin
+to make steak."
+
+The situation was getting comic, but probably it is well that the
+cartridge failed to go in. Burton stuck his head out of the tent,
+gave a sharp yell, and the huge creature vanished in the dark of the
+forest. The whole adventure came about naturally. The smell of our
+frying meat had gone far up over the hills to our right and off into
+the great wilderness, alluring this lean hungry beast out of his den.
+Doubtless if Burton had been able to fire a shot into his woolly
+hide, we should have had a rare "mix up" of bear, tent, men,
+mattresses, and blankets.
+
+Mosquitoes increased, and, strange to say, they seemed to like the
+shade. They were all of the big, black, lazy variety. We came upon
+flights of humming-birds. I was rather tired of the saddle, and of
+the slow jog, jog, jog. But at last there came an hour which made the
+trouble worth while. When our camp was set, our fire lighted, our
+supper eaten, and we could stretch out and watch the sun go down over
+the hills beyond the river, then the day seemed well spent. At such
+an hour we grew reminiscent of old days, and out of our talk an
+occasional verse naturally rose.
+
+
+
+
+
+MOMENTOUS HOUR
+
+
+    A coyote wailing in the yellow dawn,
+    A mountain land that stretches on and on,
+    And ceases not till in the skies
+    Vast peaks of rosy snow arise,
+    Like walls of plainsman's paradise.
+
+    I cannot tell why this is so;
+    I cannot say, I do not know
+    Why wind and wolf and yellow sky,
+    And grassy mesa, square and high,
+    Possess such power to satisfy.
+
+    But so it is. Deep in the grass
+    I lie and hear the winds' feet pass;
+    And all forgot is maid and man,
+    And hope and set ambitious plan
+    Are lost as though they ne'er began.
+
+
+
+
+A WISH
+
+
+    All day and many days I rode,
+    My horse's head set toward the sea;
+    And as I rode a longing came to me
+    That I might keep the sunset road,
+    Riding my horse right on and on,
+    O'ertake the day still lagging at the west,
+    And so reach boyhood from the dawn,
+    And be with all the days at rest.
+
+    For then the odor of the growing wheat,
+    The flare of sumach on the hills,
+    The touch of grasses to my feet
+    Would cure my brain of all its ills,--
+    Would fill my heart so full of joy
+    That no stern lines could fret my face.
+    There would I be forever boy,
+    Lit by the sky's unfailing grace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN CAMP AT QUESNELLE
+
+
+We came into Quesnelle about three o'clock of the eleventh day out.
+From a high point which overlooked the two rivers, we could see great
+ridges rolling in waves of deep blue against the sky to the
+northwest. Over these our slender little trail ran. The wind was in
+the south, roaring up the river, and green grass was springing on the
+slopes.
+
+Quesnelle we found to be a little town on a high, smooth slope above
+the Fraser. We overtook many prospectors like ourselves camped on the
+river bank waiting to cross.
+
+Here also telegraph bulletins concerning the Spanish war, dated
+London, Hong Kong, and Madrid, hung on the walls of the post-office.
+They were very brief and left plenty of room for imagination and
+discussion.
+
+Here I took a pony and a dog-cart and jogged away toward the
+long-famous Caribou Mining district next day, for the purpose of
+inspecting a mine belonging to some friends of mine. The ride was
+very desolate and lonely, a steady climb all the way, through
+fire-devastated forests, toward the great peaks. Snow lay in the
+roadside ditches. Butterflies were fluttering about, and in the high
+hills I saw many toads crawling over the snowbanks, a singular sight
+to me. They were silent, perhaps from cold.
+
+Strange to say, this ride called up in my mind visions of the hot
+sands, and the sun-lit buttes and valleys of Arizona and Montana, and
+I wrote several verses as I jogged along in the pony-cart.
+
+When I returned to camp two days later, I found Burton ready and
+eager to move. The town swarmed with goldseekers pausing here to rest
+and fill their parflêches. On the opposite side of the river others
+could be seen in camp, or already moving out over the trail, which
+left the river and climbed at once into the high ridges dark with
+pines in the west.
+
+As I sat with my partner at night talking of the start the next day,
+I began to feel not a fear but a certain respect for that narrow
+little path which was not an arm's span in width, but which was
+nearly eight hundred miles in length. "From this point, Burton, it is
+business. Our practice march is finished."
+
+The stories of flies and mosquitoes gave me more trouble than
+anything else, but a surveyor who had had much experience in this
+Northwestern country recommended the use of oil of pennyroyal, mixed
+with lard or vaseline. "It will keep the mosquitoes and most of the
+flies away," he said. "I know, for I have tried it. You can't wear a
+net, at least I never could. It is too warm, and then it is always in
+your way. You are in no danger from beasts, but you will curse the
+day you set out on this trail on account of the insects. It is the
+worst mosquito country in the world."
+
+
+
+
+THE GIFT OF WATER
+
+
+        "Is water nigh?"
+        The plainsmen cry,
+    As they meet and pass in the desert grass.
+        With finger tip
+        Across the lip
+    I ask the sombre Navajo.
+    The brown man smiles and answers "Sho!"[1]
+    With fingers high, he signs the miles
+        To the desert spring,
+    And so we pass in the dry dead grass,
+        Brothers in bond of the water's ring.
+
+
+[Footnote 1: Listen. Your attention.]
+
+
+
+
+MOUNTING
+
+
+    I mount and mount toward the sky,
+    The eagle's heart is mine,
+    I ride to put the clouds a-by
+    Where silver lakelets shine.
+    The roaring streams wax white with snow,
+    The eagle's nest draws near,
+    The blue sky widens, hid peaks glow,
+    The air is frosty clear.
+    _And so from cliff to cliff I rise,_
+    _The eagle's heart is mine;_
+    _Above me ever broadning skies,_
+    _Below the rivers shine._
+
+
+
+
+THE EAGLE TRAIL
+
+
+    From rock-built nest,
+    The mother eagle, with a threatning tongue,
+    Utters a warning scream. Her shrill voice rings
+    Wild as the snow-topped crags she sits among;
+    While hovering with her quivering wings
+    Her hungry brood, with eyes ablaze
+    She watches every shadow. The water calls
+    Far, far below. The sun's red rays
+    Ascend the icy, iron walls,
+    And leap beyond the mountains in the west,
+    And over the trail and the eagle's nest
+    The clear night falls.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE BLUE RAT
+
+_Camp Twelve_
+
+
+Next morning as we took the boat--which was filled with horses wild
+and restless--I had a moment of exultation to think we had left the
+way of tin cans and whiskey bottles, and were now about to enter upon
+the actual trail. The horses gave us a great deal of trouble on the
+boat, but we managed to get across safely without damage to any part
+of our outfit.
+
+Here began our acquaintance with the Blue Rat. It had become evident
+to me during our stay in Quesnelle that we needed one more horse to
+make sure of having provisions sufficient to carry us over the three
+hundred and sixty miles which lay between the Fraser and our next
+eating-place on the Skeena. Horses, however, were very scarce, and it
+was not until late in the day that we heard of a man who had a pony
+to sell. The name of this man was Dippy.
+
+He was a German, and had a hare-lip and a most seductive gentleness
+of voice. I gladly make him historical. He sold me the Blue Rat, and
+gave me a chance to study a new type of horse.
+
+Herr Dippy was not a Washington Irving sort of Dutchman; he conformed
+rather to the modern New York tradesman. He was small, candid, and
+smooth, very smooth, of speech. He said: "Yes, the pony is gentle. He
+can be rode or packed, but you better lead him for a day or two till
+he gets quiet."
+
+I had not seen the pony, but my partner had crossed to the west side
+of the Fraser River, and had reported him to be a "nice little pony,
+round and fat and gentle." On that I had rested. Mr. Dippy joined us
+at the ferry and waited around to finish the trade. I presumed he
+intended to cross and deliver the pony, which was in a corral on the
+west side, but he lisped out a hurried excuse. "The ferry is not
+coming back for to-day and so--"
+
+Well, I paid him the money on the strength of my side partner's
+report; besides, it was Hobson's choice.
+
+Mr. Dippy took the twenty-five dollars eagerly and vanished into
+obscurity. We passed to the wild side of the Fraser and entered upon
+a long and intimate study of the Blue Rat. He shucked out of the log
+stable a smooth, round, lithe-bodied little cayuse of a blue-gray
+color. He looked like a child's toy, but seemed sturdy and of good
+condition. His foretop was "banged," and he had the air of a
+mischievous, resolute boy. His eyes were big and black, and he
+studied us with tranquil but inquiring gaze as we put the pack-saddle
+on him. He was very small.
+
+"He's not large, but he's a gentle little chap," said I, to ease my
+partner of his dismay over the pony's surprising smallness.
+
+"I believe he shrunk during the night," replied my partner. "He
+seemed two sizes bigger yesterday."
+
+We packed him with one hundred pounds of our food and lashed it all
+on with rope, while the pony dozed peacefully. Once or twice I
+thought I saw his ears cross; one laid back, the other set
+forward,--bad signs,--but it was done so quickly I could not be sure
+of it.
+
+We packed the other horses while the blue pony stood resting one hind
+leg, his eyes dreaming.
+
+I flung the canvas cover over the bay packhorse.... Something took
+place. I heard a bang, a clatter, a rattling of hoofs. I peered
+around the bay and saw the blue pony performing some of the most
+finished, vigorous, and varied bucking it has ever been given me to
+witness. He all but threw somersaults. He stood on his upper lip. He
+humped up his back till he looked like a lean cat on a graveyard
+fence. He stood on his toe calks and spun like a weather-vane on a
+livery stable, and when the pack exploded and the saddle slipped
+under his belly, he kicked it to pieces by using both hind hoofs as
+featly as a man would stroke his beard.
+
+After calming the other horses, I faced my partner solemnly.
+
+"Oh, by the way, partner, where did you get that nice, quiet, little
+blue pony of yours?"
+
+Partner smiled sheepishly. "The little divil. Buffalo Bill ought to
+have that pony."
+
+"Well, now," said I, restraining my laughter, "the thing to do is to
+put that pack on so that it will stay. That pony will try the same
+thing again, sure."
+
+We packed him again with great care. His big, innocent black eyes
+shining under his bang were a little more alert, but they showed
+neither fear nor rage. We roped him in every conceivable way, and at
+last stood clear and dared him to do his prettiest.
+
+He did it. All that had gone before was merely preparatory, a
+blood-warming, so to say; the real thing now took place. He stood up
+on his hind legs and shot into the air, alighting on his four feet as
+if to pierce the earth. He whirled like a howling dervish, grunting,
+snorting--unseeing, and almost unseen in a nimbus of dust, strap
+ends, and flying pine needles. His whirling undid him. We seized the
+rope, and just as the pack again slid under his feet we set shoulder
+to the rope and threw him. He came to earth with a thud, his legs
+whirling uselessly in the air. He resembled a beetle in molasses. We
+sat upon his head and discussed him.
+
+"He is a wonder," said my partner.
+
+We packed him again with infinite pains, and when he began bucking we
+threw him again and tried to kill him. We were getting irritated. We
+threw him hard, and drew his hind legs up to his head till he
+grunted. When he was permitted to rise, he looked meek and small and
+tired and we were both deeply remorseful. We rearranged the pack--it
+was some encouragement to know he had not bucked it entirely off--and
+by blindfolding him we got him started on the trail behind the
+train.
+
+"I suppose that simple-hearted Dutchman is gloating over us from
+across the river," said I to partner; "but no matter, we are
+victorious."
+
+I was now quite absorbed in a study of the blue pony's psychology. He
+was a new type of mean pony. His eye did not roll nor his ears fall
+back. He seemed neither scared nor angry. He still looked like a
+roguish, determined boy. He was alert, watchful, but not vicious. He
+went off--precisely like one of those mechanical mice or turtles
+which sidewalk venders operate. Once started, he could not stop till
+he ran down. He seemed not to take our stern measures in bad part. He
+regarded it as a fair contract, apparently, and considered that we
+had won. True, he had lost both hair and skin by getting tangled in
+the rope, but he laid up nothing against us, and, as he followed
+meekly along behind, partner dared to say:--
+
+"He's all right now. I presume he has been running out all winter and
+is a little wild. He's satisfied now. We'll have no more trouble with
+him."
+
+Every time I looked back at the poor, humbled little chap, my heart
+tingled with pity and remorse. "We were too rough," I said. "We must
+be more gentle."
+
+"Yes, he's nervous and scary; we must be careful not to give him a
+sudden start. I'll lead him for a while."
+
+An hour later, as we were going down a steep and slippery hill, the
+Rat saw his chance. He passed into another spasm, opening and
+shutting like a self-acting jack-knife. He bounded into the midst of
+the peaceful horses, scattering them to right and to left in terror.
+
+He turned and came up the hill to get another start. Partner took a
+turn on a stump, and all unmindful of it the Rat whirled and made a
+mighty spring. He reached the end of the rope and his hand-spring
+became a vaulting somersault. He lay, unable to rise, spatting the
+wind, breathing heavily. Such annoying energy I have never seen. We
+were now mad, muddy, and very resolute. We held him down till he lay
+quite still. Any well-considered, properly bred animal would have
+been ground to bone dust by such wondrous acrobatic movements. He was
+skinned in one or two places, the hair was scraped from his nose, his
+tongue bled, but all these were mere scratches. When we repacked him
+he walked off comparatively unhurt.
+
+
+
+
+NOON ON THE PLAIN
+
+
+    The horned toad creeping along the sand,
+    The rattlesnake asleep beneath the sage,
+    Have now a subtle fatal charm.
+    In their sultry calm, their love of heat,
+    I read once more the burning page
+    Of nature under cloudless skies.
+    O pitiless and splendid land!
+    Mine eyelids close, my lips are dry
+    By force of thy hot floods of light.
+    Soundless as oil the wind flows by,
+    Mine aching brain cries out for night!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BEGINNING OF THE LONG TRAIL
+
+
+As we left the bank of the Fraser River we put all wheel tracks
+behind. The trail turned to the west and began to climb, following an
+old swath which had been cut into the black pines by an adventurous
+telegraph company in 1865. Immense sums of money were put into this
+venture by men who believed the ocean cable could not be laid. The
+work was stopped midway by the success of Field's wonderful plan, and
+all along the roadway the rusted and twisted wire lay in testimony of
+the seriousness of the original design.
+
+The trail was a white man's road. It lacked grace and charm. It cut
+uselessly over hills and plunged senselessly into ravines. It was an
+irritation to all of us who knew the easy swing, the circumspection,
+and the labor-saving devices of an Indian trail. The telegraph line
+was laid by compass, not by the stars and the peaks; it evaded
+nothing; it saved distance, not labor.
+
+My feeling of respect deepened into awe as we began to climb the
+great wooded divide which lies between the Fraser and the Blackwater.
+The wild forest settled around us, grim, stern, and forbidding. We
+were done with civilization. Everything that was required for a home
+in the cold and in the heat was bound upon our five horses. We must
+carry bed, board, roof, food, and medical stores, over three hundred
+and sixty miles of trail, through all that might intervene of flood
+and forest.
+
+This feeling of awe was emphasized by the coming on of the storm in
+which we camped that night. We were forced to keep going until late
+in order to obtain feed, and to hustle in order to get everything
+under cover before the rain began to fall. We were only twelve miles
+on our way, but being wet and cold and hungry, we enjoyed the full
+sense of being in the wilderness. However, the robins sang from the
+damp woods and the loons laughed from hidden lakes.
+
+It rained all night, and in the morning we were forced to get out in
+a cold, wet dawn. It was a grim start, dismal and portentous,
+bringing the realities of the trail very close to us. While I rustled
+the horses out of the wet bush, partner stirred up a capital
+breakfast of bacon, evaporated potatoes, crystallized eggs, and
+graham bread. He had discovered at last the exact amount of water to
+use in cooking these "vegetables," and they were very good. The
+potatoes tasted not unlike mashed potatoes, and together with the
+eggs made a very savory and wholesome dish. With a cup of strong
+coffee and some hot graham gems we got off in very good spirits
+indeed.
+
+It continued muddy, wet, and cold. I walked most of the day, leading
+my horse, upon whom I had packed a part of the outfit to relieve the
+other horses. There was no fun in the day, only worry and trouble. My
+feet were wet, my joints stiff, and my brain weary of the monotonous
+black, pine forest.
+
+There is a great deal of work on the trail,--cooking, care of the
+horses, together with almost ceaseless packing and unpacking, and the
+bother of keeping the packhorses out of the mud. We were busy from
+five o'clock in the morning until nine at night. There were other
+outfits on the trail having a full ton of supplies, and this great
+weight had to be handled four times a day. In our case the toil was
+much less, but it was only by snatching time from my partner that I
+was able to work on my notes and keep my diary. Had the land been
+less empty of game and richer in color, I should not have minded the
+toil and care taking. As it was, we were all looking forward to the
+beautiful lake country which we were told lay just beyond the
+Blackwater.
+
+One tremendous fact soon impressed me. There were no returning
+footsteps on this trail. All toes pointed in one way, toward the
+golden North. No man knew more than his neighbor the character of the
+land which lay before us.
+
+The life of each outfit was practically the same. At about 4.30 in
+the morning the campers awoke. The click-clack of axes began, and
+slender columns of pale blue smoke stole softly into the air. Then
+followed the noisy rustling of the horses by those set aside for that
+duty. By the time the horses were "cussed into camp," the coffee was
+hot, and the bacon and beans ready to be eaten. A race in packing
+took place to see who should pull out first. At about seven o'clock
+in the morning the outfits began to move. But here there was a
+difference of method. Most of them travelled for six or seven hours
+without unpacking, whereas our plan was to travel for four hours,
+rest from twelve to three, and pack up and travel four hours more.
+This difference in method resulted in our passing outfit after outfit
+who were unable to make the same distances by their one march.
+
+We went to bed with the robins and found it no hardship to rise with
+the sparrows. As Burton got the fire going, I dressed and went out to
+see if all the horses were in the bunch, and edged them along toward
+the camp. I then packed up the goods, struck the tent and folded it,
+and had everything ready to sling on the horses by the time breakfast
+was ready.
+
+With my rifle under my knee, my rain coat rolled behind my saddle, my
+camera dangling handily, my rope coiled and lashed, I called out,
+"Are we all set?"
+
+"Oh, I guess so," Burton invariably replied.
+
+With a last look at the camping ground to see that nothing of value
+was left, we called in exactly the same way each time, "Hike, boys,
+hike, hike." (Hy-ak: Chinook for "hurry up.") It was a fine thing,
+and it never failed to touch me, to see them fall in, one by one. The
+"Ewe-neck" just behind Ladrone, after him "Old Bill," and behind him,
+groaning and taking on as if in great pain, "Major Grunt," while at
+the rear, with sharp outcry, came Burton riding the blue pony, who
+was quite content, as we soon learned, to carry a man weighing
+seventy pounds more than his pack. He considered himself a saddle
+horse, not a pack animal.
+
+It was not an easy thing to keep a pack train like this running. As
+the horses became tired of the saddle, two of them were disposed to
+run off into the brush in an attempt to scrape their load from their
+backs. Others fell to feeding. Sometimes Bill would attempt to pass
+the bay in order to walk next Ladrone. Then they would _scrouge_
+against each other like a couple of country schoolboys, to see who
+should get ahead. It was necessary to watch the packs with worrysome
+care to see that nothing came loose, to keep the cinches tight, and
+to be sure that none of the horses were being galled by their
+burdens.
+
+We travelled for the most part alone and generally in complete
+silence, for I was too far in advance to have any conversation with
+my partner.
+
+The trail continued wet, muddy, and full of slippery inclines, but we
+camped on a beautiful spot on the edge of a marshy lake two or three
+miles in length. As we threw up our tent and started our fire, I
+heard two cranes bugling magnificently from across the marsh, and
+with my field-glass I could see them striding along in the edge of
+the water. The sun was getting well toward the west. All around stood
+the dark and mysterious forest, out of which strange noises broke.
+
+In answer to the bugling of the cranes, loons were wildly calling, a
+flock of geese, hidden somewhere under the level blaze of the
+orange-colored light of the setting sun, were holding clamorous
+convention. This is one of the compensating moments of the trail. To
+come out of a gloomy and forbidding wood into an open and grassy
+bank, to see the sun setting across the marsh behind the most
+splendid blue mountains, makes up for many weary hours of toil.
+
+As I lay down to sleep I heard a coyote cry, and the loons answered,
+and out of the cold, clear night the splendid voices of the cranes
+rang triumphantly. The heavens were made as brass by their superb,
+defiant notes.
+
+
+
+
+THE WHOOPING CRANE
+
+
+    At sunset from the shadowed sedge
+      Of lonely lake, among the reeds,
+    He lifts his brazen-throated call,
+      And the listening cat with teeth at edge
+    With famine hears and heeds.
+
+    "_Come one, come all, come all, come all!_"
+    Is the bird's challenge bravely blown
+    To every beast the woodlands own.
+
+    "_My legs are long, my wings are strong,_
+      _I wait the answer to my threat._"
+    Echoing, fearless, triumphant, the cry
+      Disperses through the world, and yet
+    Only the clamorous, cloudless sky
+      And the wooded mountains make reply.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOON
+
+
+          At some far time
+          This water sprite
+    A brother of the coyote must have been.
+          For when the sun is set,
+          Forth from the failing light
+          His harsh cries fret
+          The silence of the night,
+    And the hid wolf answers with a wailing keen.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BLACKWATER DIVIDE
+
+
+About noon the next day we suddenly descended to the Blackwater, a
+swift stream which had been newly bridged by those ahead of us. In
+this wild land streams were our only objective points; the mountains
+had no names, and the monotony of the forest produced a singular
+effect on our minds. Our journey at times seemed a sort of motionless
+progression. Once our tent was set and our baggage arranged about us,
+we lost all sense of having moved at all.
+
+Immediately after leaving the Blackwater bridge we had a grateful
+touch of an Indian trail. The telegraph route kept to the valley
+flat, but an old trail turned to the right and climbed the north bank
+by an easy and graceful grade which it was a joy to follow. The top
+of the bench was wooded and grassy, and the smooth brown trail wound
+away sinuous as a serpent under the splendid pine trees. For more
+than three hours we strolled along this bank as distinguished as
+those who occupy boxes at the theatre. Below us the Blackwater looped
+away under a sunny sky, and far beyond, enormous and unnamed, deep
+blue mountains rose, notching the western sky. The scene was so
+exceedingly rich and amiable we could hardly believe it to be
+without farms and villages, yet only an Indian hut or two gave
+indication of human life.
+
+After following this bank for a few miles, we turned to the right and
+began to climb the high divide which lies between the Blackwater and
+the Muddy, both of which are upper waters of the Fraser. Like all the
+high country through which we had passed this ridge was covered with
+a monotonous forest of small black pines, with very little bird or
+animal life of any kind. By contrast the valley of the Blackwater
+shone in our memory like a jewel.
+
+After a hard drive we camped beside a small creek, together with
+several other outfits. One of them belonged to a doctor from the
+Chilcoten country. He was one of those Englishmen who are natural
+plainsmen. He was always calm, cheerful, and self-contained. He took
+all worry and danger as a matter of course, and did not attempt to
+carry the customs of a London hotel into the camp. When an Englishman
+has this temper, he makes one of the best campaigners in the world.
+
+As I came to meet the other men on the trail, I found that some
+peculiar circumstance had led to their choice of route. The doctor
+had a ranch in the valley of the Fraser. One of "the Manchester boys"
+had a cousin near Soda Creek. "Siwash Charley" wished to prospect on
+the head-waters of the Skeena; and so in almost every case some
+special excuse was given. When the truth was known, the love of
+adventure had led all of us to take the telegraph route. Most of the
+miners argued that they could make their entrance by horse as
+cheaply, if not as quickly, as by boat. For the most part they were
+young, hardy, and temperate young men of the middle condition of
+American life.
+
+One of the Manchester men had been a farmer in Connecticut, an
+attendant in an insane asylum in Massachusetts, and an engineer. He
+was fat when he started, and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds.
+By the time we had overtaken him his trousers had begun to flap
+around him. He was known as "Big Bill." His companion, Frank, was a
+sinewy little fellow with no extra flesh at all,--an alert, cheery,
+and vociferous boy, who made noise enough to scare all the game out
+of the valley. Neither of these men had ever saddled a horse before
+reaching the Chilcoten, but they developed at once into skilful
+packers and rugged trailers, though they still exposed themselves
+unnecessarily in order to show that they were not "tenderfeet."
+
+"Siwash Charley" was a Montana miner who spoke Chinook fluently, and
+swore in splendid rhythms on occasion. He was small, alert, seasoned
+to the trail, and capable of any hardship. "The Man from Chihuahua"
+was so called because he had been prospecting in Mexico. He had the
+best packhorses on the trail, and cared for them like a mother. He
+was small, weazened, hardy as oak, inured to every hardship, and very
+wise in all things. He had led his fine little train of horses from
+Chihuahua to Seattle, thence to the Thompson River, joining us at
+Quesnelle. He was the typical trailer. He spoke in the Missouri
+fashion, though he was a born Californian. His partner was a quiet
+little man from Snohomish flats, in Washington. These outfits were
+typical of scores of others, and it will be seen that they were for
+the most part Americans, the group of Germans from New York City and
+the English doctor being the exceptions.
+
+There was little talk among us. We were not merely going a journey,
+but going as rapidly as was prudent, and there was close attention to
+business. There was something morbidly persistent in the action of
+these trains. They pushed on resolutely, grimly, like blind worms
+following some directing force from within. This peculiarity of
+action became more noticeable day by day. We were not on the trail,
+after all, to hunt, or fish, or skylark. We had set our eyes on a
+distant place, and toward it our feet moved, even in sleep.
+
+The Muddy River, which we reached late in the afternoon, was silent
+as oil and very deep, while the banks, muddy and abrupt, made it a
+hard stream to cross.
+
+As we stood considering the problem, a couple of Indians appeared on
+the opposite bank with a small raft, and we struck a bargain with
+them to ferry our outfit. They set us across in short order, but our
+horses were forced to swim. They were very much alarmed and shivered
+with excitement (this being the first stream that called for
+swimming), but they crossed in fine style, Ladrone leading, his neck
+curving, his nostrils wide-blown. We were forced to camp in the mud
+of the river bank, and the gray clouds flying overhead made the land
+exceedingly dismal. The night closed in wet and cheerless.
+
+The two Indians stopped to supper with us and ate heartily. I seized
+the opportunity to talk with them, and secured from them the tragic
+story of the death of the Blackwater Indians. "Siwash, he die hy-u
+(great many). Hy-u die, chilens, klootchmans (women), all die. White
+man no help. No send doctor. Siwash all die, white man no care belly
+much."
+
+In this simple account of the wiping out of a village of harmless
+people by "the white man's disease" (small-pox), unaided by the white
+man's wonderful skill, there lies one of the great tragedies of
+savage life. Very few were left on the Blackwater or on the Muddy,
+though a considerable village had once made the valley cheerful with
+its primitive pursuits.
+
+They were profoundly impressed by our tent and gun, and sat on their
+haunches clicking their tongues again and again in admiration, saying
+of the tent, "All the same lilly (little) house." I tried to tell
+them of the great world to the south, and asked them a great many
+questions to discover how much they knew of the people or the
+mountains. They knew nothing of the plains Indians, but one of them
+had heard of Vancouver and Seattle. They had not the dignity and
+thinking power of the plains people, but they seemed amiable and
+rather jovial.
+
+We passed next day two adventurers tramping their way to Hazleton.
+Each man carried a roll of cheap quilts, a skillet, and a cup. We
+came upon them as they were taking off their shoes and stockings to
+wade through a swift little river, and I realized with a sudden pang
+of sympathetic pain, how distressing these streams must be to such as
+go afoot, whereas I, on my fine horse, had considered them entirely
+from an æsthetic point of view.
+
+We had been on the road from Quesnelle a week, and had made nearly
+one hundred miles, jogging along some fifteen miles each day,
+camping, eating, sleeping, with nothing to excite us--indeed, the
+trail was quiet as a country lane. A dead horse here and there warned
+us to be careful how we pushed our own burden-bearers. We were deep
+in the forest, with the pale blue sky filled with clouds showing only
+in patches overhead. We passed successively from one swamp of black
+pine to another, over ridges covered with white pine, all precisely
+alike. As soon as our camp was set and fires lighted, we lost all
+sense of having travelled, so similar were the surroundings of each
+camp.
+
+Partridges could be heard drumming in the lowlands. Mosquitoes were
+developing by the millions, and cooking had become almost impossible
+without protection. The "varments" came in relays. A small gray
+variety took hold of us while it was warm, and when it became too
+cold for them, the big, black, "sticky" fellows appeared
+mysteriously, and hung around in the air uttering deep, bass notes
+like lazy flies. The little gray fellows were singularly ferocious
+and insistent in their attentions.
+
+At last, as we were winding down the trail beneath the pines, we came
+suddenly upon an Indian with a gun in the hollow of his arm. So
+still, so shadowy, so neutral in color was he, that at first sight he
+seemed a part of the forest, like the shaded hole of a tree. He
+turned out to be a "runner," so to speak, for the ferrymen at
+Tchincut Crossing, and led us down to the outlet of the lake where a
+group of natives with their slim canoes sat waiting to set us over.
+An hour's brisk work and we rose to the fine grassy eastern slope
+overlooking the lake.
+
+We rose on our stirrups with shouts of joy. We had reached the land
+of our dreams! Here was the trailers' heaven! Wooded promontories,
+around which the wavelets sparkled, pushed out into the deep, clear
+flood. Great mountains rose in the background, lonely, untouched by
+man's all-desolating hand, while all about us lay suave slopes
+clothed with most beautiful pea-vine, just beginning to ripple in the
+wind, and beyond lay level meadows lit by little ponds filled with
+wildfowl. There was just forest enough to lend mystery to these
+meadows, and to shut from our eager gaze the beauties of other and
+still more entrancing glades. The most exacting hunter or trailer
+could not desire more perfect conditions for camping. It was God's
+own country after the gloomy monotony of the barren pine forest, and
+needed only a passing deer or a band of elk to be a poem as well as a
+picture.
+
+All day we skirted this glorious lake, and at night we camped on its
+shores. The horses were as happy as their masters, feeding in plenty
+on sweet herbage for the first time in long days.
+
+Late in the day we passed the largest Indian village we had yet seen.
+It was situated on Stony Creek, which came from Tatchick Lake and
+emptied into Tchincut Lake. The shallows flickered with the passing
+of trout, and the natives were busy catching and drying them. As we
+rode amid the curing sheds, the children raised a loud clamor, and
+the women laughed and called from house to house, "Oh, see the white
+men!" We were a circus parade to them.
+
+Their opportunities for earning money are scant, and they live upon a
+very monotonous diet of fish and possibly dried venison and berries.
+Except at favorable points like Stony Creek, where a small stream
+leads from one lake to another, there are no villages because there
+are no fish.
+
+I shall not soon forget the shining vistas through which we rode that
+day, nor the meadows which possessed all the allurement and mystery
+which the word "savanna" has always had with me. It was like going
+back to the prairies of Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa, as they were
+sixty years ago, except in this case the elk and the deer were
+absent.
+
+
+
+
+YET STILL WE RODE
+
+
+    We wallowed deep in mud and sand;
+      We swam swift streams that roared in wrath;
+    They stood at guard in that lone land,
+      Like dragons in the slender path.
+
+    Yet still we rode right on and on,
+      And shook our clenched hands at the sky.
+    We dared the frost at early dawn,
+      And the dread tempest sweeping by.
+
+    It was not all so dark. Now and again
+      The robin, singing loud and long,
+    Made wildness tame, and lit the rain
+      With sudden sunshine with his song.
+
+    Wild roses filled the air with grace,
+      The shooting-star swung like a bell
+    From bended stem, and all the place
+      Was like to heaven after hell.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+WE SWIM THE NECHACO
+
+
+Here was perfection of camping, but no allurement could turn the
+goldseekers aside. Some of them remained for a day, a few for two
+days, but not one forgot for a moment that he was on his way to the
+Klondike River sixteen hundred miles away. In my enthusiasm I
+proposed to camp for a week, but my partner, who was "out for gold
+instid o' daisies, 'guessed' we'd better be moving." He could not
+bear to see any one pass us, and that was the feeling of every man on
+the trail. Each seemed to fear that the gold might all be claimed
+before he arrived. With a sigh I turned my back on this glorious
+region and took up the forward march.
+
+All the next day we skirted the shores of Tatchick Lake, coming late
+in the afternoon to the Nechaco River, a deep, rapid stream which
+rose far to our left in the snowy peaks of the coast range. All day
+the sky to the east had a brazen glow, as if a great fire were raging
+there, but toward night the wind changed and swept it away. The trail
+was dusty for the first time, and the flies venomous. Late in the
+afternoon we pitched camp, setting our tent securely, expecting rain.
+Before we went to sleep the drops began to drum on the tent roof, a
+pleasant sound after the burning dust of the trail. The two trampers
+kept abreast of us nearly all day, but they began to show fatigue and
+hunger, and a look of almost sullen desperation had settled on their
+faces.
+
+As we came down next day to where the swift Nechaco met the Endako
+rushing out of Fraser Lake, we found the most dangerous flood we had
+yet crossed. A couple of white men were calking a large ferry-boat,
+but as it was not yet seaworthy and as they had no cable, the horses
+must swim. I dreaded to see them enter this chill, gray stream, for
+not only was it wide and swift, but the two currents coming together
+made the landing confusing to the horses as well as to ourselves.
+Rain was at hand and we had no time to waste.
+
+The horses knew that some hard swimming was expected of them and
+would gladly have turned back if they could. We surrounded them with
+furious outcry and at last Ladrone sprang in and struck for the
+nearest point opposite, with that intelligence which marks the bronco
+horse. The others followed readily. Two of the poorer ones labored
+heavily, but all touched shore in good order.
+
+The rain began to fall sharply and we were forced to camp on the
+opposite bank as swiftly as possible, in order to get out of the
+storm. We worked hard and long to put everything under cover and were
+muddy and tired at the end of it. At last the tent was up, the outfit
+covered with waterproof canvas, the fire blazing and our bread
+baking. In pitching our camp we had plenty of assistance at the
+hands of several Indian boys from a near-by village, who hung about,
+eager to lend a hand, in the hope of getting a cup of coffee and a
+piece of bread in payment. The streaming rain seemed to have no more
+effect upon them than on a loon. The conditions were all strangely
+similar to those at the Muddy River.
+
+Night closed in swiftly. Through the dark we could hear the low swish
+of the rising river, and Burton, with a sly twinkle in his eye,
+remarked, "For a semi-arid country, this is a pretty wet rain."
+
+In planning the trip, I had written to him saying: "The trail runs
+for the most part though a semi-arid country, somewhat like eastern
+Washington."
+
+It rained all the next day and we were forced to remain in camp,
+which was dismal business; but we made the best of it, doing some
+mending of clothes and tackle during the long hours.
+
+We were visited by all the Indians from Old Fort Fraser, which was
+only a mile away. They sat about our blazing fire laughing and
+chattering like a group of girls, discussing our characters minutely,
+and trying to get at our reasons for going on such a journey.
+
+One of them who spoke a little English said, after looking over my
+traps: "You boss, you ty-ee, you belly rich man. Why you come?"
+
+This being interpreted meant, "You have a great many splendid things,
+you are rich. Now, why do you come away out here in this poor Siwash
+country?"
+
+I tried to convey to him that I wished to see the mountains and to
+get acquainted with the people. He then asked, "More white men come?"
+
+Throwing my hands in the air and spreading my fingers many times, I
+exclaimed, "Hy-u white man, hy-u!" Whereat they all clicked their
+tongues and looked at each other in astonishment. They could not
+understand why this sudden flood of white people should pour into
+their country. This I also explained in lame Chinook: "We go klap
+Pilchickamin (gold). White man hears say Hy-u Pilchickamin there (I
+pointed to the north). White man heap like Pilchickamin, so he
+comes."
+
+All the afternoon and early evening little boys came and went on the
+swift river in their canoes, singing wild, hauntingly musical boating
+songs. They had no horses, but assembled in their canoes, racing and
+betting precisely as the Cheyenne lads run horses at sunset in the
+valley of the Lamedeer. All about the village the grass was rich and
+sweet, uncropped by any animal, for these poor fishermen do not
+aspire to the wonderful wealth of owning a horse. They had heard that
+cattle were coming over the trail and all inquired, "Spose when
+Moos-Moos come?" They knew that milk and butter were good things, and
+some of them had hopes of owning a cow sometime.
+
+They had tiny little gardens in sheltered places on the sunny slopes,
+wherein a few potatoes were planted; for the rest they hunt and fish
+and trap in winter and trade skins for meat and flour and coffee, and
+so live. How they endure the winters in such wretched houses, it is
+impossible to say. There was a lone white man living on the site of
+the old fort, as agent of the Hudson Bay Company. He kept a small
+stock of clothing and groceries and traded for "skins," as the
+Indians all call pelts. They count in skins. So many skins will buy a
+rifle, so many more will secure a sack of flour.
+
+The storekeeper told me that the two trampers had arrived there a few
+days before without money and without food. "I gave 'em some flour
+and sent 'em on," he said. "The Siwashes will take care of them, but
+it ain't right. What the cussed idiots mean by setting out on such a
+journey I can't understand. Why, one tramp came in here early in the
+spring who couldn't speak English, and who left Quesnelle without
+even a blanket or an axe. Fact! And yet the Lord seems to take care
+of these fools. You wouldn't believe it, but that fellow picked up an
+axe and a blanket the first day out. But he'd a died only for the
+Indians. They won't let even a white man starve to death. I helped
+him out with some flour and he went on. They all rush on. Seems like
+they was just crazy to get to Dawson--couldn't sleep without dreamin'
+of it."
+
+I was almost as eager to get on as the tramps, but Burton went about
+his work regularly as a clock. I wrote, yawned, stirred the big
+campfire, gazed at the clouds, talked with the Indians, and so passed
+the day. I began to be disturbed, for I knew the power of a rain on
+the trail. It transforms it, makes it ferocious. The path that has
+charmed and wooed, becomes uncertain, treacherous, gloomy, and
+engulfing. Creeks become rivers, rivers impassable torrents, and
+marshes bottomless abysses. Pits of quicksand develop in most
+unexpected places. Driven from smooth lake margins, the trailers'
+ponies are forced to climb ledges of rock, and to rattle over long
+slides of shale. In places the threadlike way itself becomes an
+aqueduct for a rushing overflow of water.
+
+At such times the man on the trail feels the grim power of Nature.
+She has no pity, no consideration. She sets mud, torrents, rocks,
+cold, mist, to check and chill him, to devour him. Over him he has no
+roof, under him no pavement. Never for an instant is he free from the
+pressure of the elements. Sullen streams lie athwart his road like
+dragons, and in a land like this, where snowy peaks rise on all
+sides, rain meant sudden and enormous floods of icy water.
+
+It was still drizzling on the third day, but we packed and pushed on,
+though the hills were slippery and the creeks swollen. Water was
+everywhere, but the sun came out, lighting the woods into radiant
+greens and purples. Robins and sparrows sang ecstatically, and
+violets, dandelions, and various kinds of berries were in odorous
+bloom. A vine with a blue flower, new to me, attracted my attention,
+also a yellow blossom of the cowslip variety. This latter had a form
+not unlike a wild sunflower.
+
+Here for the first time I heard a bird singing a song quite new to
+me. He was a thrushlike little fellow, very shy and difficult to see
+as he sat poised on the tip of a black pine in the deep forest. His
+note was a clear cling-ling, like the ringing of a steel triangle.
+_Chingaling, chingaling_, one called near at hand, and then farther
+off another answered, _ching, ching, chingaling-aling_, with immense
+vim, power, and vociferation.
+
+Burton, who had spent many years in the mighty forests of Washington,
+said: "That little chap is familiar to me. Away in the pines where
+there is no other bird I used to hear his voice. No matter how dark
+it was, I could always tell when morning was coming by his note, and
+on cloudy days I could always tell when the sunset was coming by
+hearing him call."
+
+To me his phrase was not unlike the metallic ringing cry of a sort of
+blackbird which I heard in the torrid plazas of Mexico. He was very
+difficult to distinguish, for the reason that he sat so high in the
+tree and was so wary. He was very shy of approach. He was a plump,
+trim little fellow of a plain brown color, not unlike a small robin.
+
+There was another cheerful little bird, new to me also, which uttered
+an amusing phrase in two keys, something like _tee tay, tee tay, tee
+tay_, one note sustained high and long, followed by another given on
+a lower key. It was not unlike to the sound made by a boy with a
+tuning pipe. This, Burton said, was also a familiar sound in the
+depths of the great Washington firs. These two cheery birds kept us
+company in the gloomy, black-pine forest, when we sorely needed
+solace of some kind.
+
+Fraser Lake was also very charming, romantic enough to be the scene
+of Cooper's best novels. The water was deliciously clear and cool,
+and from the farther shore great mountains rose in successive sweeps
+of dark green foothills. At this time we felt well satisfied with
+ourselves and the trip. With a gleam in his eyes Burton said, "This
+is the kind of thing our folks think we're doing all the time."
+
+
+
+
+RELENTLESS NATURE
+
+
+    She laid her rivers to snare us,
+    She set her snows to chill,
+    Her clouds had the cunning of vultures,
+    Her plants were charged to kill.
+    The glooms of her forests benumbed us,
+    On the slime of her ledges we sprawled;
+    But we set our feet to the northward,
+    And crawled and crawled and crawled!
+    We defied her, and cursed her, and shouted:
+    "To hell with your rain and your snow.
+    Our minds we have set on a journey,
+    And despite of your anger we go!"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE FIRST CROSSING OF THE BULKLEY
+
+
+We were now following a chain of lakes to the source of the Endako,
+one of the chief northwest sources of the Fraser, and were surrounded
+by tumultuous ridges covered with a seamless robe of pine forests.
+For hundreds of miles on either hand lay an absolutely untracked
+wilderness. In a land like this the trail always follows a
+water-course, either ascending or descending it; so for some days we
+followed the edges of these lakes and the banks of the connecting
+streams, toiling over sharp hills and plunging into steep ravines,
+over a trail belly-deep in mud and water and through a wood empty of
+life.
+
+These were hard days. We travelled for many hours through a burnt-out
+tract filled with twisted, blackened uprooted trees in the wake of
+fire and hurricane. From this tangled desolation I received the
+suggestion of some verses which I call "The Song of the North Wind."
+The wind and the fire worked together. If the wind precedes, he
+prepares the way for his brother fire, and in return the fire weakens
+the trees to the wind.
+
+We had settled into a dull routine, and the worst feature of each
+day's work was the drag, drag of slow hours on the trail. We could
+not hurry, and we were forced to watch our horses with unremitting
+care in order to nurse them over the hard spots, or, rather, the soft
+spots, in the trail. We were climbing rapidly and expected soon to
+pass from the watershed of the Fraser into that of the Skeena.
+
+We passed a horse cold in death, with his head flung up as if he had
+been fighting the wolves in his final death agony. It was a grim
+sight. Another beast stood abandoned beside the trail, gazing at us
+reproachfully, infinite pathos in his eyes. He seemed not to have the
+energy to turn his head, but stood as if propped upon his legs, his
+ribs showing with horrible plainness a tragic dejection in every
+muscle and limb.
+
+The feed was fairly good, our horses were feeling well, and curiously
+enough the mosquitoes had quite left us. We overtook and passed a
+number of outfits camped beside a splendid rushing stream.
+
+On Burns' Lake we came suddenly upon a settlement of quite sizable
+Indian houses with beautiful pasturage about. The village contained
+twenty-five or thirty families of carrier Indians, and was musical
+with the plaintive boat-songs of the young people. How long these
+native races have lived here no one can tell, but their mark on the
+land is almost imperceptible. They are not of those who mar the
+landscape.
+
+On the first of June we topped the divide between the two mighty
+watersheds. Behind us lay the Fraser, before us the Skeena. The
+majestic coast range rose like a wall of snow far away to the
+northwest, while a near-by lake, filling the foreground, reflected
+the blue ridges of the middle distance--a magnificent spread of wild
+landscape. It made me wish to abandon the trail and push out into the
+unexplored.
+
+From this point we began to descend toward the Bulkley, which is the
+most easterly fork of the Skeena. Soon after starting on our downward
+path we came to a fork in the trail. One trail, newly blazed, led to
+the right and seemed to be the one to take. We started upon it, but
+found it dangerously muddy, and so returned to the main trail which
+seemed to be more numerously travelled. Afterward we wished we had
+taken the other, for we got one of our horses into the quicksand and
+worked for more than three hours in the attempt to get him out. A
+horse is a strange animal. He is counted intelligent, and so he is if
+he happens to be a bronco or a mule. But in proportion as he is a
+thoroughbred, he seems to lose power to take care of himself--loses
+heart. Our Ewe-neck bay had a trace of racer in him, and being
+weakened by poor food, it was his bad luck to slip over the bank into
+a quicksand creek. Having found himself helpless he instantly gave up
+heart and lay out with a piteous expression of resignation in his big
+brown eyes. We tugged and lifted and rolled him around from one
+position to another, each more dangerous than the first, all to no
+result.
+
+While I held him up from drowning, my partner "brushed in" around him
+so that he _could_ not become submerged. We tried hitching the other
+horses to him in order to drag him out, but as they were
+saddle-horses, and had never set shoulder to a collar in their
+lives, they refused to pull even enough to take the proverbial
+setting hen off the nest.
+
+Up to this time I had felt no need of company on the trail, and for
+the most part we had travelled alone. But I now developed a poignant
+desire to hear the tinkle of a bell on the back trail, for there is
+no "funny business" about losing a packhorse in the midst of a wild
+country. His value is not represented by the twenty-five dollars
+which you originally paid for him. Sometimes his life is worth all
+you can give for him.
+
+After some three hours of toil (the horse getting weaker all the
+time), I looked around once more with despairing gaze, and caught
+sight of a bunch of horses across the valley flat. In this country
+there were no horses except such as the goldseeker owned, and this
+bunch of horses meant a camp of trailers. Leaping to my saddle, I
+galloped across the spongy marsh to hailing distance.
+
+My cries for help brought two of the men running with spades to help
+us. The four of us together lifted the old horse out of the pit more
+dead than alive. We fell to and rubbed his legs to restore
+circulation. Later we blanketed him and turned him loose upon the
+grass. In a short time he was nearly as well as ever.
+
+It was a sorrowful experience, for a fallen horse is a horse in ruins
+and makes a most woful appeal upon one's sympathies. I went to bed
+tired out, stiff and sore from pulling on the rope, my hands
+blistered, my nerves shaken.
+
+As I was sinking off to sleep I heard a wolf howl, as though he
+mourned the loss of a feast.
+
+We had been warned that the Bulkley River was a bad stream to
+cross,--in fact, the road-gang had cut a new trail in order to avoid
+it,--that is to say, they kept to the right around the sharp elbow
+which the river makes at this point, whereas the old trail cut
+directly across the elbow, making two crossings. At the point where
+the new trail led to the right we held a council of war to determine
+whether to keep to the old trail, and so save several days' travel,
+or to turn to the right and avoid the difficult crossing. The new
+trail was reported to be exceedingly miry, and that determined the
+matter--we concluded to make the short cut.
+
+We descended to the Bulkley through clouds of mosquitoes and endless
+sloughs of mud. The river was out of its banks, and its quicksand
+flats were exceedingly dangerous to our pack animals, although the
+river itself at this point was a small and sluggish stream.
+
+It took us exactly five hours of most exhausting toil to cross the
+river and its flat. We worked like beavers, we sweated like hired
+men, wading up to our knees in water, and covered with mud, brushing
+in a road over the quicksand for the horses to walk. The Ewe-necked
+bay was fairly crazy with fear of the mud, and it was necessary to
+lead him over every foot of the way. We went into camp for the first
+time too late to eat by daylight. It became necessary for us to use a
+candle inside the tent at about eleven o'clock.
+
+The horses were exhausted, and crazy for feed. It was a struggle to
+get them unpacked, so eager were they to forage. Ladrone, always
+faithful, touched my heart by his patience and gentleness, and his
+reliance upon me. I again heard a gray wolf howl as I was sinking off
+to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+THE GAUNT GRAY WOLF
+
+
+    O a shadowy beast is the gaunt gray wolf!
+    And his feet fall soft on a carpet of spines;
+    Where the night shuts quick and the winds are cold
+    He haunts the deeps of the northern pines.
+
+    His eyes are eager, his teeth are keen,
+    As he slips at night through the bush like a snake,
+    Crouching and cringing, straight into the wind,
+    To leap with a grin on the fawn in the brake.
+
+    He falls like a cat on the mother grouse
+    Brooding her young in the wind-bent weeds,
+    Or listens to heed with a start of greed
+    The bittern booming from river reeds.
+
+    He's the symbol of hunger the whole earth through,
+    His spectre sits at the door or cave,
+    And the homeless hear with a thrill of fear
+    The sound of his wind-swept voice on the air.
+
+
+
+
+ABANDONED ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+    A poor old horse with down-cast mien and sad wild eyes,
+    Stood by the lonely trail--and oh!
+    He was so piteous lean.
+    He seemed to look a mild surprise
+    At all mankind that we should treat him so.
+    How hardily he struggled up the trail
+    And through the streams
+    All men should know.
+    Yet now abandoned to the wolf, his waiting foe,
+    He stood in silence, as an old man dreams.
+    And as his master left him, this he seemed to say:
+    "You leave me helpless by the path;
+    I do not curse you, but I pray
+    Defend me from the wolves' wild wrath!"
+    And yet his master rode away!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DOWN THE BULKLEY VALLEY
+
+
+As we rose to the top of the divide which lies between the two
+crossings of the Bulkley, a magnificent view of the coast range again
+lightened the horizon. In the foreground a lovely lake lay. On the
+shore of this lake stood a single Indian shack occupied by a
+half-dozen children and an old woman. They were all wretchedly
+clothed in graceless rags, and formed a bitter and depressing
+contrast to the magnificence of nature.
+
+One of the lads could talk a little Chinook mixed with English.
+
+"How far is it to the ford?" I asked of him.
+
+"White man say, mebbe-so six, mebbe-so nine mile."
+
+Knowing the Indian's vague idea of miles, I said:--
+
+"How _long_ before we reach the ford? Sit-kum sun?" which is to say
+noon.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"Klip sun come. Me go-hyak make canoe. Me felly."
+
+By which he meant: "You will arrive at the ford by sunset. I will
+hurry on and build a raft and ferry you over the stream."
+
+With an axe and a sack of dried fish on his back and a poor old
+shot-gun in his arm, he led the way down the trail at a slapping
+pace. He kept with us till dinner-time, however, in order to get some
+bread and coffee.
+
+Like the _Jicarilla_ Apaches, these people have discovered the
+virtues of the inner bark of the black pine. All along the trail were
+trees from which wayfarers had lunched, leaving a great strip of the
+white inner wood exposed.
+
+"Man heap dry--this muck-a-muck heap good," said the young fellow, as
+he handed me a long strip to taste. It was cool and sweet to the
+tongue, and on a hot day would undoubtedly quench thirst. The boy
+took it from the tree by means of a chisel-shaped iron after the
+heavy outer bark has been hewed away by the axe.
+
+All along the trail were tree trunks whereon some loitering young
+Siwash had delineated a human face by a few deft and powerful strokes
+of the axe, the sculptural planes of cheeks, brow, and chin being
+indicated broadly but with truth and decision. Often by some old camp
+a tree would bear on a planed surface the rude pictographs, so that
+those coming after could read the number, size, sex, and success at
+hunting of those who had gone before. There is something Japanese, it
+seems to me, in this natural taste for carving among all the
+Northwest people.
+
+All about us was now riotous June. The season was incredibly warm and
+forward, considering the latitude. Strawberries were in bloom, birds
+were singing, wild roses appeared in miles and in millions, plum and
+cherry trees were white with blossoms--in fact, the splendor and
+radiance of Iowa in June. A beautiful lake occupied our left nearly
+all day.
+
+As we arrived at the second crossing of the Bulkley about six
+o'clock, our young Indian met us with a sorrowful face.
+
+"Stick go in chuck. No canoe. Walk stick."
+
+A big cottonwood log had fallen across the stream and lay
+half-submerged and quivering in the rushing river. Over this log a
+half-dozen men were passing like ants, wet with sweat, "bucking"
+their outfits across. The poor Siwash was out of a job and
+exceedingly sorrowful.
+
+"This is the kind of picnic we didn't expect," said one of the young
+men, as I rode up to see what progress they were making.
+
+We took our turn at crossing the tree trunk, which was submerged
+nearly a foot deep with water running at mill-race speed, and resumed
+the trail, following running water most of the way over a very good
+path. Once again we had a few hours' positive enjoyment, with no
+sense of being in a sub-arctic country. We could hardly convince
+ourselves that we were in latitude 54. The only peculiarity which I
+never quite forgot was the extreme length of the day. At 10.30 at
+night it was still light enough to write. No sooner did it get dark
+on one side of the hut than it began to lighten on the other. The
+weather was gloriously cool, crisp, and invigorating, and whenever we
+had sound soil under our feet we were happy.
+
+The country was getting each hour more superbly mountainous. Great
+snowy peaks rose on all sides. The coast range, lofty, roseate, dim,
+and far, loomed ever in the west, but on our right a group of other
+giants assembled, white and stern. A part of the time we threaded our
+way through fire-devastated forests of fir, and then as suddenly
+burst out into tracts of wild roses with beautiful open spaces of
+waving pea-vine on which our horses fed ravenously.
+
+We were forced to throw up our tent at every meal, so intolerable had
+the mosquitoes become. Here for the first time our horses were
+severely troubled by myriads of little black flies. They were small,
+but resembled our common house flies in shape, and were exceedingly
+venomous. They filled the horses' ears, and their sting produced
+minute swellings all over the necks and breasts of the poor animals.
+Had it not been for our pennyroyal and bacon grease, the bay horse
+would have been eaten raw.
+
+We overtook the trampers again at Chock Lake. They were thin, their
+legs making sharp creases in their trouser legs--I could see that as
+I neared them. They were walking desperately, reeling from side to
+side with weakness. There was no more smiling on their faces. One
+man, the smaller, had the countenance of a wolf, pinched in round the
+nose. His bony jaw was thrust forward resolutely. The taller man was
+limping painfully because of a shoe which had gone to one side. Their
+packs were light, but their almost incessant change of position gave
+evidence of pain and great weariness.
+
+I drew near to ask how they were getting along. The tall man, with a
+look of wistful sadness like that of a hungry dog, said, "Not very
+well."
+
+"How are you off for grub?"
+
+"Nothing left but some beans and a mere handful of flour."
+
+I invited them to a "square meal" a few miles farther on, and in
+order to help them forward I took one of their packs on my horse. I
+inferred that they would take turns at the remaining pack and so keep
+pace with us, for we were dropping steadily now--down, down through
+the most beautiful savannas, with fine spring brooks rushing from the
+mountain's side. Flowers increased; the days grew warmer; it began to
+feel like summer. The mountains grew ever mightier, looming cloudlike
+at sunset, bearing glaciers on their shoulders. We were almost
+completely happy--but alas, the mosquitoes! Their hum silenced the
+songs of the birds; their feet made the mountains of no avail. The
+otherwise beautiful land became a restless hell for the unprotected
+man or beast. It was impossible to eat or sleep without some defence,
+and our pennyroyal salve was invaluable. It enabled us to travel with
+some degree of comfort, where others suffered martyrdom.
+
+At noon Burton made up a heavy mess, in expectation of the trampers,
+who had fallen a little behind. The small man came into view first,
+for he had abandoned his fellow-traveller. This angered me, and I was
+minded to cast the little sneak out of camp, but his pinched and
+hungry face helped me to put up with him. I gave him a smart lecture
+and said, "I supposed you intended to help the other man, or I
+wouldn't have relieved you of a pound."
+
+The other toiler turned up soon, limping, and staggering with
+weakness. When dinner was ready, they came to the call like a couple
+of starving dogs. The small man had no politeness left. He gorged
+himself like a wolf. He fairly snapped the food down his throat. The
+tall man, by great effort, contrived to display some knowledge of
+better manners. As they ate, I studied them. They were blotched by
+mosquito bites and tanned to a leather brown. Their thin hands were
+like claws, their doubled knees seemed about to pierce their trouser
+legs.
+
+"Yes," said the taller man, "the mosquitoes nearly eat us up. We can
+only sleep in the middle of the day, or from about two o'clock in the
+morning till sunrise. We walk late in the evening--till nine or
+ten--and then sit in the smoke till it gets cold enough to drive away
+the mosquitoes. Then we try to sleep. But the trouble is, when it is
+cold enough to keep them off, it's too cold for us to sleep."
+
+"What did you do during the late rains?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, we kept moving most of the time. At night we camped under a fir
+tree by the trail and dried off. The mosquitoes didn't bother us so
+much then. We were wet nearly all the time."
+
+I tried to get at his point of view, his justification for such
+senseless action, but could only discover a sort of blind belief
+that something would help him pull through. He had gone to the
+Caribou mines to find work, and, failing, had pushed on toward
+Hazleton with a dim hope of working his way to Teslin Lake and to the
+Klondike. He started with forty pounds of provisions and three or
+four dollars in his pocket. He was now dead broke, and his provisions
+almost gone.
+
+Meanwhile, the smaller man made no sign of hearing a word. He ate and
+ate, till my friend looked at me with a comical wink. We fed him
+staples--beans, graham bread, and coffee--and he slowly but surely
+reached the bottom of every dish. He did not fill up, he simply
+"wiped out" the cooked food. The tall man was not far behind him.
+
+As he talked, I imagined the life they had led. At first the trail
+was good, and they were able to make twenty miles each day. The
+weather was dry and warm, and sleeping was not impossible. They
+camped close beside the trail when they grew tired--I had seen and
+recognized their camping-places all along. But the rains came on, and
+they were forced to walk all day through the wet shrubs with the
+water dripping from their ragged garments. They camped at night
+beneath the firs (for the ground is always dry under a fir), where a
+fire is easily built. There they hung over the flame, drying their
+clothing and their rapidly weakening shoes. The mosquitoes swarmed
+upon them bloodily in the shelter and warmth of the trees, for they
+had no netting or tent. Their meals were composed of tea, a few
+hastily stewed beans, and a poor quality of sticky camp bread. Their
+sleep was broken and fitful. They were either too hot or too cold,
+and the mosquitoes gave way only when the frost made slumber
+difficult. In the morning they awoke to the necessity of putting on
+their wet shoes, and taking the muddy trail, to travel as long as
+they could stagger forward.
+
+In addition to all this, they had no maps, and knew nothing of their
+whereabouts or how far it was to a human habitation. Their only
+comfort lay in the passing of outfits like mine. From such as I, they
+"rustled food" and clothing. The small man did not even thank us for
+the meal; he sat himself down for a smoke and communed with his
+stomach. The tall man was plainly worsted. His voice had a plaintive
+droop. His shoe gnawed into his foot, and his pack was visibly
+heavier than that of his companion.
+
+We were two weeks behind our schedule, and our own flour sack was not
+much bigger than a sachet-bag, but we gave them some rice and part of
+our beans and oatmeal, and they moved away.
+
+We were approaching sea-level, following the Bulkley, which flows in
+a northwesterly direction and enters the great Skeena River at right
+angles, just below its three forks. Each hour the peaks seemed to
+assemble and uplift. The days were at their maximum, the sun set
+shortly after eight, but it was light until nearly eleven. At midday
+the sun was fairly hot, but the wind swept down from the mountains
+cool and refreshing. I shall not soon forget those radiant meadows,
+over which the far mountains blazed in almost intolerable splendor;
+it was too perfect to endure. Like the light of the sun lingering on
+the high peaks with most magical beauty, it passed away to be seen no
+more.
+
+In the midst of these grandeurs we lost one of our horses. Whenever a
+horse breaks away from his fellows on the trail, it is pretty safe to
+infer he has "hit the back track." As I went out to round up the
+horses, "Major Grunt" was nowhere to be found. He had strayed from
+the bunch and we inferred had started back over the trail. We trailed
+him till we met one of the trampers, who assured us that no horse had
+passed him in the night, for he had been camped within six feet of
+the path.
+
+Up to this time there had been no returning footsteps, and it was
+easy to follow the horse so long as he kept to the trail, but the
+tramper's report was positive--no horse had passed him. We turned
+back and began searching the thickets around the camp.
+
+We toiled all day, not merely because the horse was exceedingly
+valuable to us, but also for the reason that he had a rope attached
+to his neck and I was afraid he might become entangled in the fallen
+timber and so starve to death.
+
+The tall tramper, who had been definitely abandoned by his partner,
+was a sad spectacle. He was blotched by mosquito bites, thin and weak
+with hunger, and his clothes hung in tatters. He had just about
+reached the limit of his courage, and though we were uncertain of our
+horses, and our food was nearly exhausted, we gave him all the rice
+we had and some fruit and sent him on his way.
+
+Night came, and still no signs of "Major Grunt." It began to look as
+though some one had ridden him away and we should be forced to go on
+without him. This losing of a horse is one of the accidents which
+make the trail so uncertain. We were exceedingly anxious to get on.
+There was an oppressive warmth in the air, and flies and mosquitoes
+were the worst we had ever seen. Altogether this was a dark day on
+our calendar.
+
+After we had secured ourselves in our tents that night the sound of
+the savage insects without was like the roaring of a far-off
+hailstorm. The horses rolled in the dirt, snorted, wheeled madly,
+stamped, shook their heads, and flung themselves again and again on
+the ground, giving every evidence of the most terrible suffering. "If
+this is to continue," I said to my partner, "I shall quit, and either
+kill all my horses or ship them out of the country. I will not have
+them eaten alive in this way."
+
+It was impossible to go outside to attend to them. Nothing could be
+done but sit in gloomy silence and listen to the drumming of their
+frantic feet on the turf as they battled against their invisible
+foes. At last, led by old Ladrone, they started off at a hobbling
+gallop up the trail.
+
+"Well, we are in for it now," I remarked, as the footsteps died away.
+"They've hit the back trail, and we'll have another day's hard work
+to catch 'em and bring 'em back. However, there's no use worrying.
+The mosquitoes would eat us alive if we went out now. We might just
+as well go to sleep and wait till morning." Sleep was difficult under
+the circumstances, but we dozed off at last.
+
+As we took their trail in the cool of the next morning, we found the
+horses had taken the back trail till they reached an open hillside,
+and had climbed to the very edge of the timber. There they were all
+in a bunch, with the exception of "Major Grunt," of whom we had no
+trace.
+
+With a mind filled with distressing pictures of the lost horse
+entangled in his rope, and lying flat on his side hidden among the
+fallen tree trunks, there to struggle and starve, I reluctantly gave
+orders for a start, with intent to send an Indian back to search for
+him.
+
+After two hours' smart travel we came suddenly upon the little Indian
+village of Morricetown, which is built beside a narrow cañon through
+which the Bulkley rushes with tremendous speed. Here high on the
+level grassy bank we camped, quite secure from mosquitoes, and
+surrounded by the curious natives, who showed us where to find wood
+and water, and brought us the most beautiful spring salmon, and
+potatoes so tender and fine that the skin could be rubbed from them
+with the thumb. They were exactly like new potatoes in the States.
+Out of this, it may be well understood, we had a most satisfying
+dinner. Summer was in full tide. Pieplant was two feet high, and
+strawberries were almost ripe.
+
+Calling the men of the village around me, I explained in
+Pigeon-English and worse Chinook that I had lost a horse, and that I
+would give five dollars to the man who would bring him to me. They
+all listened attentively, filled with joy at a chance to earn so much
+money. At last the chief man of the village, a very good-looking
+fellow of twenty-five or thirty, said to me: "All light, me go, me
+fetch 'um. You stop here. Mebbe-so, klip-sun, I come bling horse."
+
+His confidence relieved us of anxiety, and we had a very pleasant day
+of it, digesting our bountiful meal of salmon and potatoes, and
+mending up our clothing. We were now pretty ragged and very brown,
+but in excellent health.
+
+Late in the afternoon a gang of road-cutters (who had been sent out
+by the towns interested in the route) came into town from Hazleton,
+and I had a talk with the boss, a very decent fellow, who gave a grim
+report of the trail beyond. He said: "Nobody knows anything about
+that trail. Jim Deacon, the head-man of our party when we left
+Hazleton, was only about seventy miles out, and cutting fallen timber
+like a man chopping cord wood, and sending back for more help. We are
+now going back to bridge and corduroy the places we had no time to
+fix as we came."
+
+Morricetown was a superb spot, and Burton was much inclined to stay
+right there and prospect the near-by mountains. So far as a mere
+casual observer could determine, this country offers every inducement
+to prospectors. It is possible to grow potatoes, hay, and oats,
+together with various small fruits, in this valley, and if gold
+should ever be discovered in the rushing mountain streams, it would
+be easy to sustain a camp and feed it well.
+
+Long before sunset an Indian came up to us and smilingly said, "You
+hoss--come." And a few minutes later the young ty-ee came riding into
+town leading "Major Grunt," well as ever, but a little sullen. He had
+taken the back trail till he came to a narrow and insecure bridge.
+There he had turned up the stream, going deeper and deeper into the
+"stick," as the Siwash called the forest. I paid the reward gladly,
+and Major took his place among the other horses with no sign of joy.
+
+
+
+
+
+DO YOU FEAR THE WIND?
+
+
+    Do you fear the force of the wind,
+    The slash of the rain?
+    Go face them and fight them,
+    Be savage again.
+    Go hungry and cold like the wolf,
+        Go wade like the crane.
+    The palms of your hands will thicken,
+    The skin of your cheek will tan,
+    You'll grow ragged and weary and swarthy,
+        But you'll walk like a man!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+HAZLETON. MIDWAY ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+We were now but thirty miles from Hazleton, where our second bill of
+supplies was waiting for us, and we were eager to push on. Taking the
+advice of the road-gang we crossed the frail suspension bridge (which
+the Indians had most ingeniously constructed out of logs and pieces
+of old telegraph wire) and started down the west side of the river.
+Every ravine was filled by mountain streams' foam--white with speed.
+
+We descended all day and the weather grew more and more summer-like
+each mile. Ripe strawberries lured us from the warm banks. For the
+first time we came upon great groves of red cedar under which the
+trail ran very muddy and very slippery by reason of the hard roots of
+the cedars which never decay. Creeks that seemed to me a good field
+for placer mining came down from the left, but no one stopped to do
+more than pan a little gravel from a cut bank or a bar.
+
+At about two o'clock of the second day we came to the Indian village
+of Hagellgate, which stands on the high bank overhanging the roaring
+river just before it empties into the Skeena. Here we got news of the
+tramp who had fallen in exhaustion and was being cared for by the
+Indians.
+
+Descending swiftly we came to the bank of the river, which was wide,
+tremendously swift and deep and cold. Rival Indian ferry companies
+bid for our custom, each man extolling his boat at the expense of the
+"old canoe--no good" of his rivals.
+
+The canoes were like those to be seen all along the coast, that is to
+say they had been hollowed from cottonwood or pine trees and
+afterward steamed and spread by means of hot water to meet the
+maker's idea of the proper line of grace and speed. They were really
+beautiful and sat the water almost as gracefully as the birch-bark
+canoe of the Chippewas. At each end they rose into a sort of neck,
+which terminated often in a head carved to resemble a deer or some
+fabled animal. Some of them had white bands encircling the throat of
+this figurehead. Their paddles were short and broad, but light and
+strong.
+
+These canoes are very seaworthy. As they were driven across the swift
+waters, they danced on the waves like leaves, and the boatmen bent to
+their oars with almost desperate energy and with most excited outcry.
+
+Therein is expressed a mighty difference between the Siwash and the
+plains Indian. The Cheyenne, the Sioux, conceal effort, or fear, or
+enthusiasm. These little people chattered and whooped at each other
+like monkeys. Upon hearing them for the first time I imagined they
+were losing control of the boat. Judging from their accent they were
+shrieking phrases like these:--
+
+"Quick, quick! Dig in deep, Joe. Scratch now, we're going
+down--whoop! Hay, now! All together--swing her, dog-gone ye--SWING
+HER! Now straight--keep her straight! Can't ye see that eddy? Whoop,
+whoop! Let out a link or two, you spindle-armed child. Now _quick_ or
+we're lost!"
+
+While the other men seemed to reply in kind: "Oh, rats, we're a
+makin' it. Head her toward that bush. Don't get scared--trust
+me--I'll sling her ashore!"
+
+A plains Indian, under similar circumstances, would have strained
+every muscle till his bones cracked, before permitting himself to
+show effort or excitement.
+
+With all their confusion and chatter these little people were always
+masters of the situation. They came out right, no matter how savage
+the river, and the Bulkley at this point was savage. Every drop of
+water was in motion. It had no eddies, no slack water. Its momentum
+was terrific. In crossing, the boatmen were obliged to pole their
+canoes far up beyond the point at which they meant to land; then, at
+the word, they swung into the rushing current and pulled like fiends
+for the opposite shore. Their broad paddles dipped so rapidly they
+resembled paddle-wheels. They kept the craft head-on to the current,
+and did not attempt to charge the bank directly, but swung-to
+broadside. In this way they led our horses safely across, and came up
+smiling each time.
+
+We found Hazleton to be a small village composed mainly of Indians,
+with a big Hudson Bay post at its centre. It was situated on a lovely
+green flat, but a few feet above the Skeena, which was a majestic
+flood at this point. There were some ten or fifteen outfits camped
+in and about the village, resting and getting ready for the last half
+of the trail. Some of the would-be miners had come up the river in
+the little Hudson Bay steamer, which makes two or three trips a year,
+and were waiting for her next trip in order to go down again.
+
+The town was filled with gloomy stories of the trail. No one knew its
+condition. In fact, it had not been travelled in seventeen years,
+except by the Indians on foot with their packs of furs. The road
+party was ahead, but toiling hard and hurrying to open a way for us.
+
+As I now reread all the advance literature of this "prairie route," I
+perceived how skilfully every detail with regard to the last half of
+the trail had been slurred over. We had been led into a sort of sack,
+and the string was tied behind us.
+
+The Hudson Bay agent said to me with perfect frankness, "There's no
+one in this village, except one or two Indians, who's ever been over
+the trail, or who can give you any information concerning it." He
+furthermore said, "A large number of these fellows who are starting
+in on this trip with their poor little cayuses will never reach the
+Stikeen River, and might better stop right here."
+
+Feed was scarce here as everywhere, and we were forced to camp on the
+trail, some two miles above the town. In going to and from our tent
+we passed the Indian burial ground, which was very curious and
+interesting to me. It was a veritable little city of the dead, with
+streets of tiny, gayly painted little houses in which the silent and
+motionless ones had been laid in their last sleep. Each tomb was a
+shelter, a roof, and a tomb, and upon each the builder had lavished
+his highest skill in ornament. They were all vivid with paint and
+carving and lattice work. Each builder seemed trying to outdo his
+neighbor in making a cheerful habitation for his dead.
+
+More curious still, in each house were the things which the dead had
+particularly loved. In one, a trunk contained all of a girl's
+much-prized clothing. A complete set of dishes was visible in
+another, while in a third I saw a wash-stand, bowl, pitcher, and
+mirror. There was something deeply touching to me in all this. They
+are so poor, their lives are so bare of comforts, that the
+consecration of these articles to the dead seemed a greater sacrifice
+than we, who count ourselves civilized, would make. Each chair, or
+table, or coat, or pair of shoes, costs many skins. The set of
+furniture meant many hard journeys in the cold, long days of
+trailing, trapping, and packing. The clothing had a high money value,
+yet it remained undisturbed. I saw one day a woman and two young
+girls halt to look timidly in at the window of a newly erected tomb,
+but only for a moment; and then, in a panic of fear and awe, they
+hurried away.
+
+The days which followed were cold and gloomy, quite in keeping with
+the grim tales of the trail. Bodies of horses and mules, drowned in
+the attempt to cross the Skeena, were reported passing the wharf at
+the post. The wife of a retired Indian agent, who claimed to have
+been over the route many years ago, was interviewed by my partner.
+After saying that it was a terrible trail, she sententiously ended
+with these words, "Gentlemen, you may consider yourselves
+explorers."
+
+I halted a very intelligent Indian who came riding by our camp. "How
+far to Teslin Lake?" I asked.
+
+He mused. "Maybe so forty days, maybe so thirty days. Me think forty
+days."
+
+"Good feed? Hy-u muck-a-muck?"
+
+He looked at me in silence and his face grew a little graver. "Ha--lo
+muck-a-muck (no feed). Long time no glass. Hy-yu stick (woods). Hy-u
+river--all day swim."
+
+Turning to Burton, I said, "Here we get at the truth of it. This man
+has no reason for lying. We need another horse, and we need fifty
+pounds more flour."
+
+One by one the outfits behind us came dropping down into Hazleton in
+long trains of weary horses, some of them in very bad condition. Many
+of the goldseekers determined to "quit." They sold their horses as
+best they could to the Indians (who were glad to buy them), and hired
+canoes to take them to the coast, intent to catch one of the steamers
+which ply to and fro between Skagway and Seattle.
+
+But one by one, with tinkling bells and sharp outcry of drivers,
+other outfits passed us, cheerily calling: "Good luck! See you
+later," all bound for the "gold belt." Gloomy skies continued to fill
+the imaginative ones with forebodings, and all day they could be seen
+in groups about the village discussing ways and means. Quarrels broke
+out, and parties disbanded in discouragement and bitterness. The road
+to the golden river seemed to grow longer, and the precious sand more
+elusive, from day to day. Here at Hazleton, where they had hoped to
+reach a gold region, nothing was doing. Those who had visited the
+Kisgagash Mountains to the north were lukewarm in their reports, and
+no one felt like stopping to explore. The cry was, "On to Dawson."
+
+Here in Hazleton I came upon the lame tramp. He had secured lodging
+in an empty shack and was being helped to food by some citizens in
+the town for whom he was doing a little work. Seeing me pass he
+called to me and began to inquire about the trail.
+
+I read in the gleam of his eye an insane resolution to push forward.
+This I set about to check. "If you wish to commit suicide, start on
+this trail. The four hundred miles you have been over is a summer
+picnic excursion compared to that which is now to follow. My advice
+to you is to stay right where you are until the next Hudson Bay
+steamer comes by, then go to the captain and tell him just how you
+are situated, and ask him to carry you down to the coast. You are
+insane to think for a moment of attempting the four hundred miles of
+unknown trail between here and Glenora, especially without a cent in
+your pocket and no grub. You have no right to burden the other
+outfits with your needs."
+
+This plain talk seemed to affect him and he looked aggrieved. "But
+what can I do? I have no money and no work."
+
+I replied in effect: "Whatever you do, you can't afford to enter upon
+this trail, and you can't expect men who are already short of grub to
+feed and take care of you. There's a chance for you to work your way
+back to the coast on the Hudson Bay steamer. There's only starvation
+on the trail."
+
+As I walked away he called after me, but I refused to return. I had
+the feeling in spite of all I had said that he would attempt to
+rustle a little grub and make his start on the trail. The whole
+goldseeking movement was, in a way, a craze; he was simply an extreme
+development of it.
+
+It seemed necessary to break camp in order not to be eaten up by the
+Siwash dogs, whose peculiarities grew upon me daily. They were indeed
+strange beasts. They seemed to have no youth. I never saw them play;
+even the puppies were grave and sedate. They were never in a hurry
+and were not afraid. They got out of our way with the least possible
+exertion, looking meekly reproachful or snarling threateningly at us.
+They were ever watchful. No matter how apparently deep their slumber,
+they saw every falling crumb, they knew where we had hung our fish,
+and were ready as we turned our backs to make away with it. It was
+impossible to leave anything eatable for a single instant. Nothing
+but the sleight of hand of a conjurer could equal the mystery of
+their stealing.
+
+After buying a fourth pack animal and reshoeing all our horses, we
+got our outfit into shape for the long, hard drive which lay before
+us. Every ounce of superfluous weight, every tool, every article not
+absolutely essential, was discarded and its place filled with food.
+We stripped ourselves like men going into battle, and on the third
+day lined up for Teslin Lake, six hundred miles to the north.
+
+
+
+
+SIWASH GRAVES
+
+
+    Here in their tiny gayly painted homes
+    They sleep, these small dead people of the streams,
+    Their names unknown, their deeds forgot,
+    Their by-gone battles lost in dreams.
+    A few short days and we who laugh
+    Will be as still, will lie as low
+    As utterly in dark as they who rot
+    Here where the roses blow.
+    They fought, and loved, and toiled, and died,
+    As all men do, and all men must.
+    Of what avail? we at the end
+    Fall quite as shapelessly to dust.
+
+
+
+
+LINE UP, BRAVE BOYS
+
+
+    The packs are on, the cinches tight,
+    The patient horses wait,
+    Upon the grass the frost lies white,
+    The dawn is gray and late.
+    The leader's cry rings sharp and clear,
+    The campfires smoulder low;
+    Before us lies a shallow mere,
+    Beyond, the mountain snow.
+          "_Line up, Billy, line up, boys,_
+              _The east is gray with coming day,_
+              _We must away, we cannot stay._
+              _Hy-o, hy-ak, brave boys!_"
+
+    Five hundred miles behind us lie,
+    As many more ahead,
+    Through mud and mire on mountains high
+    Our weary feet must tread.
+    So one by one, with loyal mind,
+    The horses swing to place,
+    The strong in lead, the weak behind,
+    In patient plodding grace.
+          "_Hy-o, Buckskin, brave boy, Joe!_
+              _The sun is high,_
+              _The hid loons cry:_
+              _Hy-ak--away! Hy-o!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CROSSING THE BIG DIVIDE
+
+
+Our stay at Hazleton in some measure removed the charm of the first
+view. The people were all so miserably poor, and the hosts of
+howling, hungry dogs made each day more distressing. The mountains
+remained splendid to the last; and as we made our start I looked back
+upon them with undiminished pleasure.
+
+We pitched tent at night just below the ford, and opposite another
+Indian village in which a most mournful medicine song was going on,
+timed to the beating of drums. Dogs joined with the mourning of the
+people with cries of almost human anguish, to which the beat of the
+passionless drum added solemnity, and a sort of inexorable marching
+rhythm. It seemed to announce pestilence and flood, and made the
+beautiful earth a place of hunger and despair.
+
+I was awakened in the early dawn by a singular cry repeated again and
+again on the farther side of the river. It seemed the voice of a
+woman uttering in wailing; chant the most piercing agony of
+despairing love. It ceased as the sun arose and was heard no more. It
+was difficult to imagine such anguish in the bustle of the bright
+morning. It seemed as though it must have been an illusion--a dream
+of tragedy.
+
+In the course of an hour's travel we came down to the sandy bottom of
+the river, whereon a half-dozen fine canoes were beached and waiting
+for us. The skilful natives set us across very easily, although it
+was the maddest and wildest of all the rivers we had yet seen. We
+crossed the main river just above the point at which the west fork
+enters. The horses were obliged to swim nearly half a mile, and some
+of them would not have reached the other shore had it not been for
+the Indians, who held their heads out of water from the sterns of the
+canoes, and so landed them safely on the bar just opposite the little
+village called Kispyox, which is also the Indian name of the west
+fork.
+
+The trail made off up the eastern bank of this river, which was as
+charming as any stream ever imagined by a poet. The water was
+gray-green in color, swift and active. It looped away in most
+splendid curves, through opulent bottom lands, filled with wild
+roses, geranium plants, and berry blooms. Openings alternated with
+beautiful woodlands and grassy meadows, while over and beyond all
+rose the ever present mountains of the coast range, deep blue and
+snow-capped.
+
+There was no strangeness in the flora--on the contrary, everything
+seemed familiar. Hazel bushes, poplars, pines, all growth was
+amazingly luxuriant. The trail was an Indian path, graceful and full
+of swinging curves. We had passed beyond the telegraph wire of the
+old trail.
+
+Early in the afternoon we passed some five or six outfits camped on a
+beautiful grassy bank overlooking the river, and forming a most
+satisfying picture. The bells on the grazing horses were tinkling,
+and from sparkling fires, thin columns of smoke arose. Some of the
+young men were bathing, while others were washing their shirts in the
+sunny stream. There was a cheerful sound of whistling and rattling of
+tinware mingled with the sound of axes. Nothing could be more jocund,
+more typical, of the young men and the trail. It was one of the few
+pleasant camps of the long journey.
+
+It was raining when we awoke, but before noon it cleared sufficiently
+to allow us to pack. We started at one, though the bushes were loaded
+with water, and had we not been well clothed in waterproof, we should
+have been drenched to the bone. We rode for four hours over a good
+trail, dodging wet branches in the pouring rain. It lightened at
+five, and we went into camp quite dry and comfortable.
+
+We unpacked near an Indian ranch belonging to an old man and his
+wife, who came up at once to see us. They were good-looking, rugged
+old souls, like powerful Japanese. They could not speak Chinook, and
+we could not get much out of them. The old wife toted a monstrous big
+salmon up the hill to sell to us, but we had more fish than we could
+eat, and were forced to decline. There was a beautiful spring just
+back of the cabin, and the old man seemed to take pleasure in having
+us get our water from it. Neither did he object to our horses feeding
+about his house, where there was very excellent grass. It was a
+charming camping-place, wild flowers made the trail radiant even in
+the midst of rain. The wild roses grew in clumps of sprays as high
+as a horse's head.
+
+Just before we determined to camp we had passed three or four outfits
+grouped together on the sward on the left bank of the river. As we
+rode by, one of the men had called to me saying: "You had better
+camp. It is thirty miles from here to feed." To this I had merely
+nodded, giving it little attention; but now as we sat around our
+campfire, Burton brought the matter up again: "If it is thirty miles
+to feed, we will have to get off early to-morrow morning and make as
+big a drive as we can, while the horses are fresh, and then make the
+latter part of the run on empty stomachs."
+
+"Oh, I think they were just talking for our special benefit," I
+replied.
+
+"No, they were in earnest. One of them came out to see me. He said he
+got his pointer from the mule train ahead of us. Feed is going to be
+very scarce, and the next run is fully thirty miles."
+
+I insisted it could not be possible that we should go at once from
+the luxuriant pea-vine and bluejoint into a thirty-mile stretch of
+country where nothing grew. "There must be breaks in the forest where
+we can graze our horses."
+
+It rained all night and in the morning it seemed as if it had settled
+into a week's downpour. However, we were quite comfortable with
+plenty of fresh salmon, and were not troubled except with the thought
+of the mud which would result from this rainstorm. We were falling
+steadily behind our schedule each day, but the horses were feeding
+and gaining strength--"And when we hit the trail, we will hit it
+hard," I said to Burton.
+
+It was Sunday. The day was perfectly quiet and peaceful, like a rainy
+Sunday in the States. The old Indian below kept to his house all day,
+not visiting us. It is probable that he was a Catholic. The dogs came
+about us occasionally; strange, solemn creatures that they are, they
+had the persistence of hunger and the silence of burglars.
+
+It was raining when we awoke Monday morning, but we were now restless
+to get under way. We could not afford to spend another day waiting in
+the rain. It was gloomy business in camp, and at the first sign of
+lightening sky we packed up and started promptly at twelve o'clock.
+
+That ride was the sternest we had yet experienced. It was like
+swimming in a sea of green water. The branches sloshed us with
+blinding raindrops. The mud spurted under our horses' hoofs, the sky
+was gray and drizzled moisture, and as we rose we plunged into ever
+deepening forests. We left behind us all hazel bushes, alders, wild
+roses, and grasses. Moss was on every leaf and stump: the forest
+became savage, sinister and silent, not a living thing but ourselves
+moved or uttered voice.
+
+This world grew oppressive with its unbroken clear greens, its
+dripping branches, its rotting trees; its snake-like roots half
+buried in the earth convinced me that our warning was well-born. At
+last we came into upper heights where no blade of grass grew, and we
+pushed on desperately, on and on, hour after hour. We began to suffer
+with the horses, being hungry and cold ourselves. We plunged into
+bottomless mudholes, slid down slippery slopes of slate, and leaped
+innumerable fallen logs of fir. The sky had no more pity than the
+mossy ground and the desolate forest. It was a mocking land, a land
+of green things, but not a blade of grass: only austere trees and
+noxious weeds.
+
+During the day we met an old man so loaded down I could not tell
+whether he was man, woman, or beast. A sort of cap or wide cloth band
+went across his head, concealing his forehead. His huge pack loomed
+over his shoulders, and as he walked, using two paddles as canes, he
+seemed some anomalous four-footed beast of burden.
+
+As he saw us he threw off his pack to rest and stood erect, a sturdy
+man of sixty, with short bristling hair framing a kindly resolute
+face. He was very light-hearted. He shook hands with me, saying,
+"Kla-how-ya," in answer to my, "Kla-how-ya six," which is to say,
+"How are you, friend?" He smiled, pointed to his pack, and said,
+"Hy-u skin." His season had been successful and he was going now to
+sell his catch. A couple of dogs just behind carried each twenty
+pounds on their backs. We were eating lunch, and I invited him to sit
+and eat. He took a seat and began to parcel out the food in two
+piles.
+
+"He has a companion coming," I said to my partner. In a few moments a
+boy of fourteen or fifteen came up, carrying a pack that would test
+the strength of a powerful white man. He, too, threw off his load and
+at a word from the old man took a seat at the table. They shared
+exactly alike. It was evident that they were father and son.
+
+A few miles farther on we met another family, two men, a woman, a
+boy, and six dogs, all laden in proportion. They were all handsomer
+than the Siwashes of the Fraser River. They came from the head-waters
+of the Nasse, they said. They could speak but little Chinook and no
+English at all. When I asked in Chinook, "How far is it to feed for
+our horses?" the woman looked first at our thin animals, then at us,
+and shook her head sorrowfully; then lifting her hands in the most
+dramatic gesture she half whispered, "Si-ah, si-ah!" That is to say,
+"Far, very far!"
+
+Both these old people seemed very kind to their dogs, which were fat
+and sleek and not related to those I had seen in Hazleton. When the
+old man spoke to them, his voice was gentle and encouraging. At the
+word they all took up the line of march and went off down the hill
+toward the Hudson Bay store, there to remain during the summer. We
+pushed on, convinced by the old woman's manner that our long trail
+was to be a gloomy one.
+
+Night began to settle over us at last, adding the final touches of
+uncertainty and horror to the gloom. We pushed on with necessary
+cruelty, forcing the tired horses to their utmost, searching every
+ravine and every slope for a feed; but only ferns and strange green
+poisonous plants could be seen. We were angling up the side of the
+great ridge which separated the west fork of the Skeena River from
+the middle fork. It was evident that we must cross this high divide
+and descend into the valley of the middle fork before we could hope
+to feed our horses.
+
+However, just as darkness was beginning to come on, we came to an
+almost impassable slough in the trail, where a small stream descended
+into a little flat marsh and morass. This had been used as a
+camping-place by others, and we decided to camp, because to travel,
+even in the twilight, was dangerous to life and limb.
+
+It was a gloomy and depressing place to spend the night. There was
+scarcely level ground enough to receive our camp. The wood was soggy
+and green. In order to reach the marsh we were forced to lead our
+horses one by one through a dangerous mudhole, and once through this
+they entered upon a quaking bog, out of which grew tufts of grass
+which had been gnawed to the roots by the animals which had preceded
+them; only a rank bottom of dead leaves of last year's growth was
+left for our tired horses. I was deeply anxious for fear they would
+crowd into the central bog in their efforts to reach the uncropped
+green blades which grew out of reach in the edge of the water. They
+were ravenous with hunger after eight hours of hard labor.
+
+Our clothing was wet to the inner threads, and we were tired and
+muddy also, but our thoughts were on the horses rather than upon
+ourselves. We soon had a fire going and some hot supper, and by ten
+o'clock were stretched out in our beds for the night.
+
+I have never in my life experienced a gloomier or more distressing
+camp on the trail. My bed was dry and warm, but I could not forget
+our tired horses grubbing about in the chilly night on that desolate
+marsh.
+
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD OF THE SUN
+
+
+    Give me the sun and the sky,
+    The wide sky. Let it blaze with light,
+    Let it burn with heat--I care not.
+    The sun is the blood of my heart,
+    The wind of the plain my breath.
+    No woodsman am I. My eyes are set
+    For the wide low lines. The level rim
+    Of the prairie land is mine.
+    The semi-gloom of the pointed firs,
+    The sleeping darks of the mountain spruce,
+    Are prison and poison to such as I.
+    In the forest I long for the rose of the plain,
+    In the dark of the firs I die.
+
+
+
+
+IN THE GRASS
+
+
+    O to lie in long grasses!
+    O to dream of the plain!
+    Where the west wind sings as it passes
+    A weird and unceasing refrain;
+    Where the rank grass wallows and tosses,
+    And the plains' ring dazzles the eye;
+    Where hardly a silver cloud bosses
+    The flashing steel arch of the sky.
+
+    To watch the gay gulls as they flutter
+    Like snowflakes and fall down the sky,
+    To swoop in the deeps of the hollows,
+    Where the crow's-foot tosses awry;
+    And gnats in the lee of the thickets
+    Are swirling like waltzers in glee
+    To the harsh, shrill creak of the crickets
+    And the song of the lark and the bee.
+
+    O far-off plains of my west land!
+    O lands of winds and the free,
+    Swift deer--my mist-clad plain!
+    From my bed in the heart of the forest,
+    From the clasp and the girdle of pain
+    Your light through my darkness passes;
+    To your meadows in dreaming I fly
+    To plunge in the deeps of your grasses,
+    To bask in the light of your sky!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SILENT FORESTS OF THE DREAD SKEENA
+
+
+We were awake early and our first thought was of our horses. They
+were quite safe and cropping away on the dry stalks with patient
+diligence. We saddled up and pushed on, for food was to be had only
+in the valley, whose blue and white walls we could see far ahead of
+us. After nearly six hours' travel we came out of the forest, out
+into the valley of the middle fork of the Skeena, into sunlight and
+grass in abundance, where we camped till the following morning,
+giving the horses time to recuperate.
+
+We were done with smiling valleys--that I now perceived. We were
+coming nearer to the sub-arctic country, grim and desolate. The view
+was magnificent, but the land seemed empty and silent except of
+mosquitoes, of which there were uncounted millions. On our right just
+across the river rose the white peaks of the Kisgagash Mountains.
+Snow was still lying in the gullies only a few rods above us.
+
+The horses fed right royally and soon forgot the dearth of the big
+divide. As we were saddling up to move the following morning, several
+outfits came trailing down into the valley, glad as we had been of
+the splendid field of grass. They were led by a grizzled old
+American, who cursed the country with fine fervor.
+
+"I can stand any kind of a country," said he, "except one where
+there's no feed. And as near's I can find out we're in fer hell's own
+time fer feed till we reach them prairies they tell about."
+
+After leaving this flat, we had the Kuldo (a swift and powerful
+river) to cross, but we found an old Indian and a girl camped on the
+opposite side waiting for us. The daughter, a comely child about
+sixteen years of age, wore a calico dress and "store" shoes. She was
+a self-contained little creature, and clearly in command of the boat,
+and very efficient. It was no child's play to put the light canoe
+across such a stream, but the old man, with much shouting and under
+command of the girl, succeeded in crossing six times, carrying us and
+our baggage. As we were being put across for the last time it became
+necessary for some one to pull the canoe through the shallow water,
+and the little girl, without hesitation, leaped out regardless of new
+shoes, and tugged at the rope while the old man poled at the stern,
+and so we were landed.
+
+As a recognition of her resolution I presented her with a dollar,
+which I tried to make her understand was her own, and not to be given
+to her father. Up to that moment she had been very shy and rather
+sullen, but my present seemed to change her opinion of us, and she
+became more genial at once. She was short and sturdy, and her little
+footsteps in the trail were strangely suggestive of civilization.
+
+After leaving the river we rose sharply for about three miles. This
+brought us to the first notice on the trail which was signed by the
+road-gang, an ambiguous scrawl to the effect that feed was to be very
+scarce for a long, long way, and that we should feed our horses
+before going forward. The mystery of the sign lay in the fact that no
+feed was in sight, and if it referred back to the flat, then it was
+in the nature of an Irish bull.
+
+There was a fork in the trail here, and another notice informed us
+that the trail to the right ran to the Indian village of Kuldo. Rain
+threatened, and as it was late and no feed promised, I determined to
+camp. Turning to the right down a tremendously steep path (the horses
+sliding on their haunches), we came to an old Indian fishing village
+built on a green shelf high above the roaring water of the Skeena.
+
+The people all came rushing out to see us, curious but very
+hospitable. Some of the children began plucking grasses for the
+horses, but being unaccustomed to animals of any kind, not one would
+approach within reach of them. I tried, by patting Ladrone and
+putting his head over my shoulder, to show them how gentle he was,
+but they only smiled and laughed as much as to say, "Yes, that is all
+right for _you_, but we are afraid." They were all very good-looking,
+smiling folk, but poorly dressed. They seemed eager to show us where
+the best grass grew, demanded nothing of us, begged nothing, and did
+not attempt to overcharge us. There were some eight or ten families
+in the cañon, and their houses were wretched shacks, mere lodges of
+slabs with vents in the peak. So far as they could, they conformed to
+the ways of white men.
+
+Here they dwell by this rushing river in the midst of a gloomy and
+trackless forest, far removed from any other people of any sort. They
+were but a handful of human souls. As they spoke little Chinook and
+almost no English, it was difficult to converse with them. They had
+lost the sign language or seemed not to use it. Their village was
+built here because the cañon below offered a capital place for
+fishing and trapping, and the principal duty of the men was to watch
+the salmon trap dancing far below. For the rest they hunt wild
+animals and sell furs to the Hudson Bay Company at Hazleton, which is
+their metropolis.
+
+They led us to the edge of the village and showed us where the
+road-gang had set their tent, and we soon had a fire going in our
+little stove, which was the amazement and delight of a circle of men,
+women, and children, but they were not intrusive and asked for
+nothing.
+
+Later in the evening the old man and the girl who had helped to ferry
+us across the Kuldo came down the hill and joined the circle of our
+visitors.
+
+She smiled as we greeted her and so did the father, who assured me he
+was the ty-ee (boss) of the village, which he seemed to be.
+
+After our supper we distributed some fruit among the children, and
+among the old women some hot coffee with sugar, which was a keen
+delight to them. Our desire to be friendly was deeply appreciated by
+these poor people, and our wish to do them good was greater than our
+means. The way was long before us and we could not afford to give
+away our supplies. How they live in winter I cannot understand;
+probably they go down the river to Hazleton.
+
+I began to dread the dark green dripping firs which seemed to
+encompass us like some vast army. They chilled me, oppressed me.
+Moreover, I was lame in every joint from the toil of crossing rivers,
+climbing steep hills, and dragging at cinches. I had walked down
+every hill and in most cases on the sharp upward slopes in order to
+relieve Ladrone of my weight.
+
+As we climbed back to our muddy path next day, we were filled with
+dark forebodings of the days to come. We climbed all day, keeping the
+bench high above the river. The land continued silent. It was a
+wilderness of firs and spruce pines. It was like a forest of bronze.
+Nothing but a few rose bushes and some leek-like plants rose from the
+mossy floor, on which the sun fell, weak and pale, in rare places. No
+beast or bird uttered sound save a fishing eagle swinging through the
+cañon above the roaring water.
+
+In the gloom the voice of the stream became a raucous roar. On every
+side cold and white and pitiless the snowy peaks lifted above the
+serrate rim of the forest.
+
+Life was scant here. In all the mighty spread of forest between the
+continental divide on the east and the coast range at the west there
+are few living things, and these few necessarily centre in the warm
+openings on the banks of the streams where the sunlight falls or in
+the high valleys above the firs. There are no serpents and no
+insects.
+
+As we mounted day by day we crossed dozens of swift little streams
+cold and gray with silt. Our rate of speed was very low. One of our
+horses became very weak and ill, evidently poisoned, and we were
+forced to stop often to rest him. All the horses were weakening day
+by day.
+
+Toward the middle of the third day, after crossing a stream which
+came from the left, the trail turned as if to leave the Skeena
+behind. We were mighty well pleased and climbed sharply and with
+great care of our horses till we reached a little meadow at the
+summit, very tired and disheartened, for the view showed only other
+peaks and endless waves of spruce and fir. We rode on under drizzling
+skies and dripping trees. There was little sunshine and long lines of
+heavily weighted gray clouds came crawling up the valley from the sea
+to break in cold rain over the summits.
+
+The horses again grew hungry and weak, and it was necessary to use
+great care in crossing the streams. We were lame and sore with the
+toil of the day, and what was more depressing found ourselves once
+more upon the banks of the Skeena, where only an occasional bunch of
+bluejoint could be found. The constant strain of watching the horses
+and guiding them through the mud began to tell on us both. There was
+now no moment of ease, no hour of enjoyment. We had set ourselves
+grimly to the task of bringing our horses through alive. We no longer
+rode, we toiled in silence, leading our saddle-horses on which we
+had packed a part of our outfit to relieve the sick and starving
+packhorses.
+
+On the fourth day we took a westward shoot from the river, and
+following the course of a small stream again climbed heavily up the
+slope. Our horses were now so weak we could only climb a few rods at
+a time without rest. But at last, just as night began to fall, we
+came upon a splendid patch of bluejoint, knee-deep and rich. It was
+high on the mountain side, on a slope so steep that the horses could
+not lie down, so steep that it was almost impossible to set our tent.
+We could not persuade ourselves to pass it, however, and so made the
+best of it. Everywhere we could see white mountains, to the south, to
+the west, to the east.
+
+"Now we have left the Skeena Valley," said Burton.
+
+"Yes, we have seen the last of the Skeena," I replied, "and I'm glad
+of it. I never want to see that gray-green flood again."
+
+A part of the time that evening we spent in picking the thorns of
+devil's-club out of our hands. This strange plant I had not seen
+before, and do not care to see it again. In plunging through the
+mudholes we spasmodically clutched these spiny things. Ladrone nipped
+steadily at the bunch of leaves which grew at the top of the twisted
+stalk. Again we plunged down into the cold green forest, following a
+stream whose current ran to the northeast. This brought us once again
+to the bank of the dreaded Skeena. The trail was "punishing," and the
+horses plunged and lunged all day through the mud, over logs, stones,
+and roots. Our nerves quivered with the torture of piloting our
+mistrusted desperate horses through these awful pitfalls. We were
+still in the region of ferns and devil's-club.
+
+We allowed no feed to escape us. At any hour of the day, whenever we
+found a bunch of grass, no matter if it were not bigger than a broom,
+we stopped for the horses to graze it and so we kept them on their
+feet.
+
+At five o'clock in the afternoon we climbed to a low, marshy lake
+where an Indian hunter was camped. He said we would find feed on
+another lake some miles up, and we pushed on, wallowing through mud
+and water of innumerable streams, each moment in danger of leaving a
+horse behind. I walked nearly all day, for it was torture to me as
+well as to Ladrone to ride him over such a trail. Three of our horses
+now showed signs of poisoning, two of them walked with a sprawling
+action of the fore legs, their eyes big and glassy. One was too weak
+to carry anything more than his pack-saddle, and our going had a sort
+of sullen desperation in it. Our camps were on the muddy ground,
+without comfort or convenience.
+
+Next morning, as I swung into the saddle and started at the head of
+my train, Ladrone threw out his nose with a sharp indrawn squeal of
+pain. At first I paid little attention to it, but it came again--and
+then I noticed a weakness in his limbs. I dismounted and examined him
+carefully. He, too, was poisoned and attacked by spasms. It was a
+sorrowful thing to see my proud gray reduced to this condition. His
+eyes were dilated and glassy and his joints were weak. We could not
+stop, we could not wait, we must push on to feed and open ground; and
+so leading him carefully I resumed our slow march.
+
+But at last, just when it seemed as though we could not go any
+farther with our suffering animals, we came out of the poisonous
+forest upon a broad grassy bottom where a stream was flowing to the
+northwest. We raised a shout of joy, for it seemed this must be a
+branch of the Nasse. If so, we were surely out of the clutches of the
+Skeena. This bottom was the first dry and level ground we had seen
+since leaving the west fork, and the sun shone. "Old man, the worst
+of our trail is over," I shouted to my partner. "The land looks more
+open to the north. We're coming to that plateau they told us of."
+
+Oh, how sweet, fine, and sunny the short dry grass seemed to us after
+our long toilsome stay in the sub-aqueous gloom of the Skeena
+forests! We seemed about to return to the birds and the flowers.
+
+Ladrone was very ill, but I fed him some salt mixed with lard, and
+after a doze in the sun he began to nibble grass with the others, and
+at last stretched out on the warm dry sward to let the glorious sun
+soak into his blood. It was a joyous thing to us to see the faithful
+ones revelling in the healing sunlight, their stomachs filled at last
+with sweet rich forage. We were dirty, ragged, and lame, and our
+hands were calloused and seamed with dirt, but we were strong and
+hearty.
+
+We were high in the mountains here. Those little marshy lakes and
+slow streams showed that we were on a divide, and to our minds could
+be no other than the head-waters of the Nasse, which has a watershed
+of its own to the sea. We believed the worst of our trip to be over.
+
+
+
+
+THE FAITHFUL BRONCOS
+
+
+    They go to certain death--to freeze,
+    To grope their way through blinding snow,
+    To starve beneath the northern trees--
+    Their curse on us who made them go!
+    They trust and we betray the trust;
+    They humbly look to us for keep.
+    The rifle crumbles them to dust,
+    And we--have hardly grace to weep
+    As they line up to die.
+
+
+
+
+THE WHISTLING MARMOT
+
+
+    On mountains cold and bold and high,
+    Where only golden eagles fly,
+    He builds his home against the sky.
+
+    Above the clouds he sits and whines,
+    The morning sun about him shines;
+    Rivers loop below in shining lines.
+
+    No wolf or cat may find him there,
+    That winged corsair of the air,
+    The eagle, is his only care.
+
+    He sees the pink snows slide away,
+    He sees his little ones at play,
+    And peace fills out each summer day.
+
+    In winter, safe within his nest,
+    He eats his winter store with zest,
+    And takes his young ones to his breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GREAT STIKEEN DIVIDE
+
+
+At about eight o'clock the next morning, as we were about to line up
+for our journey, two men came romping down the trail, carrying packs
+on their backs and taking long strides. They were "hitting the high
+places in the scenery," and seemed to be entirely absorbed in the
+work. I hailed them and they turned out to be two young men from
+Duluth, Minnesota. They were without hats, very brown, very hairy,
+and very much disgusted with the country.
+
+For an hour we discussed the situation. They were the first white men
+we had met on the entire journey, almost the only returning
+footsteps, and were able to give us a little information of the
+trail, but only for a distance of about forty miles; beyond this they
+had not ventured.
+
+"We left our outfits back here on a little lake--maybe you saw our
+Indian guide--and struck out ahead to see if we could find those
+splendid prairies they were telling us about, where the caribou and
+the moose were so thick you couldn't miss 'em. We've been forty miles
+up the trail. It's all a climb, and the very worst yet. You'll come
+finally to a high snowy divide with nothing but mountains on every
+side. There _is_ no prairie; it's all a lie, and we're going back to
+Hazleton to go around by way of Skagway. Have you any idea where we
+are?"
+
+"Why, certainly; we're in British Columbia."
+
+"But where? On what stream?"
+
+"Oh, that is a detail," I replied. "I consider the little camp on
+which we are camped one of the head-waters of the Nasse; but we're
+not on the Telegraph Trail at all. We're more nearly in line with the
+old Dease Lake Trail."
+
+"Why is it, do you suppose, that the road-gang ahead of us haven't
+left a single sign, not even a word as to where we are?"
+
+"Maybe they can't write," said my partner.
+
+"Perhaps they don't know where they are at, themselves," said I.
+
+"Well, that's exactly the way it looks to me."
+
+"Are there any outfits ahead of us?"
+
+"Yes, old Bob Borlan's about two days up the slope with his train of
+mules, working like a slave to get through. They're all getting short
+of grub and losing a good many horses. You'll have to work your way
+through with great care, or you'll lose a horse or two in getting
+from here to the divide."
+
+"Well, this won't do. So-long, boys," said one of the young fellows,
+and they started off with immense vigor, followed by their handsome
+dogs, and we lined up once more with stern faces, knowing now that a
+terrible trail for at least one hundred miles was before us. There
+was no thought of retreat, however. We had set our feet to this
+journey, and we determined to go.
+
+After a few hours' travel we came upon the grassy shore of another
+little lake, where the bells of several outfits were tinkling
+merrily. On the bank of a swift little river setting out of the lake,
+a couple of tents stood, and shirts were flapping from the limbs of
+near-by willows. The owners were "The Man from Chihuahua," his
+partner, the blacksmith, and the two young men from Manchester, New
+Hampshire, who had started from Ashcroft as markedly tenderfoot as
+any men could be. They had been lambasted and worried into perfect
+efficiency as packers and trailers, and were entitled to
+respect--even the respect of "The Man from Chihuahua."
+
+They greeted us with jovial outcry.
+
+"Hullo, strangers! Where ye think you're goin'?"
+
+"Goin' crazy," replied Burton.
+
+"You look it," said Bill.
+
+"By God, we was all sure crazy when we started on this damn trail,"
+remarked the old man. He was in bad humor on account of his horses,
+two of which were suffering from poisoning. When anything touched his
+horses, he was "plum irritable."
+
+He came up to me very soberly. "Have you any idee where we're at?"
+
+"Yes--we're on the head-waters of the Nasse."
+
+"Are we on the Telegraph Trail?"
+
+"No; as near as I can make out we're away to the right of the
+telegraph crossing."
+
+Thereupon we compared maps. "It's mighty little use to look at
+maps--they're all drew by guess--an'--by God, anyway," said the old
+fellow, as he ran his grimy forefinger over the red line which
+represented the trail. "We've been a slantin' hellwards ever since we
+crossed the Skeeny--I figure it we're on the old Dease Lake Trail."
+
+To this we all agreed at last, but our course thereafter was by no
+means clear.
+
+"If we took the old Dease Lake Trail we're three hundred miles from
+Telegraph Creek yit--an' somebody's goin' to be hungry before we get
+in," said the old trailer. "I'd like to camp here for a few days and
+feed up my horses, but it ain't safe--we got 'o keep movin'. We've
+been on this damn trail long enough, and besides grub is gittin'
+lighter all the time."
+
+"What do you think of the trail?" asked Burton.
+
+"I've been on the trail all my life," he replied, "an' I never was in
+such a pizen, empty no-count country in my life. Wasn't that big
+divide hell? Did ye ever see the beat of that fer a barren? No more
+grass than a cellar. Might as well camp in a cistern. I wish I could
+lay hands on the feller that called this 'The Prairie Route'--they'd
+sure be a dog-fight right here."
+
+The old man expressed the feeling of those of us who were too shy and
+delicate of speech to do it justice, and we led him on to most
+satisfying blasphemy of the land and the road-gang.
+
+"Yes, there's that road-gang sent out to put this trail into
+shape--what have they done? You'd think they couldn't read or
+write--not a word to help us out."
+
+Partner and I remained in camp all the afternoon and all the next
+day, although our travelling companions packed up and moved out the
+next morning. We felt the need of a day's freedom from worry, and our
+horses needed feed and sunshine.
+
+Oh, the splendor of the sun, the fresh green grass, the rippling
+water of the river, the beautiful lake! And what joy it was to see
+our horses feed and sleep. They looked distressingly thin and poor
+without their saddles. Ladrone was still weak in the ankle joints and
+the arch had gone out of his neck, while faithful Bill, who never
+murmured or complained, had a glassy stare in his eyes, the lingering
+effects of poisoning. The wind rose in the afternoon, bringing to us
+a sound of moaning tree-tops, and somehow it seemed to be an augury
+of better things--seemed to prophesy a fairer and dryer country to
+the north of us. The singing of the leaves went to my heart with a
+hint of home, and I remembered with a start how absolutely windless
+the sullen forest of the Skeena had been.
+
+Near by a dam was built across the river, and a fishing trap made out
+of willows was set in the current. Piles of caribou hair showed that
+the Indians found game in the autumn. We took time to explore some
+old fishing huts filled with curious things,--skins, toboggans,
+dog-collars, cedar ropes, and many other traps of small value to
+anybody. Most curious of all we found some flint-lock muskets made
+exactly on the models of one hundred years ago, but dated 1883! It
+seemed impossible that guns of such ancient models should be
+manufactured up to the present date; but there they were all
+carefully marked "London, 1883."
+
+It was a long day of rest and regeneration. We took a bath in the
+clear, cold waters of the stream, washed our clothing and hung it up
+to dry, beat the mud out of our towels, and so made ready for the
+onward march. We should have stayed longer, but the ebbing away of
+our grub pile made us apprehensive. To return was impossible.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOUDS
+
+
+    Circling the mountains the gray clouds go
+    Heavy with storms as a mother with child,
+    Seeking release from their burden of snow
+    With calm slow motion they cross the wild--
+    Stately and sombre, they catch and cling
+    To the barren crags of the peaks in the west,
+    Weary with waiting, and mad for rest.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREAT STIKEEN DIVIDE
+
+
+    A land of mountains based in hills of fir,
+    Empty, lone, and cold. A land of streams
+    Whose roaring voices drown the whirr
+    Of aspen leaves, and fill the heart with dreams
+    Of dearth and death. The peaks are stern and white
+    The skies above are grim and gray,
+    And the rivers cleave their sounding way
+    Through endless forests dark as night,
+    Toward the ocean's far-off line of spray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IN THE COLD GREEN MOUNTAINS
+
+
+The Nasse River, like the Skeena and the Stikeen, rises in the
+interior mountains, and flows in a south-westerly direction, breaking
+through the coast range into the Pacific Ocean, not far from the
+mouth of the Stikeen.
+
+It is a much smaller stream than the Skeena, which is, moreover,
+immensely larger than the maps show. We believed we were about to
+pass from the watershed of the Nasse to the east fork of the Iskoot,
+on which those far-shining prairies were said to lie, with their
+flowery meadows rippling under the west wind. If we could only reach
+that mystical plateau, our horses would be safe from all disease.
+
+We crossed the Cheweax, a branch of the Nasse, and after climbing
+briskly to the northeast along the main branch we swung around over a
+high wooded hog-back, and made off up the valley along the north and
+lesser fork. We climbed all day, both of us walking, leading our
+horses, with all our goods distributed with great care over the six
+horses. It was a beautiful day overhead--that was the only
+compensation. We were sweaty, eaten by flies and mosquitoes, and
+covered with mud. All day we sprawled over roots, rocks, and logs,
+plunging into bogholes and slopping along in the running water, which
+in places had turned the trail into an aqueduct. The men from Duluth
+had told no lie.
+
+After crawling upward for nearly eight hours we came upon a little
+patch of bluejoint, on the high side of the hill, and there camped in
+the gloom of the mossy and poisonous forest. By hard and persistent
+work we ticked off nearly fifteen miles, and judging from the stream,
+which grew ever swifter, we should come to a divide in the course of
+fifteen or twenty miles.
+
+The horses being packed light went along fairly well, although it was
+a constant struggle to get them to go through the mud. Old Ladrone
+walking behind me groaned with dismay every time we came to one of
+those terrible sloughs. He seemed to plead with me, "Oh, my master,
+don't send me into that dreadful hole!"
+
+But there was no other way. It must be done, and so Burton's sharp
+cry would ring out behind and our little train would go in one after
+the other, plunging, splashing, groaning, struggling through.
+Ladrone, seeing me walk a log by the side of the trail, would
+sometimes follow me as deftly as a cat. He seemed to think his right
+to avoid the mud as good as mine. But as there was always danger of
+his slipping off and injuring himself, I forced him to wallow in the
+mud, which was as distressing to me as to him.
+
+The next day we started with the determination to reach the divide.
+"There is no hope of grass so long as we remain in this forest," said
+Burton. "We must get above timber where the sun shines to get any
+feed for our horses. It is cruel, but we must push them to-day just
+as long as they can stand up, or until we reach the grass."
+
+Nothing seemed to appall or disturb my partner; he was always ready
+to proceed, his voice ringing out with inflexible resolution.
+
+It was one of the most laborious days of all our hard journey. Hour
+after hour we climbed steadily up beside the roaring gray-white
+little stream, up toward the far-shining snowfields, which blazed
+back the sun like mirrors. The trees grew smaller, the river bed
+seemed to approach us until we slumped along in the running water. At
+last we burst out into the light above timber line. Around us
+porcupines galloped, and whistling marmots signalled with shrill
+vehemence. We were weak with fatigue and wet with icy water to the
+knees, but we pushed on doggedly until we came to a little mound of
+short, delicious green grass from which the snow had melted. On this
+we stopped to let the horses graze. The view was magnificent, and
+something wild and splendid came on the wind over the snowy peaks and
+smooth grassy mounds.
+
+We were now in the region of great snowfields, under which roared
+swift streams from still higher altitudes. There were thousands of
+marmots, which seemed to utter the most intense astonishment at the
+inexplicable coming of these strange creatures. The snow in the
+gullies had a curious bloody line which I could not account for. A
+little bird high up here uttered a sweet little whistle, so sad, so
+full of pleading, it almost brought tears to my eyes. In form it
+resembled a horned lark, but was smaller and kept very close to the
+ground.
+
+We reached the summit at sunset, there to find only other mountains
+and other enormous gulches leading downward into far blue cañons. It
+was the wildest land I have ever seen. A country unmapped,
+unsurveyed, and unprospected. A region which had known only an
+occasional Indian hunter or trapper with his load of furs on his way
+down to the river and his canoe. Desolate, without life, green and
+white and flashing illimitably, the gray old peaks aligned themselves
+rank on rank until lost in the mists of still wilder regions.
+
+From this high point we could see our friends, the Manchester boys,
+on the north slope two or three miles below us at timber line. Weak
+in the knees, cold and wet and hungry as we were, we determined to
+push down the trail over the snowfields, down to grass and water. Not
+much more than forty minutes later we came out upon a comparatively
+level spot of earth where grass was fairly good, and where the
+wind-twisted stunted pines grew in clumps large enough to furnish
+wood for our fires and a pole for our tent. The land was meshed with
+roaring rills of melting snow, and all around went on the incessant
+signalling of the marmots--the only cheerful sound in all the wide
+green land.
+
+We had made about twenty-three miles that day, notwithstanding
+tremendous steeps and endless mudholes mid-leg deep. It was the
+greatest test of endurance of our trip.
+
+We had the good luck to scare up a ptarmigan (a sort of piebald
+mountain grouse), and though nearly fainting with hunger, we held
+ourselves in check until we had that bird roasted to a turn. I shall
+never experience greater relief or sweeter relaxation of rest than
+that I felt as I stretched out in my down sleeping bag for twelve
+hours' slumber.
+
+I considered that we were about one hundred and ninety miles from
+Hazleton, and that this must certainly be the divide between the
+Skeena and the Stikeen. The Manchester boys reported finding some
+very good pieces of quartz on the hills, and they were all out with
+spade and pick prospecting, though it seemed to me they showed but
+very little enthusiasm in the search.
+
+"I b'lieve there's gold here," said "Chihuahua," "but who's goin' to
+stay here and look fer it? In the first place, you couldn't work fer
+mor'n 'bout three months in the year, and it 'ud take ye the other
+nine months fer to git yer grub in. Them hills look to me to be
+mineralized, but I ain't honin' to camp here."
+
+This seemed to be the general feeling of all the other prospectors,
+and I did not hear that any one else went so far even as to dig a
+hole.
+
+As near as I could judge there seemed to be three varieties of
+"varmints" galloping around over the grassy slopes of this high
+country. The largest of these, a gray and brown creature with a
+tawny, bristling mane, I took to be a porcupine. Next in size were
+the giant whistlers, who sat up like old men and signalled, like one
+boy to another. And last and least, and more numerous than all, were
+the smaller "chucks" resembling prairie dogs. These animals together
+with the ptarmigan made up the inhabitants of these lofty slopes.
+
+I searched every green place on the mountains far and near with my
+field-glasses, but saw no sheep, caribou, or moose, although one or
+two were reported to have been killed by others on the trail. The
+ptarmigan lived in the matted patches of willow. There were a great
+many of them, and they helped out our monotonous diet very
+opportunely. They moved about in pairs, the cock very loyal to the
+hen in time of danger; but not even this loyalty could save him.
+Hunger such as ours considered itself very humane in stopping short
+of the slaughter of the mother bird. The cock was easily
+distinguished by reason of his party-colored plumage and his pink
+eyes.
+
+We spent the next forenoon in camp to let our horses feed up, and
+incidentally to rest our own weary bones. All the forenoon great,
+gray clouds crushed against the divide behind us, flinging themselves
+in rage against the rocks like hungry vultures baffled in their
+chase. We exulted over their impotence. "We are done with you, you
+storms of the Skeena--we're out of your reach at last!"
+
+We were confirmed in this belief as we rode down the trail, which was
+fairly pleasant except for short periods, when the clouds leaped the
+snowy walls behind and scattered drizzles of rain over us. Later the
+clouds thickened, the sky became completely overcast, and my
+exultation changed to dismay, and we camped at night as desolate as
+ever, in the rain, and by the side of a little marsh on which the
+horses could feed only by wading fetlock deep in the water. We were
+wet to the skin, and muddy and tired.
+
+I could no longer deceive myself. Our journey had become a grim race
+with the wolf. Our food grew each day scantier, and we were forced to
+move each day and every day, no matter what the sky or trail might
+be. Going over our food carefully that night, we calculated that we
+had enough to last us ten days, and if we were within one hundred and
+fifty miles of the Skeena, and if no accident befell us, we would be
+able to pull in without great suffering.
+
+But accidents on the trail are common. It is so easy to lose a couple
+of horses, we were liable to delay and to accident, and the chances
+were against us rather than in our favor. It seemed as though the
+trail would never mend. We were dropping rapidly down through dwarf
+pines, down into endless forests of gloom again. We had splashed,
+slipped, and tumbled down the trail to this point with three horses
+weak and sick. The rain had increased, and all the brightness of the
+morning on the high mountain had passed away. For hours we had walked
+without a word except to our horses, and now night was falling in
+thick, cold rain. As I plodded along I saw in vision and with great
+longing the plains, whose heat and light seemed paradise by contrast.
+
+The next day was the Fourth of July, and such a day! It rained all
+the forenoon, cold, persistent, drizzling rain. We hung around the
+campfire waiting for some let-up to the incessant downpour. We
+discussed the situation. I said: "Now, if the stream in the cañon
+below us runs to the left, it will be the east fork of the Iskoot,
+and we will then be within about one hundred miles of Glenora. If it
+runs to the right, Heaven only knows where we are."
+
+The horses, chilled with the rain, came off the sloppy marsh to stand
+under the trees, and old Ladrone edged close to the big fire to share
+its warmth. This caused us to bring in the other horses and put them
+close to the fire under the big branches of the fir tree. It was
+deeply pathetic to watch the poor worn animals, all life and spirit
+gone out of them, standing about the fire with drooping heads and
+half-closed eyes. Perhaps they dreamed, like us, of the beautiful,
+warm, grassy hills of the south.
+
+
+
+
+THE UTE LOVER
+
+
+    Beneath the burning brazen sky,
+    The yellowed tepes stand.
+    Not far away a singing river
+    Sets through the sand.
+    Within the shadow of a lonely elm tree
+    The tired ponies keep.
+    The wild land, throbbing with the sun's hot magic,
+    Is rapt as sleep.
+
+    From out a clump of scanty willows
+    A low wail floats.
+    The endless repetition of a lover's
+    Melancholy notes;
+    So sad, so sweet, so elemental,
+    All lover's pain
+    Seems borne upon its sobbing cadence--
+    The love-song of the plain.
+    From frenzied cry forever falling,
+    To the wind's wild moan,
+    It seems the voice of anguish calling
+    Alone! alone!
+
+    Caught from the winds forever moaning
+    On the plain,
+    Wrought from the agonies of woman
+    In maternal pain,
+    It holds within its simple measure
+    All death of joy,
+    Breathed though it be by smiling maiden
+    Or lithe brown boy.
+
+    It hath this magic, sad though its cadence
+    And short refrain;
+    It helps the exiled people of the mountain
+    Endure the plain;
+    For when at night the stars aglitter
+    Defy the moon,
+    The maiden listens, leans to seek her lover
+    Where waters croon.
+
+    Flute on, O lithe and tuneful Utah,
+    Reply brown jade;
+    There are no other joys secure to either
+    Man or maid.
+    Soon you are old and heavy hearted,
+    Lost to mirth;
+    While on you lies the white man's gory
+    Greed of earth.
+
+    Strange that to me that burning desert
+    Seems so dear.
+    The endless sky and lonely mesa,
+    Flat and drear,
+    Calls me, calls me as the flute of Utah
+    Calls his mate--
+    This wild, sad, sunny, brazen country,
+    Hot as hate.
+
+    Again the glittering sky uplifts star-blazing;
+    Again the stream
+    From out the far-off snowy mountains
+    Sings through my dream;
+    And on the air I hear the flute-voice calling
+    The lover's croon,
+    And see the listening, longing maiden
+    Lit by the moon.
+
+
+
+
+DEVIL'S CLUB
+
+
+    It is a sprawling, hateful thing,
+    Thorny and twisted like a snake,
+    Writhing to work a mischief, in the brake
+    It stands at menace, in its cling
+    Is danger and a venomed sting.
+    It grows on green and slimy slopes,
+    It is a thing of shades and slums,
+    For passing feet it wildly gropes,
+    And loops to catch all feet that run
+    Seeking a path to sky and sun.
+
+
+
+
+IN THE COLD GREEN MOUNTAINS
+
+
+    In the cold green mountains where the savage torrents roared,
+    And the clouds were gray above us,
+    And the fishing eagle soared,
+    Where no grass waved, where no robins cried,
+    There our horses starved and died,
+    In the cold green mountains.
+
+    In the cold green mountains,
+    Nothing grew but moss and trees,
+    Water dripped and sludgy streamlets
+    Trapped our horses by the knees.
+    Where we slipped, slid, and lunged,
+    Mired down and wildly plunged
+    Toward the cold green mountains!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE PASSING OF THE BEANS
+
+
+At noon, the rain slacking a little, we determined to pack up, and
+with such cheer as we could called out, "Line up, boys--line up!"
+starting on our way down the trail.
+
+After making about eight miles we came upon a number of outfits
+camped on the bank of the river. As I rode along on my gray horse,
+for the trail there allowed me to ride, I passed a man seated
+gloomily at the mouth of his tent. To him I called with an assumption
+of jocularity I did not feel, "Stranger, where are you bound for?"
+
+He replied, "The North Pole."
+
+"Do you expect to get there?"
+
+"Sure," he replied.
+
+Riding on I met others beside the trail, and all wore a similar look
+of almost sullen gravity. They were not disposed to joke with me, and
+perceiving something to be wrong, I passed on without further remark.
+
+When we came down to the bank of the stream, behold it ran to the
+right. And I could have sat me down and blasphemed with the rest. I
+now understood the gloom of the others. _We were still in the valley
+of the inexorable Skeena._ It could be nothing else; this tremendous
+stream running to our right could be no other than the head-waters of
+that ferocious flood which no surveyor has located. It is immensely
+larger and longer than any map shows.
+
+We crossed the branch without much trouble, and found some beautiful
+bluejoint-grass on the opposite bank, into which we joyfully turned
+our horses. When they had filled their stomachs, we packed up and
+pushed on about two miles, overtaking the Manchester boys on the
+side-hill in a tract of dead, burned-out timber, a cheerless spot.
+
+In speaking about the surly answer I had received from the man on the
+banks of the river, I said: "I wonder why those men are camped there?
+They must have been there for several days."
+
+Partner replied: "They are all out of grub and are waiting for some
+one to come by to whack-up with 'em. One of the fellows came out and
+talked with me and said he had nothing left but beans, and tried to
+buy some flour of me."
+
+This opened up an entirely new line of thought. I understood now that
+what I had taken for sullenness was the dejection of despair. The way
+was growing gloomy and dark to them. They, too, were racing with the
+wolf.
+
+We had one short moment of relief next day as we entered a lovely
+little meadow and camped for noon. The sun shone warm, the grass was
+thick and sweet. It was like late April in the central West--cool,
+fragrant, silent. Aisles of peaks stretched behind us and before us.
+We were still high in the mountains, and the country was less wooded
+and more open. But we left this beautiful spot and entered again on a
+morass. It was a day of torture to man and beast. The land continued
+silent. There were no toads, no butterflies, no insects of any kind,
+except a few mosquitoes, no crickets, no singing thing. I have never
+seen a land so empty of life. We had left even the whistling marmots
+entirely behind us.
+
+We travelled now four outfits together, with some twenty-five horses.
+Part of the time I led with Ladrone, part of the time "The Man from
+Chihuahua" took the lead, with his fine strong bays. If a horse got
+down we all swarmed around and lifted him out, and when any question
+of the trail came up we held "conferences of the powers."
+
+We continued for the most part up a wide mossy and grassy river
+bottom covered with water. We waded for miles in water to our ankles,
+crossing hundreds of deep little rivulets. Occasionally a horse went
+down into a hole and had to be "snailed out," and we were wet and
+covered with mud all day. It was a new sort of trail and a terror.
+The mountains on each side were very stately and impressive, but we
+could pay little attention to views when our horses were miring down
+at every step.
+
+We could not agree about the river. Some were inclined to the belief
+that it was a branch of the Stikeen, the old man was sure it was
+"Skeeny." We were troubled by a new sort of fly, a little
+orange-colored fellow whose habits were similar to those of the
+little black fiends of the Bulkley Valley. They were very poisonous
+indeed, and made our ears swell up enormously--the itching and
+burning was well-nigh intolerable. We saw no life at all save one
+grouse hen guarding her young. A paradise for game it seemed, but no
+game. A beautiful grassy, marshy, and empty land. We passed over one
+low divide after another with immense snowy peaks thickening all
+around us. For the first time in over two hundred miles we were all
+able to ride. Whistling marmots and grouse again abounded. We had a
+bird at every meal. The wind was cool and the sky was magnificent,
+and for the first time in many days we were able to take off our hats
+and face the wind in exultation.
+
+Toward night, however, mosquitoes became troublesome in their
+assaults, covering the horses in solid masses. Strange to say, none
+of them, not even Ladrone, seemed to mind them in the least. We felt
+sure now of having left the Skeena forever. One day we passed over a
+beautiful little spot of dry ground, which filled us with delight; it
+seemed as though we had reached the prairies of the pamphlets. We
+camped there for noon, and though the mosquitoes were terrific we
+were all chortling with joy. The horses found grass in plenty and
+plucked up spirits amazingly. We were deceived. In half an hour we
+were in the mud again.
+
+The whole country for miles and miles in every direction was a series
+of high open valleys almost entirely above timber line. These
+valleys formed the starting-points of innumerable small streams which
+fell away into the Iskoot on the left, the Stikeen on the north, the
+Skeena on the east and south. These valleys were covered with grass
+and moss intermingled, and vast tracts were flooded with water from
+four to eight inches deep, through which we were forced to slop hour
+after hour, and riding was practically impossible.
+
+As we were plodding along silently one day a dainty white gull came
+lilting through the air and was greeted with cries of joy by the
+weary drivers. More than one of them could "smell the salt water." In
+imagination they saw this bird following the steamer up the Stikeen
+to the first south fork, thence to meet us. It seemed only a short
+ride down the valley to the city of Glenora and the post-office.
+
+Each day we drove above timber line, and at noon were forced to
+rustle the dead dwarf pine for fire. The marshes were green and
+filled with exquisite flowers and mosses, little white and purple
+bells, some of them the most beautiful turquoise-green rising from
+tufts of verdure like mignonette. I observed also a sort of crocus
+and some cheery little buttercups. The ride would have been
+magnificent had it not been for the spongy, sloppy marsh through
+which our horses toiled. As it was, we felt a certain breadth and
+grandeur in it surpassing anything we had hitherto seen. Our three
+outfits with some score of horses went winding through the wide,
+green, treeless valleys with tinkle of bells and sharp cry of
+drivers. The trail was difficult to follow, because in the open
+ground each man before us had to take his own course, and there were
+few signs to mark the line the road-gang had taken.
+
+It was impossible to tell where we were, but I was certain we were
+upon the head-waters of some one of the many forks of the great
+Stikeen River. Marmots and a sort of little prairie dog continued
+plentiful, but there was no other life. The days were bright and
+cool, resplendent with sun and rich in grass.
+
+Some of the goldseekers fired a salute with shotted guns when, poised
+on the mountain side, they looked down upon a stream flowing to the
+northwest. But the joy was short-lived. The descent of this
+mountain's side was by all odds the most terrible piece of trail we
+had yet found. It led down the north slope, and was oozy and slippery
+with the melting snow. It dropped in short zigzags down through a
+grove of tangled, gnarled, and savage cedars and pines, whose roots
+were like iron and filled with spurs that were sharp as chisels. The
+horses, sliding upon their haunches and unable to turn themselves in
+the mud, crashed into the tangled pines and were in danger of being
+torn to pieces. For more than an hour we slid and slewed through this
+horrible jungle of savage trees, and when we came out below we had
+two horses badly snagged in the feet, but Ladrone was uninjured.
+
+We now crossed and recrossed the little stream, which dropped into a
+deep cañon running still to the northwest. After descending for some
+hours we took a trail which branched sharply to the northeast, and
+climbed heavily to a most beautiful camping-spot between the peaks,
+with good grass, and water, and wood all around us.
+
+We were still uncertain of our whereabouts, but all the boys were
+fairly jubilant. "This would be a splendid camp for a few weeks,"
+said partner.
+
+That night as the sun set in incommunicable splendor over the snowy
+peaks to the west the empty land seemed left behind. We went to sleep
+with the sound of a near-by mountain stream in our ears, and the
+voice of an eagle sounding somewhere on the high cliffs.
+
+The next day we crossed another divide and entered another valley
+running north. Being confident that this _was_ the Stikeen, we camped
+early and put our little house up. It was raining a little. We had
+descended again to the aspens and clumps of wild roses. It was good
+to see their lovely faces once more after our long stay in the wild,
+cold valleys of the upper lands. The whole country seemed drier, and
+the vegetation quite different. Indeed, it resembled some of the
+Colorado valleys, but was less barren on the bottoms. There were
+still no insects, no crickets, no bugs, and very few birds of any
+kind.
+
+All along the way on the white surface of the blazed trees were
+messages left by those who had gone before us. Some of them were
+profane assaults upon the road-gang. Others were pathetic inquiries:
+"Where in hell are we?"--"How is this for a prairie route?"--"What
+river is this, anyhow?" To these pencillings others had added
+facetious replies. There were also warnings and signs to help us keep
+out of the mud.
+
+We followed the same stream all day. Whether the Iskoot or not we did
+not know. The signs of lower altitude thickened. Wild roses met us
+again, and strawberry blossoms starred the sunny slopes. The grass
+was dry and ripe, and the horses did not relish it after their long
+stay in the juicy meadows above. We had been wet every day for nearly
+three weeks, and did not mind moisture now, but my shoes were rapidly
+going to pieces, and my last pair of trousers was frazzled to the
+knees.
+
+Nearly every outfit had lame horses like our old bay, hobbling along
+bravely. Our grub was getting very light, which was a good thing for
+the horses; but we had an occasional grouse to fry, and so as long as
+our flour held out we were well fed.
+
+It became warmer each day, and some little weazened berries appeared
+on the hillsides, the first we had seen, and they tasted mighty good
+after months of bacon and beans. We were taking some pleasure in the
+trip again, and had it not been for the sores on our horses' feet and
+our scant larder we should have been quite at ease. Our course now
+lay parallel to a range of peaks on our right, which we figured to be
+the Hotailub Mountains. This settled the question of our position on
+the map--we were on the third and not the first south fork of the
+Stikeen and were a long way still from Telegraph Creek.
+
+
+
+
+THE LONG TRAIL
+
+
+    We tunnelled miles of silent pines,
+      Dark forests where the stillness was so deep
+    The scared wind walked a tip-toe on the spines,
+      And the restless aspen seemed to sleep.
+
+    We threaded aisles of dripping fir;
+      We climbed toward mountains dim and far,
+    Where snow forever shines and shines,
+      And only winds and waters are.
+
+    Red streams came down from hillsides crissed and crossed
+      With fallen firs; but on a sudden, lo!
+    A silver lakelet bound and barred
+      With sunset's clouds reflected far below.
+
+    These lakes so lonely were, so still and cool,
+      They burned as bright as burnished steel;
+    The shadowed pine branch in the pool
+      Was no less vivid than the real.
+
+    We crossed the great divide and saw
+      The sun-lit valleys far below us wind;
+    Before us opened cloudless sky; the raw,
+      Gray rain swept close behind.
+
+    We saw great glaciers grind themselves to foam;
+      We trod the moose's lofty home,
+    And heard, high on the yellow hills,
+      The wildcat clamor of his ills.
+
+    The way grew grimmer day by day,
+      The weeks to months stretched on and on;
+    And hunger kept, not far away,
+      A never failing watch at dawn.
+
+    We lost all reckoning of season and of time;
+      Sometimes it seemed the bitter breeze
+    Of icy March brought fog and rain,
+      And next November tempests shook the trees.
+
+    It was a wild and lonely ride.
+      Save the hid loon's mocking cry,
+    Or marmot on the mountain side,
+      The earth was silent as the sky.
+
+    All day through sunless forest aisles,
+      On cold dark moss our horses trod;
+    It was so lonely there for miles and miles,
+      The land seemed lost to God.
+
+    Our horses cut by rocks; by brambles torn,
+      Staggered onward, stiff and sore;
+    Or broken, bruised, and saddle-worn,
+      Fell in the sloughs to rise no more.
+
+    Yet still we rode right on and on,
+      And shook our clenched hands at the clouds,
+    Daring the winds of early dawn,
+      And the dread torrent roaring loud.
+
+    So long we rode, so hard, so far,
+      We seemed condemned by stern decree
+    To ride until the morning star
+      Should sink forever in the sea.
+
+    Yet now, when all is past, I dream
+      Of every mountain's shining cap.
+    I long to hear again the stream
+      Roar through the foam-white granite gap.
+
+    The pains recede. The joys draw near.
+      The splendors of great Nature's face
+    Make me forget all need, all fear,
+      And the long journey grows in grace.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREETING OF THE ROSES
+
+
+    We had been long in mountain snow,
+    In valleys bleak, and broad, and bare,
+    Where only moss and willows grow,
+    And no bird wings the silent air.
+    And so when on our downward way,
+    Wild roses met us, we were glad;
+    They were so girlish fair, so gay,
+    It seemed the sun had made them mad.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE WOLVES AND THE VULTURES ASSEMBLE
+
+
+About noon of the fiftieth day out, we came down to the bank of a
+tremendously swift stream which we called the third south fork. On a
+broken paddle stuck in the sand we found this notice: "The trail
+crosses here. Swim horses from the bar. It is supposed to be about
+ninety miles to Telegraph Creek.--(Signed) The Mules."
+
+We were bitterly disappointed to find ourselves so far from our
+destination, and began once more to calculate on the length of time
+it would take us to get out of the wilderness.
+
+Partner showed me the flour-sack which he held in one brawny fist. "I
+believe the dern thing leaks," said he, and together we went over our
+store of food. We found ourselves with an extra supply of sugar,
+condensed cream, and other things which our friends the Manchester
+boys needed, while they were able to spare us a little flour. There
+was a tacit agreement that we should travel together and stand
+together. Accordingly we began to plan for the crossing of this swift
+and dangerous stream. A couple of canoes were found cached in the
+bushes, and these would enable us to set our goods across, while we
+forced our horses to swim from a big bar in the stream above.
+
+While we were discussing these thing around our fires at night,
+another tramper, thin and weak, came into camp. He was a little man
+with a curly red beard, and was exceedingly chipper and jocular for
+one in his condition. He had been out of food for some days, and had
+been living on squirrels, ground-hogs, and such other small deer as
+he could kill and roast along his way. He brought word of
+considerable suffering among the outfits behind us, reporting "The
+Dutchman" to be entirely out of beans and flour, while others had
+lost so many of their horses that all were in danger of starving to
+death in the mountains.
+
+As he warmed up on coffee and beans, he became very amusing.
+
+He was hairy and ragged, but neat, and his face showed a certain
+delicacy of physique. He, too, was a marked example of the craze to
+"get somewhere where gold is." He broke off suddenly in the midst of
+his story to exclaim with great energy: "I want to do two things, go
+back and get my boy away from my wife, and break the back of my
+brother-in-law. He made all the trouble."
+
+Once and again he said, "I'm going to find the gold up here or lay my
+bones on the hills."
+
+In the midst of these intense phrases he whistled gayly or broke off
+to attend to his cooking. He told of his hard experiences, with pride
+and joy, and said, "Isn't it lucky I caught you just here?" and
+seemed willing to talk all night.
+
+In the morning I went over to the campfire to see if he were still
+with us. He was sitting in his scanty bed before the fire, mending
+his trousers. "I've just got to put a patch on right now or my
+knee'll be through," he explained. He had a neat little kit of
+materials and everything was in order. "I haven't time to turn the
+edges of the patch under," he went on. "It ought to be done--you
+can't make a durable patch unless you do. This 'housewife' my wife
+made me when we was first married. I was peddlin' then in eastern
+Oregon. If it hadn't been for her brother--oh, I'll smash his face
+in, some day"--he held up the other trouser leg: "See that patch?
+Ain't that a daisy?--that's the way I ought to do. Say, looks like I
+ought to rustle enough grub out of all these outfits to last me into
+Glenora, don't it?"
+
+We came down gracefully--we could not withstand such prattle. The
+blacksmith turned in some beans, the boys from Manchester divided
+their scanty store of flour and bacon, I brought some salt, some
+sugar, and some oatmeal, and as the small man put it away he chirped
+and chuckled like a cricket. His thanks were mere words, his voice
+was calm. He accepted our aid as a matter of course. No perfectly
+reasonable man would ever take such frightful chances as this absurd
+little ass set his face to without fear. He hummed a little tune as
+he packed his outfit into his shoulder-straps. "I ought to rattle
+into Glenora on this grub, hadn't I?" he said.
+
+At last he was ready to be ferried across the river, which was swift
+and dangerous. Burton set him across, and as he was about to depart I
+gave him a letter to post and a half-dollar to pay postage. My name
+was written on the corner of the envelope. He knew me then and said,
+"I've a good mind to stay right with you; I'm something of a writer
+myself."
+
+I hastened to say that he could reach Glenora two or three days in
+advance of us, for the reason that we were bothered with a lame
+horse. In reality, we were getting very short of provisions and were
+even then on rations. "I think you'll overtake the Borland outfit," I
+said. "If you don't, and you need help, camp by the road till we come
+up and we'll all share as long as there's anything to share. But you
+are in good trim and have as much grub as we have, so you'd better
+spin along."
+
+He "hit the trail" with a hearty joy that promised well, and I never
+saw him again. His cheery smile and unshrinking cheek carried him
+through a journey that appalled old packers with tents, plenty of
+grub, and good horses. To me he was simply a strongly accentuated
+type of the goldseeker--insanely persistent; blind to all danger,
+deaf to all warning, and doomed to failure at the start.
+
+The next day opened cold and foggy, but we entered upon a hard day's
+work. Burton became the chief canoeman, while one of the Manchester
+boys, stripped to the undershirt, sat in the bow to pull at the
+paddle "all same Siwash." Burton's skill and good judgment enabled us
+to cross without losing so much as a buckle. Some of our poor lame
+horses had a hard struggle in the icy current. At about 4 P.M. we
+were able to line up in the trail on the opposite side. We pressed on
+up to the higher valleys in hopes of finding better feed, and camped
+in the rain about two miles from the ford. The wind came from the
+northwest with a suggestion of autumn in its uneasy movement. The
+boys were now exceedingly anxious to get into the gold country. They
+began to feel most acutely the passing of the summer. In the camp at
+night the talk was upon the condition of Telegraph Creek and the
+Teslin Lake Trail.
+
+Rain, rain, rain! It seemed as though no day could pass without rain.
+And as I woke I heard the patter of fine drops on our tent roof. The
+old man cursed the weather most eloquently, expressing the general
+feeling of the whole company. However, we saddled up and pushed on,
+much delayed by the lame horses.
+
+At about twelve o'clock I missed my partner's voice and looking about
+saw only two of the packhorses following. Hitching those beside the
+trail, I returned to find Burton seated beside the lame horse, which
+could not cross the slough. I examined the horse's foot and found a
+thin stream of arterial blood spouting out.
+
+"That ends it, Burton," I said. "I had hoped to bring all my horses
+through, but this old fellow is out of the race. It is a question now
+either of leaving him beside the trail with a notice to have him
+brought forward or of shooting him out of hand."
+
+To this partner gravely agreed, but said, "It's going to be pretty
+hard lines to shoot that faithful old chap."
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I confess I haven't the courage to face him with
+a rifle after all these weeks of faithful service. But it must be
+done. You remember that horse back there with a hole in his flank and
+his head flung up? We mustn't leave this old fellow to be a prey to
+the wolves. Now if you'll kill him you can set your price on the
+service. Anything at all I will pay. Did you ever kill a horse?"
+
+Partner was honest. "Yes, once. He was old and sick and I believed it
+better to put him out of his suffering than to let him drag on."
+
+"That settles it, partner," said I. "Your hands are already imbued
+with gore--it must be done."
+
+He rose with a sigh. "All right. Lead him out into the thicket."
+
+I handed him the gun (into which I had shoved two steel-jacketed
+bullets, the kind that will kill a grizzly bear), and took the old
+horse by the halter. "Come, boy," I said, "it's hard, but it's the
+only merciful thing." The old horse looked at me with such serene
+trust and confidence, my courage almost failed me. His big brown eyes
+were so full of sorrow and patient endurance. With some urging he
+followed me into the thicket a little aside from the trail. Turning
+away I mounted Ladrone in order that I might not see what happened.
+There was a crack of a rifle in the bush--the sound of a heavy body
+falling, and a moment later Burton returned with a coiled rope in his
+hand and a look of trouble on his face. The horses lined up again
+with one empty place and an extra saddle topping the pony's pack. It
+was a sorrowful thing to do, but there was no better way. As I rode
+on, looking back occasionally to see that my train was following, my
+heart ached to think of the toil the poor old horse had
+undergone--only to meet death in the bush at the hands of his master.
+
+Relieved of our wounded horse we made good time and repassed before
+nine o'clock several outfits that had overhauled us during our
+trouble. We rose higher and higher, and came at last into a grassy
+country and to a series of small lakes, which were undoubtedly the
+source of the second fork of the Stikeen. But as we had lost so much
+time during the day, we pushed on with all our vigor for a couple of
+hours and camped about nine o'clock of a beautiful evening, with a
+magnificent sky arching us as if with a prophecy of better times
+ahead.
+
+The horses were now travelling very light, and our food supply was
+reduced to a few pounds of flour and bread--we had no game and
+no berries. Beans were all gone and our bacon reduced to the last
+shred. We had come to expect rain every day of our lives, and were
+feeling a little the effects of our scanty diet of bread and
+bacon--hill-climbing was coming to be laborious. However, the way led
+downward most of the time, and we were able to rack along at a very
+good pace even on an empty stomach.
+
+During the latter part of the second day the trail led along a high
+ridge, a sort of hog-back overlooking a small river valley on our
+left, and bringing into view an immense blue cañon far ahead of us.
+"There lies the Stikeen," I called to Burton. "We're on the second
+south fork, which we follow to the Stikeen, thence to the left to
+Telegraph Creek." I began to compose doggerel verses to express our
+exultation.
+
+We were very tired and glad when we reached a camping-place. We could
+not stop on this high ridge for lack of water, although the feed was
+very good. We were forced to plod on and on until we at last
+descended into the valley of a little stream which crossed our path.
+The ground had been much trampled, but as rain was falling and
+darkness coming on, there was nothing to do but camp.
+
+Out of our last bit of bacon grease and bread and tea we made our
+supper. While we were camping, "The Wild Dutchman," a stalwart young
+fellow we had seen once or twice on the trail, came by with a very
+sour visage. He went into camp near, and came over to see us. He
+said: "I hain't had no pread for more dan a veek. I've nuttin' put
+peans. If you can, let me haf a biscuit. By Gott, how goot dat vould
+taste."
+
+I yielded up a small loaf and encouraged him as best I could: "As I
+figure it, we are within thirty-five miles of Telegraph Creek; I've
+kept a careful diary of our travel. If we've passed over the Dease
+Lake Trail, which is probably about four hundred miles from Hazleton
+to Glenora, we must be now within thirty-five miles of Telegraph
+Creek."
+
+I was not half so sure of this as I made him think; but it gave him a
+great deal of comfort, and he went off very much enlivened.
+
+Sunday and no sun! It was raining when we awoke and the mosquitoes
+were stickier than ever. Our grub was nearly gone, our horses thin
+and weak, and the journey uncertain. All ill things seemed to
+assemble like vultures to do us harm. The world was a grim place that
+day. It was a question whether we were not still on the third south
+fork instead of the second south fork, in which case we were at least
+one hundred miles from our supplies. If we were forced to cross the
+main Stikeen and go down on the other side, it might be even farther.
+
+The men behind us were all suffering, and some of them were sure to
+have a hard time if such weather continued. At the same time I felt
+comparatively sure of our ground.
+
+We were ragged, dirty, lame, unshaven, and unshorn--we were fighting
+from morning till night. The trail became more discouraging each
+moment that the rain continued to fall. There was little conversation
+even between partner and myself. For many days we had moved in
+perfect silence for the most part, though no gloom or sullenness
+appeared in Burton's face. We were now lined up once more, taking the
+trail without a word save the sharp outcry of the drivers hurrying
+the horses forward, or the tinkle of the bells on the lead horse of
+the train.
+
+
+
+
+THE VULTURE
+
+
+    He wings a slow and watchful flight,
+    His neck is bare, his eyes are bright,
+    His plumage fits the starless night.
+
+    He sits at feast where cattle lie
+    Withering in ashen alkali,
+    And gorges till he scarce can fly.
+
+    But he is kingly on the breeze!
+    On rigid wing, in careless ease,
+    A soundless bark on viewless seas.
+    Piercing the purple storm cloud, he makes
+    The sun his neighbor, and shakes
+    His wrinkled neck in mock dismay,
+    And swings his slow, contemptuous way
+    Above the hot red lightning's play.
+
+    Monarch of cloudland--yet a ghoul of prey.
+
+
+
+
+CAMPFIRES
+
+
+1. _Popple_
+
+    A river curves like a bended bow,
+    And over it winds of summer lightly blow;
+    Two boys are feeding a flame with bark
+    Of the pungent popple. Hark!
+    They are uttering dreams. "I
+    Will go hunt gold toward the western sky,"
+    Says the older lad; "I know it is there,
+    For the rainbow shows just where
+    It is. I'll go camping, and take a pan,
+    And shovel gold, when I'm a man."
+
+
+2. _Sage Brush_
+
+    The burning day draws near its end,
+    And on the plain a man and his friend
+    Sit feeding an odorous sage-brush fire.
+    A lofty butte like a funeral pyre,
+    With the sun atop, looms high
+    In the cloudless, windless, saffron sky.
+    A snake sleeps under a grease-wood plant;
+    A horned toad snaps at a passing ant;
+    The plain is void as a polar floe,
+    And the limitless sky has a furnace glow.
+    The men are gaunt and shaggy and gray,
+    And their childhood river is far away;
+    The gold still hides at the rainbow's tip,
+    Yet the wanderer speaks with a resolute lip.
+    "I will seek till I find--or till I die,"
+    He mutters, and lifts his clenched hand high,
+    And puts behind him love and wife,
+    And the quiet round of a farmer's life.
+
+
+3. _Pine_
+
+    The dark day ends in a bitter night.
+    The mighty mountains cold, and white,
+    And stern as avarice, still hide their gold
+    Deep in wild cañons fold on fold,
+    Both men are old, and one is grown
+    As gray as the snows around him sown.
+    He hovers over a fire of pine,
+    Spicy and cheering; toward the line
+    Of the towering peaks he lifts his eyes.
+    "I'd rather have a boy with shining hair,
+    To bear my name, than all your share
+    Of earth's red gold," he said;
+    And died, a loveless, childless man,
+    Before the morning light began.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT LAST THE STIKEEN
+
+
+About the middle of the afternoon of the fifty-eighth day we topped a
+low divide, and came in sight of the Stikeen River. Our hearts
+thrilled with pleasure as we looked far over the deep blue and
+purple-green spread of valley, dim with mist, in which a little
+silver ribbon of water could be seen.
+
+After weeks of rain, as if to make amend for useless severity, the
+sun came out, a fresh westerly breeze sprang up, and the sky filled
+with glowing clouds flooded with tender light. The bloom of fireweed
+almost concealed the devastation of flame in the fallen firs, and the
+grim forest seemed a royal road over which we could pass as over a
+carpet--winter seemed far away.
+
+But all this was delusion. Beneath us lay a thousand quagmires. The
+forest was filled with impenetrable jungles and hidden streams,
+ridges sullen and silent were to be crossed, and the snow was close
+at hand. Across this valley an eagle might sweep with joy, but the
+pack trains must crawl in mud and mire through long hours of torture.
+We spent but a moment here, and then with grim resolution called out,
+"Line up, boys, line up!" and struck down upon the last two days of
+our long journey.
+
+On the following noon we topped another rise, and came unmistakably
+in sight of the Stikeen River lying deep in its rocky cañon. We had
+ridden all the morning in a pelting rain, slashed by wet trees,
+plunging through bogs and sliding down ravines, and when we saw the
+valley just before us we raised a cheer. It seemed we could hear the
+hotel bells ringing far below.
+
+But when we had tumbled down into the big cañon near the water's
+edge, we found ourselves in scarcely better condition than before. We
+were trapped with no feed for our horses, and no way to cross the
+river, which was roaring mad by reason of the heavy rains, a swift
+and terrible flood, impossible to swim. Men were camped all along the
+bank, out of food like ourselves, and ragged and worn and weary. They
+had formed a little street of camps. Borland, the leader of the big
+mule train, was there, calm and efficient as ever. "The Wilson
+Outfit," "The Man from Chihuahua," "Throw-me-feet," and the
+Manchester boys were also included in the group. "The Dutchman" came
+sliding down just behind us.
+
+After a scanty dinner of bacon grease and bread we turned our horses
+out on the flat by the river, and joined the little village. Borland
+said: "We've been here for a day and a half, tryin' to induce that
+damn ferryman to come over, and now we're waitin' for reënforcements.
+Let's try it again, numbers will bring 'em."
+
+Thereupon we marched out solemnly upon the bank (some ten or fifteen
+of us) and howled like a pack of wolves.
+
+For two hours we clamored, alternating the Ute war-whoop with the
+Swiss yodel. It was truly cacophonous, but it produced results.
+Minute figures came to the brow of the hill opposite, and looked at
+us like cautious cockroaches and then went away. At last two shadowy
+beetles crawled down the zigzag trail to the ferry-boat, and began
+bailing her out. Ultimately three men, sweating, scared, and
+tremulous, swung a clumsy scow upon the sand at our feet. It was no
+child's play to cross that stream. Together with one of "The Little
+Dutchmen," and a representation from "The Mule Outfit," I stepped
+into the boat and it was swung off into the savage swirl of gray
+water. We failed of landing the first time. I did not wonder at the
+ferryman's nervousness, as I felt the heave and rush of the whirling
+savage flood.
+
+At the "ratty" little town of Telegraph Creek we purchased beans at
+fifteen cents a pound, bacon at thirty-five cents, and flour at ten
+cents, and laden with these necessaries hurried back to the hungry
+hordes on the opposite side of the river. That night "The Little
+Dutchman" did nothing but cook and eat to make up for lost time.
+Every face wore a smile.
+
+The next morning Burton and one or two other men from the outfits
+took the horses back up the trail to find feed, while the rest of us
+remained in camp to be ready for the boats. Late in the afternoon we
+heard far down the river a steamer whistling for Telegraph Creek,
+and everybody began packing truck down to the river where the boat
+was expected to land. Word was sent back over the trail to the boys
+herding the horses, and every man was in a tremor of apprehension
+lest the herders should not hear the boat and bring the horses down
+in time to get off on it.
+
+It was punishing work packing our stuff down the sloppy path to the
+river bank, but we buckled to it hard, and in the course of a couple
+of hours had all snug and ready for embarkation.
+
+There was great excitement among the outfits, and every man was
+hurrying and worrying to get away. It was known that charges would be
+high, and each of us felt in his pocket to see how many dollars he
+had left. The steamboat company had us between fire and water and
+could charge whatever it pleased. Some of the poor prospectors gave
+up their last dollar to cross this river toward which they had
+journeyed so long.
+
+The boys came sliding down the trail wildly excited, driving the
+horses before them, and by 5.30 we were all packed on the boat, one
+hundred and twenty horses and some two dozen men. We were a seedy and
+careworn lot, in vivid contrast with the smartly uniformed purser of
+the boat. The rates were exorbitant, but there was nothing to do but
+to pay them. However, Borland and I, acting as committee, brought
+such pressure to bear upon the purser that he "threw in" a dinner,
+and there was a joyous rush for the table when this good news was
+announced. For the first time in nearly three months we were able to
+sit down to a fairly good meal with clean nice tableware, with pie
+and pudding to end the meal. It seemed as though we had reached
+civilization. The boat was handsomely built, and quite new and
+capacious, too, for it held our horses without serious crowding. I
+was especially anxious about Ladrone, but was able to get him into a
+very nice place away from the engines and in no danger of being
+kicked by a vicious mule.
+
+We drifted down the river past Telegraph Creek without stopping, and
+late at night laid by at Glenora and unloaded in the crisp, cool
+dusk. As we came off the boat with our horses we were met by a crowd
+of cynical loafers who called to us out of the dark, "What in hell
+you fellows think you're doing?" We were regarded as wildly insane
+for having come over so long and tedious a route.
+
+We erected our tents, and went into camp beside our horses on the
+bank near the dock. It was too late to move farther that night. We
+fed our beasts upon hay at five cents a pound,--poor hay at
+that,--and they were forced to stand exposed to the searching river
+wind.
+
+As for ourselves, we were filled with dismay by the hopeless dulness
+of the town. Instead of being the hustling, rushing gold camp we had
+expected to find, it came to light as a little town of tents and
+shanties, filled with men who had practically given up the Teslin
+Lake Route as a bad job. The government trail was incomplete, the
+wagon road only built halfway, and the railroad--of which we had
+heard so much talk--had been abandoned altogether.
+
+As I slipped the saddle and bridle from Ladrone next day and turned
+him out upon the river bottom for a two weeks' rest, my heart was
+very light. The long trail was over. No more mud, rocks, stumps, and
+roots for Ladrone. Away the other poor animals streamed down the
+trail, many of them lame, all of them poor and weak, and some of them
+still crazed by the poisonous plants of the cold green mountains
+through which they had passed.
+
+This ended the worst of the toil, the torment of the trail. It had no
+dangers, but it abounded in worriments and disappointments. As I look
+back upon it now I suffer, because I see my horses standing
+ankle-deep in water on barren marshes or crowding round the fire
+chilled and weak, in endless rain. If our faces looked haggard and
+worn, it was because of the never ending anxiety concerning the
+faithful animals who trusted in us to find them food and shelter.
+Otherwise we suffered little, slept perfectly dry and warm every
+night, and ate three meals each day: true, the meals grew scanty and
+monotonous, but we did not go hungry.
+
+The trail was a disappointment to me, not because it was long and
+crossed mountains, but because it ran through a barren, monotonous,
+silent, gloomy, and rainy country. It ceased to interest me. It had
+almost no wild animal life, which I love to hear and see. Its lakes
+and rivers were for the most part cold and sullen, and its forests
+sombre and depressing. The only pleasant places after leaving
+Hazleton were the high valleys above timber line. They were
+magnificent, although wet and marshy to traverse.
+
+As a route to reach the gold fields of Teslin Lake and the Yukon it
+is absurd and foolish. It will never be used again for that purpose.
+Should mines develop on the high divides between the Skeena, Iskoot,
+and Stikeen, it may possibly be used again from Hazleton; otherwise
+it will be given back to the Indians and their dogs.
+
+
+
+
+THE FOOTSTEP IN THE DESERT
+
+
+    A man put love forth from his heart,
+      And rode across the desert far away.
+    "Woman shall have no place nor part
+      In my lone life," men heard him say.
+    He rode right on. The level rim
+      Of the barren plain grew low and wide;
+    It seemed to taunt and beckon him,
+      To ride right on and fiercely ride.
+
+    One day he rode a well-worn path,
+      And lo! even in that far land
+    He saw (and cursed in gusty wrath)
+      A woman's footprint in the sand.
+    Sharply he drew the swinging rein,
+      And hanging from his saddle bow
+    Gazed long and silently--cursed again,
+      Then turned as if to go.
+
+    "For love will seize you at the end,
+      Fear loneliness--fear sickness, too,
+    For they will teach you wisdom, friend."
+      Yet he rode on as madmen do.
+    He built a cabin by a sounding stream,
+      He digged in cañons dark and deep,
+    And ever the waters caused a dream
+      And the face of woman broke his sleep.
+
+    It was a slender little mark,
+      And the man had lived alone so long
+    Within the cañon's noise and dark,
+      The footprint moved him like a song.
+    It spoke to him of women in the East,
+      Of girls in silken robes, with shining hair,
+    And talked of those who sat at feast,
+      While sweet-eyed laughter filled the air.
+
+    And more. A hundred visions rose,
+      He saw his mother's knotted hands
+    Ply round thick-knitted homely hose,
+      Her thoughts with him in desert lands.
+    A smiling wife, in bib and cap,
+      Moved busily from chair to chair,
+    Or sat with apples in her lap,
+      Content with sweet domestic care.
+
+    _All these his curse had put away,_
+      _All these were his no more to hold;_
+    _He had his cañon cold and gray,_
+      _He had his little heaps of gold._
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE GOLDSEEKERS' CAMP AT GLENORA
+
+
+Glenora, like Telegraph Creek, was a village of tents and shacks.
+Previous to the opening of the year it had been an old Hudson Bay
+trading-post at the head of navigation on the Stikeen River, but
+during April and May it had been turned into a swarming camp of
+goldseekers on their way to Teslin Lake by way of the much-advertised
+"Stikeen Route" to the Yukon.
+
+A couple of months before our arrival nearly five thousand people had
+been encamped on the river flat; but one disappointment had followed
+another, the government road had been abandoned, the pack trail had
+proved a menace, and as a result the camp had thinned away, and when
+we of the Long Trail began to drop into town Glenora contained less
+than five hundred people, including tradesmen and mechanics.
+
+The journey of those who accompanied me on the Long Trail was by no
+means ended. It was indeed only half done. There remained more than
+one hundred and seventy miles of pack trail before the head of
+navigation on the Yukon could be reached. I turned aside. My partner
+went on.
+
+In order to enter the head-waters of the Pelly it was necessary to
+traverse four hundred miles of trail, over which a year's provision
+for each man must be carried. Food was reported to be "a dollar a
+pound" at Teslin Lake and winter was coming on. To set face toward
+any of these regions meant the most careful preparation or certain
+death.
+
+The weather was cold and bleak, and each night the boys assembled
+around the big campfire to discuss the situation. They reported the
+country full of people eager to get away. Everybody seemed studying
+the problem of what to do and how to do it. Some were for going to
+the head-waters of the Pelly, others advocated the Nisutlin, and
+others still thought it a good plan to prospect on the head-waters of
+the Tooya, from which excellent reports were coming in.
+
+Hour after hour they debated, argued, and agreed. In the midst of it
+all Burton remained cool and unhurried. Sitting in our tent, which
+flapped and quivered in the sounding southern wind, we discussed the
+question of future action. I determined to leave him here with four
+of the horses and a thousand pounds of grub with which to enter the
+gold country; for my partner was a miner, not a literary man.
+
+It had been my intention to go with him to Teslin Lake, there to
+build a boat and float down the river to Dawson; but I was six weeks
+behind my schedule, the trail was reported to be bad, and the water
+in the Hotalinqua very low, making boating slow and hazardous.
+Therefore I concluded to join the stream of goldseekers who were
+pushing down toward the coast to go in by way of Skagway.
+
+There was a feeling in the air on the third day after going into camp
+which suggested the coming of autumn. Some of the boys began to dread
+the desolate north, out of which the snows would soon begin to sweep.
+It took courage to set face into that wild land with winter coming
+on, and yet many of them were ready to do it. The Manchester boys and
+Burton formed a "side-partnership," and faced a year of bacon and
+beans without visible sign of dismay.
+
+The ominous cold deepened a little every night. It seemed like
+October as the sun went down. Around us on every side the mountain
+peaks cut the sky keen as the edge of a sword, and the wind howled up
+the river gusty and wild.
+
+A little group of tents sprang up around our own and every day was
+full of quiet enjoyment. We were all living very high, with plenty of
+berries and an occasional piece of fresh beef. Steel-head salmon were
+running and were a drug in the market.
+
+The talk of the Pelly River grew excited as a report came in
+detailing a strike, and all sorts of outfits began to sift out along
+the trail toward Teslin Lake. The rain ceased at last and the days
+grew very pleasant with the wind again in the south, roaring up the
+river all day long with great power, reminding me of the equatorial
+currents which sweep over Illinois and Wisconsin in September. We had
+nothing now to trouble us but the question of moving out into the
+gold country.
+
+One by one the other misguided ones of the Long Trail came dropping
+into camp to meet the general depression and stagnation. They were
+brown, ragged, long-haired, and for the most part silent with dismay.
+Some of them celebrated their escape by getting drunk, but mainly
+they were too serious-minded to waste time or substance. Some of them
+had expended their last dollar on the trail and were forced to sell
+their horses for money to take them out of the country. Some of the
+partnerships went to pieces for other causes. Long-smouldering
+dissensions burst into flame. "The Swedes" divided and so did "The
+Dutchman," the more resolute of them keeping on the main trail while
+others took the trail to the coast or returned to the States.
+
+Meanwhile, Ladrone and his fellows were rejoicing like ourselves in
+fairly abundant food and in continuous rest. The old gray began to
+look a little more like his own proud self. As I went out to see him
+he came up to me to be curried and nosed about me, begging for salt.
+His trust in me made him doubly dear, and I took great joy in
+thinking that he, at least, was not doomed to freeze or starve in
+this savage country which has no mercy and no hope for horses.
+
+There was great excitement on the first Sunday following our going
+into camp, when the whistle of a steamer announced the coming of the
+mail. It produced as much movement as an election or a bear fight. We
+all ran to the bank to see her struggle with the current, gaining
+headway only inch by inch. She was a small stern-wheeler, not unlike
+the boats which run on the upper Missouri. We all followed her down
+to the Hudson Bay post, like a lot of small boys at a circus, to see
+her unload. This was excitement enough for one day, and we returned
+to camp feeling that we were once more in touch with civilization.
+
+Among the first of those who met us on our arrival was a German, who
+was watching some horses and some supplies in a big tent close by the
+river bank. While pitching my tent on that first day he came over to
+see me, and after a few words of greeting said quietly, but with
+feeling, "I am glad you've come, it was so lonesome here." We were
+very busy, but I think we were reasonably kind to him in the days
+that followed. He often came over of an evening and stood about the
+fire, and although I did not seek to entertain him, I am glad to say
+I answered him civilly; Burton was even social.
+
+I recall these things with a certain degree of feeling, because not
+less than a week later this poor fellow was discovered by one of our
+company swinging from the crosstree of the tent, a ghastly corpse.
+There was something inexplicable in the deed. No one could account
+for it. He seemed not to be a man of deep feeling. And one of the
+last things he uttered in my hearing was a coarse jest which I did
+not like and to which I made no reply.
+
+In his pocket the coroner found a letter wherein he had written,
+"Bury me right here where I failed, here on the bank of the river."
+It contained also a message to his wife and children in the States.
+There were tragic splashes of red on the trail, murder, and violent
+death by animals and by swift waters. Now here at the end of the
+trail was a suicide.
+
+    So this is the end of the trail to him--
+    To swing at the tail of a rope and die;
+    Making a chapter gray and grim,
+    Adding a ghost to the midnight sky?
+    He toiled for days on the icy way,
+    He slept at night on the wind-swept snow;
+    Now here he hangs in the morning's gray,
+    A grisly shape by the river's flow.
+
+It was just two weeks later when I put the bridle and saddle on
+Ladrone and rode him down the trail. His heart was light as mine, and
+he had gained some part of his firm, proud, leaping walk. He had
+confidence in the earth once more. This was the first firm stretch of
+road he had trod for many weeks. He was now to take the boat for the
+outside world.
+
+There was an element of sadness in the parting between Ladrone and
+the train he had led for so many miles. As we saddled up for the last
+time he stood waiting. The horses had fared together for ninety days.
+They had "lined up" nearly two hundred times, and now for the last
+time I called out: "Line up, boys! Line up! Heke! Heke!"
+
+Ladrone swung into the trail. Behind him came "Barney," next "Major,"
+then sturdy "Bay Bill," and lastly "Nibbles," the pony. For the last
+time they were to follow their swift gray leader, who was going
+south to live at ease, while they must begin again the ascent of the
+trail.
+
+Ladrone whinnied piteously for his mates as I led him aboard the
+steamer, but they did not answer. They were patiently waiting their
+master's signal. Never again would they set eyes on the stately gray
+leader who was bound to most adventurous things. Never again would
+they see the green grass come on the hills.
+
+I had a feeling that I could go on living this way, leading a pack
+train across the country indefinitely. It seemed somehow as though
+this way of life, this routine, must continue. I had a deep interest
+in the four horses, and it was not without a feeling of guilt that I
+saw them move away on their last trail. At bottom the end of every
+horse is tragic. Death comes sooner or later, but death here in this
+country, so cold and bleak and pitiless to all animals, seems somehow
+closer, more inevitable, more cruel, and flings over every animal the
+shadow of immediate tragedy. There was something approaching crime in
+bringing a horse over that trail for a thousand miles only to turn
+him loose at the end, or to sell him to some man who would work him
+to the point of death, and then shoot him or turn him out to freeze.
+
+As the time came when I must return to the south and to the tame, the
+settled, the quiet, I experienced a profound feeling of regret, of
+longing for the wild and lonely. I looked up at the shining green and
+white mountains and they allured me still, notwithstanding all the
+toil and discomfort of the journey just completed. The wind from the
+south, damp and cool, the great river gliding with rushing roar to
+meet the sea, had a distinct and wonderful charm from which I rent
+myself with distinct effort.
+
+
+
+
+THE TOIL OF THE TRAIL
+
+
+    What have I gained by the toil of the trail?
+    I know and know well.
+    I have found once again the lore I had lost
+    In the loud city's hell.
+
+    I have broadened my hand to the cinch and the axe,
+    I have laid my flesh to the rain;
+    I was hunter and trailer and guide;
+    I have touched the most primitive wildness again.
+
+    I have threaded the wild with the stealth of the deer,
+    No eagle is freer than I;
+    No mountain can thwart me, no torrent appall,
+    I defy the stern sky.
+    So long as I live these joys will remain,
+    I have touched the most primitive wildness again.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+GREAT NEWS AT WRANGELL
+
+
+Boat after boat had come up, stopped for a night, and dropped down
+the river again, carrying from ten to twenty of the goldseekers who
+had determined to quit or to try some other way in; and at last the
+time had come for me to say good-by to Burton and all those who had
+determined to keep on to Teslin Lake. I had helped them buy and sack
+and weigh their supplies, and they were ready to line up once more.
+
+As I led Ladrone down toward the boat, he called again for his
+fellows, but only strangers made reply. After stowing him safely away
+and giving him feed, I returned to the deck in order to wave my hat
+to Burton.
+
+In accordance with his peculiar, undemonstrative temperament, he
+stood for a few moments in silence, with his hands folded behind his
+back, then, with a final wave of the hand, turned on his heel and
+returned to his work.
+
+Farewells and advice more or less jocular rang across the rail of the
+boat between some ten or fifteen of us who had hit the new trail and
+those on shore.
+
+"Good-by, boys; see you at Dawson."
+
+"We'll beat you in yet," called Bill. "Don't over-work."
+
+"Let us know if you strike it!" shouted Frank.
+
+"All right; you do the same," I replied.
+
+As the boat swung out into the stream, and the little group on the
+bank faded swiftly away, I confess to a little dimness of the eyes. I
+thought of the hardships toward which my uncomplaining partner was
+headed, and it seemed to me Nature was conspiring to crush him.
+
+The trip down the river was exceedingly interesting. The stream grew
+narrower as we approached the coast range, and became at last very
+dangerous for a heavy boat such as the _Strathcona_ was. We were
+forced to lay by at last, some fifty miles down, on account of the
+terrific wind which roared in through the gap, making the steering of
+the big boat through the cañon very difficult.
+
+At the point where we lay for the night a small creek came in.
+Steel-headed salmon were running, and the creek was literally lined
+with bear tracks of great size, as far up as we penetrated. These
+bears are said to be a sort of brown fishing bear of enormous bulk,
+as large as polar bears, and when the salmon are spawning in the
+upper waters of the coast rivers, they become so fat they can hardly
+move. Certainly I have never been in a country where bear signs were
+so plentiful. The wood was an almost impassable tangle of vines and
+undergrowth, and the thought of really finding a bear was appalling.
+
+The Stikeen breaks directly through the coast range at right angles,
+like a battering-ram. Immense glaciers were on either side. One
+tremendous river of ice came down on our right, presenting a face
+wall apparently hundreds of feet in height and some miles in width. I
+should have enjoyed exploring this glacier, which is said to be one
+of the greatest on the coast.
+
+The next day our captain, a bold and reckless man, carried us through
+to Wrangell by _walking_ his boat over the sand bars on its
+paddle-wheel. I was exceedingly nervous, because if for any reason we
+had become stuck in mid river, it would have been impossible to feed
+Ladrone or to take him ashore except by means of another steamer.
+However, all things worked together to bring us safely through, and
+in the afternoon of the second day we entered an utterly different
+world--the warm, wet coast country. The air was moist, the grasses
+and tall ferns were luxuriant, and the forest trees immense. Out into
+a sun-bright bay we swept with a feeling of being in safe waters once
+more, and rounded-to about sunset at a point on the island just above
+a frowzy little town. This was Wrangell Island and the town was Fort
+Wrangell, one of the oldest stations on the coast.
+
+I had placed my horse under bond intending to send him through to
+Vancouver to be taken care of by the Hudson Bay Company. He was still
+a Canadian horse and so must remain upon the wharf over night. As he
+was very restless and uneasy, I camped down beside him on the
+planks.
+
+I lay for a long time listening to the waters flowing under me and
+looking at the gray-blue sky, across which stars shot like distant
+rockets dying out in the deeps of the heavens in silence. An odious
+smell rose from the bay as the tide went out, a seal bawled in the
+distance, fishes flopped about in the pools beneath me, and a man
+playing a violin somewhere in the village added a melancholy note. I
+could hear the boys crying, "All about the war," and Ladrone
+continued restless and eager. Several times in the night, when he
+woke me with his trampling, I called to him, and hearing my voice he
+became quiet.
+
+I took breakfast at a twenty-five cent "joint," where I washed out of
+a tin basin in an ill-smelling area. After breakfast I grappled with
+the customs man and secured the papers which made Ladrone an American
+horse, free to eat grass wherever it could be found under the stars
+and stripes. I started immediately to lead him to pasture, and this
+was an interesting and memorable experience.
+
+There are no streets, that is to say no roads, in Wrangell. There are
+no carriages and no horses, not even donkeys. Therefore it was
+necessary for Ladrone to walk the perilous wooden sidewalks after me.
+This he did with all the dignity of a county judge, and at last we
+came upon grass, knee deep, rich and juicy.
+
+Our passage through the street created a great sensation. Little
+children ran to the gates to look upon us. "There goes a horsie,"
+they shouted. An old man stopped me on the street and asked me where
+I was taking "T'old 'orse." I told him I had already ridden him over
+a thousand miles and now he was travelling with me back to God's
+country. He looked at me in amazement, and walked off tapping his
+forehead as a sign that I must certainly "have wheels."
+
+As I watched Ladrone at his feed an old Indian woman came along and
+smiled with amiable interest. At last she said, pointing to the other
+side of the village, "Over there muck-a-muck, hy-u muck-a-muck." She
+wished to see the horse eating the best grass there was to be had on
+the island.
+
+A little later three or four native children came down the hill and
+were so amazed and so alarmed at the sight of this great beast
+feeding beside the walk that they burst into loud outcry and ran
+desperately away. They were not accustomed to horses. To them he was
+quite as savage in appearance as a polar bear.
+
+In a short time everybody in the town knew of the old gray horse and
+his owner. I furnished a splendid topic for humorous conversation
+during the dull hours of the day.
+
+Here again I came upon other gaunt and rusty-coated men from the Long
+Trail. They could be recognized at a glance by reason of their sombre
+faces and their undecided action. They could scarcely bring
+themselves to such ignominious return from a fruitless trip on which
+they had started with so much elation, and yet they hesitated about
+attempting any further adventure to the north, mainly because their
+horses had sold for so little and their expenses had been so great.
+Many of them were nearly broken. In the days that followed they
+discussed the matter in subdued voices, sitting in the sun on the
+great wharf, sombrely looking out upon the bay.
+
+On the third day a steamer came in from the north, buzzing with the
+news of another great strike not far from Skagway. Juneau, Dyea, as
+well as Skagway itself, were said to be almost deserted. Men were
+leaving the White Pass Railway in hundreds, and a number of the hands
+on the steamer herself had deserted under the excitement. Mingling
+with the passengers we eagerly extracted every drop of information
+possible. No one knew much about it, but they said all they knew and
+a good part of what they had heard, and when the boat swung round and
+disappeared in the moonlight, she left the goldseekers exultant and
+tremulous on the wharf.
+
+They were now aflame with desire to take part in this new stampede,
+which seemed to be within their slender means, and I, being one of
+them and eager to see such a "stampede," took a final session with
+the customs collector, and prepared to board the next boat.
+
+I arranged with Duncan McKinnon to have my old horse taken care of in
+his lot. I dug wells for him so that he should not lack for water,
+and treated him to a dish of salt, and just at sunset said good-by to
+him with another twinge of sadness and turned toward the wharf. He
+looked very lonely and sad standing there with drooping head in the
+midst of the stumps of his pasture lot. However, there was plenty of
+feed and half a dozen men volunteered to keep an eye on him.
+
+"Don't worry, mon," said Donald McLane. "He'll be gettin' fat and
+strong on the juicy grass, whilst you're a-heavin' out the
+gold-dust."
+
+There were about ten of us who lined up to the purser's window of the
+little steamer which came along that night and purchased second-class
+passage. The boat was very properly named the _Utopia_, and was so
+crowded with other goldseekers from down the coast, that we of the
+Long Trail were forced to put our beds on the floor of the little
+saloon in the stern of the boat which was called the "social room."
+We were all second-class, and we all lay down in rows on the carpet,
+covering every foot of space. Each man rolled up in his own blankets,
+and I was the object of considerable remark by reason of my mattress,
+which gave me as good a bed as the vessel afforded.
+
+There was a great deal of noise on the boat, and its passengers, both
+men and women, were not of the highest type. There were several
+stowaways, and some of the women were not very nice as to their
+actions, and, rightly or wrongly, were treated with scant respect by
+the men, who were loud and vulgar for the most part. Sleep was
+difficult in the turmoil.
+
+Though second-class passengers, strange to say, we came first at
+table and were very well fed. The boat ran entirely inside a long row
+of islands, and the water was smooth as a river. The mountains grew
+each moment more splendid as we neared Skagway, and the ride was most
+enjoyable. Whales and sharks interested us on the way. The women came
+to light next day, and on the whole were much better than I had
+inferred from the two or three who were the source of disturbance the
+night before. The men were not of much interest; they seemed petty
+and without character for the most part.
+
+At Juneau we came into a still more mountainous country, and for the
+rest of the way the scenery was magnificent. Vast rivers of ice came
+curving down absolutely out of the clouds which hid the summits of
+the mountains--came curving in splendid lines down to the very
+water's edge. The sea was chill and gray, and as we entered the mouth
+of Lynn Canal a raw swift wind swept by, making us shiver with cold.
+The grim bronze-green mountains' sides formed a most impressive but
+forbidding scene.
+
+It was nine o'clock the next morning as we swung to and unloaded
+ourselves upon one of the long wharves which run out from the town of
+Skagway toward the deep water. We found the town exceedingly quiet.
+Half the men had gone to the new strike. Stores were being tended by
+women, some small shops were closed entirely, and nearly every
+business firm had sent representatives into the new gold fields,
+which we now found to be on Atlin Lake.
+
+It was difficult to believe that this wharf a few months before had
+been the scene of a bloody tragedy which involved the shooting of
+"Soapy Smith," the renowned robber and desperado. On the contrary, it
+seemed quite like any other town of its size in the States. The air
+was warm and delightful in midday, but toward night the piercing
+wind swept down from the high mountains, making an overcoat
+necessary.
+
+A few men had returned from this new district, and were full of
+enthusiasm concerning the prospects. Their reports increased the
+almost universal desire to have a part in the stampede. The Iowa boys
+from the Long Trail wasted no time, but set about their own plans for
+getting in. They expected to reach the creek by sheer force and
+awkwardness.
+
+They had determined to try the "cut-off," which left the wagon road
+and took off up the east fork of the Skagway River. Nearly three
+hundred people had already set out on this trail, and the boys felt
+sure of "making it all right--all right," though it led over a great
+glacier and into an unmapped region of swift streams. "After the
+Telegraph Trail," said Doc, "we're not easily scared."
+
+It seemed to me a desperate chance, and I was not ready to enter upon
+such a trip with only such grub and clothing as could be carried upon
+my back; but it was the last throw of the dice for these young
+fellows. They had very little money left, and could not afford to
+hire pack trains; but by making a swift dash into the country, each
+hoped to get a claim. How they expected to hold it or use it after
+they got it, they were unable to say; but as they were out for gold,
+and here was a chance (even though it were but the slightest chance
+in the world) to secure a location, they accepted it with the sublime
+audacity of youth and ignorance. They saddled themselves with their
+packs, and with a cheery wave of the hand said "Good-by and good
+luck" and marched away in single file.
+
+Just a week later I went round to see if any news of them had
+returned to their bunk house. I found their names on the register.
+They had failed. One of them set forth their condition of purse and
+mind by writing: "Dave Walters, Boone, Iowa. Busted and going home."
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+
+    I saw these dreamers of dreams go by,
+    I trod in their footsteps a space;
+    Each marched with his eyes on the sky,
+    Each passed with a light on his face.
+
+    They came from the hopeless and sad,
+    They faced the future and gold;
+    Some the tooth of want's wolf had made mad,
+    And some at the forge had grown old.
+
+    Behind them these serfs of the tool
+    The rags of their service had flung;
+    No longer of fortune the fool,
+    This word from each bearded lip rung:
+
+    "Once more I'm a man, I am free!
+    No man is my master, I say;
+    To-morrow I fail, it may be--
+    No matter, I'm freeman to-day."
+
+    They go to a toil that is sure,
+    To despair and hunger and cold;
+    Their sickness no warning can cure,
+    They are mad with a longing for gold.
+
+    The light will fade from each eye,
+    The smile from each face;
+    They will curse the impassible sky,
+    And the earth when the snow torrents race.
+
+    Some will sink by the way and be laid
+    In the frost of the desolate earth;
+    And some will return to a maid,
+    Empty of hand as at birth.
+
+    _But this out of all will remain,_
+    _They have lived and have tossed;_
+    _So much in the game will be gain,_
+    _Though the gold of the dice has been lost._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE RUSH TO ATLIN LAKE
+
+
+It took me longer to get under way, for I had determined to take at
+least thirty days' provisions for myself and a newspaper man who
+joined me here. Our supplies, together with tent, tools, and
+clothing, made a considerable outfit. However, in a few days we were
+ready to move, and when I again took my place at the head of a little
+pack train it seemed quite in the natural order of things.
+
+We left late in the day with intent to camp at the little village of
+White Pass, which was the end of the wagon road and some twelve miles
+away. We moved out of town along a road lined with refuse,
+camp-bottoms, ruined cabins, tin cans, and broken bottles,--all the
+unsightly debris of the rush of May and June. A part of the way had
+been corduroyed, for which I was exceedingly grateful, for the
+Skagway River roared savagely under our feet, while on either side of
+the roadway at other points I could see abysses of mud which, in the
+growing darkness, were sufficiently menacing.
+
+Our course was a northerly one. We were ascending the ever narrowing
+cañon of the river at a gentle grade, with snowy mountains in vista.
+We arrived at White Pass at about ten o'clock at night. A little
+town is springing up there, confident of being an important station
+on the railroad which was already built to that point.
+
+Thus far the journey had been easy and simple, but immediately after
+leaving White Pass we entered upon an exceedingly stony road, filled
+with sharp rock which had been blasted from the railway above us.
+Upon reaching the end of the wagon road, and entering upon the trail,
+we came upon the Way of Death. The waters reeked with carrion. The
+breeze was the breath of carrion, and all nature was made indecent
+and disgusting by the presence of carcasses. Within the distance of
+fifteen miles we passed more than two thousand dead horses. It was a
+cruel land, a land filled with the record of men's merciless greed.
+Nature herself was cold, majestic, and grand. The trail rough, hard,
+and rocky. The horses labored hard under their heavy burdens, though
+the floor they trod was always firm.
+
+Just at the summit in the gray mist, where a bulbous granite ridge
+cut blackly and lonesomely against the sky, we overtook a flock of
+turkeys being driven by a one-armed man with a singularly appropriate
+Scotch cap on his head. The birds sat on the bleak gray rocks in the
+gathering dusk with the suggestion of being utterly at the end of the
+world. Their feathers were blown awry by the merciless wind and they
+looked weary, disconsolate, and bewildered. Their faint, sad gobbling
+was like the talk of sick people lost in a desert. They were on their
+way to Dawson City to their death and they seemed to know it.
+
+We camped at the Halfway House, a big tent surrounded by the most
+diabolical landscape of high peaks lost in mist, with near-by slopes
+of gray rocks scantily covered with yellow-green grass. All was bare,
+wild, desolate, and drear. The wind continued to whirl down over the
+divide, carrying torn gray masses of vapor which cast a gloomy half
+light across the gruesome little meadow covered with rotting
+carcasses and crates of bones which filled the air with odor of
+disease and death.
+
+Within the tent, which flopped and creaked in the wind, we huddled
+about the cook-stove in the light of a lantern, listening to the loud
+talk of a couple of packers who were discussing their business with
+enormous enthusiasm. Happily they grew sleepy at last and peace
+settled upon us. I unrolled my sleeping bag and slept dreamlessly
+until the "Russian nobleman," who did the cooking, waked me.
+
+Morning broke bleak and desolate. Mysterious clouds which hid the
+peaks were still streaming wildly down the cañon. We got away at
+last, leaving behind us that sad little meadow and its gruesome
+lakes, and began the slow and toilsome descent over slippery ledges
+of rock, among endless rows of rotting carcasses, over poisonous
+streams and through desolate, fire-marked, and ghastly forests of
+small pines. Everywhere were the traces of the furious flood of
+humankind that had broken over this height in the early spring.
+Wreckage of sleighs, abandoned tackle, heaps of camp refuse,
+clothing, and most eloquent of all the pathway itself, worn into the
+pitiless iron ledges, made it possible for me to realize something of
+the scene.
+
+Down there in the gully, on the sullen drift of snow, the winter
+trail could still be seen like an unclean ribbon and here, where the
+shrivelled hides of horses lay thick, wound the summer pathway. Up
+yonder summit, lock-stepped like a file of convicts, with tongues
+protruding and breath roaring from their distended throats, thousands
+of men had climbed with killing burdens on their backs, mad to reach
+the great inland river and the gold belt. Like the men of the Long
+Trail, they, too, had no time to find the gold under their feet.
+
+It was terrible to see how on every slippery ledge the ranks of
+horses had broken like waves to fall in heaps like rows of seaweed,
+tumbled, contorted, and grinning. Their dried skins had taken on the
+color of the soil, so that I sometimes set foot upon them without
+realizing what they were. Many of them had saddles on and nearly all
+had lead-ropes. Some of them had even been tied to trees and left to
+starve.
+
+In all this could be read the merciless greed and impracticability of
+these goldseekers. Men who had never driven a horse in their lives,
+and had no idea what an animal could do, or what he required to eat,
+loaded their outfits upon some poor patient beast and drove him
+without feed until, weakened and insecure of foot, he slipped and
+fell on some one of these cruel ledges of flinty rock.
+
+The business of packing, however, had at last fallen into less cruel
+or at least more judicial hands, and though the trail was filled
+with long pack trains going and coming, they were for the most part
+well taken care of. We met many long trains of packhorses returning
+empty from Bennett Lake. They were followed by shouting drivers who
+clattered along on packhorses wherever the trail would permit.
+
+One train carried four immense trunks--just behind the trunks,
+mounted astride of one of the best horses, rode a bold-faced,
+handsome white woman followed by a huge negress. The white woman had
+made her pile by dancing a shameless dance in the dissolute dens of
+Dawson City, and was on her way to Paris or New York for a "good
+time." The reports of the hotel keepers made her out to be
+unspeakably vile. The negress was quite decent by contrast.
+
+At Log Cabin we came in sight of the British flag which marks the
+boundary line of United States territory, where a camp of mounted
+police and the British customs officer are located. It was a drear
+season even in midsummer, a land of naked ledges and cold white
+peaks. A few small pine trees furnished logs for the cabins and wood
+for their fires. The government offices were located in tents.
+
+I found the officers most courteous, and the customs fair. The
+treatment given me at Log Cabin was in marked contrast with the
+exactions of my own government at Wrangell. All goods were unloaded
+before the inspector's tent and quickly examined. The miner suffered
+very little delay.
+
+A number of badly maimed packhorses were running about on the
+American side. I was told that the police had stopped them by reason
+of their sore backs. If a man came to the line with horses overloaded
+or suffering, he was made to strip the saddles from their backs.
+
+"You can't cross this line with animals like that," was the stern
+sentence in many cases. This humanity, as unexpected as it was
+pleasing, deserves the best word of praise of which I am capable.
+
+At last we left behind us all these wrecks of horseflesh, these
+poisonous streams, and came down upon Lake Bennett, where the water
+was considered safe to drink, and where the eye could see something
+besides death-spotted ledges of savage rocks.
+
+The town was a double row of tents, and log huts set close to the
+beach whereon boats were building and saws and hammers were uttering
+a cheerful chorus. Long trains of packhorses filled the streets. The
+wharfs swarmed with men loading chickens, pigs, vegetables,
+furniture, boxes of dry-goods, stoves, and every other conceivable
+domestic utensil into big square barges, which were rigged with tall
+strong masts bearing most primitive sails. It was a busy scene, but
+of course very quiet as compared with the activity of May, June, and
+July.
+
+These barges appealed to me very strongly. They were in some cases
+floating homes, a combination of mover's wagon and river boat. Many
+of them contained women and children, with accompanying cats and
+canary birds. In every face was a look of exultant faith in the
+venture. They were bound for Dawson City. The men for Atlin were
+setting forth in rowboats, or were waiting for the little steamers
+which had begun to ply between Bennett City and the new gold fields.
+
+I set my little tent, which was about as big as a dog kennel, and
+crawled into it early, in order to be shielded from the winds, which
+grew keen as sword blades as the sun sank behind the western
+mountains. The sky was like November, and I wondered where Burton was
+encamped. I would have given a great deal to have had him with me on
+this trip.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE COAST RANGE OF ALASKA
+
+
+    The wind roars up from the angry sea
+    With a message of warning and haste to me.
+    It bids me go where the asters blow,
+    And the sun-flower waves in the sunset glow.
+    From the granite mountains the glaciers crawl,
+    In snow-white spray the waters fall.
+    The bay is white with the crested waves,
+    And ever the sea wind ramps and raves.
+
+    I hate this cold, bleak northern land,
+    I fear its snow-flecked harborless strand--
+    I fly to the south as a homing dove,
+    Back to the land of corn I love.
+    And never again shall I set my feet
+    Where the snow and the sea and the mountains meet.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+ATLIN LAKE AND THE GOLD FIELDS
+
+
+There is nothing drearier than camping on the edge of civilization
+like this, where one is surrounded by ill smells, invaded by streams
+of foul dust, and deprived of wood and clear water. I was exceedingly
+eager to get away, especially as the wind continued cold and very
+searching. It was a long dull day of waiting.
+
+At last the boat came in and we trooped aboard--a queer mixture of
+men and bundles. The boat itself was a mere scow with an upright
+engine in the centre and a stern-wheel tacked on the outside. There
+were no staterooms, of course, and almost no bunks. The interior
+resembled a lumberman's shanty.
+
+We moved off towing a big scow laden with police supplies for Tagish
+House. The wind was very high and pushed steadily behind, or we would
+not have gone faster than a walk. We had some eight or ten
+passengers, all bound for the new gold fields, and these together
+with their baggage and tools filled the boat to the utmost corner.
+The feeling of elation among these men reminded me of the great land
+boom of Dakota in 1883, in which I took a part. There was something
+fine and free and primitive in it all.
+
+We cooked our supper on the boat's stove, furnishing our own food
+from the supplies we were taking in with us. The ride promised to be
+very fine. We made off down the narrow lake, which lies between two
+walls of high bleak mountains, but far in the distance more alluring
+ranges arose. There was no sign of mineral in the near-by peaks.
+
+Late in the afternoon the wind became so high and the captain of our
+boat so timid, we were forced to lay by for the night and so swung
+around under a point, seeking shelter from the wind, which became
+each moment more furious. I made my bed down on the roof of the boat
+and went to sleep looking at the drifting clouds overhead. Once or
+twice during the night when I awoke I heard the howling blast
+sweeping by with increasing power.
+
+All the next day we loitered on Bennett Lake--the wind roaring
+without ceasing, and the white-caps running like hares. We drifted at
+last into a cove and there lay in shelter till six o'clock at night.
+The sky was clear and the few clouds were gloriously bright and cool
+and fleecy.
+
+We met several canoes of goldseekers on their return who shouted
+doleful warnings at us and cursed the worthlessness of the district
+to which we were bound. They all looked exceedingly dirty, ragged,
+and sour of visage. At the same time, however, boat after boat went
+sailing down past us on their way to Atlin and Dawson. They drove
+straight before the wind, and for the most part experienced little
+danger, all of which seemed to us to emphasize the unnecessary
+timidity of our own captain.
+
+There was a charm in this wild spot, but we were too impatient to
+enjoy it. There were men on board who felt that they were being
+cheated of a chance to get a gold mine, and when the wind began to
+fall we fired up and started down the lake. As deep night came on I
+made my bed on the roof again and went to sleep with the flying
+sparks lining the sky overhead. I was in some danger of being set on
+fire, but I preferred sleeping there to sleeping on the floor inside
+the boat, where the reek of tobacco smoke was sickening.
+
+When I awoke we were driving straight up Tagish Lake, a beautiful,
+clear, green and blue spread of rippling water with lofty and boldly
+outlined peaks on each side. The lake ran from southeast to northwest
+and was much larger than any map shows. We drove steadily for ten
+hours up this magnificent water with ever increasing splendor of
+scenery, arriving about sunset at Taku City, which we found to be a
+little group of tents at the head of Taku arm.
+
+Innumerable boats of every design fringed the shore. Men were coming
+and men were going, producing a bewildering clash of opinions with
+respect to the value of the mines. A few of these to whom we spoke
+said, "It's all a fake," and others were equally certain it was "All
+right."
+
+A short portage was necessary to reach Atlin Lake, and taking a part
+of our baggage upon our shoulders we hired the remainder packed on
+horses and within an hour were moving up the smooth path under the
+small black pines, across the low ridge which separates the two
+lakes. At the top of this ridge we were able to look out over the
+magnificent spread of Atlin Lake, which was more beautiful in every
+way than Tagish or Taku. It is, in fact, one of the most beautiful
+lakes I have ever seen.
+
+Far to the southeast it spread until it was lost to view among the
+bases of the gigantic glacier-laden mountains of the coast range. To
+the left--that is to the north--it seemed to divide, enclosing a
+splendid dome-shaped solitary mountain, one fork moving to the east,
+the other to the west. Its end could not be determined by the eye in
+either direction. Its width was approximately about ten miles.
+
+At the end of the trail we found an enterprising Canadian with a
+naphtha launch ready to ferry us across to Atlin City, but were
+forced to wait for some one who had gone back to Taku for a second
+load.
+
+While we were waiting, the engineer, who was a round-faced and rather
+green boy, fell under the influences of a large, plump, and very
+talkative lady who made the portage just behind us. She so absorbed
+and fascinated the lad that he let the engine run itself into some
+cramp of piston or wheel. There was a sudden crunching sound and the
+propeller stopped. The boy minimized the accident, but the captain
+upon arrival told us it would be necessary to unload from the boat
+while the engine was being repaired.
+
+It was now getting dark, and as it was pretty evident that the
+repairs on the boat would take a large part of the night, we camped
+where we were. The talkative lady, whom the irreverent called "the
+glass front," occupied a tent which belonged to the captain of the
+launch and the rest of us made our beds down under the big trees.
+
+A big fire was built and around this we sat, doing more or less
+talking. There was an old Tennesseean in the party from Dawson, who
+talked interminably. He told us of his troubles, trials, and
+victories in Dawson: how he had been successful, how he had fallen
+ill, and how his life had been saved by a good old miner who gave him
+an opportunity to work over his dump. Sick as he was he was able in a
+few days to find gold enough to take him out of the country to a
+doctor. He was now on his way back to his claim and professed to be
+very sceptical of Atlin and every other country except Dawson.
+
+The plump lady developed exceedingly kittenish manners late in the
+evening, and invited the whole company to share her tent. A singular
+type of woman, capable of most ladylike manners and having
+astonishingly sensible moments, but inexpressibly silly most of the
+time. She was really a powerful, self-confident, and shrewd woman,
+but preferred to seem young and helpless. Altogether the company was
+sufficiently curious. There was a young civil engineer from New York
+City, a land boomer from Skagway, an Irishman from Juneau, a
+representative of a New York paper, one or two nondescripts from the
+States, and one or two prospectors from Quebec. The night was cold
+and beautiful and my partner and I, by going sufficiently far away
+from the old Tennesseean and the plump lady, were able to sleep
+soundly until sunrise.
+
+The next morning we hired a large unpainted skiff and by working very
+hard ourselves in addition to paying full fare we reached camp at
+about ten o'clock in the morning. Atlin City was also a clump of
+tents half hidden in the trees on the beach of the lake near the
+mouth of Pine Creek. The lake was surpassingly beautiful under the
+morning sun.
+
+A crowd of sullen, profane, and grimy men were lounging around,
+cursing the commissioners and the police. The beach was fringed with
+rowboats and canoes, like a New England fishing village, and all day
+long men were loading themselves into these boats, hungry, tired, and
+weary, hastening back to Skagway or the coast; while others, fresh,
+buoyant, and hopeful, came gliding in.
+
+To those who came, the sullen and disappointed ones who were about to
+go uttered approbrious cries: "See the damn fools come! What d'you
+think you're doin'? On a fishin' excursion?"
+
+We went into camp on the water front, and hour after hour men laden
+with packs tramped ceaselessly to and fro along the pathway just
+below our door. I was now chief cook and bottle washer, my partner,
+who was entirely unaccustomed to work of this kind, having the status
+of a boarder.
+
+The lake was a constant joy to us. As the sun sank the glacial
+mountains to the southwest became most royal in their robes of purple
+and silver. The sky filled with crimson and saffron clouds which the
+lake reflected like a mirror. The little rocky islands drowsed in the
+mist like some strange monsters sleeping on the bosom of the water.
+The men were filthy and profane for the most part, and made enjoyment
+of nature almost impossible. Many of them were of the rudest and most
+uninteresting types, nomads--almost tramps. They had nothing of the
+epic qualities which belong to the mountaineers and natural miners of
+the Rocky Mountains. Many of them were loafers and ne'er-do-wells
+from Skagway and other towns of the coast.
+
+We had a gold pan, a spade, and a pick. Therefore early the next
+morning we flung a little pack of grub over our shoulders and set
+forth to test the claims which were situated upon Pine Creek, a
+stream which entered Lake Atlin near the camp. It was said to be
+eighteen miles long and Discovery claim was some eight miles up.
+
+We traced our way up the creek as far as Discovery and back, panning
+dirt at various places with resulting colors in some cases. The trail
+was full of men racking to and fro with heavy loads on their backs.
+They moved in little trains of four or five or six men, some going
+out of the country, others coming in--about an equal number each way.
+Everything along the creek was staked, and our test work resulted in
+nothing more than gaining information with regard to what was going
+on.
+
+The camps on the hills at night swarmed with men in hot debate. The
+majority believed the camps to be a failure, and loud discussions
+resounded from the trees as partner and I sat at supper. The
+town-site men were very nervous. The camps were decreasing in
+population, and the tone was one of general foreboding.
+
+The campfires flamed all along the lake walk, and the talk of each
+group could be overheard by any one who listened. Altercations went
+on with clangorous fury. Almost every party was in division. Some
+enthusiastic individual had made a find, or had seen some one else
+who had. His cackle reached other groups, and out of the dark hulking
+figures loomed to listen or to throw in hot missiles of profanity.
+Phrases multiplied, mingling inextricably.
+
+"Morgan claims thirty cents to the pan ... good creek claim ... his
+sluice is about ready ... a clean-up last night ... I don't believe
+it.... No, Sir, I wouldn't give a hundred dollars for the whole damn
+moose pasture.... Well, it's good enough for me.... I tell you it's
+rotten, the whole damn cheese.... You've got to stand in with the
+police or you can't get...." and so on and on unendingly, without
+coherence. I went to sleep only when the sound of the wordy warfare
+died away.
+
+I permitted myself a day of rest. Borrowing a boat next day, we went
+out upon the water and up to the mouth of Pine Creek, where we panned
+some dirt to amuse ourselves. The lake was like liquid glass, the
+bottom visible at an enormous depth. It made me think of the
+marvellous water of McDonald Lake in the Kalispels. I steered the
+boat (with a long-handled spade) and so was able to look about me and
+absorb at ease the wonderful beauty of this unbroken and unhewn
+wilderness. The clouds were resplendent, and in every direction the
+lake vistas were ideally beautiful and constantly changing.
+
+Toward night the sky grew thick and heavy with clouds. The water of
+the lake was like molten jewels, ruby and amethyst. The boat seemed
+floating in some strange, ethereal substance hitherto unknown to
+man--translucent and iridescent. The mountains loomed like dim purple
+pillars at the western gate of the world, and the rays of the
+half-hidden sun plunging athwart these sentinels sank deep into the
+shining flood. Later the sky cleared, and the inverted mountains in
+the lake were scarcely less vivid than those which rose into the sky.
+
+The next day I spent with gold pan and camera, working my way up
+Spruce Creek, a branch of Pine. I found men cheerily at work getting
+out sluice boxes and digging ditches. I panned everywhere, but did
+not get much in the way of colors, but the creek seemed to grow
+better as I went up, and promised very rich returns. I came back
+rushing, making five miles just inside an hour, hungry and tired.
+
+The crowded camp thinned out. The faint-hearted ones who had no
+courage to sweat for gold sailed away. Others went out upon their
+claims to build cabins and lay sluices. I found them whip-sawing
+lumber, building cabins, and digging ditches. Each day the news grew
+more encouraging, each day brought the discovery of a new creek or a
+lake. Men came back in swarms and reporting finds on "Lake Surprise,"
+a newly discovered big body of water, and at last came the report of
+surprising discoveries in the benches high above the creek.
+
+In the camp one night I heard a couple of men talking around a
+campfire near me. One of them said: "Why, you know old Sperry was
+digging on the ridge just above Discovery and I came along and see
+him up there. And I said, 'Hullo, uncle, what you doin', diggin' your
+grave?' And the old feller said, 'You just wait a few minutes and
+I'll show ye.' Well, sir, he filled up a sack o' dirt and toted it
+down to the creek, and I went along with him to see him wash it out,
+and say, he took $3.25 out of one pan of that dirt, and $1.85 out of
+the other pan. Well, that knocked me. I says, 'Uncle, you're all
+right.' And then I made tracks for a bench claim next him. Well,
+about that time everybody began to hustle for bench claims, and now
+you can't get one anywhere near him."
+
+At another camp, a packer was telling of an immense nugget that had
+been discovered somewhere on the upper waters of Birch Creek. "And
+say, fellers, you know there is another lake up there pretty near as
+big as Atlin. They are calling it Lake Surprise. I heard a feller say
+a few days ago there was a big lake up there and I thought he meant a
+lake six or eight miles long. On the very high ground next to Birch,
+you can look down over that lake and I bet it's sixty miles long. It
+must reach nearly to Teslin Lake." There was something pretty fine in
+the thought of being in a country where lakes sixty miles long were
+being discovered and set forth on the maps of the world. Up to this
+time Atlin Lake itself was unmapped. To an unpractical man like
+myself it was reward enough to feel the thrill of excitement which
+comes with such discoveries.
+
+However, I was not a goldseeker, and when I determined to give up any
+further pursuit of mining and to delegate it entirely to my partner,
+I experienced a feeling of relief. I determined to "stick to my
+last," notwithstanding the fascination which I felt in the sight of
+placer gold. Quartz mining has never had the slightest attraction for
+me, but to see the gold washed out of the sand, to see it appear
+bright and shining in the black sand in the bottom of the pan, is
+really worth while. It is first-hand contact with Nature's stores of
+wealth.
+
+I went up to Discovery for the last time with my camera slung over my
+shoulder, and my note-book in hand to take a final survey of the
+miners and to hear for the last time their exultant talk. I found
+them exceedingly cheerful, even buoyant.
+
+The men who had gone in with ten days' provisions, the tenderfoot
+miners, the men "with a cigarette and a sandwich," had gone out.
+Those who remained were men who knew their business and were resolute
+and self-sustaining.
+
+There was a crowd of such men around the land-office tents and many
+filings were made. Nearly every man had his little phial of gold to
+show. No one was loud, but every one seemed to be quietly confident
+and replied to my questions in a low voice, "Well, you can safely say
+the country is all right."
+
+The day was fine like September in Wisconsin. The lake as I walked
+back to it was very alluring. My mind returned again and again to
+the things I had left behind for so long. My correspondence, my
+books, my friends, all the literary interests of my life, began to
+reassert their dominion over me. For some time I had realized that
+this was almost an ideal spot for camping or mining. Just over in the
+wild country toward Teslin Lake, herds of caribou were grazing. Moose
+and bear were being killed daily, rich and unknown streams were
+waiting for the gold pan, the pick and the shovel, but--it was not
+for me! I was ready to return--eager to return.
+
+
+
+
+THE FREEMAN OF THE HILLS
+
+
+    I have no master but the wind,
+      My only liege the sun;
+      All bonds and ties I leave behind,
+    Free as the wolf I run.
+    My master wind is passionless,
+      He neither chides nor charms;
+    He fans me or he freezes me,
+      And helps are quick as harms.
+
+    He never turns to injure me,
+      And when his voice is high
+    I crouch behind a rock and see
+      His storm of snows go by.
+    He too is subject of the sun,
+      As all things earthly are,
+    Where'er he flies, where'er I run,
+      We know our kingly star.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE MAPLE TREE
+
+
+    I am worn with the dull-green spires of fir,
+    I am tired of endless talk of gold,
+    I long for the cricket's cheery whirr,
+    And the song that the maples sang of old.
+    O the beauty and learning and light
+    That lie in the leaves of the level lands!
+    They shake my heart in the deep of the night,
+    They call me and bless me with calm, cool hands.
+
+      _Sing, O leaves of the maple tree,_
+      _I hear your voice by the savage sea,_
+      _Hear and hasten to home and thee!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE END OF THE TRAIL
+
+
+The day on which I crossed the lake to Taku City was most glorious. A
+September haze lay on the mountains, whose high slopes, orange, ruby,
+and golden-green, allured with almost irresistible attraction.
+Although the clouds were gathering in the east, the sunset was
+superb. Taku arm seemed a river of gold sweeping between gates of
+purple. As the darkness came on, a long creeping line of fire crept
+up a near-by mountain's side, and from time to time, as it reached
+some great pine, it flamed to the clouds like a mighty geyser of
+red-hot lava. It was splendid but terrible to witness.
+
+The next day was a long, long wait for the steamer. I now had in my
+pocket just twelve dollars, but possessed a return ticket on one of
+the boats. This ticket was not good on any other boat, and naturally
+I felt considerable anxiety for fear it would not turn up. My dinner
+consisted of moose steak, potatoes, and bread, and was most
+thoroughly enjoyed.
+
+At last the steamer came, but it was not the one on which I had
+secured passage, and as it took almost my last dollar to pay for deck
+passage thereon, I lived on some small cakes of my own baking, which
+I carried in a bag. I was now in a sad predicament unless I should
+connect at Lake Bennett with some one who would carry my outfit back
+to Skagway on credit. I ate my stale cakes and drank lake water, and
+thus fooled the little Jap steward out of two dollars. It was a sad
+business, but unavoidable.
+
+The lake being smooth, the trip consumed but thirteen hours, and we
+arrived at Bennett Lake late at night. Hoisting my bed and luggage to
+my shoulder, I went up on the side-hill like a stray dog, and made my
+bed down on the sand beside a cart, near a shack. The wind, cold and
+damp, swept over the mountains with a roar. I was afraid the owners
+of the cart might discover me there, and order me to seek a bed
+elsewhere. Dogs sniffed around me during the night, but on the whole
+I slept very well. I could feel the sand blowing over me in the wild
+gusts of wind which relented not in all my stay at Bennett City.
+
+I spent literally the last cent I had on a scanty breakfast, and
+then, in company with Doctor G. (a fellow prospector), started on my
+return to the coast over the far-famed Chilcoot Pass.
+
+At 9 A.M. we took the little ferry for the head of Lindernan Lake.
+The doctor paid my fare. The boat, a wabbly craft, was crowded with
+returning Klondikers, many of whom were full of importance and talk
+of their wealth; while others, sick and worn, with a wistful gleam in
+their eyes, seemed eager to get back to civilization and medical
+care. There were some women, also, who had made a fortune in
+dance-houses and were now bound for New York and Paris, where dresses
+could be had in the latest styles and in any quantities.
+
+My travelling mate, the doctor, was a tall and vigorous man from
+Winnipeg, accustomed to a plainsman's life, hardy and resolute. He
+said, "We ought to make Dyea to-day." I said in reply, "Very well, we
+can try."
+
+It was ten o'clock when we left the little boat and hit the trail,
+which was thirty miles long, and passed over the summit three
+thousand six hundred feet above the sea. The doctor's pace was
+tremendous, and we soon left every one else behind.
+
+I carried my big coat and camera, which hindered me not a little. For
+the first part of the journey the doctor preceded me, his broad
+shoulders keeping off the powerful wind and driving mist, which grew
+thicker as we rose among the ragged cliffs beside a roaring stream.
+
+That walk was a grim experience. Until two o'clock we climbed
+resolutely along a rough, rocky, and wooded trail, with the heavy
+mist driving into our faces. The road led up a rugged cañon and over
+a fairly good wagon road until somewhere about twelve o'clock. Then
+the foot trail deflected to the left, and climbed sharply over
+slippery ledges, along banks of ancient snows in which carcasses of
+horses lay embedded, and across many rushing little streams. The way
+grew grimmer each step. At last we came to Crater Lake, and from that
+point on it was a singular and sinister land of grassless crags
+swathed in mist. Nothing could be seen at this point but a desolate,
+flat expanse of barren sands over which gray-green streams wandered
+in confusion, coming from darkness and vanishing in obscurity.
+Strange shapes showed in the gray dusk of the Crater. It was like a
+landscape in hell. It seemed to be the end of the earth, where no
+life had ever been or could long exist.
+
+Across this flat to its farther wall we took our way, facing the
+roaring wind now heavy with clouds of rain. At last we stood in the
+mighty notch of the summit, through which the wind rushed as though
+hurrying to some far-off, deep-hidden vacuum in the world. The peaks
+of the mountains were lost in clouds out of which water fell in
+vicious slashes.
+
+The mist set the imagination free. The pinnacles around us were like
+those which top the Valley of Desolation. We seemed each moment about
+to plunge into ladderless abysses. Nothing ever imagined by Poe or
+Doré could be more singular, more sinister, than these summits in
+such a light, in such a storm. It might serve as the scene for an
+exiled devil. The picture of Beelzebub perched on one of those gray,
+dimly seen crags, his form outlined in the mist, would shake the
+heart. I thought of "Peer Gynt" wandering in the high home of the
+Trolls. Crags beetled beyond crags, and nothing could be heard but
+the wild waters roaring in the obscure depths beneath our feet. There
+was no sky, no level place, no growing thing, no bird or beast,--only
+crates of bones to show where some heartless master had pushed a
+faithful horse up these terrible heights to his death.
+
+And here--just here in a world of crags and mist--I heard a shout of
+laughter, and then bursting upon my sight, strong-limbed, erect, and
+full-bosomed, appeared a girl. Her face was like a rain-wet rose--a
+splendid, unexpected flower set in this dim and gray and desolate
+place. Fearlessly she fronted me to ask the way, a laugh upon her
+lips, her big gray eyes confident of man's chivalry, modest and
+sincere. I had been so long among rude men and their coarse consorts
+that this fair woman lit the mist as if with sudden sunshine--just a
+moment and was gone. There were others with her, but they passed
+unnoticed. There in the gloom, like a stately pink rose, I set the
+Girl of the Mist.
+
+Sheep Camp was the end of the worst portion of the trail. I had now
+crossed both the famed passes, much improved of course. They are no
+longer dangerous (a woman in good health can cross them easily), but
+they are grim and grievous ways. They reek of cruelty and every
+association that is coarse and hard. They possess a peculiar value to
+me in that they throw into fadeless splendor the wealth, the calm,
+the golden sunlight which lay upon the proud beauty of Atlin Lake.
+
+The last hours of the trip formed a supreme test of endurance. At
+Sheep Camp, a wet and desolate shanty town, eight miles from Dyea, we
+came upon stages just starting over our road. But as they were all
+open carriages, and we were both wet with perspiration and rain, and
+hungry and tired, we refused to book passage.
+
+"To ride eight miles in an open wagon would mean a case of pneumonia
+to me," I said.
+
+"Quite right," said the doctor, and we pulled out down the road at a
+smart clip.
+
+The rain had ceased, but the air was raw and the sky gray, and I was
+very tired, and those eight miles stretched out like a rubber string.
+Night fell before we had passed over half the road, which lay for the
+most part down the flat along the Chilcoot River. In fact, we crossed
+this stream again and again. In places there were bridges, but most
+of the crossings were fords where it was necessary to wade through
+the icy water above our shoe tops. Our legs, numb and weary, threw
+off this chill with greater pain each time. As the night fell we
+could only see the footpath by the dim shine of its surface patted
+smooth by the moccasined feet of the Indian packers. At last I walked
+with a sort of mechanical action which was dependent on my
+subconscious will. There was nothing else to do but to go through.
+The doctor was a better walker than I. His long legs had more reach
+as well as greater endurance. Nevertheless he admitted being about as
+tired as ever in his life.
+
+At last, when it seemed as though I could not wade any more of those
+icy streams and continue to walk, we came in sight of the electric
+lights on the wharfs of Dyea, sparkling like jewels against the gray
+night. Their radiant promise helped over the last mile miraculously.
+We were wet to the knees and covered with mud as we entered upon the
+straggling street of the decaying town. We stopped in at the first
+restaurant to get something hot to eat, but found ourselves almost
+too tired to enjoy even pea soup. But it warmed us up a little, and
+keeping on down the street we came at last to a hotel of very
+comfortable accommodations. We ordered a fire built to dry our
+clothing, and staggered up the stairs.
+
+That ended the goldseekers' trail for me. Henceforward I intended to
+ride--nevertheless I was pleased to think I could still walk thirty
+miles in eleven hours through a rain storm, and over a summit three
+thousand six hundred feet in height. The city had not entirely eaten
+the heart out of my body.
+
+We arose from a dreamless sleep, somewhat sore, but in amazingly good
+trim considering our condition the night before, and made our way
+into our muddy clothing with grim resolution. After breakfast we took
+a small steamer which ran to Skagway, where we spent the day
+arranging to take the steamer to the south. We felt quite at home in
+Skagway now, and Chicago seemed not very far away. Having made
+connection with my bankers I stretched out in my twenty-five cent
+bunk with the assurance of a gold king.
+
+Here the long trail took a turn. I had been among the miners and
+hunters for four months. I had been one of them. I had lived the
+essentials of their lives, and had been able to catch from them some
+hint of their outlook on life. They were a disappointment to me in
+some ways. They seemed like mechanisms. They moved as if drawn by
+some great magnet whose centre was Dawson City. They appeared to
+drift on and in toward that human maelstrom going irresolutely to
+their ruin. They did not seem to me strong men--on the contrary, they
+seemed weak men--or men strong with one insane purpose. They set
+their faces toward the golden north, and went on and on through every
+obstacle like men dreaming, like somnambulists--bending their backs
+to the most crushing burdens, their faces distorted with effort. "On
+to Dawson!" "To the Klondike!" That was all they knew.
+
+I overtook them in the Fraser River Valley, I found them in Hazleton.
+They were setting sail at Bennett, tugging oars on the Hotalinqua,
+and hundreds of them were landing every day at Dawson, there to stand
+with lax jaws waiting for something to turn up--lost among thousands
+of their kind swarming in with the same insane purpose.
+
+Skagway was to me a sad place. On either side rose green mountains
+covered with crawling glaciers. Between these stern walls, a cold and
+violent wind roared ceaselessly from the sea gates through which the
+ships drive hurriedly. All these grim presences depressed me. I
+longed for release from them. I waited with impatience the coming of
+the steamer which was to rescue me from the merciless beach.
+
+At last it came, and its hoarse boom thrilled the heart of many a
+homesick man like myself. We had not much to put aboard, and when I
+climbed the gang-plank it was with a feeling of fortunate escape.
+
+
+
+
+A GIRL ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+    A flutter of skirts in the dapple of leaves on the trees,
+    The sound of a small, happy voice on the breeze,
+    The print of a slim little foot on the trail,
+    And the miners rejoice as they hammer with picks in
+    the vale.
+
+    For fairer than gold is the face of a maid,
+    And sovereign as stars the light of her eyes;
+    For women alone were the long trenches laid;
+    For women alone they defy the stern skies.
+
+    These toilers are grimy, and hairy, and dun
+    With the wear of the wind, the scorch of the sun;
+    But their picks fall slack, their foul tongues are mute--
+    As the maiden goes by these earthworms salute!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+HOMEWARD BOUND
+
+
+The steamer was crowded with men who had also made the turn at the
+end of the trail. There were groups of prospectors (disappointed and
+sour) from Copper River, where neither copper nor gold had been
+found. There were miners sick and broken who had failed on the
+Tanana, and others, emaciated and eager-eyed, from Dawson City going
+out with a part of the proceeds of the year's work to see their wives
+and children. There were a few who considered themselves great
+capitalists, and were on their way to spend the winter in luxury in
+the Eastern cities, and there were grub stakers who had squandered
+their employers' money in drink and gaming.
+
+None of them interested me very greatly. I was worn out with the
+filth and greed and foolishness of many of these men. They were
+commonplace citizens, turned into stampeders without experience or
+skill.
+
+One of the most successful men on the boat had been a truckman in the
+streets of Tacoma, and was now the silly possessor of a one-third
+interest in some great mines on the Klondike River. He told every one
+of his great deeds, and what he was worth. He let us know how big
+his house was, and how much he paid for his piano. He was not a bad
+man, he was merely a cheap man, and was followed about by a gang of
+heelers to whom drink was luxury and vice an entertainment. These
+parasites slapped the teamster on the shoulder and listened to every
+empty phrase he uttered, as though his gold had made of him something
+sacred and omniscient.
+
+I had no interest in him till being persuaded to play the fiddle he
+sat in the "social room," and sawed away on "Honest John," "The
+Devil's Dream," "Haste to the Wedding," and "The Fisher's Hornpipe."
+He lost all sense of being a millionnaire, and returned to his
+simple, unsophisticated self. The others cheered him because he had
+gold. I cheered him because he was a good old "corduroy fiddler."
+
+Again we passed between the lofty blue-black and bronze-green walls
+of Lynn Canal. The sea was cold, placid, and gray. The mist cut the
+mountains at the shoulder. Vast glaciers came sweeping down from the
+dread mystery of the upper heights. Lower still lines of running
+water white as silver came leaping down from cliff to cliff--slender,
+broken of line, nearly perpendicular--to fall at last into the gray
+hell of the sea.
+
+It was a sullen land which menaced as with lowering brows and
+clenched fists. A landscape without delicacy of detail or warmth or
+variety of color--a land demanding young, cheerful men. It was no
+place for the old or for women.
+
+As we neared Wrangell the next afternoon I tackled the purser about
+carrying my horse. He had no room, so I left the boat in order to
+wait for another with better accommodations for Ladrone.
+
+Almost the first man I met on the wharf was Donald.
+
+"How's the horse?" I queried.
+
+"Gude!--fat and sassy. There's no a fence in a' the town can hold
+him. He jumped into Colonel Crittendon's garden patch, and there's a
+dollar to pay for the cauliflower he ate, and he broke down a fence
+by the church, ye've to fix that up--but he's in gude trim himsel'."
+
+"Tell 'm to send in their bills," I replied with vast relief. "Has he
+been much trouble to you?"
+
+"Verra leetle except to drive into the lot at night. I had but to go
+down where he was feeding and soon as he heard me comin' he made for
+the lot--he knew quite as well as I did what was wanted of him. He's
+a canny old boy."
+
+As I walked out to find the horse I discovered his paths everywhere.
+He had made himself entirely at home. He owned the village and was
+able to walk any sidewalk in town. Everybody knew his habits. He
+drank in a certain place, and walked a certain round of daily
+feeding. The children all cried out at me: "Goin' to find the horsie?
+He's over by the church." A darky woman smiled from the door of a
+cabin and said, "You ole hoss lookin' mighty fine dese days."
+
+When I came to him I was delighted and amused. He had taken on some
+fat and a great deal of dirt. He had also acquired an aldermanic
+paunch which quite destroyed his natural symmetry of body, but he
+was well and strong and lively. He seemed to recognize me, and as I
+put the rope about his neck and fell to in the effort to make him
+clean once more, he seemed glad of my presence.
+
+That day began my attempt to get away. I carted out my feed and
+saddles, and when all was ready I sat on the pier and watched the
+burnished water of the bay for the dim speck which a steamer makes in
+rounding the distant island. At last the cry arose, "A steamer from
+the north!" I hurried for Ladrone, and as I passed with the horse the
+citizens smiled incredulously and asked, "Goin' to take the horse
+with you, eh?"
+
+The boys and girls came out to say good-by to the horse on whose back
+they had ridden. Ladrone followed me most trustfully, looking
+straight ahead, his feet clumping loudly on the boards of the walk.
+Hitching him on the wharf I lugged and heaved and got everything in
+readiness.
+
+In vain! The steamer had no place for my horse and I was forced to
+walk him back and turn him loose once more upon the grass. I renewed
+my watching. The next steamer did not touch at the same wharf.
+Therefore I carted all my goods, feed, hay, and general plunder,
+around to the other wharf. As I toiled to and fro the citizens began
+to smile very broadly. I worked like a hired man in harvest. At last,
+horse, feed, and baggage were once more ready. When the next boat
+came in I timidly approached the purser.
+
+No, he had no place for me but would take my horse! Once more I led
+Ladrone back to pasture and the citizens laughed most unconcealedly.
+They laid bets on my next attempt. In McKinnon's store I was greeted
+as a permanent citizen of Fort Wrangell. I began to grow nervous on
+my own account. Was I to remain forever in Wrangell? The bay was most
+beautiful, but the town was wretched. It became each day more
+unendurable to me. I searched the waters of the bay thereafter, with
+gaze that grew really anxious. I sat for hours late at night holding
+my horse and glaring out into the night in the hope to see the lights
+of a steamer appear round the high hills of the coast.
+
+At last the _Forallen_, a great barnyard of a ship, came in. I met
+the captain. I paid my fare. I got my contract and ticket, and
+leading Ladrone into the hoisting box I stepped aside.
+
+The old boy was quiet while I stood near, but when the whistle
+sounded and the sling rose in air leaving me below, his big eyes
+flashed with fear and dismay. He struggled furiously for a moment and
+then was quiet. A moment later he dropped into the hold and was safe.
+He thought himself in a barn once more, and when I came hurrying down
+the stairway he whinnied. He seized the hay I put before him and
+thereafter was quite at home.
+
+The steamer had a score of mules and work horses on board, but they
+occupied stalls on the upper deck, leaving Ladrone aristocratically
+alone in his big, well-ventilated barn, and there three times each
+day I went to feed and water him. I rubbed him with hay till his coat
+began to glimmer in the light and planned what I could do to help
+him through a storm. Fortunately the ocean was perfectly smooth even
+across the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound, where the open sea
+enters and the big swells are sometimes felt. Ladrone never knew he
+was moving at all.
+
+The mate of the boat took unusual interest in the horse because of
+his deeds and my care of him.
+
+Meanwhile I was hearing from time to time of my fellow-sufferers on
+the Long Trail. It was reported in Wrangell that some of the
+unfortunates were still on the snowy divide between the Skeena and
+the Stikeen. That terrible trail will not soon be forgotten by any
+one who traversed it.
+
+On the fifth day we entered Seattle and once more the sling-box
+opened its doors for Ladrone. This time he struggled not at all. He
+seemed to say: "I know this thing. I tried it once and it didn't hurt
+me--I'm not afraid."
+
+Now this horse belongs to the wild country. He was born on the
+bunch-grass hills of British Columbia and he had never seen a
+street-car in his life. Engines he knew something about, but not
+much. Steamboats and ferries he knew a great deal about; but all the
+strange monsters and diabolical noises of a city street were new to
+him, and it was with some apprehension that I took his rein to lead
+him down to the freight depot and his car.
+
+Again this wonderful horse amazed me. He pointed his alert and
+quivering ears at me and followed with never so much as a single
+start or shying bound. He seemed to reason that as I had led him
+through many dangers safely I could still be trusted. Around us huge
+trucks rattled, electric cars clanged, railway engines whizzed and
+screamed, but Ladrone never so much as tightened the rein; and when
+in the dark of the chute (which led to the door of the car) he put
+his soft nose against me to make sure I was still with him, my heart
+grew so tender that I would not have left him behind for a thousand
+dollars.
+
+I put him in a roomy box-car and bedded him knee-deep in clean yellow
+straw. I padded the hitching pole with his blanket, moistened his
+hay, and put some bran before him. Then I nailed him in and took my
+leave of him with some nervous dread, for the worst part of his
+journey was before him. He must cross three great mountain ranges and
+ride eight days, over more than two thousand miles of railway. I
+could not well go with him, but I planned to overhaul him at Spokane
+and see how he was coming on.
+
+I did not sleep much that night. I recalled how the great forest
+trees were blazing last year when I rode over this same track. I
+thought of the sparks flying from the engine, and how easy it would
+be for a single cinder to fall in the door and set all that dry straw
+ablaze. I was tired and my mind conjured up such dire images as men
+dream of after indigestible dinners.
+
+
+
+
+
+O THE FIERCE DELIGHT
+
+
+    O the fierce delight, the passion
+      That comes from the wild,
+    Where the rains and the snows go over,
+      And man is a child.
+
+    Go, set your face to the open,
+      And lay your breast to the blast,
+    When the pines are rocking and groaning,
+      And the rent clouds tumble past.
+
+    Go swim the streams of the mountains,
+      Where the gray-white waters are mad,
+    Go set your foot on the summit,
+      And shout and be glad!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+LADRONE TRAVELS IN STATE
+
+
+With a little leisure to walk about and talk with the citizens of
+Seattle, I became aware of a great change since the year before. The
+boom of the goldseeker was over. The talk was more upon the Spanish
+war; the business of outfitting was no longer paramount; the reckless
+hurrah, the splendid exultation, were gone. Men were sailing to the
+north, but they embarked, methodically, in business fashion.
+
+It is safe to say that the north will never again witness such a
+furious rush of men as that which took place between August, '97, and
+June, '98. Gold is still there, and it will continue to be sought,
+but the attention of the people is directed elsewhere. In Seattle, as
+all along the line, the talk a year ago had been almost entirely on
+gold hunting. Every storekeeper advertised Klondike goods, but these
+signs were now rusty and faded. The fever was over, the reign of the
+humdrum was restored.
+
+Taking the train next day, I passed Ladrone in the night somewhere,
+and as I looked from my window at the great fires blazing in the
+forest, my fear of his burning came upon me again. At Spokane I
+waited with great anxiety for him to arrive. At last the train drew
+in and I hurried to his car. The door was closed, and as I nervously
+forced it open he whinnied with that glad chuckling a gentle horse
+uses toward his master. He had plenty of hay, but was hot and
+thirsty, and I hurried at risk of life and limb to bring him cool
+water. His eyes seemed to shine with delight as he saw me coming with
+the big bucket of cool drink. Leaving him a tub of water, I bade him
+good-by once more and started him for Helena, five hundred miles
+away.
+
+At Missoula, the following evening, I rushed into the ticket office
+and shouted, "Where is '54'?"
+
+The clerk knew me and smilingly extended his hand.
+
+"How de do? She has just pulled out. The horse is all OK. We gave him
+fresh water and feed."
+
+I thanked him and returned to my train.
+
+Reaching Livingston in the early morning I was forced to wait nearly
+all day for the train. This was no hardship, however, for it enabled
+me to return once more to the plain. All the old familiar presences
+were there. The splendid sweep of brown, smooth hills, the glory of
+clear sky, the crisp exhilarating air, appealed to me with great
+power after my long stay in the cold, green mountains of the north.
+
+I walked out a few miles from the town over the grass brittle and
+hot, from which the clapping grasshoppers rose in swarms, and
+dropping down on the point of a mesa I relived again in drowse the
+joys of other days. It was plain to me that goldseeking in the Rocky
+Mountains was marvellously simple and easy compared to even the best
+sections of the Northwest, and the long journey of the Forty-niners
+was not only incredibly more splendid and dramatic, but had the
+allurement of a land of eternal summer beyond the final great range.
+The long trail I had just passed was not only grim and monotonous,
+but led toward an ever increasing ferocity of cold and darkness to
+the arctic circle and the silence of death.
+
+When the train came crawling down the pink and purple slopes of the
+hills at sunset that night, I was ready for my horse. Bridle in hand
+I raced after the big car while it was being drawn up into the
+freight yards. As I galloped I held excited controversy with the head
+brakeman. I asked that the car be sent to the platform. He objected.
+I insisted and the car was thrown in. I entered, and while Ladrone
+whinnied glad welcome I knocked out some bars, bridled him, and said,
+"Come, boy, now for a gambol." He followed me without the slightest
+hesitation out on the platform and down the steep slope to the
+ground. There I mounted him without waiting for saddle and away we
+flew.
+
+He was gay as a bird. His neck arched and his eyes and ears were
+quick as squirrels. We galloped down to the Yellowstone River and
+once more he thrust his dusty nozzle deep into the clear mountain
+water. Then away he raced until our fifteen minutes were up. I was
+glad to quit. He was too active for me to enjoy riding without a
+saddle. Right up to the door of the car he trotted, seeming to
+understand that his journey was not yet finished. He entered
+unhesitatingly and took his place. I battened down the bars, nailed
+the doors into place, filled his tub with cold water, mixed him a
+bran mash, and once more he rolled away. I sent him on this time,
+however, with perfect confidence. He was actually getting fat on his
+prison fare, and was too wise to allow himself to be bruised by the
+jolting of the cars.
+
+The bystanders seeing a horse travelling in such splendid loneliness
+asked, "Runnin' horse?" and I (to cover my folly) replied evasively,
+"He can run a little for good money." This satisfied every one that
+he was a sprinter and quite explained his private car.
+
+At Bismarck I found myself once more ahead of "54" and waited all day
+for the horse to appear. As the time of the train drew near I
+borrowed a huge water pail and tugged a supply of water out beside
+the track and there sat for three hours, expecting the train each
+moment. At last it came, but Ladrone was not there. His car was
+missing. I rushed into the office of the operator: "Where's the horse
+in '13,238'?" I asked.
+
+"I don't know," answered the agent, in the tone of one who didn't
+care.
+
+Visions of Ladrone side-tracked somewhere and perishing for want of
+air and water filled my mind. I waxed warm.
+
+"That horse must be found at once," I said. The clerks and operators
+wearily looked out of the window. The idea of any one being so
+concerned about a horse was to them insanity or worse. I insisted. I
+banged my fist on the table. At last one of the young men yawned
+languidly, looked at me with dim eyes, and as one brain-cell
+coalesced with another seemed to mature an idea. He said:--
+
+"Rheinhart had a horse this morning on his extra."
+
+"Did he--maybe that's the one." They discussed this probability with
+lazy indifference. At last they condescended to include me in their
+conversation.
+
+I insisted on their telegraphing till they found that horse, and with
+an air of distress and saint-like patience the agent wrote out a
+telegram and sent it. Thereafter he could not see me; nevertheless I
+persisted. I returned to the office each quarter of an hour to ask if
+an answer had come to the telegram. At last it came. Ladrone was
+ahead and would arrive in St. Paul nearly twelve hours before me. I
+then telegraphed the officers of the road to see that he did not
+suffer and composed myself as well as I could for the long wait.
+
+At St. Paul I hurried to the freight office and found the horse had
+been put in a stable. I sought the stable, and there, among the big
+dray horses, looking small and trim as a racer, was the lost horse,
+eating merrily on some good Minnesota timothy. He was just as much at
+ease there as in the car or the boat or on the marshes of the Skeena
+valley, but he was still a half-day's ride from his final home.
+
+I bustled about filling up another car. Again for the last time I
+sweated and tugged getting feed, water, and bedding. Again the
+railway hands marvelled and looked askance. Again some one said,
+"Does it pay to bring a horse like that so far?"
+
+"Pay!" I shouted, thoroughly disgusted, "does it pay to feed a dog
+for ten years? Does it pay to ride a bicycle? Does it pay to bring up
+a child? Pay--no; it does not pay. I'm amusing myself. You drink beer
+because you like to, you use tobacco--I squander my money on a
+horse." I said a good deal more than the case demanded, being hot and
+dusty and tired and--I had broken loose. The clerk escaped through a
+side door.
+
+Once more I closed the bars on the gray and saw him wheeled out into
+the grinding, jolting tangle of cars where the engines cried out like
+some untamable flesh-eating monsters. The light was falling, the
+smoke thickening, and it was easy to imagine a tragic fate for the
+patient and lonely horse.
+
+Delay in getting the car made me lose my train and I was obliged to
+take a late train which did not stop at my home. I was still paying
+for my horse out of my own bone and sinew. At last the luscious green
+hills, the thick grasses, the tall corn-shocks and the portly
+hay-stacks of my native valley came in view and they never looked so
+abundant, so generous, so entirely sufficing to man and beast as now
+in returning from a land of cold green forests, sparse grass, and icy
+streams.
+
+At ten o'clock another huge freight train rolled in, Ladrone's car
+was side-tracked and sent to the chute. For the last time he felt the
+jolt of the car. In a few minutes I had his car opened and a plank
+laid.
+
+"Come, boy!" I called. "This is home."
+
+He followed me as before, so readily, so trustingly, my heart
+responded to his affection. I swung to the saddle. With neck arched
+high and with a proud and lofty stride he left the door of his prison
+behind him. His fame had spread through the village. On every corner
+stood the citizens to see him pass.
+
+As I opened the door to the barn I said to him:--
+
+"Enter! Your days of thirst, of hunger, of cruel exposure to rain and
+snow are over. Here is food that shall not fail," and he seemed to
+understand.
+
+It might seem absurd if I were to give expression to the relief and
+deep pleasure it gave me to put that horse into that familiar stall.
+He had been with me more than four thousand miles. He had carried me
+through hundreds of icy streams and over snow fields. He had
+responded to every word and obeyed every command. He had suffered
+from cold and hunger and poison. He had walked logs and wallowed
+through quicksands. He had helped me up enormous mountains and I had
+guided him down dangerous declivities. His faithful heart had never
+failed even in days of direst need, and now he shall live amid plenty
+and have no care so long as he lives. It does not pay,--that is
+sure,--but after all what does pay?
+
+
+
+
+THE LURE OF THE DESERT
+
+
+    I lie in my blanket, alone, alone!
+    Hearing the voice of the roaring rain,
+    And my heart is moved by the wind's low moan
+    To wander the wastes of the wind-worn plain,
+    Searching for something--I cannot tell--
+    The face of a woman, the love of a child--
+    Or only the rain-wet prairie swell
+    Or the savage woodland wide and wild.
+
+    I must go away--I know not where!
+    Lured by voices that cry and cry,
+    Drawn by fingers that clutch my hair,
+    Called to the mountains bleak and high,
+    Led to the mesas hot and bare.
+    O God! How my heart's blood wakes and thrills
+    To the cry of the wind, the lure of the hills.
+    I'll follow you, follow you far;
+    Ye voices of winds, and rain and sky,
+    To the peaks that shatter the evening star.
+    Wealth, honor, wife, child--all
+    I have in the city's keep,
+    I loose and forget when ye call and call
+    And the desert winds around me sweep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE GOLDSEEKERS REACH THE GOLDEN RIVER
+
+
+The goldseekers are still seeking. I withdrew, but they went on. In
+the warmth and security of my study, surrounded by the peace and
+comfort of my native Coolly, I thought of them as they went toiling
+over the trail, still toward the north. It was easy for me to imagine
+their daily life. The Manchester boys and Burton, my partner, left
+Glenora with ten horses and more than two thousand pounds of
+supplies.
+
+Twice each day this immense load had to be handled; sometimes in
+order to rest and graze the ponies, every sack and box had to be
+taken down and lifted up to their lashings again four times each day.
+This meant toil. It meant also constant worry and care while the
+train was in motion. Three times each day a campfire was built and
+coffee and beans prepared.
+
+However, the weather continued fair, my partner wrote me, and they
+arrived at Teslin Lake in September, after being a month on the road,
+and there set about building a boat to carry them down the river.
+
+Here the horses were sold, and I know it must have been a sad moment
+for Burton to say good-by to his faithful brutes. But there was no
+help for it. There was no more thought of going to the head-waters
+of the Pelly and no more use for the horses. Indeed, the gold-hunters
+abandoned all thought of the Nisutlin and the Hotalinqua. They were
+fairly in the grasp of the tremendous current which seemed to get
+ever swifter as it approached the mouth of the Klondike River. They
+were mad to reach the pool wherein all the rest of the world was
+fishing. Nothing less would satisfy them.
+
+At last they cast loose from the shore and started down the river,
+straight into the north. Each hour, each mile, became a menace. Day
+by day they drifted while the spitting snows fell hissing into the
+cold water, and ice formed around the keel of the boat at night. They
+passed men camped and panning dirt, but continued resolute, halting
+only "to pass the good word."
+
+It grew cold with appalling rapidity and the sun fell away to the
+south with desolating speed. The skies darkened and lowered as the
+days shortened. All signs of life except those of other argonauts
+disappeared. The river filled with drifting ice, and each night
+landing became more difficult.
+
+At last the winter came. The river closed up like an iron trap, and
+before they knew it they were caught in the jam of ice and fighting
+for their lives. They landed on a wooded island after a desperate
+struggle and went into camp with the thermometer thirty below zero.
+But what of that? They were now in the gold belt. After six months of
+incessant toil, of hope deferred, they were at last on the spot
+toward which they had struggled.
+
+All around them was the overflow from the Klondike. Their desire to
+go farther was checked. They had reached the counter current--the
+back-water--and were satisfied.
+
+Leaving to others the task of building a permanent camp, my sturdy
+partner, a couple of days later, started prospecting in company with
+two others whom he had selected to represent the other outfit. The
+thermometer was fifty-six degrees below zero, and yet for seven days,
+with less than six hours' sleep, without a tent, those devoted idiots
+hunted the sands of a near-by creek for gold, and really staked
+claims.
+
+On the way back one of the men grew sleepy and would have lain down
+to die except for the vigorous treatment of Burton, who mauled him
+and dragged him about and rubbed him with snow until his blood began
+to circulate once more. In attempting to walk on the river, which was
+again in motion, Burton fell through, wetting one leg above the knee.
+It was still more than thirty degrees below zero, but what of that?
+He merely kept going.
+
+They reached the bank opposite the camp late on the seventh day, but
+were unable to cross the moving ice. For the eighth night they
+"danced around the fire as usual," not daring to sleep for fear of
+freezing. They literally frosted on one side while scorching at the
+fire on the other, turning like so many roasting pigs before the
+blaze. The river solidified during the night and they crossed to the
+camp to eat and sleep in safety.
+
+A couple of weeks later they determined to move down the river to a
+new stampede in Thistle Creek. Once more these indomitable souls
+left their warm cabin, took up their beds and nearly two thousand
+pounds of outfit and toiled down the river still farther into the
+terrible north. The chronicle of this trip by Burton is of
+mathematical brevity: "On 20th concluded to move. Took four days.
+Very cold. Ther. down to 45 below. Froze one toe. Got claim--now
+building cabin. Expect to begin singeing in a few days."
+
+The toil, the suffering, the monotonous food, the lack of fire, he
+did not dwell upon, but singeing, that is to say burning down through
+the eternally frozen ground, was to begin at once. To singe a hole
+into the soil ten or fifteen feet deep in the midst of the sunless
+seventy of the arctic circle is no light task, but these men will do
+it; if hardihood and honest toil are of any avail they will all share
+in the precious sand whose shine has lured them through all the dark
+days of the long trail, calling with such power that nothing could
+stay them or turn them aside.
+
+If they fail, well--
+
+    This out of all will remain,
+    They have lived and have tossed.
+    So much of the game will be gain,
+    Though the gold of the dice has been lost.
+
+
+
+
+HERE THE TRAIL ENDS
+
+
+    Here the trail ends--Here by a river
+    So swifter, and darker, and colder
+    Than any we crossed on our long, long way.
+    Steady, Dan, steady. Ho, there, my dapple,
+    You first from the saddle shall slip and be free.
+    Now go, you are clear from command of a master;
+    Go wade in the grasses, go munch at the grain.
+    I love you, my faithful, but all is now over;
+    Ended the comradeship held 'twixt us twain.
+    I go to the river and the wide lands beyond it,
+    You go to the pasture, and death claims us all.
+    _For here the trail ends!_
+
+    _Here the trail ends!_
+    Draw near with the broncos.
+    Slip the hitch, loose the cinches,
+    Slide the saw-bucks away from each worn, weary back.
+    We are done with the axe, the camp, and the kettle;
+    Strike hand to each cayuse and send him away.
+    Let them go where the roses and grasses are growing,
+    To the meadows that slope to the warm western sea.
+    No more shall they serve us; no more shall they suffer
+    The sting of the lash, the heat of the day.
+    Soon they will go to a winterless haven,
+    To the haven of beasts where none may enslave.
+    _For here the trail ends_.
+
+    _Here the trail ends._
+    Never again shall the far-shining mountains allure us,
+    No more shall the icy mad torrents appall.
+    Fold up the sling ropes, coil down the cinches,
+    Cache the saddles, and put the brown bridles away.
+    Not one of the roses of Navajo silver,
+    Not even a spur shall we save from the rust.
+    Put away the worn tent-cloth, let the red people have it;
+    We are done with all shelter, we are done with the gun.
+    Not so much as a pine branch, not even a willow
+    Shall swing in the air 'twixt us and our God.
+    Naked and lone we cross the wide ferry,
+    Bare to the cold, the dark and the rain.
+    _For here the trail ends._
+
+    _Here the trail ends._ Here by the landing
+    I wait the last boat, the slow silent one.
+    We each go alone--no man with another,
+    Each into the gloom of the swift black flood--
+    Boys, it is hard, but here we must scatter;
+    The gray boatman waits, and I--I go first.
+    All is dark over there where the dim boat is rocking--
+    But that is no matter! No man need to fear;
+    For clearly we're told the powers that lead us
+    Shall govern the game to the end of the day.
+    _Good-by--here the trail ends!_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WORKS BY
+
+GILBERT PARKER
+
+16mo. Cloth. Each, $1.25.
+
+  PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE.
+      WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC.
+          AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH.
+              A ROMANY OF THE SNOWS.
+                  A LOVER'S DIARY.
+
+
+"He has the instinct of the thing: his narrative has distinction, his
+characters and incidents have the picturesque quality, and he has the
+sense for the scale of character-drawing demanded by romance, hitting
+the happy mean between lay figures and over-analyzed 'souls.'"
+
+--_St. James Gazette._
+
+
+"Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and
+genius in Mr. Parker's style."
+
+--_Daily Telegraph,_ London.
+
+
+  PUBLISHED BY
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY,
+  66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+_A NEW EDITION_
+
+ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY
+
+BY
+
+HAMLIN GARLAND
+
+Cloth, 12mo. $1.50
+
+
+_WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS_
+
+"I cherish with a grateful sense of the high pleasure they have given
+me Mr. Garland's splendid achievements in objective fiction."
+
+
+_THE CRITIC_
+
+"Its realism is hearty, vivid, flesh and blood realism, which makes
+the book readable even to those who disapprove most conscientiously
+of many things in it."
+
+
+_THE NEW AGE_
+
+"It is, beyond all manner of doubt, one of the most powerful novels
+of recent years. It has created a sensation."
+
+
+_KANSAS CITY JOURNAL_
+
+"After the fashion of all rare vintages Mr. Garland seems to improve
+with age. No more evidence of this is needed than a perusal of his
+'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly.' One might sum up the many excellences of
+the entire story by saying that it is not unworthy of any American
+writer."
+
+
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+  66 FIFTH AVENUE
+  NEW YORK
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS***
+
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trail of the Goldseekers, by Hamlin Garland</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trail of the Goldseekers, by Hamlin
+Garland</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Trail of the Goldseekers</p>
+<p>       A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse</p>
+<p>Author: Hamlin Garland</p>
+<p>Release Date: April 10, 2009  [eBook #28551]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by Karen Dalrymple<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from digital material generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/trailgoldseekers00garlrich">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/trailgoldseekers00garlrich</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>The Trail of the Goldseekers</h1>
+<div><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 141px;">
+<img src="images/logo.png" width="141" height="49" alt="Publisher logo" title="" />
+</div>
+<div><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="bbox">
+<h1>The Trail of the Goldseekers</h1>
+
+<hr class="tenth" />
+
+<div class="center large"><i>A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse</i></div>
+
+</div>
+<div><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="bbox">
+<h2>
+<span class="medium">By</span>
+<br /><br />
+HAMLIN GARLAND
+</h2>
+
+<i>Author of</i>
+<br />
+Rose of Dutcher's Coolly
+<br />
+Main Travelled Roads
+<br />
+Prairie Folks
+<br />
+Boy Life on the Prairie, etc.
+<br />
+</div>
+<div><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="bbox">
+New York
+<br />
+<span class="large">The Macmillan Company</span>
+<br />
+London: Macmillan &amp; Co., Ltd.
+<br />
+1906
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<br /><br />
+<span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1899,
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">By HAMLIN GARLAND.</span>
+</div>
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr class="tenth" />
+<div class="center">
+Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1899. Reprinted January,
+1906.
+</div>
+
+<div class="center">
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<i>Norwood Press</i>
+<br />
+<i>J. S. Cushing &amp; Co.&mdash;Berwick &amp; Smith Co.</i>
+<br />
+<i>Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.</i>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+<hr class="section" />
+
+<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="small">
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 13%;">CHAPTER</span>  <span class="linenum">PAGE</span>
+</div>
+<ol>
+<li>Coming of the Ships  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></span></li>
+<li>Outfitting  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></span></li>
+<li>On the Stage Road  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_21'>21</a></span></li>
+<li>In Camp at Quesnelle  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_33'>33</a></span></li>
+<li>The Blue Rat  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_37'>37</a></span></li>
+<li>The Beginning of the Long Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></span></li>
+<li>The Blackwater Divide  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_53'>53</a></span></li>
+<li>We swim the Nechaco  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></span></li>
+<li>First Crossing of the Bulkley  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></span></li>
+<li>Down the Bulkley Valley  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></span></li>
+<li>Hazleton. Midway on the Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_97'>97</a></span></li>
+<li>Crossing the Big Divide  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></span></li>
+<li>The Silent Forests  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_119'>119</a></span></li>
+<li>The Great Stikeen Divide  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></span></li>
+<li>In the Cold Green Mountains  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_139'>139</a></span></li>
+<li>The Passing of the Beans  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></span></li>
+<li>The Wolves and the Vultures Assemble  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></span></li>
+<li>At Last the Stikeen  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></span></li>
+<li>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>
+The Goldseekers' Camp at Glenora  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_185'>185</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>Great News at Wrangell  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></span></li>
+<li>The Rush to Atlin Lake  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_207'>207</a></span></li>
+<li>Atlin Lake and the Gold Fields  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></span></li>
+<li>The End of the Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_231'>231</a></span></li>
+<li>Homeward Bound  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_241'>241</a></span></li>
+<li>Ladrone travels in State  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_251'>251</a></span></li>
+<li>The Goldseekers reach the Golden River  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></span></li>
+</ol>
+
+<h3>POEMS</h3>
+
+
+<ul>
+<li>Anticipation  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></span></li>
+<li>Where the Desert flames with Furnace Heat  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_2'>2</a></span></li>
+<li>The Cow-boy  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></span></li>
+<li>From Plain to Peak  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_19'>19</a></span></li>
+<li>Momentous Hour  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></span></li>
+<li>A Wish  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_32'>32</a></span></li>
+<li>The Gift of Water  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></span></li>
+<li>Mounting  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></span></li>
+<li>The Eagle Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_36'>36</a></span></li>
+<li>Moon on the Plain  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></span></li>
+<li>The Whooping Crane  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></span></li>
+<li>The Loon  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></span></li>
+<li>Yet still we rode  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></span></li>
+<li>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>
+The Gaunt Gray Wolf  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>Abandoned on the Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_80'>80</a></span></li>
+<li>Do you fear the Wind?  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></span></li>
+<li>Siwash Graves  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></span></li>
+<li>Line up, Brave Boys  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_106'>106</a></span></li>
+<li>A Child of the Sun  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_117'>117</a></span></li>
+<li>In the Grass  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_118'>118</a></span></li>
+<li>The Faithful Broncos  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_129'>129</a></span></li>
+<li>The Whistling Marmot  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></span></li>
+<li>The Clouds  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_137'>137</a></span></li>
+<li>The Great Stikeen Divide  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></span></li>
+<li>The Ute Lover  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></span></li>
+<li>Devil's Club  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_150'>150</a></span></li>
+<li>In the Cold Green Mountains  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_150'>150</a></span></li>
+<li>The Long Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></span></li>
+<li>The Greeting of the Roses  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></span></li>
+<li>The Vulture  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></span></li>
+<li>Campfires  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_173'>173</a></span></li>
+<li>The Footstep in the Desert  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_182'>182</a></span></li>
+<li>So this is the End of the Trail to him  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_190'>190</a></span></li>
+<li>The Toil of the Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></span></li>
+<li>The Goldseekers  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_205'>205</a></span></li>
+<li>The Coast Range of Alaska  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_215'>215</a></span></li>
+<li>The Freeman of the Hills  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_229'>229</a></span></li>
+<li>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>
+The Voice of the Maple Tree  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_230'>230</a></span>
+</li>
+<li>A Girl on the Trail  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></span></li>
+<li>O the Fierce Delight  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_249'>249</a></span></li>
+<li>The Lure of the Desert  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_258'>258</a></span></li>
+<li>This out of All will remain  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_262'>262</a></span></li>
+<li>Here the Trail ends  <span class="linenum"><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></span></li>
+</ul>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="ANTICIPATION" id="ANTICIPATION"></a>ANTICIPATION</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I will wash my brain in the splendid breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will lay my cheek to the northern sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will drink the breath of the mossy trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the clouds shall meet me one by one.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will fling the scholar's pen aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grasp once more the bronco's rein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I will ride and ride and ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the rain is snow, and the seed is grain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The way is long and cold and lone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But I go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It leads where pines forever moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their weight of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Yet I go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are voices in the wind that call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are hands that beckon to the plain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must journey where the trees grow tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lonely heron clamors in the rain.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where the desert flames with furnace heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">I have trod.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the horned toad's tiny feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In a land<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of burning sand<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Leave a mark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have ridden in the noon and in the dark.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now I go to see the snows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the mossy mountains rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild and bleak&mdash;and the rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pink of morning fill the skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a color that is singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And the lights<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of polar nights<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Utter cries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they sweep from star to star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Swinging, ringing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sunless middays are.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_GOLDSEEKERS" id="THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_GOLDSEEKERS"></a>THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4>COMING OF THE SHIPS</h4>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+
+<p>A little over a year ago a small steamer swung to at a Seattle wharf,
+and emptied a flood of eager passengers upon the dock. It was an
+obscure craft, making infrequent trips round the Aleutian Islands
+(which form the farthest western point of the United States) to the
+mouth of a practically unknown river called the Yukon, which empties
+into the ocean near the post of St. Michaels, on the northwestern
+coast of Alaska.</p>
+
+<p>The passengers on this boat were not distinguished citizens, nor fair
+to look upon. They were roughly dressed, and some of them were pale
+and worn as if with long sickness or exhausting toil. Yet this ship
+and these passengers startled the whole English-speaking world. Swift
+as electricity could fly, the magical word GOLD went forth like a
+brazen eagle across the continent to turn the faces of millions of
+earth's toilers toward a region which, up to that time, had been
+unknown or of ill report. For this ship contained a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> million dollars
+in gold: these seedy passengers carried great bags of nuggets and
+bottles of shining dust which they had burned, at risk of their
+lives, out of the perpetually frozen ground, so far in the north that
+the winter had no sun and the summer midnight had no dusk.</p>
+
+<p>The world was instantly filled with the stories of these men and of
+their tons of bullion. There was a moment of arrested attention&mdash;then
+the listeners smiled and nodded knowingly to each other, and went
+about their daily affairs.</p>
+
+<p>But other ships similarly laden crept laggardly through the gates of
+Puget Sound, bringing other miners with bags and bottles, and then
+the world believed. Thereafter the journals of all Christendom had to
+do with the "Klondike" and "The Golden River." Men could not hear
+enough or read enough of the mysterious Northwest.</p>
+
+<p>In less than ten days after the landing of the second ship, all
+trains westward-bound across America were heavily laden with
+fiery-hearted adventurers, who set their faces to the new Eldorado
+with exultant confidence, resolute to do and dare.</p>
+
+<p>Miners from Colorado and cow-boys from Montana met and mingled with
+civil engineers and tailors from New York City, and adventurous
+merchants from Chicago set shoulder to shoemakers from Lynn. All
+kinds and conditions of prospectors swarmed upon the boats at
+Seattle, Vancouver, and other coast cities. Some entered upon new
+routes to the gold fields, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> were now known to be far in the
+Yukon Valley, while others took the already well-known route by way
+of St. Michaels, and thence up the sinuous and sinister stream whose
+waters began on the eastern slope of the glacial peaks just inland
+from Juneau, and swept to the north and west for more than two
+thousand miles. It was understood that this way was long and hard and
+cold, yet thousands eagerly embarked on keels of all designs and of
+all conditions of unseaworthiness. By far the greater number
+assaulted the mountain passes of Skagway.</p>
+
+<p>As the autumn came on, the certainty of the gold deposits deepened;
+but the tales of savage cliffs, of snow-walled trails, of swift and
+icy rivers, grew more numerous, more definite, and more appalling.
+Weak-hearted Jasons dropped out and returned to warn their friends of
+the dread powers to be encountered in the northern mountains.</p>
+
+<p>As the uncertainties of the river route and the sufferings and toils
+of the Chilcoot and the White Pass became known, the adventurers cast
+about to find other ways of reaching the gold fields, which had come
+now to be called "The Klondike," because of the extreme richness of a
+small river of that name which entered the Yukon, well on toward the
+Arctic Circle.</p>
+
+<p>From this attempt to avoid the perils of other routes, much talk
+arose of the Dalton Trail, the Taku Trail, the Stikeen Route, the
+Telegraph Route, and the Edmonton Overland Trail. Every town within
+two thousand miles of the Klondike River advertised itself as "the
+point of departure for the gold fields," and set forth the special<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
+advantages of its entrance way, crying out meanwhile against the
+cruel mendacity of those who dared to suggest other and "more
+dangerous and costly" ways.</p>
+
+<p>The winter was spent in urging these claims, and thousands of men
+planned to try some one or the other of these "side-doors." The
+movement overland seemed about to surpass the wonderful
+transcontinental march of miners in '49 and '50, and those who loved
+the trail for its own sake and were eager to explore an unknown
+country hesitated only between the two trails which were entirely
+overland. One of these led from Edmonton to the head-waters of the
+Pelly, the other started from the Canadian Pacific Railway at
+Ashcroft and made its tortuous way northward between the great
+glacial coast range on the left and the lateral spurs of the
+Continental Divide on the east.</p>
+
+<p>The promoters of each of these routes spoke of the beautiful valleys
+to be crossed, of the lovely streams filled with fish, of the game
+and fruit. Each was called "the poor man's route," because with a few
+ponies and a gun the prospector could traverse the entire distance
+during the summer, "arriving on the banks of the Yukon, not merely
+browned and hearty, but a veteran of the trail."</p>
+
+<p>It was pointed out also that the Ashcroft Route led directly across
+several great gold districts and that the adventurer could combine
+business and pleasure on the trip by examining the Ominica country,
+the Kisgagash Mountains, the Peace River, and the upper waters of the
+Stikeen. These places were all spoken of as if they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> were close
+beside the trail and easy of access, and the prediction was freely
+made that a flood of men would sweep up this valley such as had never
+been known in the history of goldseeking.</p>
+
+<p>As the winter wore on this prediction seemed about to be realized. In
+every town in the West, in every factory in the East, men were
+organizing parties of exploration. Grub stakers by the hundred were
+outfitted, a vast army was ready to march in the early spring, when a
+new interest suddenly appeared&mdash;a new army sprang into being.</p>
+
+<p>Against the greed for gold arose the lust of battle. WAR came to
+change the current of popular interest. The newspapers called home
+their reporters in the North and sent them into the South, the Dakota
+cow-boys just ready to join the ranks of the goldseekers entered the
+army of the United States, finding in its Southern campaigns an
+outlet to their undying passion for adventure; while the factory
+hands who had organized themselves into a goldseeking company turned
+themselves into a squad of military volunteers. For the time the gold
+of the North was forgotten in the war of the South.</p>
+
+
+<h4>II</h4>
+
+
+<p>However, there were those not so profoundly interested in the war or
+whose arrangements had been completed before the actual outbreak of
+cannon-shot, and would not be turned aside. An immense army still
+pushed on to the north. This I joined on the 20th<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> day of April,
+leaving my home in Wisconsin, bound for the overland trail and
+bearing a joyous heart. I believed that I was about to see and take
+part in a most picturesque and impressive movement across the
+wilderness. I believed it to be the last great march of the kind
+which could ever come in America, so rapidly were the wild places
+being settled up. I wished, therefore, to take part in this tramp of
+the goldseekers, to be one of them, and record their deeds. I wished
+to return to the wilderness also, to forget books and theories of art
+and social problems, and come again face to face with the great free
+spaces of woods and skies and streams. I was not a goldseeker, but a
+nature hunter, and I was eager to enter this, the wildest region yet
+remaining in Northern America. I willingly and with joy took the long
+way round, the hard way through.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_COW-BOY" id="THE_COW-BOY"></a>THE COW-BOY</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of rough rude stock this saddle sprite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is grosser grown with savage things.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inured to storms, his fierce delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is lawless as the beasts he swings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His swift rope over.&mdash;Libidinous, obscene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless of dust and dirt, serene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He faces snows in calm disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or makes his bed down in the rain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h4>OUTFITTING</h4>
+
+
+<p>We went to sleep while the train was rushing past the lonely
+settler's shacks on the Minnesota Prairies. When we woke we found
+ourselves far out upon the great plains of Canada. The morning was
+cold and rainy, and there were long lines of snow in the swales of
+the limitless sod, which was silent, dun, and still, with a majesty
+of arrested motion like a polar ocean. It was like Dakota as I saw it
+in 1881. When it was a treeless desolate expanse, swept by owls and
+hawks, cut by feet of wild cattle, unmarred and unadorned of man. The
+clouds ragged, forbidding, and gloomy swept southward as if with a
+duty to perform. No green thing appeared, all was gray and sombre,
+and the horizon lines were hid in the cold white mist. Spring was
+just coming on.</p>
+
+<p>Our car, which was a tourist sleeper, was filled with goldseekers,
+some of them bound for the Stikeen River, some for Skagway. While a
+few like myself had set out for Teslin Lake by way of "The Prairie
+Route." There were women going to join their husbands at Dawson City,
+and young girls on their way to Vancouver and Seattle, and whole
+families emigrating to Washington.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+<p>By the middle of the forenoon we were pretty well acquainted, and
+knowing that two long days were before us, we set ourselves to the
+task of passing the time. The women cooked their meals on the range
+in the forward part of the car, or attended to the toilets of the
+children, quite as regularly as in their own homes; while the men,
+having no duties to perform, played cards, or talked endlessly
+concerning their prospects in the Northwest, and when weary of this,
+joined in singing topical songs.</p>
+
+<p>No one knew his neighbor's name, and, for the most part, no one
+cared. All were in mountaineer dress, with rifles, revolvers, and
+boxes of cartridges, and the sight of a flock of antelopes developed
+in each man a frenzy of desire to have a shot at them. It was a wild
+ride, and all day we climbed over low swells, passing little lakes
+covered with geese and brant, practically the only living things.
+Late in the afternoon we entered upon the Selkirks, where no life
+was.</p>
+
+<p>These mountains I had long wished to see, and they were in no sense a
+disappointment. Desolate, death-haunted, they pushed their white
+domes into the blue sky in savage grandeur. The little snow-covered
+towns seemed to cower at their feet like timid animals lost in the
+immensity of the forest. All day we rode among these heights, and at
+night we went to sleep feeling the chill of their desolate presence.</p>
+
+<p>We reached Ashcroft (which was the beginning of the long trail) at
+sunrise. The town lay low on the sand, a spatter of little frame
+buildings, mainly saloons<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> and lodging houses, and resembled an
+ordinary cow-town in the Western States.</p>
+
+<p>Rivers of dust were flowing in the streets as we debarked from the
+train. The land seemed dry as ashes, and the hills which rose near
+resembled those of Montana or Colorado. The little hotel swarmed with
+the rudest and crudest types of men; not dangerous men, only
+thoughtless and profane teamsters and cow-boys, who drank thirstily
+and ate like wolves. They spat on the floor while at the table,
+leaning on their elbows gracelessly. In the bar-room they drank and
+chewed tobacco, and talked in loud voices upon nothing at all.</p>
+
+<p>Down on the flats along the railway a dozen camps of Klondikers were
+set exposed to the dust and burning sun. The sidewalks swarmed with
+outfitters. Everywhere about us the talk of teamsters and cattle men
+went on, concerning regions of which I had never heard. Men spoke of
+Hat Creek, the Chilcoten country, Soda Creek, Lake La Hache, and
+Lilloat. Chinamen in long boots, much too large for them, came and
+went sombrely, buying gold sacks and picks. They were mining quietly
+on the upper waters of the Fraser, and were popularly supposed to be
+getting rich.</p>
+
+<p>The townspeople were possessed of thrift quite American in quality,
+and were making the most of the rush over the trail. "The grass is
+improving each day," they said to the goldseekers, who were disposed
+to feel that the townsmen were anything but disinterested, especially
+the hotel keepers. Among the outfitters of course the chief
+beneficiaries were the horse dealers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> and every corral swarmed with
+mangy little cayuses, thin, hairy, and wild-eyed; while on the
+fences, in silent meditation or low-voiced conferences, the intending
+purchasers sat in rows like dyspeptic ravens. The wind storm
+continued, filling the houses with dust and making life intolerable
+in the camps below the town. But the crowds moved to and fro
+restlessly on the one wooden sidewalk, outfitting busily. The
+costumes were as various as the fancies of the men, but laced boots
+and cow-boy hats predominated.</p>
+
+<p>As I talked with some of the more thoughtful and conscientious
+citizens, I found them taking a very serious view of our trip into
+the interior. "It is a mighty hard and long road," they said, "and a
+lot of those fellows who have never tried a trail of this kind will
+find it anything but a picnic excursion." They had known a few men
+who had been as far as Hazleton, and the tales of rain, flies, and
+mosquitoes which these adventurers brought back with them, they
+repeated in confidential whispers.</p>
+
+<p>However, I had determined to go, and had prepared myself for every
+emergency. I had designed an insect-proof tent, and was provided with
+a rubber mattress, a down sleeping-bag, rain-proof clothing, and
+stout shoes. I purchased, as did many of the others, two bills of
+goods from the Hudson Bay Company, to be delivered at Hazleton on the
+Skeena, and at Glenora on the Stikeen. Even with this arrangement it
+was necessary to carry every crumb of food, in one case three hundred
+and sixty miles, and in the other case<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> four hundred miles. However,
+the first two hundred and twenty miles would be in the nature of a
+practice march, for the trail ran through a country with occasional
+ranches where feed could be obtained. We planned to start with four
+horses, taking on others as we needed them. And for one week we
+scrutinized the ponies swarming around the corrals, in an attempt to
+find two packhorses that would not give out on the trail, or buck
+their packs off at the start.</p>
+
+<p>"We do not intend to be bothered with a lot of mean broncos," I said,
+and would not permit myself to be deceived. Before many days had
+passed, we had acquired the reputation of men who thoroughly knew
+what they wanted. At least, it became known that we would not buy
+wild cayuses at an exorbitant price.</p>
+
+<p>All the week long we saw men starting out with sore-backed or blind
+or weak or mean broncos, and heard many stories of their troubles and
+trials. The trail was said to be littered for fifty miles with all
+kinds of supplies.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, as I stood on the porch of the hotel, I saw a man riding
+a spirited dapple-gray horse up the street. As I watched the splendid
+fling of his fore-feet, the proud carriage of his head, the splendid
+nostrils, the deep intelligent eyes, I said: "There is my horse! I
+wonder if he is for sale."</p>
+
+<p>A bystander remarked, "He's coming to see you, and you can have the
+horse if you want it."</p>
+
+<p>The rider drew rein, and I went out to meet him. After looking the
+horse all over, with a subtle show of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> not being in haste, I asked,
+"How much will you take for him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty dollars," he replied, and I knew by the tone of his voice that
+he would not take less.</p>
+
+<p>I hemmed and hawed a decent interval, examining every limb meanwhile;
+finally I said, "Get off your horse."</p>
+
+<p>With a certain sadness the man complied. I placed in his hand a
+fifty-dollar bill, and took the horse by the bridle. "What is his
+name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I call him Prince."</p>
+
+<p>"He shall be called Prince Ladrone," I said to Burton, as I led the
+horse away.</p>
+
+<p>Each moment increased my joy and pride in my dapple-gray gelding. I
+could scarcely convince myself of my good fortune, and concluded
+there must be something the matter with the horse. I was afraid of
+some trick, some meanness, for almost all mountain horses are
+"streaky," but I could discover nothing. He was quick on his feet as
+a cat, listened to every word that was spoken to him, and obeyed as
+instantly and as cheerfully as a dog. He took up his feet at request,
+he stood over in the stall at a touch, and took the bit readily (a
+severe test). In every way he seemed to be exactly the horse I had
+been waiting for. I became quite satisfied of his value the following
+morning, when his former owner said to me, in a voice of sadness,
+"Now treat him well, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He shall have the best there is," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>My partner, meanwhile, had rustled together three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> packhorses, which
+were guaranteed to be kind and gentle, and so at last we were ready
+to make a trial. It was a beautiful day for a start, sunny, silent,
+warm, with great floating clouds filling the sky.</p>
+
+<p>We had tried our tent, and it was pronounced a "jim-cracker-jack" by
+all who saw it, and exciting almost as much comment among the natives
+as my Anderson pack-saddles. Our "truck" was ready on the platform of
+the storehouse, and the dealer in horses had agreed to pack the
+animals in order to show that they were "as represented." The whole
+town turned out to see the fun. The first horse began bucking before
+the pack-saddle was fairly on, to the vast amusement of the
+bystanders.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do for that beast," I remarked, and he was led away.
+"Bring up your other candidate."</p>
+
+<p>The next horse seemed to be gentle enough, but when one of the men
+took off his bandanna and began binding it round the pony's head, I
+interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do," I said; "I know that trick. I don't want a horse whose
+eyes have to be blinded. Take him away."</p>
+
+<p>This left us as we were before, with the exception of Ladrone. An
+Indian standing near said to Burton, "I have gentle horse, no buck,
+all same like dog."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said partner, with a sigh, "let's see him."</p>
+
+<p>The "dam Siwash" proved to be more reliable than his white detractor.
+His horses turned out to be gentle and strong, and we made a bargain
+without noise. At<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> last it seemed we might be able to get away.
+"To-morrow morning," said I to Burton, "if nothing further
+intervenes, we hit the trail a resounding whack."</p>
+
+<p>All around us similar preparations were going on. Half-breeds were
+breaking wild ponies, cow-boys were packing, roping, and instructing
+the tenderfoot, the stores swarmed with would-be miners fitting out,
+while other outfits already supplied were crawling up the distant
+hill like loosely articulated canvas-colored worms. Outfits from
+Spokane and other southern towns began to drop down into the valley,
+and every train from the East brought other prospectors to stand
+dazed and wondering before the squalid little camp. Each day, each
+hour, increased the general eagerness to get away.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="FROM_PLAIN_TO_PEAK" id="FROM_PLAIN_TO_PEAK"></a>FROM PLAIN TO PEAK</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From hot low sands aflame with heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From crackling cedars dripping odorous gum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I ride to set my burning feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On heights whence Uncompagre's waters hum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From rock to rock, and run<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">As white as wool.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My panting horse sniffs on the breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The water smell, too faint for me to know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I can see afar the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which tell of grasses where the asters blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And columbines and clover bending low<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Are honey-full.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I catch the gleam of snow-fields, bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As burnished shields of tempered steel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round each sovereign lonely height<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I watch the storm-clouds vault and reel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy with hail and trailing<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Veils of sleet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hurrah, my faithful! soon you shall plunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Your burning nostril to the bit in snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon you shall rest where foam-white waters lunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From cliff to cliff, and you shall know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more of hunger or the flame of sand<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or windless desert's heat!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h4>ON THE STAGE ROAD</h4>
+
+
+<p>On the third day of May, after a whole forenoon of packing and
+"fussing," we made our start and passed successfully over some
+fourteen miles of the road. It was warm and beautiful, and we felt
+greatly relieved to escape from the dry and dusty town with its
+conscienceless horse jockeys and its bibulous teamsters.</p>
+
+<p>As we mounted the white-hot road which climbed sharply to the
+northeast, we could scarcely restrain a shout of exultation. It was
+perfect weather. We rode good horses, we had chosen our companions,
+and before us lay a thousand miles of trail, and the mysterious gold
+fields of the far-off Yukon. For two hundred and twenty miles the
+road ran nearly north toward the town of Quesnelle, which was the
+trading camp for the Caribou Mining Company. This highway was filled
+with heavy teams, and stage houses were frequent. We might have gone
+by the river trail, but as the grass was yet young, many of the
+outfits decided to keep to the stage road.</p>
+
+<p>We made our first camp beside the dusty road near the stage barn, in
+which we housed our horses. A beautiful stream came down from the
+hills near us. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> little farther up the road a big and hairy
+Californian, with two half-breed assistants, was struggling with
+twenty-five wild cayuses. Two or three campfires sparkled near.</p>
+
+<p>There was a vivid charm in the scene. The poplars were in tender
+leaf. The moon, round and brilliant, was rising just above the
+mountains to the east, as we made our bed and went to sleep with the
+singing of the stream in our ears.</p>
+
+<p>While we were cooking our breakfast the next morning the big
+Californian sauntered by, looking at our little folding stove, our
+tent, our new-fangled pack-saddles, and our luxurious beds, and
+remarked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon you fellers are just out on a kind of little hunting trip."</p>
+
+<p>We resented the tone of derision in his voice, and I replied:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We are bound for Teslin Lake. We shall be glad to see you any time
+during the coming fall."</p>
+
+<p>He never caught up with us again.</p>
+
+<p>We climbed steadily all the next day with the wind roaring over our
+heads in the pines. It grew much colder and the snow covered the
+near-by hills. The road was full of trampers on their way to the
+mines at Quesnelle and Stanley. I will not call them <i>tramps</i>, for
+every man who goes afoot in this land is entitled to a certain
+measure of respect. We camped at night just outside the little
+village called Clinton, which was not unlike a town in Vermont, and
+was established during the Caribou rush in '66. It lay in a lovely
+valley beside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> a swift, clear stream. The sward was deliciously green
+where we set our tent.</p>
+
+<p>Thus far Burton had wrestled rather unsuccessfully with the
+crystallized eggs and evaporated potatoes which made up a part of our
+outfit. "I don't seem to get just the right twist on 'em," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have plenty of chance to experiment," I remarked. However,
+the bacon was good and so was the graham bread which he turned out
+piping hot from the little oven of our folding stove.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving Clinton we entered upon a lonely region, a waste of wooded
+ridges breaking illimitably upon the sky. The air sharpened as we
+rose, till it seemed like March instead of April, and our overcoats
+were grateful.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere near the middle of the forenoon, as we were jogging along,
+I saw a deer standing just at the edge of the road and looking across
+it, as if in fear of its blazing publicity. It seemed for a moment as
+if he were an optical illusion, so beautiful, so shapely, and so
+palpitant was he. I had no desire to shoot him, but, turning to
+Burton, called in a low voice, "See that deer."</p>
+
+<p>He replied, "Where is your gun?"</p>
+
+<p>Now under my knee I carried a new rifle with a quantity of smokeless
+cartridges, steel-jacketed and soft-nosed, and yet I was disposed to
+argue the matter. "See here, Burton, it will be bloody business if we
+kill that deer. We couldn't eat all of it; you wouldn't want to skin
+it; I couldn't. You'd get your hands all bloody and the memory of
+that beautiful creature would not be pleasant. Therefore I stand for
+letting him go."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+<p>Burton looked thoughtful. "Well, we might sell it or give it away."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the deer saw us, but seemed not to be apprehensive. Perhaps
+it was a thought-reading deer, and knew that we meant it no harm. As
+Burton spoke, it turned, silent as a shadow, and running to the crest
+of the hill stood for a moment outlined like a figure of bronze
+against the sky, then disappeared into the forest. He was so much a
+part of nature that the horses gave no sign of having seen him at
+all.</p>
+
+<p>At a point a few miles beyond Clinton most of the pack trains turned
+sharply to the left to the Fraser River, where the grass was reported
+to be much better. We determined to continue on the stage road,
+however, and thereafter met but few outfits. The road was by no means
+empty, however. We met, from time to time, great blue or red wagons
+drawn by four or six horses, moving with pleasant jangle of bells and
+the crack of great whips. The drivers looked down at us curiously and
+somewhat haughtily from their high seats, as if to say, "We know
+where we are going&mdash;do you know as much?"</p>
+
+<p>The landscape grew ever wilder, and the foliage each day spring-like.
+We were on a high hilly plateau between Hat Creek and the valley of
+Lake La Hache. We passed lakes surrounded by ghostly dead trees,
+which looked as though the water had poisoned them. There were no
+ranches of any extent on these hills. The trail continued to be
+filled with tramping miners; several seemed to be without bedding or
+food. Some drove little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> pack animals laden with blankets, and all
+walked like fiends, pressing forward doggedly, hour after hour. Many
+of them were Italians, and one group which we overtook went along
+killing robins for food. They were a merry and dramatic lot, making
+the silent forests echo with their chatter.</p>
+
+<p>I headed my train on Ladrone, who led the way with a fine stately
+tread, his deep brown eyes alight with intelligence, his sensitive
+ears attentive to every word. He had impressed me already by his
+learning and gentleness, but when one of my packhorses ran around
+him, entangling me in the lead rope, pulling me to the ground, the
+final test of his quality came. I expected to be kicked into shreds.
+But Ladrone stopped instantly, and looking down at me inquiringly,
+waited for me to scramble out from beneath his feet and drag the
+saddle up to its place.</p>
+
+<p>With heart filled with gratitude, I patted him on the nose, and said,
+"Old boy, if you carry me through to Teslin Lake, I will take care of
+you for the rest of your days."</p>
+
+<p>At about noon the next day we came down off the high plateau, with
+its cold and snow, and camped in a sunny sward near a splendid ranch
+where lambs were at play on the green grass. Blackbirds were calling,
+and we heard our first crane bugling high in the sky. From the
+loneliness and desolation of the high country, with its sparse road
+houses, we were now surrounded by sunny fields mellow with thirty
+seasons' ploughing.</p>
+
+<p>The ride was very beautiful. Just the sort of thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> we had been
+hoping for. All day we skirted fine lakes with grassy shores. Cranes,
+ducks, and geese filled every pond, the voice of spring in their
+brazen throats.</p>
+
+<p>Once a large flight of crane went sweeping by high in the sky, a
+royal, swift scythe reaping the clouds. I called to them in their own
+tongue, and they answered. I called again and again, and they began
+to waver and talk among themselves; and at last, having decided that
+this voice from below should be heeded, they broke rank and commenced
+sweeping round and round in great circles, seeking the lost one whose
+cry rose from afar. Baffled and angered, they rearranged themselves
+at last in long regular lines, and swept on into the north.</p>
+
+<p>We camped on this, the sixth day, beside a fine stream which came
+from a lake, and here we encountered our first mosquitoes. Big, black
+fellows they were, with a lazy, droning sound quite different from
+any I had ever heard. However, they froze up early and did not bother
+us very much.</p>
+
+<p>At the one hundred and fifty-nine mile house, which was a stage
+tavern, we began to hear other bogie stories of the trail. We were
+assured that horses were often poisoned by eating a certain plant,
+and that the mud and streams were terrible. Flies were a never ending
+torment. All these I regarded as the croakings of men who had never
+had courage to go over the trail, and who exaggerated the accounts
+they had heard from others.</p>
+
+<p>We were jogging along now some fifteen or twenty miles a day,
+thoroughly enjoying the trip. The sky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> was radiant, the aspens were
+putting forth transparent yellow leaves. On the grassy slopes some
+splendid yellow flowers quite new to me waved in the warm but strong
+breeze. On the ninth day we reached Soda Creek, which is situated on
+the Fraser River, at a point where the muddy stream is deep sunk in
+the wooded hills.</p>
+
+<p>The town was a single row of ramshackle buildings, not unlike a small
+Missouri River town. The citizens, so far as visible, formed a queer
+collection of old men addicted to rum. They all came out to admire
+Ladrone and to criticise my pack-saddle, and as they stood about
+spitting and giving wise instances, they reminded me of the Jurors in
+Mark Twain's "Puddin Head Wilson."</p>
+
+<p>One old man tottered up to my side to inquire, "Cap, where you
+going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Teslin Lake," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, think of it," said he. "Do you ever expect to get there?
+It is a terrible trip, my son, a terrible trip."</p>
+
+<p>At this point a large number of the outfits crossed to the opposite
+side of the river and took the trail which kept up the west bank of
+the river. We, however, kept the stage road which ran on the high
+ground of the eastern bank, forming a most beautiful drive. The river
+was in full view all the time, with endless vista of blue hills above
+and the shimmering water with radiant foliage below.</p>
+
+<p>Aside from the stage road and some few ranches on the river bottom,
+we were now in the wilderness. On<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> our right rolled a wide wild sea
+of hills and forests, breaking at last on the great gold range. To
+the west, a still wilder country reaching to the impassable east
+range. On this, our eighth day out, we had our second sight of big
+game. In the night I was awakened by Burton, calling in excited
+whisper, "There's a bear outside."</p>
+
+<p>It was cold, I was sleepy, my bed was very comfortable, and I did not
+wish to be disturbed. I merely growled, "Let him alone."</p>
+
+<p>But Burton, putting his head out of the door of the tent, grew still
+more interested. "There is a bear out there eating those mutton
+bones. Where's the gun?"</p>
+
+<p>I was nearly sinking off to sleep once more and I muttered, "Don't
+bother me; the gun is in the corner of the tent." Burton began
+snapping the lever of the gun impatiently and whispering something
+about not being able to put the cartridge in. He was accustomed to
+the old-fashioned Winchester, but had not tried these.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it right in the top," I wearily said, "put it right in the top."</p>
+
+<p>"I have," he replied; "but I can't get it <i>in</i> or out!"</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile I had become sufficiently awake to take a mild interest in
+the matter. I rose and looked out. As I saw a long, black, lean
+creature muzzling at something on the ground, I began to get excited
+myself.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess we better let him go, hadn't we?" said Burton.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes, as the cartridge is stuck in the gun; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> so long as he
+lets us alone I think we had better let him alone, especially as his
+hide is worth nothing at this season of the year, and he is too thin
+to make steak."</p>
+
+<p>The situation was getting comic, but probably it is well that the
+cartridge failed to go in. Burton stuck his head out of the tent,
+gave a sharp yell, and the huge creature vanished in the dark of the
+forest. The whole adventure came about naturally. The smell of our
+frying meat had gone far up over the hills to our right and off into
+the great wilderness, alluring this lean hungry beast out of his den.
+Doubtless if Burton had been able to fire a shot into his woolly
+hide, we should have had a rare "mix up" of bear, tent, men,
+mattresses, and blankets.</p>
+
+<p>Mosquitoes increased, and, strange to say, they seemed to like the
+shade. They were all of the big, black, lazy variety. We came upon
+flights of humming-birds. I was rather tired of the saddle, and of
+the slow jog, jog, jog. But at last there came an hour which made the
+trouble worth while. When our camp was set, our fire lighted, our
+supper eaten, and we could stretch out and watch the sun go down over
+the hills beyond the river, then the day seemed well spent. At such
+an hour we grew reminiscent of old days, and out of our talk an
+occasional verse naturally rose.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="MOMENTOUS_HOUR" id="MOMENTOUS_HOUR"></a>MOMENTOUS HOUR</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A coyote wailing in the yellow dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mountain land that stretches on and on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ceases not till in the skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vast peaks of rosy snow arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like walls of plainsman's paradise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I cannot tell why this is so;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I cannot say, I do not know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why wind and wolf and yellow sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grassy mesa, square and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Possess such power to satisfy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But so it is. Deep in the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lie and hear the winds' feet pass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all forgot is maid and man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hope and set ambitious plan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are lost as though they ne'er began.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="A_WISH" id="A_WISH"></a>A WISH</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All day and many days I rode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My horse's head set toward the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as I rode a longing came to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I might keep the sunset road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Riding my horse right on and on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'ertake the day still lagging at the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so reach boyhood from the dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be with all the days at rest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For then the odor of the growing wheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flare of sumach on the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The touch of grasses to my feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would cure my brain of all its ills,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would fill my heart so full of joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That no stern lines could fret my face.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There would I be forever boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lit by the sky's unfailing grace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h4>IN CAMP AT QUESNELLE</h4>
+
+
+<p>We came into Quesnelle about three o'clock of the eleventh day out.
+From a high point which overlooked the two rivers, we could see great
+ridges rolling in waves of deep blue against the sky to the
+northwest. Over these our slender little trail ran. The wind was in
+the south, roaring up the river, and green grass was springing on the
+slopes.</p>
+
+<p>Quesnelle we found to be a little town on a high, smooth slope above
+the Fraser. We overtook many prospectors like ourselves camped on the
+river bank waiting to cross.</p>
+
+<p>Here also telegraph bulletins concerning the Spanish war, dated
+London, Hong Kong, and Madrid, hung on the walls of the post-office.
+They were very brief and left plenty of room for imagination and
+discussion.</p>
+
+<p>Here I took a pony and a dog-cart and jogged away toward the
+long-famous Caribou Mining district next day, for the purpose of
+inspecting a mine belonging to some friends of mine. The ride was
+very desolate and lonely, a steady climb all the way, through
+fire-devastated forests, toward the great peaks. Snow lay in the
+roadside ditches. Butterflies were fluttering about, and in the high
+hills I saw many toads crawling over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> snowbanks, a singular sight
+to me. They were silent, perhaps from cold.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, this ride called up in my mind visions of the hot
+sands, and the sun-lit buttes and valleys of Arizona and Montana, and
+I wrote several verses as I jogged along in the pony-cart.</p>
+
+<p>When I returned to camp two days later, I found Burton ready and
+eager to move. The town swarmed with goldseekers pausing here to rest
+and fill their parfl&ecirc;ches. On the opposite side of the river others
+could be seen in camp, or already moving out over the trail, which
+left the river and climbed at once into the high ridges dark with
+pines in the west.</p>
+
+<p>As I sat with my partner at night talking of the start the next day,
+I began to feel not a fear but a certain respect for that narrow
+little path which was not an arm's span in width, but which was
+nearly eight hundred miles in length. "From this point, Burton, it is
+business. Our practice march is finished."</p>
+
+<p>The stories of flies and mosquitoes gave me more trouble than
+anything else, but a surveyor who had had much experience in this
+Northwestern country recommended the use of oil of pennyroyal, mixed
+with lard or vaseline. "It will keep the mosquitoes and most of the
+flies away," he said. "I know, for I have tried it. You can't wear a
+net, at least I never could. It is too warm, and then it is always in
+your way. You are in no danger from beasts, but you will curse the
+day you set out on this trail on account of the insects. It is the
+worst mosquito country in the world."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_GIFT_OF_WATER" id="THE_GIFT_OF_WATER"></a>THE GIFT OF WATER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Is water nigh?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The plainsmen cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they meet and pass in the desert grass.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With finger tip<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across the lip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I ask the sombre Navajo.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brown man smiles and answers "Sho!"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With fingers high, he signs the miles<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the desert spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so we pass in the dry dead grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Brothers in bond of the water's ring.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<div><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Listen. Your attention.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="MOUNTING" id="MOUNTING"></a>MOUNTING</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I mount and mount toward the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eagle's heart is mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I ride to put the clouds a-by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where silver lakelets shine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The roaring streams wax white with snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eagle's nest draws near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blue sky widens, hid peaks glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The air is frosty clear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And so from cliff to cliff I rise,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>The eagle's heart is mine;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Above me ever broadning skies,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Below the rivers shine.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_EAGLE_TRAIL" id="THE_EAGLE_TRAIL"></a>THE EAGLE TRAIL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From rock-built nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mother eagle, with a threatning tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Utters a warning scream. Her shrill voice rings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild as the snow-topped crags she sits among;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While hovering with her quivering wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her hungry brood, with eyes ablaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She watches every shadow. The water calls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, far below. The sun's red rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ascend the icy, iron walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leap beyond the mountains in the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over the trail and the eagle's nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clear night falls.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<h4>THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE BLUE RAT</h4>
+
+<h4><i>Camp Twelve</i></h4>
+
+
+<p>Next morning as we took the boat&mdash;which was filled with horses wild
+and restless&mdash;I had a moment of exultation to think we had left the
+way of tin cans and whiskey bottles, and were now about to enter upon
+the actual trail. The horses gave us a great deal of trouble on the
+boat, but we managed to get across safely without damage to any part
+of our outfit.</p>
+
+<p>Here began our acquaintance with the Blue Rat. It had become evident
+to me during our stay in Quesnelle that we needed one more horse to
+make sure of having provisions sufficient to carry us over the three
+hundred and sixty miles which lay between the Fraser and our next
+eating-place on the Skeena. Horses, however, were very scarce, and it
+was not until late in the day that we heard of a man who had a pony
+to sell. The name of this man was Dippy.</p>
+
+<p>He was a German, and had a hare-lip and a most seductive gentleness
+of voice. I gladly make him historical. He sold me the Blue Rat, and
+gave me a chance to study a new type of horse.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<p>Herr Dippy was not a Washington Irving sort of Dutchman; he conformed
+rather to the modern New York tradesman. He was small, candid, and
+smooth, very smooth, of speech. He said: "Yes, the pony is gentle. He
+can be rode or packed, but you better lead him for a day or two till
+he gets quiet."</p>
+
+<p>I had not seen the pony, but my partner had crossed to the west side
+of the Fraser River, and had reported him to be a "nice little pony,
+round and fat and gentle." On that I had rested. Mr. Dippy joined us
+at the ferry and waited around to finish the trade. I presumed he
+intended to cross and deliver the pony, which was in a corral on the
+west side, but he lisped out a hurried excuse. "The ferry is not
+coming back for to-day and so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Well, I paid him the money on the strength of my side partner's
+report; besides, it was Hobson's choice.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dippy took the twenty-five dollars eagerly and vanished into
+obscurity. We passed to the wild side of the Fraser and entered upon
+a long and intimate study of the Blue Rat. He shucked out of the log
+stable a smooth, round, lithe-bodied little cayuse of a blue-gray
+color. He looked like a child's toy, but seemed sturdy and of good
+condition. His foretop was "banged," and he had the air of a
+mischievous, resolute boy. His eyes were big and black, and he
+studied us with tranquil but inquiring gaze as we put the pack-saddle
+on him. He was very small.</p>
+
+<p>"He's not large, but he's a gentle little chap," said I, to ease my
+partner of his dismay over the pony's surprising smallness.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+<p>"I believe he shrunk during the night," replied my partner. "He
+seemed two sizes bigger yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>We packed him with one hundred pounds of our food and lashed it all
+on with rope, while the pony dozed peacefully. Once or twice I
+thought I saw his ears cross; one laid back, the other set
+forward,&mdash;bad signs,&mdash;but it was done so quickly I could not be sure
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>We packed the other horses while the blue pony stood resting one hind
+leg, his eyes dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>I flung the canvas cover over the bay packhorse.... Something took
+place. I heard a bang, a clatter, a rattling of hoofs. I peered
+around the bay and saw the blue pony performing some of the most
+finished, vigorous, and varied bucking it has ever been given me to
+witness. He all but threw somersaults. He stood on his upper lip. He
+humped up his back till he looked like a lean cat on a graveyard
+fence. He stood on his toe calks and spun like a weather-vane on a
+livery stable, and when the pack exploded and the saddle slipped
+under his belly, he kicked it to pieces by using both hind hoofs as
+featly as a man would stroke his beard.</p>
+
+<p>After calming the other horses, I faced my partner solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by the way, partner, where did you get that nice, quiet, little
+blue pony of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>Partner smiled sheepishly. "The little divil. Buffalo Bill ought to
+have that pony."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now," said I, restraining my laughter, "the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> thing to do is to
+put that pack on so that it will stay. That pony will try the same
+thing again, sure."</p>
+
+<p>We packed him again with great care. His big, innocent black eyes
+shining under his bang were a little more alert, but they showed
+neither fear nor rage. We roped him in every conceivable way, and at
+last stood clear and dared him to do his prettiest.</p>
+
+<p>He did it. All that had gone before was merely preparatory, a
+blood-warming, so to say; the real thing now took place. He stood up
+on his hind legs and shot into the air, alighting on his four feet as
+if to pierce the earth. He whirled like a howling dervish, grunting,
+snorting&mdash;unseeing, and almost unseen in a nimbus of dust, strap
+ends, and flying pine needles. His whirling undid him. We seized the
+rope, and just as the pack again slid under his feet we set shoulder
+to the rope and threw him. He came to earth with a thud, his legs
+whirling uselessly in the air. He resembled a beetle in molasses. We
+sat upon his head and discussed him.</p>
+
+<p>"He is a wonder," said my partner.</p>
+
+<p>We packed him again with infinite pains, and when he began bucking we
+threw him again and tried to kill him. We were getting irritated. We
+threw him hard, and drew his hind legs up to his head till he
+grunted. When he was permitted to rise, he looked meek and small and
+tired and we were both deeply remorseful. We rearranged the pack&mdash;it
+was some encouragement to know he had not bucked it entirely off&mdash;and
+by blindfolding him we got him started on the trail behind the
+train.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+<p>"I suppose that simple-hearted Dutchman is gloating over us from
+across the river," said I to partner; "but no matter, we are
+victorious."</p>
+
+<p>I was now quite absorbed in a study of the blue pony's psychology. He
+was a new type of mean pony. His eye did not roll nor his ears fall
+back. He seemed neither scared nor angry. He still looked like a
+roguish, determined boy. He was alert, watchful, but not vicious. He
+went off&mdash;precisely like one of those mechanical mice or turtles
+which sidewalk venders operate. Once started, he could not stop till
+he ran down. He seemed not to take our stern measures in bad part. He
+regarded it as a fair contract, apparently, and considered that we
+had won. True, he had lost both hair and skin by getting tangled in
+the rope, but he laid up nothing against us, and, as he followed
+meekly along behind, partner dared to say:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"He's all right now. I presume he has been running out all winter and
+is a little wild. He's satisfied now. We'll have no more trouble with
+him."</p>
+
+<p>Every time I looked back at the poor, humbled little chap, my heart
+tingled with pity and remorse. "We were too rough," I said. "We must
+be more gentle."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he's nervous and scary; we must be careful not to give him a
+sudden start. I'll lead him for a while."</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, as we were going down a steep and slippery hill, the
+Rat saw his chance. He passed into another spasm, opening and
+shutting like a self-acting jack-knife. He bounded into the midst of
+the peaceful horses, scattering them to right and to left in terror.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+<p>He turned and came up the hill to get another start. Partner took a
+turn on a stump, and all unmindful of it the Rat whirled and made a
+mighty spring. He reached the end of the rope and his hand-spring
+became a vaulting somersault. He lay, unable to rise, spatting the
+wind, breathing heavily. Such annoying energy I have never seen. We
+were now mad, muddy, and very resolute. We held him down till he lay
+quite still. Any well-considered, properly bred animal would have
+been ground to bone dust by such wondrous acrobatic movements. He was
+skinned in one or two places, the hair was scraped from his nose, his
+tongue bled, but all these were mere scratches. When we repacked him
+he walked off comparatively unhurt.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="NOON_ON_THE_PLAIN" id="NOON_ON_THE_PLAIN"></a>NOON ON THE PLAIN</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The horned toad creeping along the sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rattlesnake asleep beneath the sage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have now a subtle fatal charm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In their sultry calm, their love of heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I read once more the burning page<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of nature under cloudless skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O pitiless and splendid land!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine eyelids close, my lips are dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By force of thy hot floods of light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soundless as oil the wind flows by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine aching brain cries out for night!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BEGINNING OF THE LONG TRAIL</h4>
+
+
+<p>As we left the bank of the Fraser River we put all wheel tracks
+behind. The trail turned to the west and began to climb, following an
+old swath which had been cut into the black pines by an adventurous
+telegraph company in 1865. Immense sums of money were put into this
+venture by men who believed the ocean cable could not be laid. The
+work was stopped midway by the success of Field's wonderful plan, and
+all along the roadway the rusted and twisted wire lay in testimony of
+the seriousness of the original design.</p>
+
+<p>The trail was a white man's road. It lacked grace and charm. It cut
+uselessly over hills and plunged senselessly into ravines. It was an
+irritation to all of us who knew the easy swing, the circumspection,
+and the labor-saving devices of an Indian trail. The telegraph line
+was laid by compass, not by the stars and the peaks; it evaded
+nothing; it saved distance, not labor.</p>
+
+<p>My feeling of respect deepened into awe as we began to climb the
+great wooded divide which lies between the Fraser and the Blackwater.
+The wild forest settled around us, grim, stern, and forbidding. We
+were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> done with civilization. Everything that was required for a home
+in the cold and in the heat was bound upon our five horses. We must
+carry bed, board, roof, food, and medical stores, over three hundred
+and sixty miles of trail, through all that might intervene of flood
+and forest.</p>
+
+<p>This feeling of awe was emphasized by the coming on of the storm in
+which we camped that night. We were forced to keep going until late
+in order to obtain feed, and to hustle in order to get everything
+under cover before the rain began to fall. We were only twelve miles
+on our way, but being wet and cold and hungry, we enjoyed the full
+sense of being in the wilderness. However, the robins sang from the
+damp woods and the loons laughed from hidden lakes.</p>
+
+<p>It rained all night, and in the morning we were forced to get out in
+a cold, wet dawn. It was a grim start, dismal and portentous,
+bringing the realities of the trail very close to us. While I rustled
+the horses out of the wet bush, partner stirred up a capital
+breakfast of bacon, evaporated potatoes, crystallized eggs, and
+graham bread. He had discovered at last the exact amount of water to
+use in cooking these "vegetables," and they were very good. The
+potatoes tasted not unlike mashed potatoes, and together with the
+eggs made a very savory and wholesome dish. With a cup of strong
+coffee and some hot graham gems we got off in very good spirits
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>It continued muddy, wet, and cold. I walked most of the day, leading
+my horse, upon whom I had packed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> a part of the outfit to relieve the
+other horses. There was no fun in the day, only worry and trouble. My
+feet were wet, my joints stiff, and my brain weary of the monotonous
+black, pine forest.</p>
+
+<p>There is a great deal of work on the trail,&mdash;cooking, care of the
+horses, together with almost ceaseless packing and unpacking, and the
+bother of keeping the packhorses out of the mud. We were busy from
+five o'clock in the morning until nine at night. There were other
+outfits on the trail having a full ton of supplies, and this great
+weight had to be handled four times a day. In our case the toil was
+much less, but it was only by snatching time from my partner that I
+was able to work on my notes and keep my diary. Had the land been
+less empty of game and richer in color, I should not have minded the
+toil and care taking. As it was, we were all looking forward to the
+beautiful lake country which we were told lay just beyond the
+Blackwater.</p>
+
+<p>One tremendous fact soon impressed me. There were no returning
+footsteps on this trail. All toes pointed in one way, toward the
+golden North. No man knew more than his neighbor the character of the
+land which lay before us.</p>
+
+<p>The life of each outfit was practically the same. At about 4.30 in
+the morning the campers awoke. The click-clack of axes began, and
+slender columns of pale blue smoke stole softly into the air. Then
+followed the noisy rustling of the horses by those set aside for that
+duty. By the time the horses were "cussed into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> camp," the coffee was
+hot, and the bacon and beans ready to be eaten. A race in packing
+took place to see who should pull out first. At about seven o'clock
+in the morning the outfits began to move. But here there was a
+difference of method. Most of them travelled for six or seven hours
+without unpacking, whereas our plan was to travel for four hours,
+rest from twelve to three, and pack up and travel four hours more.
+This difference in method resulted in our passing outfit after outfit
+who were unable to make the same distances by their one march.</p>
+
+<p>We went to bed with the robins and found it no hardship to rise with
+the sparrows. As Burton got the fire going, I dressed and went out to
+see if all the horses were in the bunch, and edged them along toward
+the camp. I then packed up the goods, struck the tent and folded it,
+and had everything ready to sling on the horses by the time breakfast
+was ready.</p>
+
+<p>With my rifle under my knee, my rain coat rolled behind my saddle, my
+camera dangling handily, my rope coiled and lashed, I called out,
+"Are we all set?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I guess so," Burton invariably replied.</p>
+
+<p>With a last look at the camping ground to see that nothing of value
+was left, we called in exactly the same way each time, "Hike, boys,
+hike, hike." (Hy-ak: Chinook for "hurry up.") It was a fine thing,
+and it never failed to touch me, to see them fall in, one by one. The
+"Ewe-neck" just behind Ladrone, after him "Old Bill," and behind him,
+groaning and taking on as if in great pain, "Major Grunt," while at
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> rear, with sharp outcry, came Burton riding the blue pony, who
+was quite content, as we soon learned, to carry a man weighing
+seventy pounds more than his pack. He considered himself a saddle
+horse, not a pack animal.</p>
+
+<p>It was not an easy thing to keep a pack train like this running. As
+the horses became tired of the saddle, two of them were disposed to
+run off into the brush in an attempt to scrape their load from their
+backs. Others fell to feeding. Sometimes Bill would attempt to pass
+the bay in order to walk next Ladrone. Then they would <i>scrouge</i>
+against each other like a couple of country schoolboys, to see who
+should get ahead. It was necessary to watch the packs with worrysome
+care to see that nothing came loose, to keep the cinches tight, and
+to be sure that none of the horses were being galled by their
+burdens.</p>
+
+<p>We travelled for the most part alone and generally in complete
+silence, for I was too far in advance to have any conversation with
+my partner.</p>
+
+<p>The trail continued wet, muddy, and full of slippery inclines, but we
+camped on a beautiful spot on the edge of a marshy lake two or three
+miles in length. As we threw up our tent and started our fire, I
+heard two cranes bugling magnificently from across the marsh, and
+with my field-glass I could see them striding along in the edge of
+the water. The sun was getting well toward the west. All around stood
+the dark and mysterious forest, out of which strange noises broke.</p>
+
+<p>In answer to the bugling of the cranes, loons were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> wildly calling, a
+flock of geese, hidden somewhere under the level blaze of the
+orange-colored light of the setting sun, were holding clamorous
+convention. This is one of the compensating moments of the trail. To
+come out of a gloomy and forbidding wood into an open and grassy
+bank, to see the sun setting across the marsh behind the most
+splendid blue mountains, makes up for many weary hours of toil.</p>
+
+<p>As I lay down to sleep I heard a coyote cry, and the loons answered,
+and out of the cold, clear night the splendid voices of the cranes
+rang triumphantly. The heavens were made as brass by their superb,
+defiant notes.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_WHOOPING_CRANE" id="THE_WHOOPING_CRANE"></a>THE WHOOPING CRANE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At sunset from the shadowed sedge<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of lonely lake, among the reeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He lifts his brazen-throated call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the listening cat with teeth at edge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With famine hears and heeds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Come one, come all, come all, come all!</i>"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is the bird's challenge bravely blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To every beast the woodlands own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>My legs are long, my wings are strong,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>I wait the answer to my threat.</i>"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Echoing, fearless, triumphant, the cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Disperses through the world, and yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only the clamorous, cloudless sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the wooded mountains make reply.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_LOON" id="THE_LOON"></a>THE LOON</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">At some far time<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">This water sprite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A brother of the coyote must have been.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For when the sun is set,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Forth from the failing light<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His harsh cries fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The silence of the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the hid wolf answers with a wailing keen.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BLACKWATER DIVIDE</h4>
+
+
+<p>About noon the next day we suddenly descended to the Blackwater, a
+swift stream which had been newly bridged by those ahead of us. In
+this wild land streams were our only objective points; the mountains
+had no names, and the monotony of the forest produced a singular
+effect on our minds. Our journey at times seemed a sort of motionless
+progression. Once our tent was set and our baggage arranged about us,
+we lost all sense of having moved at all.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after leaving the Blackwater bridge we had a grateful
+touch of an Indian trail. The telegraph route kept to the valley
+flat, but an old trail turned to the right and climbed the north bank
+by an easy and graceful grade which it was a joy to follow. The top
+of the bench was wooded and grassy, and the smooth brown trail wound
+away sinuous as a serpent under the splendid pine trees. For more
+than three hours we strolled along this bank as distinguished as
+those who occupy boxes at the theatre. Below us the Blackwater looped
+away under a sunny sky, and far beyond, enormous and unnamed, deep
+blue mountains rose, notching the western sky. The scene was so
+exceedingly rich<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> and amiable we could hardly believe it to be
+without farms and villages, yet only an Indian hut or two gave
+indication of human life.</p>
+
+<p>After following this bank for a few miles, we turned to the right and
+began to climb the high divide which lies between the Blackwater and
+the Muddy, both of which are upper waters of the Fraser. Like all the
+high country through which we had passed this ridge was covered with
+a monotonous forest of small black pines, with very little bird or
+animal life of any kind. By contrast the valley of the Blackwater
+shone in our memory like a jewel.</p>
+
+<p>After a hard drive we camped beside a small creek, together with
+several other outfits. One of them belonged to a doctor from the
+Chilcoten country. He was one of those Englishmen who are natural
+plainsmen. He was always calm, cheerful, and self-contained. He took
+all worry and danger as a matter of course, and did not attempt to
+carry the customs of a London hotel into the camp. When an Englishman
+has this temper, he makes one of the best campaigners in the world.</p>
+
+<p>As I came to meet the other men on the trail, I found that some
+peculiar circumstance had led to their choice of route. The doctor
+had a ranch in the valley of the Fraser. One of "the Manchester boys"
+had a cousin near Soda Creek. "Siwash Charley" wished to prospect on
+the head-waters of the Skeena; and so in almost every case some
+special excuse was given. When the truth was known, the love of
+adventure had led all of us to take the telegraph route. Most of the
+miners argued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> that they could make their entrance by horse as
+cheaply, if not as quickly, as by boat. For the most part they were
+young, hardy, and temperate young men of the middle condition of
+American life.</p>
+
+<p>One of the Manchester men had been a farmer in Connecticut, an
+attendant in an insane asylum in Massachusetts, and an engineer. He
+was fat when he started, and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds.
+By the time we had overtaken him his trousers had begun to flap
+around him. He was known as "Big Bill." His companion, Frank, was a
+sinewy little fellow with no extra flesh at all,&mdash;an alert, cheery,
+and vociferous boy, who made noise enough to scare all the game out
+of the valley. Neither of these men had ever saddled a horse before
+reaching the Chilcoten, but they developed at once into skilful
+packers and rugged trailers, though they still exposed themselves
+unnecessarily in order to show that they were not "tenderfeet."</p>
+
+<p>"Siwash Charley" was a Montana miner who spoke Chinook fluently, and
+swore in splendid rhythms on occasion. He was small, alert, seasoned
+to the trail, and capable of any hardship. "The Man from Chihuahua"
+was so called because he had been prospecting in Mexico. He had the
+best packhorses on the trail, and cared for them like a mother. He
+was small, weazened, hardy as oak, inured to every hardship, and very
+wise in all things. He had led his fine little train of horses from
+Chihuahua to Seattle, thence to the Thompson River, joining us at
+Quesnelle. He was the typical trailer. He spoke in the Missouri
+fashion, though he was a born<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> Californian. His partner was a quiet
+little man from Snohomish flats, in Washington. These outfits were
+typical of scores of others, and it will be seen that they were for
+the most part Americans, the group of Germans from New York City and
+the English doctor being the exceptions.</p>
+
+<p>There was little talk among us. We were not merely going a journey,
+but going as rapidly as was prudent, and there was close attention to
+business. There was something morbidly persistent in the action of
+these trains. They pushed on resolutely, grimly, like blind worms
+following some directing force from within. This peculiarity of
+action became more noticeable day by day. We were not on the trail,
+after all, to hunt, or fish, or skylark. We had set our eyes on a
+distant place, and toward it our feet moved, even in sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The Muddy River, which we reached late in the afternoon, was silent
+as oil and very deep, while the banks, muddy and abrupt, made it a
+hard stream to cross.</p>
+
+<p>As we stood considering the problem, a couple of Indians appeared on
+the opposite bank with a small raft, and we struck a bargain with
+them to ferry our outfit. They set us across in short order, but our
+horses were forced to swim. They were very much alarmed and shivered
+with excitement (this being the first stream that called for
+swimming), but they crossed in fine style, Ladrone leading, his neck
+curving, his nostrils wide-blown. We were forced to camp in the mud
+of the river bank, and the gray clouds flying overhead made the land
+exceedingly dismal. The night closed in wet and cheerless.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+<p>The two Indians stopped to supper with us and ate heartily. I seized
+the opportunity to talk with them, and secured from them the tragic
+story of the death of the Blackwater Indians. "Siwash, he die hy-u
+(great many). Hy-u die, chilens, klootchmans (women), all die. White
+man no help. No send doctor. Siwash all die, white man no care belly
+much."</p>
+
+<p>In this simple account of the wiping out of a village of harmless
+people by "the white man's disease" (small-pox), unaided by the white
+man's wonderful skill, there lies one of the great tragedies of
+savage life. Very few were left on the Blackwater or on the Muddy,
+though a considerable village had once made the valley cheerful with
+its primitive pursuits.</p>
+
+<p>They were profoundly impressed by our tent and gun, and sat on their
+haunches clicking their tongues again and again in admiration, saying
+of the tent, "All the same lilly (little) house." I tried to tell
+them of the great world to the south, and asked them a great many
+questions to discover how much they knew of the people or the
+mountains. They knew nothing of the plains Indians, but one of them
+had heard of Vancouver and Seattle. They had not the dignity and
+thinking power of the plains people, but they seemed amiable and
+rather jovial.</p>
+
+<p>We passed next day two adventurers tramping their way to Hazleton.
+Each man carried a roll of cheap quilts, a skillet, and a cup. We
+came upon them as they were taking off their shoes and stockings to
+wade through a swift little river, and I realized with a sudden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> pang
+of sympathetic pain, how distressing these streams must be to such as
+go afoot, whereas I, on my fine horse, had considered them entirely
+from an &aelig;sthetic point of view.</p>
+
+<p>We had been on the road from Quesnelle a week, and had made nearly
+one hundred miles, jogging along some fifteen miles each day,
+camping, eating, sleeping, with nothing to excite us&mdash;indeed, the
+trail was quiet as a country lane. A dead horse here and there warned
+us to be careful how we pushed our own burden-bearers. We were deep
+in the forest, with the pale blue sky filled with clouds showing only
+in patches overhead. We passed successively from one swamp of black
+pine to another, over ridges covered with white pine, all precisely
+alike. As soon as our camp was set and fires lighted, we lost all
+sense of having travelled, so similar were the surroundings of each
+camp.</p>
+
+<p>Partridges could be heard drumming in the lowlands. Mosquitoes were
+developing by the millions, and cooking had become almost impossible
+without protection. The "varments" came in relays. A small gray
+variety took hold of us while it was warm, and when it became too
+cold for them, the big, black, "sticky" fellows appeared
+mysteriously, and hung around in the air uttering deep, bass notes
+like lazy flies. The little gray fellows were singularly ferocious
+and insistent in their attentions.</p>
+
+<p>At last, as we were winding down the trail beneath the pines, we came
+suddenly upon an Indian with a gun in the hollow of his arm. So
+still, so shadowy, so neutral in color was he, that at first sight he
+seemed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> part of the forest, like the shaded hole of a tree. He
+turned out to be a "runner," so to speak, for the ferrymen at
+Tchincut Crossing, and led us down to the outlet of the lake where a
+group of natives with their slim canoes sat waiting to set us over.
+An hour's brisk work and we rose to the fine grassy eastern slope
+overlooking the lake.</p>
+
+<p>We rose on our stirrups with shouts of joy. We had reached the land
+of our dreams! Here was the trailers' heaven! Wooded promontories,
+around which the wavelets sparkled, pushed out into the deep, clear
+flood. Great mountains rose in the background, lonely, untouched by
+man's all-desolating hand, while all about us lay suave slopes
+clothed with most beautiful pea-vine, just beginning to ripple in the
+wind, and beyond lay level meadows lit by little ponds filled with
+wildfowl. There was just forest enough to lend mystery to these
+meadows, and to shut from our eager gaze the beauties of other and
+still more entrancing glades. The most exacting hunter or trailer
+could not desire more perfect conditions for camping. It was God's
+own country after the gloomy monotony of the barren pine forest, and
+needed only a passing deer or a band of elk to be a poem as well as a
+picture.</p>
+
+<p>All day we skirted this glorious lake, and at night we camped on its
+shores. The horses were as happy as their masters, feeding in plenty
+on sweet herbage for the first time in long days.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the day we passed the largest Indian village we had yet seen.
+It was situated on Stony Creek,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> which came from Tatchick Lake and
+emptied into Tchincut Lake. The shallows flickered with the passing
+of trout, and the natives were busy catching and drying them. As we
+rode amid the curing sheds, the children raised a loud clamor, and
+the women laughed and called from house to house, "Oh, see the white
+men!" We were a circus parade to them.</p>
+
+<p>Their opportunities for earning money are scant, and they live upon a
+very monotonous diet of fish and possibly dried venison and berries.
+Except at favorable points like Stony Creek, where a small stream
+leads from one lake to another, there are no villages because there
+are no fish.</p>
+
+<p>I shall not soon forget the shining vistas through which we rode that
+day, nor the meadows which possessed all the allurement and mystery
+which the word "savanna" has always had with me. It was like going
+back to the prairies of Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa, as they were
+sixty years ago, except in this case the elk and the deer were
+absent.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="YET_STILL_WE_RODE" id="YET_STILL_WE_RODE"></a>YET STILL WE RODE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We wallowed deep in mud and sand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We swam swift streams that roared in wrath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They stood at guard in that lone land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like dragons in the slender path.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet still we rode right on and on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shook our clenched hands at the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We dared the frost at early dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the dread tempest sweeping by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was not all so dark. Now and again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The robin, singing loud and long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made wildness tame, and lit the rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With sudden sunshine with his song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wild roses filled the air with grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The shooting-star swung like a bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From bended stem, and all the place<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was like to heaven after hell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h4>WE SWIM THE NECHACO</h4>
+
+
+<p>Here was perfection of camping, but no allurement could turn the
+goldseekers aside. Some of them remained for a day, a few for two
+days, but not one forgot for a moment that he was on his way to the
+Klondike River sixteen hundred miles away. In my enthusiasm I
+proposed to camp for a week, but my partner, who was "out for gold
+instid o' daisies, 'guessed' we'd better be moving." He could not
+bear to see any one pass us, and that was the feeling of every man on
+the trail. Each seemed to fear that the gold might all be claimed
+before he arrived. With a sigh I turned my back on this glorious
+region and took up the forward march.</p>
+
+<p>All the next day we skirted the shores of Tatchick Lake, coming late
+in the afternoon to the Nechaco River, a deep, rapid stream which
+rose far to our left in the snowy peaks of the coast range. All day
+the sky to the east had a brazen glow, as if a great fire were raging
+there, but toward night the wind changed and swept it away. The trail
+was dusty for the first time, and the flies venomous. Late in the
+afternoon we pitched camp, setting our tent securely, expecting rain.
+Before we went to sleep the drops began to drum on the tent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> roof, a
+pleasant sound after the burning dust of the trail. The two trampers
+kept abreast of us nearly all day, but they began to show fatigue and
+hunger, and a look of almost sullen desperation had settled on their
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>As we came down next day to where the swift Nechaco met the Endako
+rushing out of Fraser Lake, we found the most dangerous flood we had
+yet crossed. A couple of white men were calking a large ferry-boat,
+but as it was not yet seaworthy and as they had no cable, the horses
+must swim. I dreaded to see them enter this chill, gray stream, for
+not only was it wide and swift, but the two currents coming together
+made the landing confusing to the horses as well as to ourselves.
+Rain was at hand and we had no time to waste.</p>
+
+<p>The horses knew that some hard swimming was expected of them and
+would gladly have turned back if they could. We surrounded them with
+furious outcry and at last Ladrone sprang in and struck for the
+nearest point opposite, with that intelligence which marks the bronco
+horse. The others followed readily. Two of the poorer ones labored
+heavily, but all touched shore in good order.</p>
+
+<p>The rain began to fall sharply and we were forced to camp on the
+opposite bank as swiftly as possible, in order to get out of the
+storm. We worked hard and long to put everything under cover and were
+muddy and tired at the end of it. At last the tent was up, the outfit
+covered with waterproof canvas, the fire blazing and our bread
+baking. In pitching our camp we had plenty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> of assistance at the
+hands of several Indian boys from a near-by village, who hung about,
+eager to lend a hand, in the hope of getting a cup of coffee and a
+piece of bread in payment. The streaming rain seemed to have no more
+effect upon them than on a loon. The conditions were all strangely
+similar to those at the Muddy River.</p>
+
+<p>Night closed in swiftly. Through the dark we could hear the low swish
+of the rising river, and Burton, with a sly twinkle in his eye,
+remarked, "For a semi-arid country, this is a pretty wet rain."</p>
+
+<p>In planning the trip, I had written to him saying: "The trail runs
+for the most part though a semi-arid country, somewhat like eastern
+Washington."</p>
+
+<p>It rained all the next day and we were forced to remain in camp,
+which was dismal business; but we made the best of it, doing some
+mending of clothes and tackle during the long hours.</p>
+
+<p>We were visited by all the Indians from Old Fort Fraser, which was
+only a mile away. They sat about our blazing fire laughing and
+chattering like a group of girls, discussing our characters minutely,
+and trying to get at our reasons for going on such a journey.</p>
+
+<p>One of them who spoke a little English said, after looking over my
+traps: "You boss, you ty-ee, you belly rich man. Why you come?"</p>
+
+<p>This being interpreted meant, "You have a great many splendid things,
+you are rich. Now, why do you come away out here in this poor Siwash
+country?"</p>
+
+<p>I tried to convey to him that I wished to see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> mountains and to
+get acquainted with the people. He then asked, "More white men come?"</p>
+
+<p>Throwing my hands in the air and spreading my fingers many times, I
+exclaimed, "Hy-u white man, hy-u!" Whereat they all clicked their
+tongues and looked at each other in astonishment. They could not
+understand why this sudden flood of white people should pour into
+their country. This I also explained in lame Chinook: "We go klap
+Pilchickamin (gold). White man hears say Hy-u Pilchickamin there (I
+pointed to the north). White man heap like Pilchickamin, so he
+comes."</p>
+
+<p>All the afternoon and early evening little boys came and went on the
+swift river in their canoes, singing wild, hauntingly musical boating
+songs. They had no horses, but assembled in their canoes, racing and
+betting precisely as the Cheyenne lads run horses at sunset in the
+valley of the Lamedeer. All about the village the grass was rich and
+sweet, uncropped by any animal, for these poor fishermen do not
+aspire to the wonderful wealth of owning a horse. They had heard that
+cattle were coming over the trail and all inquired, "Spose when
+Moos-Moos come?" They knew that milk and butter were good things, and
+some of them had hopes of owning a cow sometime.</p>
+
+<p>They had tiny little gardens in sheltered places on the sunny slopes,
+wherein a few potatoes were planted; for the rest they hunt and fish
+and trap in winter and trade skins for meat and flour and coffee, and
+so live. How they endure the winters in such wretched houses, it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+impossible to say. There was a lone white man living on the site of
+the old fort, as agent of the Hudson Bay Company. He kept a small
+stock of clothing and groceries and traded for "skins," as the
+Indians all call pelts. They count in skins. So many skins will buy a
+rifle, so many more will secure a sack of flour.</p>
+
+<p>The storekeeper told me that the two trampers had arrived there a few
+days before without money and without food. "I gave 'em some flour
+and sent 'em on," he said. "The Siwashes will take care of them, but
+it ain't right. What the cussed idiots mean by setting out on such a
+journey I can't understand. Why, one tramp came in here early in the
+spring who couldn't speak English, and who left Quesnelle without
+even a blanket or an axe. Fact! And yet the Lord seems to take care
+of these fools. You wouldn't believe it, but that fellow picked up an
+axe and a blanket the first day out. But he'd a died only for the
+Indians. They won't let even a white man starve to death. I helped
+him out with some flour and he went on. They all rush on. Seems like
+they was just crazy to get to Dawson&mdash;couldn't sleep without dreamin'
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>I was almost as eager to get on as the tramps, but Burton went about
+his work regularly as a clock. I wrote, yawned, stirred the big
+campfire, gazed at the clouds, talked with the Indians, and so passed
+the day. I began to be disturbed, for I knew the power of a rain on
+the trail. It transforms it, makes it ferocious. The path that has
+charmed and wooed, becomes uncertain, treacherous, gloomy, and
+engulfing. Creeks become<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> rivers, rivers impassable torrents, and
+marshes bottomless abysses. Pits of quicksand develop in most
+unexpected places. Driven from smooth lake margins, the trailers'
+ponies are forced to climb ledges of rock, and to rattle over long
+slides of shale. In places the threadlike way itself becomes an
+aqueduct for a rushing overflow of water.</p>
+
+<p>At such times the man on the trail feels the grim power of Nature.
+She has no pity, no consideration. She sets mud, torrents, rocks,
+cold, mist, to check and chill him, to devour him. Over him he has no
+roof, under him no pavement. Never for an instant is he free from the
+pressure of the elements. Sullen streams lie athwart his road like
+dragons, and in a land like this, where snowy peaks rise on all
+sides, rain meant sudden and enormous floods of icy water.</p>
+
+<p>It was still drizzling on the third day, but we packed and pushed on,
+though the hills were slippery and the creeks swollen. Water was
+everywhere, but the sun came out, lighting the woods into radiant
+greens and purples. Robins and sparrows sang ecstatically, and
+violets, dandelions, and various kinds of berries were in odorous
+bloom. A vine with a blue flower, new to me, attracted my attention,
+also a yellow blossom of the cowslip variety. This latter had a form
+not unlike a wild sunflower.</p>
+
+<p>Here for the first time I heard a bird singing a song quite new to
+me. He was a thrushlike little fellow, very shy and difficult to see
+as he sat poised on the tip of a black pine in the deep forest. His
+note was a clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> cling-ling, like the ringing of a steel triangle.
+<i>Chingaling, chingaling</i>, one called near at hand, and then farther
+off another answered, <i>ching, ching, chingaling-aling</i>, with immense
+vim, power, and vociferation.</p>
+
+<p>Burton, who had spent many years in the mighty forests of Washington,
+said: "That little chap is familiar to me. Away in the pines where
+there is no other bird I used to hear his voice. No matter how dark
+it was, I could always tell when morning was coming by his note, and
+on cloudy days I could always tell when the sunset was coming by
+hearing him call."</p>
+
+<p>To me his phrase was not unlike the metallic ringing cry of a sort of
+blackbird which I heard in the torrid plazas of Mexico. He was very
+difficult to distinguish, for the reason that he sat so high in the
+tree and was so wary. He was very shy of approach. He was a plump,
+trim little fellow of a plain brown color, not unlike a small robin.</p>
+
+<p>There was another cheerful little bird, new to me also, which uttered
+an amusing phrase in two keys, something like <i>tee tay, tee tay, tee
+tay</i>, one note sustained high and long, followed by another given on
+a lower key. It was not unlike to the sound made by a boy with a
+tuning pipe. This, Burton said, was also a familiar sound in the
+depths of the great Washington firs. These two cheery birds kept us
+company in the gloomy, black-pine forest, when we sorely needed
+solace of some kind.</p>
+
+<p>Fraser Lake was also very charming, romantic enough to be the scene
+of Cooper's best novels. The water was deliciously clear and cool,
+and from the farther shore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> great mountains rose in successive sweeps
+of dark green foothills. At this time we felt well satisfied with
+ourselves and the trip. With a gleam in his eyes Burton said, "This
+is the kind of thing our folks think we're doing all the time."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="RELENTLESS_NATURE" id="RELENTLESS_NATURE"></a>RELENTLESS NATURE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She laid her rivers to snare us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She set her snows to chill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her clouds had the cunning of vultures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her plants were charged to kill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glooms of her forests benumbed us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the slime of her ledges we sprawled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we set our feet to the northward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crawled and crawled and crawled!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We defied her, and cursed her, and shouted:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To hell with your rain and your snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our minds we have set on a journey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And despite of your anger we go!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE FIRST CROSSING OF THE BULKLEY</h4>
+
+
+<p>We were now following a chain of lakes to the source of the Endako,
+one of the chief northwest sources of the Fraser, and were surrounded
+by tumultuous ridges covered with a seamless robe of pine forests.
+For hundreds of miles on either hand lay an absolutely untracked
+wilderness. In a land like this the trail always follows a
+water-course, either ascending or descending it; so for some days we
+followed the edges of these lakes and the banks of the connecting
+streams, toiling over sharp hills and plunging into steep ravines,
+over a trail belly-deep in mud and water and through a wood empty of
+life.</p>
+
+<p>These were hard days. We travelled for many hours through a burnt-out
+tract filled with twisted, blackened uprooted trees in the wake of
+fire and hurricane. From this tangled desolation I received the
+suggestion of some verses which I call "The Song of the North Wind."
+The wind and the fire worked together. If the wind precedes, he
+prepares the way for his brother fire, and in return the fire weakens
+the trees to the wind.</p>
+
+<p>We had settled into a dull routine, and the worst feature of each
+day's work was the drag, drag of slow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> hours on the trail. We could
+not hurry, and we were forced to watch our horses with unremitting
+care in order to nurse them over the hard spots, or, rather, the soft
+spots, in the trail. We were climbing rapidly and expected soon to
+pass from the watershed of the Fraser into that of the Skeena.</p>
+
+<p>We passed a horse cold in death, with his head flung up as if he had
+been fighting the wolves in his final death agony. It was a grim
+sight. Another beast stood abandoned beside the trail, gazing at us
+reproachfully, infinite pathos in his eyes. He seemed not to have the
+energy to turn his head, but stood as if propped upon his legs, his
+ribs showing with horrible plainness a tragic dejection in every
+muscle and limb.</p>
+
+<p>The feed was fairly good, our horses were feeling well, and curiously
+enough the mosquitoes had quite left us. We overtook and passed a
+number of outfits camped beside a splendid rushing stream.</p>
+
+<p>On Burns' Lake we came suddenly upon a settlement of quite sizable
+Indian houses with beautiful pasturage about. The village contained
+twenty-five or thirty families of carrier Indians, and was musical
+with the plaintive boat-songs of the young people. How long these
+native races have lived here no one can tell, but their mark on the
+land is almost imperceptible. They are not of those who mar the
+landscape.</p>
+
+<p>On the first of June we topped the divide between the two mighty
+watersheds. Behind us lay the Fraser, before us the Skeena. The
+majestic coast range rose like a wall of snow far away to the
+northwest, while a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> near-by lake, filling the foreground, reflected
+the blue ridges of the middle distance&mdash;a magnificent spread of wild
+landscape. It made me wish to abandon the trail and push out into the
+unexplored.</p>
+
+<p>From this point we began to descend toward the Bulkley, which is the
+most easterly fork of the Skeena. Soon after starting on our downward
+path we came to a fork in the trail. One trail, newly blazed, led to
+the right and seemed to be the one to take. We started upon it, but
+found it dangerously muddy, and so returned to the main trail which
+seemed to be more numerously travelled. Afterward we wished we had
+taken the other, for we got one of our horses into the quicksand and
+worked for more than three hours in the attempt to get him out. A
+horse is a strange animal. He is counted intelligent, and so he is if
+he happens to be a bronco or a mule. But in proportion as he is a
+thoroughbred, he seems to lose power to take care of himself&mdash;loses
+heart. Our Ewe-neck bay had a trace of racer in him, and being
+weakened by poor food, it was his bad luck to slip over the bank into
+a quicksand creek. Having found himself helpless he instantly gave up
+heart and lay out with a piteous expression of resignation in his big
+brown eyes. We tugged and lifted and rolled him around from one
+position to another, each more dangerous than the first, all to no
+result.</p>
+
+<p>While I held him up from drowning, my partner "brushed in" around him
+so that he <i>could</i> not become submerged. We tried hitching the other
+horses to him in order to drag him out, but as they were
+saddle-horses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> and had never set shoulder to a collar in their
+lives, they refused to pull even enough to take the proverbial
+setting hen off the nest.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this time I had felt no need of company on the trail, and for
+the most part we had travelled alone. But I now developed a poignant
+desire to hear the tinkle of a bell on the back trail, for there is
+no "funny business" about losing a packhorse in the midst of a wild
+country. His value is not represented by the twenty-five dollars
+which you originally paid for him. Sometimes his life is worth all
+you can give for him.</p>
+
+<p>After some three hours of toil (the horse getting weaker all the
+time), I looked around once more with despairing gaze, and caught
+sight of a bunch of horses across the valley flat. In this country
+there were no horses except such as the goldseeker owned, and this
+bunch of horses meant a camp of trailers. Leaping to my saddle, I
+galloped across the spongy marsh to hailing distance.</p>
+
+<p>My cries for help brought two of the men running with spades to help
+us. The four of us together lifted the old horse out of the pit more
+dead than alive. We fell to and rubbed his legs to restore
+circulation. Later we blanketed him and turned him loose upon the
+grass. In a short time he was nearly as well as ever.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sorrowful experience, for a fallen horse is a horse in ruins
+and makes a most woful appeal upon one's sympathies. I went to bed
+tired out, stiff and sore from pulling on the rope, my hands
+blistered, my nerves shaken.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+<p>As I was sinking off to sleep I heard a wolf howl, as though he
+mourned the loss of a feast.</p>
+
+<p>We had been warned that the Bulkley River was a bad stream to
+cross,&mdash;in fact, the road-gang had cut a new trail in order to avoid
+it,&mdash;that is to say, they kept to the right around the sharp elbow
+which the river makes at this point, whereas the old trail cut
+directly across the elbow, making two crossings. At the point where
+the new trail led to the right we held a council of war to determine
+whether to keep to the old trail, and so save several days' travel,
+or to turn to the right and avoid the difficult crossing. The new
+trail was reported to be exceedingly miry, and that determined the
+matter&mdash;we concluded to make the short cut.</p>
+
+<p>We descended to the Bulkley through clouds of mosquitoes and endless
+sloughs of mud. The river was out of its banks, and its quicksand
+flats were exceedingly dangerous to our pack animals, although the
+river itself at this point was a small and sluggish stream.</p>
+
+<p>It took us exactly five hours of most exhausting toil to cross the
+river and its flat. We worked like beavers, we sweated like hired
+men, wading up to our knees in water, and covered with mud, brushing
+in a road over the quicksand for the horses to walk. The Ewe-necked
+bay was fairly crazy with fear of the mud, and it was necessary to
+lead him over every foot of the way. We went into camp for the first
+time too late to eat by daylight. It became necessary for us to use a
+candle inside the tent at about eleven o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>The horses were exhausted, and crazy for feed. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> was a struggle to
+get them unpacked, so eager were they to forage. Ladrone, always
+faithful, touched my heart by his patience and gentleness, and his
+reliance upon me. I again heard a gray wolf howl as I was sinking off
+to sleep.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_GAUNT_GRAY_WOLF" id="THE_GAUNT_GRAY_WOLF"></a>THE GAUNT GRAY WOLF</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O a shadowy beast is the gaunt gray wolf!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his feet fall soft on a carpet of spines;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the night shuts quick and the winds are cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He haunts the deeps of the northern pines.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His eyes are eager, his teeth are keen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he slips at night through the bush like a snake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crouching and cringing, straight into the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To leap with a grin on the fawn in the brake.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He falls like a cat on the mother grouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brooding her young in the wind-bent weeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or listens to heed with a start of greed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bittern booming from river reeds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He's the symbol of hunger the whole earth through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His spectre sits at the door or cave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the homeless hear with a thrill of fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sound of his wind-swept voice on the air.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="ABANDONED_ON_THE_TRAIL" id="ABANDONED_ON_THE_TRAIL"></a>ABANDONED ON THE TRAIL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A poor old horse with down-cast mien and sad wild eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood by the lonely trail&mdash;and oh!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was so piteous lean.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He seemed to look a mild surprise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At all mankind that we should treat him so.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How hardily he struggled up the trail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All men should know.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet now abandoned to the wolf, his waiting foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stood in silence, as an old man dreams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as his master left him, this he seemed to say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"You leave me helpless by the path;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I do not curse you, but I pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Defend me from the wolves' wild wrath!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet his master rode away!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h4>DOWN THE BULKLEY VALLEY</h4>
+
+
+<p>As we rose to the top of the divide which lies between the two
+crossings of the Bulkley, a magnificent view of the coast range again
+lightened the horizon. In the foreground a lovely lake lay. On the
+shore of this lake stood a single Indian shack occupied by a
+half-dozen children and an old woman. They were all wretchedly
+clothed in graceless rags, and formed a bitter and depressing
+contrast to the magnificence of nature.</p>
+
+<p>One of the lads could talk a little Chinook mixed with English.</p>
+
+<p>"How far is it to the ford?" I asked of him.</p>
+
+<p>"White man say, mebbe-so six, mebbe-so nine mile."</p>
+
+<p>Knowing the Indian's vague idea of miles, I said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How <i>long</i> before we reach the ford? Sit-kum sun?" which is to say
+noon.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Klip sun come. Me go-hyak make canoe. Me felly."</p>
+
+<p>By which he meant: "You will arrive at the ford by sunset. I will
+hurry on and build a raft and ferry you over the stream."</p>
+
+<p>With an axe and a sack of dried fish on his back and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> a poor old
+shot-gun in his arm, he led the way down the trail at a slapping
+pace. He kept with us till dinner-time, however, in order to get some
+bread and coffee.</p>
+
+<p>Like the <i>Jicarilla</i> Apaches, these people have discovered the
+virtues of the inner bark of the black pine. All along the trail were
+trees from which wayfarers had lunched, leaving a great strip of the
+white inner wood exposed.</p>
+
+<p>"Man heap dry&mdash;this muck-a-muck heap good," said the young fellow, as
+he handed me a long strip to taste. It was cool and sweet to the
+tongue, and on a hot day would undoubtedly quench thirst. The boy
+took it from the tree by means of a chisel-shaped iron after the
+heavy outer bark has been hewed away by the axe.</p>
+
+<p>All along the trail were tree trunks whereon some loitering young
+Siwash had delineated a human face by a few deft and powerful strokes
+of the axe, the sculptural planes of cheeks, brow, and chin being
+indicated broadly but with truth and decision. Often by some old camp
+a tree would bear on a planed surface the rude pictographs, so that
+those coming after could read the number, size, sex, and success at
+hunting of those who had gone before. There is something Japanese, it
+seems to me, in this natural taste for carving among all the
+Northwest people.</p>
+
+<p>All about us was now riotous June. The season was incredibly warm and
+forward, considering the latitude. Strawberries were in bloom, birds
+were singing, wild roses appeared in miles and in millions, plum and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+cherry trees were white with blossoms&mdash;in fact, the splendor and
+radiance of Iowa in June. A beautiful lake occupied our left nearly
+all day.</p>
+
+<p>As we arrived at the second crossing of the Bulkley about six
+o'clock, our young Indian met us with a sorrowful face.</p>
+
+<p>"Stick go in chuck. No canoe. Walk stick."</p>
+
+<p>A big cottonwood log had fallen across the stream and lay
+half-submerged and quivering in the rushing river. Over this log a
+half-dozen men were passing like ants, wet with sweat, "bucking"
+their outfits across. The poor Siwash was out of a job and
+exceedingly sorrowful.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the kind of picnic we didn't expect," said one of the young
+men, as I rode up to see what progress they were making.</p>
+
+<p>We took our turn at crossing the tree trunk, which was submerged
+nearly a foot deep with water running at mill-race speed, and resumed
+the trail, following running water most of the way over a very good
+path. Once again we had a few hours' positive enjoyment, with no
+sense of being in a sub-arctic country. We could hardly convince
+ourselves that we were in latitude 54. The only peculiarity which I
+never quite forgot was the extreme length of the day. At 10.30 at
+night it was still light enough to write. No sooner did it get dark
+on one side of the hut than it began to lighten on the other. The
+weather was gloriously cool, crisp, and invigorating, and whenever we
+had sound soil under our feet we were happy.</p>
+
+<p>The country was getting each hour more superbly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> mountainous. Great
+snowy peaks rose on all sides. The coast range, lofty, roseate, dim,
+and far, loomed ever in the west, but on our right a group of other
+giants assembled, white and stern. A part of the time we threaded our
+way through fire-devastated forests of fir, and then as suddenly
+burst out into tracts of wild roses with beautiful open spaces of
+waving pea-vine on which our horses fed ravenously.</p>
+
+<p>We were forced to throw up our tent at every meal, so intolerable had
+the mosquitoes become. Here for the first time our horses were
+severely troubled by myriads of little black flies. They were small,
+but resembled our common house flies in shape, and were exceedingly
+venomous. They filled the horses' ears, and their sting produced
+minute swellings all over the necks and breasts of the poor animals.
+Had it not been for our pennyroyal and bacon grease, the bay horse
+would have been eaten raw.</p>
+
+<p>We overtook the trampers again at Chock Lake. They were thin, their
+legs making sharp creases in their trouser legs&mdash;I could see that as
+I neared them. They were walking desperately, reeling from side to
+side with weakness. There was no more smiling on their faces. One
+man, the smaller, had the countenance of a wolf, pinched in round the
+nose. His bony jaw was thrust forward resolutely. The taller man was
+limping painfully because of a shoe which had gone to one side. Their
+packs were light, but their almost incessant change of position gave
+evidence of pain and great weariness.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
+<p>I drew near to ask how they were getting along. The tall man, with a
+look of wistful sadness like that of a hungry dog, said, "Not very
+well."</p>
+
+<p>"How are you off for grub?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing left but some beans and a mere handful of flour."</p>
+
+<p>I invited them to a "square meal" a few miles farther on, and in
+order to help them forward I took one of their packs on my horse. I
+inferred that they would take turns at the remaining pack and so keep
+pace with us, for we were dropping steadily now&mdash;down, down through
+the most beautiful savannas, with fine spring brooks rushing from the
+mountain's side. Flowers increased; the days grew warmer; it began to
+feel like summer. The mountains grew ever mightier, looming cloudlike
+at sunset, bearing glaciers on their shoulders. We were almost
+completely happy&mdash;but alas, the mosquitoes! Their hum silenced the
+songs of the birds; their feet made the mountains of no avail. The
+otherwise beautiful land became a restless hell for the unprotected
+man or beast. It was impossible to eat or sleep without some defence,
+and our pennyroyal salve was invaluable. It enabled us to travel with
+some degree of comfort, where others suffered martyrdom.</p>
+
+<p>At noon Burton made up a heavy mess, in expectation of the trampers,
+who had fallen a little behind. The small man came into view first,
+for he had abandoned his fellow-traveller. This angered me, and I was
+minded to cast the little sneak out of camp, but his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> pinched and
+hungry face helped me to put up with him. I gave him a smart lecture
+and said, "I supposed you intended to help the other man, or I
+wouldn't have relieved you of a pound."</p>
+
+<p>The other toiler turned up soon, limping, and staggering with
+weakness. When dinner was ready, they came to the call like a couple
+of starving dogs. The small man had no politeness left. He gorged
+himself like a wolf. He fairly snapped the food down his throat. The
+tall man, by great effort, contrived to display some knowledge of
+better manners. As they ate, I studied them. They were blotched by
+mosquito bites and tanned to a leather brown. Their thin hands were
+like claws, their doubled knees seemed about to pierce their trouser
+legs.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the taller man, "the mosquitoes nearly eat us up. We can
+only sleep in the middle of the day, or from about two o'clock in the
+morning till sunrise. We walk late in the evening&mdash;till nine or
+ten&mdash;and then sit in the smoke till it gets cold enough to drive away
+the mosquitoes. Then we try to sleep. But the trouble is, when it is
+cold enough to keep them off, it's too cold for us to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do during the late rains?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we kept moving most of the time. At night we camped under a fir
+tree by the trail and dried off. The mosquitoes didn't bother us so
+much then. We were wet nearly all the time."</p>
+
+<p>I tried to get at his point of view, his justification for such
+senseless action, but could only discover a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> sort of blind belief
+that something would help him pull through. He had gone to the
+Caribou mines to find work, and, failing, had pushed on toward
+Hazleton with a dim hope of working his way to Teslin Lake and to the
+Klondike. He started with forty pounds of provisions and three or
+four dollars in his pocket. He was now dead broke, and his provisions
+almost gone.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the smaller man made no sign of hearing a word. He ate and
+ate, till my friend looked at me with a comical wink. We fed him
+staples&mdash;beans, graham bread, and coffee&mdash;and he slowly but surely
+reached the bottom of every dish. He did not fill up, he simply
+"wiped out" the cooked food. The tall man was not far behind him.</p>
+
+<p>As he talked, I imagined the life they had led. At first the trail
+was good, and they were able to make twenty miles each day. The
+weather was dry and warm, and sleeping was not impossible. They
+camped close beside the trail when they grew tired&mdash;I had seen and
+recognized their camping-places all along. But the rains came on, and
+they were forced to walk all day through the wet shrubs with the
+water dripping from their ragged garments. They camped at night
+beneath the firs (for the ground is always dry under a fir), where a
+fire is easily built. There they hung over the flame, drying their
+clothing and their rapidly weakening shoes. The mosquitoes swarmed
+upon them bloodily in the shelter and warmth of the trees, for they
+had no netting or tent. Their meals were composed of tea, a few
+hastily stewed beans, and a poor quality of sticky camp bread.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> Their
+sleep was broken and fitful. They were either too hot or too cold,
+and the mosquitoes gave way only when the frost made slumber
+difficult. In the morning they awoke to the necessity of putting on
+their wet shoes, and taking the muddy trail, to travel as long as
+they could stagger forward.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to all this, they had no maps, and knew nothing of their
+whereabouts or how far it was to a human habitation. Their only
+comfort lay in the passing of outfits like mine. From such as I, they
+"rustled food" and clothing. The small man did not even thank us for
+the meal; he sat himself down for a smoke and communed with his
+stomach. The tall man was plainly worsted. His voice had a plaintive
+droop. His shoe gnawed into his foot, and his pack was visibly
+heavier than that of his companion.</p>
+
+<p>We were two weeks behind our schedule, and our own flour sack was not
+much bigger than a sachet-bag, but we gave them some rice and part of
+our beans and oatmeal, and they moved away.</p>
+
+<p>We were approaching sea-level, following the Bulkley, which flows in
+a northwesterly direction and enters the great Skeena River at right
+angles, just below its three forks. Each hour the peaks seemed to
+assemble and uplift. The days were at their maximum, the sun set
+shortly after eight, but it was light until nearly eleven. At midday
+the sun was fairly hot, but the wind swept down from the mountains
+cool and refreshing. I shall not soon forget those radiant meadows,
+over which the far mountains blazed in almost intol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>erable splendor;
+it was too perfect to endure. Like the light of the sun lingering on
+the high peaks with most magical beauty, it passed away to be seen no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of these grandeurs we lost one of our horses. Whenever a
+horse breaks away from his fellows on the trail, it is pretty safe to
+infer he has "hit the back track." As I went out to round up the
+horses, "Major Grunt" was nowhere to be found. He had strayed from
+the bunch and we inferred had started back over the trail. We trailed
+him till we met one of the trampers, who assured us that no horse had
+passed him in the night, for he had been camped within six feet of
+the path.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this time there had been no returning footsteps, and it was
+easy to follow the horse so long as he kept to the trail, but the
+tramper's report was positive&mdash;no horse had passed him. We turned
+back and began searching the thickets around the camp.</p>
+
+<p>We toiled all day, not merely because the horse was exceedingly
+valuable to us, but also for the reason that he had a rope attached
+to his neck and I was afraid he might become entangled in the fallen
+timber and so starve to death.</p>
+
+<p>The tall tramper, who had been definitely abandoned by his partner,
+was a sad spectacle. He was blotched by mosquito bites, thin and weak
+with hunger, and his clothes hung in tatters. He had just about
+reached the limit of his courage, and though we were uncertain of our
+horses, and our food was nearly exhausted, we gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> him all the rice
+we had and some fruit and sent him on his way.</p>
+
+<p>Night came, and still no signs of "Major Grunt." It began to look as
+though some one had ridden him away and we should be forced to go on
+without him. This losing of a horse is one of the accidents which
+make the trail so uncertain. We were exceedingly anxious to get on.
+There was an oppressive warmth in the air, and flies and mosquitoes
+were the worst we had ever seen. Altogether this was a dark day on
+our calendar.</p>
+
+<p>After we had secured ourselves in our tents that night the sound of
+the savage insects without was like the roaring of a far-off
+hailstorm. The horses rolled in the dirt, snorted, wheeled madly,
+stamped, shook their heads, and flung themselves again and again on
+the ground, giving every evidence of the most terrible suffering. "If
+this is to continue," I said to my partner, "I shall quit, and either
+kill all my horses or ship them out of the country. I will not have
+them eaten alive in this way."</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to go outside to attend to them. Nothing could be
+done but sit in gloomy silence and listen to the drumming of their
+frantic feet on the turf as they battled against their invisible
+foes. At last, led by old Ladrone, they started off at a hobbling
+gallop up the trail.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we are in for it now," I remarked, as the footsteps died away.
+"They've hit the back trail, and we'll have another day's hard work
+to catch 'em and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> bring 'em back. However, there's no use worrying.
+The mosquitoes would eat us alive if we went out now. We might just
+as well go to sleep and wait till morning." Sleep was difficult under
+the circumstances, but we dozed off at last.</p>
+
+<p>As we took their trail in the cool of the next morning, we found the
+horses had taken the back trail till they reached an open hillside,
+and had climbed to the very edge of the timber. There they were all
+in a bunch, with the exception of "Major Grunt," of whom we had no
+trace.</p>
+
+<p>With a mind filled with distressing pictures of the lost horse
+entangled in his rope, and lying flat on his side hidden among the
+fallen tree trunks, there to struggle and starve, I reluctantly gave
+orders for a start, with intent to send an Indian back to search for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>After two hours' smart travel we came suddenly upon the little Indian
+village of Morricetown, which is built beside a narrow ca&ntilde;on through
+which the Bulkley rushes with tremendous speed. Here high on the
+level grassy bank we camped, quite secure from mosquitoes, and
+surrounded by the curious natives, who showed us where to find wood
+and water, and brought us the most beautiful spring salmon, and
+potatoes so tender and fine that the skin could be rubbed from them
+with the thumb. They were exactly like new potatoes in the States.
+Out of this, it may be well understood, we had a most satisfying
+dinner. Summer was in full tide. Pieplant was two feet high, and
+strawberries were almost ripe.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
+<p>Calling the men of the village around me, I explained in
+Pigeon-English and worse Chinook that I had lost a horse, and that I
+would give five dollars to the man who would bring him to me. They
+all listened attentively, filled with joy at a chance to earn so much
+money. At last the chief man of the village, a very good-looking
+fellow of twenty-five or thirty, said to me: "All light, me go, me
+fetch 'um. You stop here. Mebbe-so, klip-sun, I come bling horse."</p>
+
+<p>His confidence relieved us of anxiety, and we had a very pleasant day
+of it, digesting our bountiful meal of salmon and potatoes, and
+mending up our clothing. We were now pretty ragged and very brown,
+but in excellent health.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon a gang of road-cutters (who had been sent out
+by the towns interested in the route) came into town from Hazleton,
+and I had a talk with the boss, a very decent fellow, who gave a grim
+report of the trail beyond. He said: "Nobody knows anything about
+that trail. Jim Deacon, the head-man of our party when we left
+Hazleton, was only about seventy miles out, and cutting fallen timber
+like a man chopping cord wood, and sending back for more help. We are
+now going back to bridge and corduroy the places we had no time to
+fix as we came."</p>
+
+<p>Morricetown was a superb spot, and Burton was much inclined to stay
+right there and prospect the near-by mountains. So far as a mere
+casual observer could determine, this country offers every inducement
+to prospectors. It is possible to grow potatoes, hay, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> oats,
+together with various small fruits, in this valley, and if gold
+should ever be discovered in the rushing mountain streams, it would
+be easy to sustain a camp and feed it well.</p>
+
+<p>Long before sunset an Indian came up to us and smilingly said, "You
+hoss&mdash;come." And a few minutes later the young ty-ee came riding into
+town leading "Major Grunt," well as ever, but a little sullen. He had
+taken the back trail till he came to a narrow and insecure bridge.
+There he had turned up the stream, going deeper and deeper into the
+"stick," as the Siwash called the forest. I paid the reward gladly,
+and Major took his place among the other horses with no sign of joy.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="DO_YOU_FEAR_THE_WIND" id="DO_YOU_FEAR_THE_WIND"></a>DO YOU FEAR THE WIND?</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Do you fear the force of the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The slash of the rain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go face them and fight them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be savage again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go hungry and cold like the wolf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Go wade like the crane.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The palms of your hands will thicken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The skin of your cheek will tan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You'll grow ragged and weary and swarthy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But you'll walk like a man!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h4>HAZLETON. MIDWAY ON THE TRAIL</h4>
+
+
+<p>We were now but thirty miles from Hazleton, where our second bill of
+supplies was waiting for us, and we were eager to push on. Taking the
+advice of the road-gang we crossed the frail suspension bridge (which
+the Indians had most ingeniously constructed out of logs and pieces
+of old telegraph wire) and started down the west side of the river.
+Every ravine was filled by mountain streams' foam&mdash;white with speed.</p>
+
+<p>We descended all day and the weather grew more and more summer-like
+each mile. Ripe strawberries lured us from the warm banks. For the
+first time we came upon great groves of red cedar under which the
+trail ran very muddy and very slippery by reason of the hard roots of
+the cedars which never decay. Creeks that seemed to me a good field
+for placer mining came down from the left, but no one stopped to do
+more than pan a little gravel from a cut bank or a bar.</p>
+
+<p>At about two o'clock of the second day we came to the Indian village
+of Hagellgate, which stands on the high bank overhanging the roaring
+river just before it empties into the Skeena. Here we got news of the
+tramp who had fallen in exhaustion and was being cared for by the
+Indians.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+<p>Descending swiftly we came to the bank of the river, which was wide,
+tremendously swift and deep and cold. Rival Indian ferry companies
+bid for our custom, each man extolling his boat at the expense of the
+"old canoe&mdash;no good" of his rivals.</p>
+
+<p>The canoes were like those to be seen all along the coast, that is to
+say they had been hollowed from cottonwood or pine trees and
+afterward steamed and spread by means of hot water to meet the
+maker's idea of the proper line of grace and speed. They were really
+beautiful and sat the water almost as gracefully as the birch-bark
+canoe of the Chippewas. At each end they rose into a sort of neck,
+which terminated often in a head carved to resemble a deer or some
+fabled animal. Some of them had white bands encircling the throat of
+this figurehead. Their paddles were short and broad, but light and
+strong.</p>
+
+<p>These canoes are very seaworthy. As they were driven across the swift
+waters, they danced on the waves like leaves, and the boatmen bent to
+their oars with almost desperate energy and with most excited outcry.</p>
+
+<p>Therein is expressed a mighty difference between the Siwash and the
+plains Indian. The Cheyenne, the Sioux, conceal effort, or fear, or
+enthusiasm. These little people chattered and whooped at each other
+like monkeys. Upon hearing them for the first time I imagined they
+were losing control of the boat. Judging from their accent they were
+shrieking phrases like these:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, quick! Dig in deep, Joe. Scratch now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> we're going
+down&mdash;whoop! Hay, now! All together&mdash;swing her, dog-gone ye&mdash;SWING
+HER! Now straight&mdash;keep her straight! Can't ye see that eddy? Whoop,
+whoop! Let out a link or two, you spindle-armed child. Now <i>quick</i> or
+we're lost!"</p>
+
+<p>While the other men seemed to reply in kind: "Oh, rats, we're a
+makin' it. Head her toward that bush. Don't get scared&mdash;trust
+me&mdash;I'll sling her ashore!"</p>
+
+<p>A plains Indian, under similar circumstances, would have strained
+every muscle till his bones cracked, before permitting himself to
+show effort or excitement.</p>
+
+<p>With all their confusion and chatter these little people were always
+masters of the situation. They came out right, no matter how savage
+the river, and the Bulkley at this point was savage. Every drop of
+water was in motion. It had no eddies, no slack water. Its momentum
+was terrific. In crossing, the boatmen were obliged to pole their
+canoes far up beyond the point at which they meant to land; then, at
+the word, they swung into the rushing current and pulled like fiends
+for the opposite shore. Their broad paddles dipped so rapidly they
+resembled paddle-wheels. They kept the craft head-on to the current,
+and did not attempt to charge the bank directly, but swung-to
+broadside. In this way they led our horses safely across, and came up
+smiling each time.</p>
+
+<p>We found Hazleton to be a small village composed mainly of Indians,
+with a big Hudson Bay post at its centre. It was situated on a lovely
+green flat, but a few feet above the Skeena, which was a majestic
+flood at this point. There were some ten or fifteen outfits camped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+in and about the village, resting and getting ready for the last half
+of the trail. Some of the would-be miners had come up the river in
+the little Hudson Bay steamer, which makes two or three trips a year,
+and were waiting for her next trip in order to go down again.</p>
+
+<p>The town was filled with gloomy stories of the trail. No one knew its
+condition. In fact, it had not been travelled in seventeen years,
+except by the Indians on foot with their packs of furs. The road
+party was ahead, but toiling hard and hurrying to open a way for us.</p>
+
+<p>As I now reread all the advance literature of this "prairie route," I
+perceived how skilfully every detail with regard to the last half of
+the trail had been slurred over. We had been led into a sort of sack,
+and the string was tied behind us.</p>
+
+<p>The Hudson Bay agent said to me with perfect frankness, "There's no
+one in this village, except one or two Indians, who's ever been over
+the trail, or who can give you any information concerning it." He
+furthermore said, "A large number of these fellows who are starting
+in on this trip with their poor little cayuses will never reach the
+Stikeen River, and might better stop right here."</p>
+
+<p>Feed was scarce here as everywhere, and we were forced to camp on the
+trail, some two miles above the town. In going to and from our tent
+we passed the Indian burial ground, which was very curious and
+interesting to me. It was a veritable little city of the dead, with
+streets of tiny, gayly painted little houses in which the silent and
+motionless ones had been laid in their last sleep. Each tomb was a
+shelter, a roof, and a tomb,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> and upon each the builder had lavished
+his highest skill in ornament. They were all vivid with paint and
+carving and lattice work. Each builder seemed trying to outdo his
+neighbor in making a cheerful habitation for his dead.</p>
+
+<p>More curious still, in each house were the things which the dead had
+particularly loved. In one, a trunk contained all of a girl's
+much-prized clothing. A complete set of dishes was visible in
+another, while in a third I saw a wash-stand, bowl, pitcher, and
+mirror. There was something deeply touching to me in all this. They
+are so poor, their lives are so bare of comforts, that the
+consecration of these articles to the dead seemed a greater sacrifice
+than we, who count ourselves civilized, would make. Each chair, or
+table, or coat, or pair of shoes, costs many skins. The set of
+furniture meant many hard journeys in the cold, long days of
+trailing, trapping, and packing. The clothing had a high money value,
+yet it remained undisturbed. I saw one day a woman and two young
+girls halt to look timidly in at the window of a newly erected tomb,
+but only for a moment; and then, in a panic of fear and awe, they
+hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>The days which followed were cold and gloomy, quite in keeping with
+the grim tales of the trail. Bodies of horses and mules, drowned in
+the attempt to cross the Skeena, were reported passing the wharf at
+the post. The wife of a retired Indian agent, who claimed to have
+been over the route many years ago, was interviewed by my partner.
+After saying that it was a terrible trail, she sententiously ended
+with these words, "Gentlemen, you may consider yourselves
+explorers."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+<p>I halted a very intelligent Indian who came riding by our camp. "How
+far to Teslin Lake?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>He mused. "Maybe so forty days, maybe so thirty days. Me think forty
+days."</p>
+
+<p>"Good feed? Hy-u muck-a-muck?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me in silence and his face grew a little graver. "Ha&mdash;lo
+muck-a-muck (no feed). Long time no glass. Hy-yu stick (woods). Hy-u
+river&mdash;all day swim."</p>
+
+<p>Turning to Burton, I said, "Here we get at the truth of it. This man
+has no reason for lying. We need another horse, and we need fifty
+pounds more flour."</p>
+
+<p>One by one the outfits behind us came dropping down into Hazleton in
+long trains of weary horses, some of them in very bad condition. Many
+of the goldseekers determined to "quit." They sold their horses as
+best they could to the Indians (who were glad to buy them), and hired
+canoes to take them to the coast, intent to catch one of the steamers
+which ply to and fro between Skagway and Seattle.</p>
+
+<p>But one by one, with tinkling bells and sharp outcry of drivers,
+other outfits passed us, cheerily calling: "Good luck! See you
+later," all bound for the "gold belt." Gloomy skies continued to fill
+the imaginative ones with forebodings, and all day they could be seen
+in groups about the village discussing ways and means. Quarrels broke
+out, and parties disbanded in discouragement and bitterness. The road
+to the golden river seemed to grow longer, and the precious sand more
+elusive, from day to day. Here at Hazleton, where they had hoped to
+reach a gold region, nothing was doing. Those who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> visited the
+Kisgagash Mountains to the north were lukewarm in their reports, and
+no one felt like stopping to explore. The cry was, "On to Dawson."</p>
+
+<p>Here in Hazleton I came upon the lame tramp. He had secured lodging
+in an empty shack and was being helped to food by some citizens in
+the town for whom he was doing a little work. Seeing me pass he
+called to me and began to inquire about the trail.</p>
+
+<p>I read in the gleam of his eye an insane resolution to push forward.
+This I set about to check. "If you wish to commit suicide, start on
+this trail. The four hundred miles you have been over is a summer
+picnic excursion compared to that which is now to follow. My advice
+to you is to stay right where you are until the next Hudson Bay
+steamer comes by, then go to the captain and tell him just how you
+are situated, and ask him to carry you down to the coast. You are
+insane to think for a moment of attempting the four hundred miles of
+unknown trail between here and Glenora, especially without a cent in
+your pocket and no grub. You have no right to burden the other
+outfits with your needs."</p>
+
+<p>This plain talk seemed to affect him and he looked aggrieved. "But
+what can I do? I have no money and no work."</p>
+
+<p>I replied in effect: "Whatever you do, you can't afford to enter upon
+this trail, and you can't expect men who are already short of grub to
+feed and take care of you. There's a chance for you to work your way
+back to the coast on the Hudson Bay steamer. There's only starvation
+on the trail."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
+<p>As I walked away he called after me, but I refused to return. I had
+the feeling in spite of all I had said that he would attempt to
+rustle a little grub and make his start on the trail. The whole
+goldseeking movement was, in a way, a craze; he was simply an extreme
+development of it.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed necessary to break camp in order not to be eaten up by the
+Siwash dogs, whose peculiarities grew upon me daily. They were indeed
+strange beasts. They seemed to have no youth. I never saw them play;
+even the puppies were grave and sedate. They were never in a hurry
+and were not afraid. They got out of our way with the least possible
+exertion, looking meekly reproachful or snarling threateningly at us.
+They were ever watchful. No matter how apparently deep their slumber,
+they saw every falling crumb, they knew where we had hung our fish,
+and were ready as we turned our backs to make away with it. It was
+impossible to leave anything eatable for a single instant. Nothing
+but the sleight of hand of a conjurer could equal the mystery of
+their stealing.</p>
+
+<p>After buying a fourth pack animal and reshoeing all our horses, we
+got our outfit into shape for the long, hard drive which lay before
+us. Every ounce of superfluous weight, every tool, every article not
+absolutely essential, was discarded and its place filled with food.
+We stripped ourselves like men going into battle, and on the third
+day lined up for Teslin Lake, six hundred miles to the north.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="SIWASH_GRAVES" id="SIWASH_GRAVES"></a>SIWASH GRAVES</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here in their tiny gayly painted homes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sleep, these small dead people of the streams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their names unknown, their deeds forgot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their by-gone battles lost in dreams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A few short days and we who laugh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will be as still, will lie as low<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As utterly in dark as they who rot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here where the roses blow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They fought, and loved, and toiled, and died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As all men do, and all men must.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of what avail? we at the end<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fall quite as shapelessly to dust.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="LINE_UP_BRAVE_BOYS" id="LINE_UP_BRAVE_BOYS"></a>LINE UP, BRAVE BOYS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The packs are on, the cinches tight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The patient horses wait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the grass the frost lies white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dawn is gray and late.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The leader's cry rings sharp and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The campfires smoulder low;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before us lies a shallow mere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond, the mountain snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"<i>Line up, Billy, line up, boys,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>The east is gray with coming day,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>We must away, we cannot stay.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>Hy-o, hy-ak, brave boys!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Five hundred miles behind us lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As many more ahead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through mud and mire on mountains high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our weary feet must tread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So one by one, with loyal mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The horses swing to place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The strong in lead, the weak behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In patient plodding grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"<i>Hy-o, Buckskin, brave boy, Joe!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>The sun is high,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>The hid loons cry:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>Hy-ak&mdash;away! Hy-o!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h4>CROSSING THE BIG DIVIDE</h4>
+
+
+<p>Our stay at Hazleton in some measure removed the charm of the first
+view. The people were all so miserably poor, and the hosts of
+howling, hungry dogs made each day more distressing. The mountains
+remained splendid to the last; and as we made our start I looked back
+upon them with undiminished pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>We pitched tent at night just below the ford, and opposite another
+Indian village in which a most mournful medicine song was going on,
+timed to the beating of drums. Dogs joined with the mourning of the
+people with cries of almost human anguish, to which the beat of the
+passionless drum added solemnity, and a sort of inexorable marching
+rhythm. It seemed to announce pestilence and flood, and made the
+beautiful earth a place of hunger and despair.</p>
+
+<p>I was awakened in the early dawn by a singular cry repeated again and
+again on the farther side of the river. It seemed the voice of a
+woman uttering in wailing; chant the most piercing agony of
+despairing love. It ceased as the sun arose and was heard no more. It
+was difficult to imagine such anguish in the bustle of the bright
+morning. It seemed as though it must have been an illusion&mdash;a dream
+of tragedy.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+<p>In the course of an hour's travel we came down to the sandy bottom of
+the river, whereon a half-dozen fine canoes were beached and waiting
+for us. The skilful natives set us across very easily, although it
+was the maddest and wildest of all the rivers we had yet seen. We
+crossed the main river just above the point at which the west fork
+enters. The horses were obliged to swim nearly half a mile, and some
+of them would not have reached the other shore had it not been for
+the Indians, who held their heads out of water from the sterns of the
+canoes, and so landed them safely on the bar just opposite the little
+village called Kispyox, which is also the Indian name of the west
+fork.</p>
+
+<p>The trail made off up the eastern bank of this river, which was as
+charming as any stream ever imagined by a poet. The water was
+gray-green in color, swift and active. It looped away in most
+splendid curves, through opulent bottom lands, filled with wild
+roses, geranium plants, and berry blooms. Openings alternated with
+beautiful woodlands and grassy meadows, while over and beyond all
+rose the ever present mountains of the coast range, deep blue and
+snow-capped.</p>
+
+<p>There was no strangeness in the flora&mdash;on the contrary, everything
+seemed familiar. Hazel bushes, poplars, pines, all growth was
+amazingly luxuriant. The trail was an Indian path, graceful and full
+of swinging curves. We had passed beyond the telegraph wire of the
+old trail.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the afternoon we passed some five or six outfits camped on a
+beautiful grassy bank overlooking the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> river, and forming a most
+satisfying picture. The bells on the grazing horses were tinkling,
+and from sparkling fires, thin columns of smoke arose. Some of the
+young men were bathing, while others were washing their shirts in the
+sunny stream. There was a cheerful sound of whistling and rattling of
+tinware mingled with the sound of axes. Nothing could be more jocund,
+more typical, of the young men and the trail. It was one of the few
+pleasant camps of the long journey.</p>
+
+<p>It was raining when we awoke, but before noon it cleared sufficiently
+to allow us to pack. We started at one, though the bushes were loaded
+with water, and had we not been well clothed in waterproof, we should
+have been drenched to the bone. We rode for four hours over a good
+trail, dodging wet branches in the pouring rain. It lightened at
+five, and we went into camp quite dry and comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>We unpacked near an Indian ranch belonging to an old man and his
+wife, who came up at once to see us. They were good-looking, rugged
+old souls, like powerful Japanese. They could not speak Chinook, and
+we could not get much out of them. The old wife toted a monstrous big
+salmon up the hill to sell to us, but we had more fish than we could
+eat, and were forced to decline. There was a beautiful spring just
+back of the cabin, and the old man seemed to take pleasure in having
+us get our water from it. Neither did he object to our horses feeding
+about his house, where there was very excellent grass. It was a
+charming camping-place, wild flowers made the trail radiant even in
+the midst of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> rain. The wild roses grew in clumps of sprays as high
+as a horse's head.</p>
+
+<p>Just before we determined to camp we had passed three or four outfits
+grouped together on the sward on the left bank of the river. As we
+rode by, one of the men had called to me saying: "You had better
+camp. It is thirty miles from here to feed." To this I had merely
+nodded, giving it little attention; but now as we sat around our
+campfire, Burton brought the matter up again: "If it is thirty miles
+to feed, we will have to get off early to-morrow morning and make as
+big a drive as we can, while the horses are fresh, and then make the
+latter part of the run on empty stomachs."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think they were just talking for our special benefit," I
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"No, they were in earnest. One of them came out to see me. He said he
+got his pointer from the mule train ahead of us. Feed is going to be
+very scarce, and the next run is fully thirty miles."</p>
+
+<p>I insisted it could not be possible that we should go at once from
+the luxuriant pea-vine and bluejoint into a thirty-mile stretch of
+country where nothing grew. "There must be breaks in the forest where
+we can graze our horses."</p>
+
+<p>It rained all night and in the morning it seemed as if it had settled
+into a week's downpour. However, we were quite comfortable with
+plenty of fresh salmon, and were not troubled except with the thought
+of the mud which would result from this rainstorm. We were falling
+steadily behind our schedule each day, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> horses were feeding
+and gaining strength&mdash;"And when we hit the trail, we will hit it
+hard," I said to Burton.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sunday. The day was perfectly quiet and peaceful, like a rainy
+Sunday in the States. The old Indian below kept to his house all day,
+not visiting us. It is probable that he was a Catholic. The dogs came
+about us occasionally; strange, solemn creatures that they are, they
+had the persistence of hunger and the silence of burglars.</p>
+
+<p>It was raining when we awoke Monday morning, but we were now restless
+to get under way. We could not afford to spend another day waiting in
+the rain. It was gloomy business in camp, and at the first sign of
+lightening sky we packed up and started promptly at twelve o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>That ride was the sternest we had yet experienced. It was like
+swimming in a sea of green water. The branches sloshed us with
+blinding raindrops. The mud spurted under our horses' hoofs, the sky
+was gray and drizzled moisture, and as we rose we plunged into ever
+deepening forests. We left behind us all hazel bushes, alders, wild
+roses, and grasses. Moss was on every leaf and stump: the forest
+became savage, sinister and silent, not a living thing but ourselves
+moved or uttered voice.</p>
+
+<p>This world grew oppressive with its unbroken clear greens, its
+dripping branches, its rotting trees; its snake-like roots half
+buried in the earth convinced me that our warning was well-born. At
+last we came into upper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> heights where no blade of grass grew, and we
+pushed on desperately, on and on, hour after hour. We began to suffer
+with the horses, being hungry and cold ourselves. We plunged into
+bottomless mudholes, slid down slippery slopes of slate, and leaped
+innumerable fallen logs of fir. The sky had no more pity than the
+mossy ground and the desolate forest. It was a mocking land, a land
+of green things, but not a blade of grass: only austere trees and
+noxious weeds.</p>
+
+<p>During the day we met an old man so loaded down I could not tell
+whether he was man, woman, or beast. A sort of cap or wide cloth band
+went across his head, concealing his forehead. His huge pack loomed
+over his shoulders, and as he walked, using two paddles as canes, he
+seemed some anomalous four-footed beast of burden.</p>
+
+<p>As he saw us he threw off his pack to rest and stood erect, a sturdy
+man of sixty, with short bristling hair framing a kindly resolute
+face. He was very light-hearted. He shook hands with me, saying,
+"Kla-how-ya," in answer to my, "Kla-how-ya six," which is to say,
+"How are you, friend?" He smiled, pointed to his pack, and said,
+"Hy-u skin." His season had been successful and he was going now to
+sell his catch. A couple of dogs just behind carried each twenty
+pounds on their backs. We were eating lunch, and I invited him to sit
+and eat. He took a seat and began to parcel out the food in two
+piles.</p>
+
+<p>"He has a companion coming," I said to my partner. In a few moments a
+boy of fourteen or fifteen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> came up, carrying a pack that would test
+the strength of a powerful white man. He, too, threw off his load and
+at a word from the old man took a seat at the table. They shared
+exactly alike. It was evident that they were father and son.</p>
+
+<p>A few miles farther on we met another family, two men, a woman, a
+boy, and six dogs, all laden in proportion. They were all handsomer
+than the Siwashes of the Fraser River. They came from the head-waters
+of the Nasse, they said. They could speak but little Chinook and no
+English at all. When I asked in Chinook, "How far is it to feed for
+our horses?" the woman looked first at our thin animals, then at us,
+and shook her head sorrowfully; then lifting her hands in the most
+dramatic gesture she half whispered, "Si-ah, si-ah!" That is to say,
+"Far, very far!"</p>
+
+<p>Both these old people seemed very kind to their dogs, which were fat
+and sleek and not related to those I had seen in Hazleton. When the
+old man spoke to them, his voice was gentle and encouraging. At the
+word they all took up the line of march and went off down the hill
+toward the Hudson Bay store, there to remain during the summer. We
+pushed on, convinced by the old woman's manner that our long trail
+was to be a gloomy one.</p>
+
+<p>Night began to settle over us at last, adding the final touches of
+uncertainty and horror to the gloom. We pushed on with necessary
+cruelty, forcing the tired horses to their utmost, searching every
+ravine and every slope for a feed; but only ferns and strange green
+poisonous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> plants could be seen. We were angling up the side of the
+great ridge which separated the west fork of the Skeena River from
+the middle fork. It was evident that we must cross this high divide
+and descend into the valley of the middle fork before we could hope
+to feed our horses.</p>
+
+<p>However, just as darkness was beginning to come on, we came to an
+almost impassable slough in the trail, where a small stream descended
+into a little flat marsh and morass. This had been used as a
+camping-place by others, and we decided to camp, because to travel,
+even in the twilight, was dangerous to life and limb.</p>
+
+<p>It was a gloomy and depressing place to spend the night. There was
+scarcely level ground enough to receive our camp. The wood was soggy
+and green. In order to reach the marsh we were forced to lead our
+horses one by one through a dangerous mudhole, and once through this
+they entered upon a quaking bog, out of which grew tufts of grass
+which had been gnawed to the roots by the animals which had preceded
+them; only a rank bottom of dead leaves of last year's growth was
+left for our tired horses. I was deeply anxious for fear they would
+crowd into the central bog in their efforts to reach the uncropped
+green blades which grew out of reach in the edge of the water. They
+were ravenous with hunger after eight hours of hard labor.</p>
+
+<p>Our clothing was wet to the inner threads, and we were tired and
+muddy also, but our thoughts were on the horses rather than upon
+ourselves. We soon had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> fire going and some hot supper, and by ten
+o'clock were stretched out in our beds for the night.</p>
+
+<p>I have never in my life experienced a gloomier or more distressing
+camp on the trail. My bed was dry and warm, but I could not forget
+our tired horses grubbing about in the chilly night on that desolate
+marsh.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="A_CHILD_OF_THE_SUN" id="A_CHILD_OF_THE_SUN"></a>A CHILD OF THE SUN</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Give me the sun and the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wide sky. Let it blaze with light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let it burn with heat&mdash;I care not.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun is the blood of my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind of the plain my breath.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No woodsman am I. My eyes are set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the wide low lines. The level rim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the prairie land is mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The semi-gloom of the pointed firs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sleeping darks of the mountain spruce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are prison and poison to such as I.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the forest I long for the rose of the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the dark of the firs I die.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="IN_THE_GRASS" id="IN_THE_GRASS"></a>IN THE GRASS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O to lie in long grasses!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O to dream of the plain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the west wind sings as it passes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A weird and unceasing refrain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the rank grass wallows and tosses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the plains' ring dazzles the eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where hardly a silver cloud bosses<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flashing steel arch of the sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To watch the gay gulls as they flutter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like snowflakes and fall down the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To swoop in the deeps of the hollows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the crow's-foot tosses awry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gnats in the lee of the thickets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are swirling like waltzers in glee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the harsh, shrill creak of the crickets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the song of the lark and the bee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O far-off plains of my west land!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O lands of winds and the free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swift deer&mdash;my mist-clad plain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From my bed in the heart of the forest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the clasp and the girdle of pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your light through my darkness passes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To your meadows in dreaming I fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To plunge in the deeps of your grasses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bask in the light of your sky!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE SILENT FORESTS OF THE DREAD SKEENA</h4>
+
+
+<p>We were awake early and our first thought was of our horses. They
+were quite safe and cropping away on the dry stalks with patient
+diligence. We saddled up and pushed on, for food was to be had only
+in the valley, whose blue and white walls we could see far ahead of
+us. After nearly six hours' travel we came out of the forest, out
+into the valley of the middle fork of the Skeena, into sunlight and
+grass in abundance, where we camped till the following morning,
+giving the horses time to recuperate.</p>
+
+<p>We were done with smiling valleys&mdash;that I now perceived. We were
+coming nearer to the sub-arctic country, grim and desolate. The view
+was magnificent, but the land seemed empty and silent except of
+mosquitoes, of which there were uncounted millions. On our right just
+across the river rose the white peaks of the Kisgagash Mountains.
+Snow was still lying in the gullies only a few rods above us.</p>
+
+<p>The horses fed right royally and soon forgot the dearth of the big
+divide. As we were saddling up to move the following morning, several
+outfits came trailing down into the valley, glad as we had been of
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> splendid field of grass. They were led by a grizzled old
+American, who cursed the country with fine fervor.</p>
+
+<p>"I can stand any kind of a country," said he, "except one where
+there's no feed. And as near's I can find out we're in fer hell's own
+time fer feed till we reach them prairies they tell about."</p>
+
+<p>After leaving this flat, we had the Kuldo (a swift and powerful
+river) to cross, but we found an old Indian and a girl camped on the
+opposite side waiting for us. The daughter, a comely child about
+sixteen years of age, wore a calico dress and "store" shoes. She was
+a self-contained little creature, and clearly in command of the boat,
+and very efficient. It was no child's play to put the light canoe
+across such a stream, but the old man, with much shouting and under
+command of the girl, succeeded in crossing six times, carrying us and
+our baggage. As we were being put across for the last time it became
+necessary for some one to pull the canoe through the shallow water,
+and the little girl, without hesitation, leaped out regardless of new
+shoes, and tugged at the rope while the old man poled at the stern,
+and so we were landed.</p>
+
+<p>As a recognition of her resolution I presented her with a dollar,
+which I tried to make her understand was her own, and not to be given
+to her father. Up to that moment she had been very shy and rather
+sullen, but my present seemed to change her opinion of us, and she
+became more genial at once. She was short and sturdy, and her little
+footsteps in the trail were strangely suggestive of civilization.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+<p>After leaving the river we rose sharply for about three miles. This
+brought us to the first notice on the trail which was signed by the
+road-gang, an ambiguous scrawl to the effect that feed was to be very
+scarce for a long, long way, and that we should feed our horses
+before going forward. The mystery of the sign lay in the fact that no
+feed was in sight, and if it referred back to the flat, then it was
+in the nature of an Irish bull.</p>
+
+<p>There was a fork in the trail here, and another notice informed us
+that the trail to the right ran to the Indian village of Kuldo. Rain
+threatened, and as it was late and no feed promised, I determined to
+camp. Turning to the right down a tremendously steep path (the horses
+sliding on their haunches), we came to an old Indian fishing village
+built on a green shelf high above the roaring water of the Skeena.</p>
+
+<p>The people all came rushing out to see us, curious but very
+hospitable. Some of the children began plucking grasses for the
+horses, but being unaccustomed to animals of any kind, not one would
+approach within reach of them. I tried, by patting Ladrone and
+putting his head over my shoulder, to show them how gentle he was,
+but they only smiled and laughed as much as to say, "Yes, that is all
+right for <i>you</i>, but we are afraid." They were all very good-looking,
+smiling folk, but poorly dressed. They seemed eager to show us where
+the best grass grew, demanded nothing of us, begged nothing, and did
+not attempt to overcharge us. There were some eight or ten families
+in the ca&ntilde;on, and their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> houses were wretched shacks, mere lodges of
+slabs with vents in the peak. So far as they could, they conformed to
+the ways of white men.</p>
+
+<p>Here they dwell by this rushing river in the midst of a gloomy and
+trackless forest, far removed from any other people of any sort. They
+were but a handful of human souls. As they spoke little Chinook and
+almost no English, it was difficult to converse with them. They had
+lost the sign language or seemed not to use it. Their village was
+built here because the ca&ntilde;on below offered a capital place for
+fishing and trapping, and the principal duty of the men was to watch
+the salmon trap dancing far below. For the rest they hunt wild
+animals and sell furs to the Hudson Bay Company at Hazleton, which is
+their metropolis.</p>
+
+<p>They led us to the edge of the village and showed us where the
+road-gang had set their tent, and we soon had a fire going in our
+little stove, which was the amazement and delight of a circle of men,
+women, and children, but they were not intrusive and asked for
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the evening the old man and the girl who had helped to ferry
+us across the Kuldo came down the hill and joined the circle of our
+visitors.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled as we greeted her and so did the father, who assured me he
+was the ty-ee (boss) of the village, which he seemed to be.</p>
+
+<p>After our supper we distributed some fruit among the children, and
+among the old women some hot coffee with sugar, which was a keen
+delight to them. Our desire to be friendly was deeply appreciated by
+these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> poor people, and our wish to do them good was greater than our
+means. The way was long before us and we could not afford to give
+away our supplies. How they live in winter I cannot understand;
+probably they go down the river to Hazleton.</p>
+
+<p>I began to dread the dark green dripping firs which seemed to
+encompass us like some vast army. They chilled me, oppressed me.
+Moreover, I was lame in every joint from the toil of crossing rivers,
+climbing steep hills, and dragging at cinches. I had walked down
+every hill and in most cases on the sharp upward slopes in order to
+relieve Ladrone of my weight.</p>
+
+<p>As we climbed back to our muddy path next day, we were filled with
+dark forebodings of the days to come. We climbed all day, keeping the
+bench high above the river. The land continued silent. It was a
+wilderness of firs and spruce pines. It was like a forest of bronze.
+Nothing but a few rose bushes and some leek-like plants rose from the
+mossy floor, on which the sun fell, weak and pale, in rare places. No
+beast or bird uttered sound save a fishing eagle swinging through the
+ca&ntilde;on above the roaring water.</p>
+
+<p>In the gloom the voice of the stream became a raucous roar. On every
+side cold and white and pitiless the snowy peaks lifted above the
+serrate rim of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>Life was scant here. In all the mighty spread of forest between the
+continental divide on the east and the coast range at the west there
+are few living things, and these few necessarily centre in the warm
+openings on the banks of the streams where the sunlight falls or in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
+the high valleys above the firs. There are no serpents and no
+insects.</p>
+
+<p>As we mounted day by day we crossed dozens of swift little streams
+cold and gray with silt. Our rate of speed was very low. One of our
+horses became very weak and ill, evidently poisoned, and we were
+forced to stop often to rest him. All the horses were weakening day
+by day.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the middle of the third day, after crossing a stream which
+came from the left, the trail turned as if to leave the Skeena
+behind. We were mighty well pleased and climbed sharply and with
+great care of our horses till we reached a little meadow at the
+summit, very tired and disheartened, for the view showed only other
+peaks and endless waves of spruce and fir. We rode on under drizzling
+skies and dripping trees. There was little sunshine and long lines of
+heavily weighted gray clouds came crawling up the valley from the sea
+to break in cold rain over the summits.</p>
+
+<p>The horses again grew hungry and weak, and it was necessary to use
+great care in crossing the streams. We were lame and sore with the
+toil of the day, and what was more depressing found ourselves once
+more upon the banks of the Skeena, where only an occasional bunch of
+bluejoint could be found. The constant strain of watching the horses
+and guiding them through the mud began to tell on us both. There was
+now no moment of ease, no hour of enjoyment. We had set ourselves
+grimly to the task of bringing our horses through alive. We no longer
+rode, we toiled in silence, leading our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> saddle-horses on which we
+had packed a part of our outfit to relieve the sick and starving
+packhorses.</p>
+
+<p>On the fourth day we took a westward shoot from the river, and
+following the course of a small stream again climbed heavily up the
+slope. Our horses were now so weak we could only climb a few rods at
+a time without rest. But at last, just as night began to fall, we
+came upon a splendid patch of bluejoint, knee-deep and rich. It was
+high on the mountain side, on a slope so steep that the horses could
+not lie down, so steep that it was almost impossible to set our tent.
+We could not persuade ourselves to pass it, however, and so made the
+best of it. Everywhere we could see white mountains, to the south, to
+the west, to the east.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we have left the Skeena Valley," said Burton.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we have seen the last of the Skeena," I replied, "and I'm glad
+of it. I never want to see that gray-green flood again."</p>
+
+<p>A part of the time that evening we spent in picking the thorns of
+devil's-club out of our hands. This strange plant I had not seen
+before, and do not care to see it again. In plunging through the
+mudholes we spasmodically clutched these spiny things. Ladrone nipped
+steadily at the bunch of leaves which grew at the top of the twisted
+stalk. Again we plunged down into the cold green forest, following a
+stream whose current ran to the northeast. This brought us once again
+to the bank of the dreaded Skeena. The trail was "punishing," and the
+horses plunged and lunged all day through the mud, over logs, stones,
+and roots.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> Our nerves quivered with the torture of piloting our
+mistrusted desperate horses through these awful pitfalls. We were
+still in the region of ferns and devil's-club.</p>
+
+<p>We allowed no feed to escape us. At any hour of the day, whenever we
+found a bunch of grass, no matter if it were not bigger than a broom,
+we stopped for the horses to graze it and so we kept them on their
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>At five o'clock in the afternoon we climbed to a low, marshy lake
+where an Indian hunter was camped. He said we would find feed on
+another lake some miles up, and we pushed on, wallowing through mud
+and water of innumerable streams, each moment in danger of leaving a
+horse behind. I walked nearly all day, for it was torture to me as
+well as to Ladrone to ride him over such a trail. Three of our horses
+now showed signs of poisoning, two of them walked with a sprawling
+action of the fore legs, their eyes big and glassy. One was too weak
+to carry anything more than his pack-saddle, and our going had a sort
+of sullen desperation in it. Our camps were on the muddy ground,
+without comfort or convenience.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, as I swung into the saddle and started at the head of
+my train, Ladrone threw out his nose with a sharp indrawn squeal of
+pain. At first I paid little attention to it, but it came again&mdash;and
+then I noticed a weakness in his limbs. I dismounted and examined him
+carefully. He, too, was poisoned and attacked by spasms. It was a
+sorrowful thing to see my proud gray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> reduced to this condition. His
+eyes were dilated and glassy and his joints were weak. We could not
+stop, we could not wait, we must push on to feed and open ground; and
+so leading him carefully I resumed our slow march.</p>
+
+<p>But at last, just when it seemed as though we could not go any
+farther with our suffering animals, we came out of the poisonous
+forest upon a broad grassy bottom where a stream was flowing to the
+northwest. We raised a shout of joy, for it seemed this must be a
+branch of the Nasse. If so, we were surely out of the clutches of the
+Skeena. This bottom was the first dry and level ground we had seen
+since leaving the west fork, and the sun shone. "Old man, the worst
+of our trail is over," I shouted to my partner. "The land looks more
+open to the north. We're coming to that plateau they told us of."</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how sweet, fine, and sunny the short dry grass seemed to us after
+our long toilsome stay in the sub-aqueous gloom of the Skeena
+forests! We seemed about to return to the birds and the flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Ladrone was very ill, but I fed him some salt mixed with lard, and
+after a doze in the sun he began to nibble grass with the others, and
+at last stretched out on the warm dry sward to let the glorious sun
+soak into his blood. It was a joyous thing to us to see the faithful
+ones revelling in the healing sunlight, their stomachs filled at last
+with sweet rich forage. We were dirty, ragged, and lame, and our
+hands were calloused and seamed with dirt, but we were strong and
+hearty.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+<p>We were high in the mountains here. Those little marshy lakes and
+slow streams showed that we were on a divide, and to our minds could
+be no other than the head-waters of the Nasse, which has a watershed
+of its own to the sea. We believed the worst of our trip to be over.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_FAITHFUL_BRONCOS" id="THE_FAITHFUL_BRONCOS"></a>THE FAITHFUL BRONCOS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They go to certain death&mdash;to freeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To grope their way through blinding snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To starve beneath the northern trees&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their curse on us who made them go!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They trust and we betray the trust;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They humbly look to us for keep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rifle crumbles them to dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we&mdash;have hardly grace to weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they line up to die.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_WHISTLING_MARMOT" id="THE_WHISTLING_MARMOT"></a>THE WHISTLING MARMOT</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On mountains cold and bold and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where only golden eagles fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He builds his home against the sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Above the clouds he sits and whines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The morning sun about him shines;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rivers loop below in shining lines.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No wolf or cat may find him there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That winged corsair of the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eagle, is his only care.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He sees the pink snows slide away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sees his little ones at play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And peace fills out each summer day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In winter, safe within his nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He eats his winter store with zest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And takes his young ones to his breast.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GREAT STIKEEN DIVIDE</h4>
+
+
+<p>At about eight o'clock the next morning, as we were about to line up
+for our journey, two men came romping down the trail, carrying packs
+on their backs and taking long strides. They were "hitting the high
+places in the scenery," and seemed to be entirely absorbed in the
+work. I hailed them and they turned out to be two young men from
+Duluth, Minnesota. They were without hats, very brown, very hairy,
+and very much disgusted with the country.</p>
+
+<p>For an hour we discussed the situation. They were the first white men
+we had met on the entire journey, almost the only returning
+footsteps, and were able to give us a little information of the
+trail, but only for a distance of about forty miles; beyond this they
+had not ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"We left our outfits back here on a little lake&mdash;maybe you saw our
+Indian guide&mdash;and struck out ahead to see if we could find those
+splendid prairies they were telling us about, where the caribou and
+the moose were so thick you couldn't miss 'em. We've been forty miles
+up the trail. It's all a climb, and the very worst yet. You'll come
+finally to a high snowy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> divide with nothing but mountains on every
+side. There <i>is</i> no prairie; it's all a lie, and we're going back to
+Hazleton to go around by way of Skagway. Have you any idea where we
+are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly; we're in British Columbia."</p>
+
+<p>"But where? On what stream?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is a detail," I replied. "I consider the little camp on
+which we are camped one of the head-waters of the Nasse; but we're
+not on the Telegraph Trail at all. We're more nearly in line with the
+old Dease Lake Trail."</p>
+
+<p>"Why is it, do you suppose, that the road-gang ahead of us haven't
+left a single sign, not even a word as to where we are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they can't write," said my partner.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they don't know where they are at, themselves," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's exactly the way it looks to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there any outfits ahead of us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, old Bob Borlan's about two days up the slope with his train of
+mules, working like a slave to get through. They're all getting short
+of grub and losing a good many horses. You'll have to work your way
+through with great care, or you'll lose a horse or two in getting
+from here to the divide."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this won't do. So-long, boys," said one of the young fellows,
+and they started off with immense vigor, followed by their handsome
+dogs, and we lined up once more with stern faces, knowing now that a
+terrible trail for at least one hundred miles was before us. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+was no thought of retreat, however. We had set our feet to this
+journey, and we determined to go.</p>
+
+<p>After a few hours' travel we came upon the grassy shore of another
+little lake, where the bells of several outfits were tinkling
+merrily. On the bank of a swift little river setting out of the lake,
+a couple of tents stood, and shirts were flapping from the limbs of
+near-by willows. The owners were "The Man from Chihuahua," his
+partner, the blacksmith, and the two young men from Manchester, New
+Hampshire, who had started from Ashcroft as markedly tenderfoot as
+any men could be. They had been lambasted and worried into perfect
+efficiency as packers and trailers, and were entitled to
+respect&mdash;even the respect of "The Man from Chihuahua."</p>
+
+<p>They greeted us with jovial outcry.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, strangers! Where ye think you're goin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' crazy," replied Burton.</p>
+
+<p>"You look it," said Bill.</p>
+
+<p>"By God, we was all sure crazy when we started on this damn trail,"
+remarked the old man. He was in bad humor on account of his horses,
+two of which were suffering from poisoning. When anything touched his
+horses, he was "plum irritable."</p>
+
+<p>He came up to me very soberly. "Have you any idee where we're at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;we're on the head-waters of the Nasse."</p>
+
+<p>"Are we on the Telegraph Trail?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; as near as I can make out we're away to the right of the
+telegraph crossing."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+<p>Thereupon we compared maps. "It's mighty little use to look at
+maps&mdash;they're all drew by guess&mdash;an'&mdash;by God, anyway," said the old
+fellow, as he ran his grimy forefinger over the red line which
+represented the trail. "We've been a slantin' hellwards ever since we
+crossed the Skeeny&mdash;I figure it we're on the old Dease Lake Trail."</p>
+
+<p>To this we all agreed at last, but our course thereafter was by no
+means clear.</p>
+
+<p>"If we took the old Dease Lake Trail we're three hundred miles from
+Telegraph Creek yit&mdash;an' somebody's goin' to be hungry before we get
+in," said the old trailer. "I'd like to camp here for a few days and
+feed up my horses, but it ain't safe&mdash;we got 'o keep movin'. We've
+been on this damn trail long enough, and besides grub is gittin'
+lighter all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of the trail?" asked Burton.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been on the trail all my life," he replied, "an' I never was in
+such a pizen, empty no-count country in my life. Wasn't that big
+divide hell? Did ye ever see the beat of that fer a barren? No more
+grass than a cellar. Might as well camp in a cistern. I wish I could
+lay hands on the feller that called this 'The Prairie Route'&mdash;they'd
+sure be a dog-fight right here."</p>
+
+<p>The old man expressed the feeling of those of us who were too shy and
+delicate of speech to do it justice, and we led him on to most
+satisfying blasphemy of the land and the road-gang.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there's that road-gang sent out to put this trail into
+shape&mdash;what have they done? You'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> think they couldn't read or
+write&mdash;not a word to help us out."</p>
+
+<p>Partner and I remained in camp all the afternoon and all the next
+day, although our travelling companions packed up and moved out the
+next morning. We felt the need of a day's freedom from worry, and our
+horses needed feed and sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, the splendor of the sun, the fresh green grass, the rippling
+water of the river, the beautiful lake! And what joy it was to see
+our horses feed and sleep. They looked distressingly thin and poor
+without their saddles. Ladrone was still weak in the ankle joints and
+the arch had gone out of his neck, while faithful Bill, who never
+murmured or complained, had a glassy stare in his eyes, the lingering
+effects of poisoning. The wind rose in the afternoon, bringing to us
+a sound of moaning tree-tops, and somehow it seemed to be an augury
+of better things&mdash;seemed to prophesy a fairer and dryer country to
+the north of us. The singing of the leaves went to my heart with a
+hint of home, and I remembered with a start how absolutely windless
+the sullen forest of the Skeena had been.</p>
+
+<p>Near by a dam was built across the river, and a fishing trap made out
+of willows was set in the current. Piles of caribou hair showed that
+the Indians found game in the autumn. We took time to explore some
+old fishing huts filled with curious things,&mdash;skins, toboggans,
+dog-collars, cedar ropes, and many other traps of small value to
+anybody. Most curious of all we found some flint-lock muskets made
+exactly on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> models of one hundred years ago, but dated 1883! It
+seemed impossible that guns of such ancient models should be
+manufactured up to the present date; but there they were all
+carefully marked "London, 1883."</p>
+
+<p>It was a long day of rest and regeneration. We took a bath in the
+clear, cold waters of the stream, washed our clothing and hung it up
+to dry, beat the mud out of our towels, and so made ready for the
+onward march. We should have stayed longer, but the ebbing away of
+our grub pile made us apprehensive. To return was impossible.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_CLOUDS" id="THE_CLOUDS"></a>THE CLOUDS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Circling the mountains the gray clouds go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy with storms as a mother with child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeking release from their burden of snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With calm slow motion they cross the wild&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stately and sombre, they catch and cling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the barren crags of the peaks in the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary with waiting, and mad for rest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_GREAT_STIKEEN_DIVIDE" id="THE_GREAT_STIKEEN_DIVIDE"></a>THE GREAT STIKEEN DIVIDE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A land of mountains based in hills of fir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Empty, lone, and cold. A land of streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose roaring voices drown the whirr<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of aspen leaves, and fill the heart with dreams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of dearth and death. The peaks are stern and white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The skies above are grim and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the rivers cleave their sounding way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through endless forests dark as night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Toward the ocean's far-off line of spray.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h4>IN THE COLD GREEN MOUNTAINS</h4>
+
+
+<p>The Nasse River, like the Skeena and the Stikeen, rises in the
+interior mountains, and flows in a south-westerly direction, breaking
+through the coast range into the Pacific Ocean, not far from the
+mouth of the Stikeen.</p>
+
+<p>It is a much smaller stream than the Skeena, which is, moreover,
+immensely larger than the maps show. We believed we were about to
+pass from the watershed of the Nasse to the east fork of the Iskoot,
+on which those far-shining prairies were said to lie, with their
+flowery meadows rippling under the west wind. If we could only reach
+that mystical plateau, our horses would be safe from all disease.</p>
+
+<p>We crossed the Cheweax, a branch of the Nasse, and after climbing
+briskly to the northeast along the main branch we swung around over a
+high wooded hog-back, and made off up the valley along the north and
+lesser fork. We climbed all day, both of us walking, leading our
+horses, with all our goods distributed with great care over the six
+horses. It was a beautiful day overhead&mdash;that was the only
+compensation. We were sweaty, eaten by flies and mosquitoes, and
+covered with mud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> All day we sprawled over roots, rocks, and logs,
+plunging into bogholes and slopping along in the running water, which
+in places had turned the trail into an aqueduct. The men from Duluth
+had told no lie.</p>
+
+<p>After crawling upward for nearly eight hours we came upon a little
+patch of bluejoint, on the high side of the hill, and there camped in
+the gloom of the mossy and poisonous forest. By hard and persistent
+work we ticked off nearly fifteen miles, and judging from the stream,
+which grew ever swifter, we should come to a divide in the course of
+fifteen or twenty miles.</p>
+
+<p>The horses being packed light went along fairly well, although it was
+a constant struggle to get them to go through the mud. Old Ladrone
+walking behind me groaned with dismay every time we came to one of
+those terrible sloughs. He seemed to plead with me, "Oh, my master,
+don't send me into that dreadful hole!"</p>
+
+<p>But there was no other way. It must be done, and so Burton's sharp
+cry would ring out behind and our little train would go in one after
+the other, plunging, splashing, groaning, struggling through.
+Ladrone, seeing me walk a log by the side of the trail, would
+sometimes follow me as deftly as a cat. He seemed to think his right
+to avoid the mud as good as mine. But as there was always danger of
+his slipping off and injuring himself, I forced him to wallow in the
+mud, which was as distressing to me as to him.</p>
+
+<p>The next day we started with the determination to reach the divide.
+"There is no hope of grass so long as we remain in this forest," said
+Burton. "We must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> get above timber where the sun shines to get any
+feed for our horses. It is cruel, but we must push them to-day just
+as long as they can stand up, or until we reach the grass."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing seemed to appall or disturb my partner; he was always ready
+to proceed, his voice ringing out with inflexible resolution.</p>
+
+<p>It was one of the most laborious days of all our hard journey. Hour
+after hour we climbed steadily up beside the roaring gray-white
+little stream, up toward the far-shining snowfields, which blazed
+back the sun like mirrors. The trees grew smaller, the river bed
+seemed to approach us until we slumped along in the running water. At
+last we burst out into the light above timber line. Around us
+porcupines galloped, and whistling marmots signalled with shrill
+vehemence. We were weak with fatigue and wet with icy water to the
+knees, but we pushed on doggedly until we came to a little mound of
+short, delicious green grass from which the snow had melted. On this
+we stopped to let the horses graze. The view was magnificent, and
+something wild and splendid came on the wind over the snowy peaks and
+smooth grassy mounds.</p>
+
+<p>We were now in the region of great snowfields, under which roared
+swift streams from still higher altitudes. There were thousands of
+marmots, which seemed to utter the most intense astonishment at the
+inexplicable coming of these strange creatures. The snow in the
+gullies had a curious bloody line which I could not account for. A
+little bird high up here uttered a sweet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> little whistle, so sad, so
+full of pleading, it almost brought tears to my eyes. In form it
+resembled a horned lark, but was smaller and kept very close to the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>We reached the summit at sunset, there to find only other mountains
+and other enormous gulches leading downward into far blue ca&ntilde;ons. It
+was the wildest land I have ever seen. A country unmapped,
+unsurveyed, and unprospected. A region which had known only an
+occasional Indian hunter or trapper with his load of furs on his way
+down to the river and his canoe. Desolate, without life, green and
+white and flashing illimitably, the gray old peaks aligned themselves
+rank on rank until lost in the mists of still wilder regions.</p>
+
+<p>From this high point we could see our friends, the Manchester boys,
+on the north slope two or three miles below us at timber line. Weak
+in the knees, cold and wet and hungry as we were, we determined to
+push down the trail over the snowfields, down to grass and water. Not
+much more than forty minutes later we came out upon a comparatively
+level spot of earth where grass was fairly good, and where the
+wind-twisted stunted pines grew in clumps large enough to furnish
+wood for our fires and a pole for our tent. The land was meshed with
+roaring rills of melting snow, and all around went on the incessant
+signalling of the marmots&mdash;the only cheerful sound in all the wide
+green land.</p>
+
+<p>We had made about twenty-three miles that day, notwithstanding
+tremendous steeps and endless mudholes mid-leg deep. It was the
+greatest test of endurance of our trip.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+<p>We had the good luck to scare up a ptarmigan (a sort of piebald
+mountain grouse), and though nearly fainting with hunger, we held
+ourselves in check until we had that bird roasted to a turn. I shall
+never experience greater relief or sweeter relaxation of rest than
+that I felt as I stretched out in my down sleeping bag for twelve
+hours' slumber.</p>
+
+<p>I considered that we were about one hundred and ninety miles from
+Hazleton, and that this must certainly be the divide between the
+Skeena and the Stikeen. The Manchester boys reported finding some
+very good pieces of quartz on the hills, and they were all out with
+spade and pick prospecting, though it seemed to me they showed but
+very little enthusiasm in the search.</p>
+
+<p>"I b'lieve there's gold here," said "Chihuahua," "but who's goin' to
+stay here and look fer it? In the first place, you couldn't work fer
+mor'n 'bout three months in the year, and it 'ud take ye the other
+nine months fer to git yer grub in. Them hills look to me to be
+mineralized, but I ain't honin' to camp here."</p>
+
+<p>This seemed to be the general feeling of all the other prospectors,
+and I did not hear that any one else went so far even as to dig a
+hole.</p>
+
+<p>As near as I could judge there seemed to be three varieties of
+"varmints" galloping around over the grassy slopes of this high
+country. The largest of these, a gray and brown creature with a
+tawny, bristling mane, I took to be a porcupine. Next in size were
+the giant whistlers, who sat up like old men and signalled, like one
+boy to another. And last and least, and more numerous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> than all, were
+the smaller "chucks" resembling prairie dogs. These animals together
+with the ptarmigan made up the inhabitants of these lofty slopes.</p>
+
+<p>I searched every green place on the mountains far and near with my
+field-glasses, but saw no sheep, caribou, or moose, although one or
+two were reported to have been killed by others on the trail. The
+ptarmigan lived in the matted patches of willow. There were a great
+many of them, and they helped out our monotonous diet very
+opportunely. They moved about in pairs, the cock very loyal to the
+hen in time of danger; but not even this loyalty could save him.
+Hunger such as ours considered itself very humane in stopping short
+of the slaughter of the mother bird. The cock was easily
+distinguished by reason of his party-colored plumage and his pink
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>We spent the next forenoon in camp to let our horses feed up, and
+incidentally to rest our own weary bones. All the forenoon great,
+gray clouds crushed against the divide behind us, flinging themselves
+in rage against the rocks like hungry vultures baffled in their
+chase. We exulted over their impotence. "We are done with you, you
+storms of the Skeena&mdash;we're out of your reach at last!"</p>
+
+<p>We were confirmed in this belief as we rode down the trail, which was
+fairly pleasant except for short periods, when the clouds leaped the
+snowy walls behind and scattered drizzles of rain over us. Later the
+clouds thickened, the sky became completely overcast, and my
+exultation changed to dismay, and we camped at night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> as desolate as
+ever, in the rain, and by the side of a little marsh on which the
+horses could feed only by wading fetlock deep in the water. We were
+wet to the skin, and muddy and tired.</p>
+
+<p>I could no longer deceive myself. Our journey had become a grim race
+with the wolf. Our food grew each day scantier, and we were forced to
+move each day and every day, no matter what the sky or trail might
+be. Going over our food carefully that night, we calculated that we
+had enough to last us ten days, and if we were within one hundred and
+fifty miles of the Skeena, and if no accident befell us, we would be
+able to pull in without great suffering.</p>
+
+<p>But accidents on the trail are common. It is so easy to lose a couple
+of horses, we were liable to delay and to accident, and the chances
+were against us rather than in our favor. It seemed as though the
+trail would never mend. We were dropping rapidly down through dwarf
+pines, down into endless forests of gloom again. We had splashed,
+slipped, and tumbled down the trail to this point with three horses
+weak and sick. The rain had increased, and all the brightness of the
+morning on the high mountain had passed away. For hours we had walked
+without a word except to our horses, and now night was falling in
+thick, cold rain. As I plodded along I saw in vision and with great
+longing the plains, whose heat and light seemed paradise by contrast.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was the Fourth of July, and such a day! It rained all
+the forenoon, cold, persistent, drizzling rain. We hung around the
+campfire waiting for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> some let-up to the incessant downpour. We
+discussed the situation. I said: "Now, if the stream in the ca&ntilde;on
+below us runs to the left, it will be the east fork of the Iskoot,
+and we will then be within about one hundred miles of Glenora. If it
+runs to the right, Heaven only knows where we are."</p>
+
+<p>The horses, chilled with the rain, came off the sloppy marsh to stand
+under the trees, and old Ladrone edged close to the big fire to share
+its warmth. This caused us to bring in the other horses and put them
+close to the fire under the big branches of the fir tree. It was
+deeply pathetic to watch the poor worn animals, all life and spirit
+gone out of them, standing about the fire with drooping heads and
+half-closed eyes. Perhaps they dreamed, like us, of the beautiful,
+warm, grassy hills of the south.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_UTE_LOVER" id="THE_UTE_LOVER"></a>THE UTE LOVER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beneath the burning brazen sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The yellowed tepes stand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not far away a singing river<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sets through the sand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the shadow of a lonely elm tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tired ponies keep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild land, throbbing with the sun's hot magic,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is rapt as sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From out a clump of scanty willows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A low wail floats.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The endless repetition of a lover's<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Melancholy notes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So sad, so sweet, so elemental,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All lover's pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems borne upon its sobbing cadence&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The love-song of the plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From frenzied cry forever falling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the wind's wild moan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seems the voice of anguish calling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone! alone!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Caught from the winds forever moaning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wrought from the agonies of woman<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In maternal pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It holds within its simple measure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All death of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathed though it be by smiling maiden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or lithe brown boy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It hath this magic, sad though its cadence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And short refrain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It helps the exiled people of the mountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Endure the plain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For when at night the stars aglitter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Defy the moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maiden listens, leans to seek her lover<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where waters croon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flute on, O lithe and tuneful Utah,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reply brown jade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are no other joys secure to either<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man or maid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon you are old and heavy hearted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lost to mirth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on you lies the white man's gory<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Greed of earth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Strange that to me that burning desert<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems so dear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The endless sky and lonely mesa,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flat and drear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calls me, calls me as the flute of Utah<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calls his mate&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This wild, sad, sunny, brazen country,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hot as hate.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again the glittering sky uplifts star-blazing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again the stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From out the far-off snowy mountains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sings through my dream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on the air I hear the flute-voice calling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lover's croon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see the listening, longing maiden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lit by the moon.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="DEVILS_CLUB" id="DEVILS_CLUB"></a>DEVIL'S CLUB</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is a sprawling, hateful thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thorny and twisted like a snake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Writhing to work a mischief, in the brake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It stands at menace, in its cling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is danger and a venomed sting.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It grows on green and slimy slopes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a thing of shades and slums,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For passing feet it wildly gropes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loops to catch all feet that run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeking a path to sky and sun.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="IN_THE_COLD_GREEN_MOUNTAINS" id="IN_THE_COLD_GREEN_MOUNTAINS"></a>IN THE COLD GREEN MOUNTAINS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the cold green mountains where the savage torrents roared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the clouds were gray above us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fishing eagle soared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where no grass waved, where no robins cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There our horses starved and died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the cold green mountains.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the cold green mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing grew but moss and trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Water dripped and sludgy streamlets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trapped our horses by the knees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where we slipped, slid, and lunged,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mired down and wildly plunged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Toward the cold green mountains!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE PASSING OF THE BEANS</h4>
+
+
+<p>At noon, the rain slacking a little, we determined to pack up, and
+with such cheer as we could called out, "Line up, boys&mdash;line up!"
+starting on our way down the trail.</p>
+
+<p>After making about eight miles we came upon a number of outfits
+camped on the bank of the river. As I rode along on my gray horse,
+for the trail there allowed me to ride, I passed a man seated
+gloomily at the mouth of his tent. To him I called with an assumption
+of jocularity I did not feel, "Stranger, where are you bound for?"</p>
+
+<p>He replied, "The North Pole."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you expect to get there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>Riding on I met others beside the trail, and all wore a similar look
+of almost sullen gravity. They were not disposed to joke with me, and
+perceiving something to be wrong, I passed on without further remark.</p>
+
+<p>When we came down to the bank of the stream, behold it ran to the
+right. And I could have sat me down and blasphemed with the rest. I
+now understood the gloom of the others. <i>We were still in the valley
+of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> the inexorable Skeena.</i> It could be nothing else; this tremendous
+stream running to our right could be no other than the head-waters of
+that ferocious flood which no surveyor has located. It is immensely
+larger and longer than any map shows.</p>
+
+<p>We crossed the branch without much trouble, and found some beautiful
+bluejoint-grass on the opposite bank, into which we joyfully turned
+our horses. When they had filled their stomachs, we packed up and
+pushed on about two miles, overtaking the Manchester boys on the
+side-hill in a tract of dead, burned-out timber, a cheerless spot.</p>
+
+<p>In speaking about the surly answer I had received from the man on the
+banks of the river, I said: "I wonder why those men are camped there?
+They must have been there for several days."</p>
+
+<p>Partner replied: "They are all out of grub and are waiting for some
+one to come by to whack-up with 'em. One of the fellows came out and
+talked with me and said he had nothing left but beans, and tried to
+buy some flour of me."</p>
+
+<p>This opened up an entirely new line of thought. I understood now that
+what I had taken for sullenness was the dejection of despair. The way
+was growing gloomy and dark to them. They, too, were racing with the
+wolf.</p>
+
+<p>We had one short moment of relief next day as we entered a lovely
+little meadow and camped for noon. The sun shone warm, the grass was
+thick and sweet. It was like late April in the central West&mdash;cool,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+fragrant, silent. Aisles of peaks stretched behind us and before us.
+We were still high in the mountains, and the country was less wooded
+and more open. But we left this beautiful spot and entered again on a
+morass. It was a day of torture to man and beast. The land continued
+silent. There were no toads, no butterflies, no insects of any kind,
+except a few mosquitoes, no crickets, no singing thing. I have never
+seen a land so empty of life. We had left even the whistling marmots
+entirely behind us.</p>
+
+<p>We travelled now four outfits together, with some twenty-five horses.
+Part of the time I led with Ladrone, part of the time "The Man from
+Chihuahua" took the lead, with his fine strong bays. If a horse got
+down we all swarmed around and lifted him out, and when any question
+of the trail came up we held "conferences of the powers."</p>
+
+<p>We continued for the most part up a wide mossy and grassy river
+bottom covered with water. We waded for miles in water to our ankles,
+crossing hundreds of deep little rivulets. Occasionally a horse went
+down into a hole and had to be "snailed out," and we were wet and
+covered with mud all day. It was a new sort of trail and a terror.
+The mountains on each side were very stately and impressive, but we
+could pay little attention to views when our horses were miring down
+at every step.</p>
+
+<p>We could not agree about the river. Some were inclined to the belief
+that it was a branch of the Stikeen, the old man was sure it was
+"Skeeny." We were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> troubled by a new sort of fly, a little
+orange-colored fellow whose habits were similar to those of the
+little black fiends of the Bulkley Valley. They were very poisonous
+indeed, and made our ears swell up enormously&mdash;the itching and
+burning was well-nigh intolerable. We saw no life at all save one
+grouse hen guarding her young. A paradise for game it seemed, but no
+game. A beautiful grassy, marshy, and empty land. We passed over one
+low divide after another with immense snowy peaks thickening all
+around us. For the first time in over two hundred miles we were all
+able to ride. Whistling marmots and grouse again abounded. We had a
+bird at every meal. The wind was cool and the sky was magnificent,
+and for the first time in many days we were able to take off our hats
+and face the wind in exultation.</p>
+
+<p>Toward night, however, mosquitoes became troublesome in their
+assaults, covering the horses in solid masses. Strange to say, none
+of them, not even Ladrone, seemed to mind them in the least. We felt
+sure now of having left the Skeena forever. One day we passed over a
+beautiful little spot of dry ground, which filled us with delight; it
+seemed as though we had reached the prairies of the pamphlets. We
+camped there for noon, and though the mosquitoes were terrific we
+were all chortling with joy. The horses found grass in plenty and
+plucked up spirits amazingly. We were deceived. In half an hour we
+were in the mud again.</p>
+
+<p>The whole country for miles and miles in every direction was a series
+of high open valleys almost <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>entirely above timber line. These
+valleys formed the starting-points of innumerable small streams which
+fell away into the Iskoot on the left, the Stikeen on the north, the
+Skeena on the east and south. These valleys were covered with grass
+and moss intermingled, and vast tracts were flooded with water from
+four to eight inches deep, through which we were forced to slop hour
+after hour, and riding was practically impossible.</p>
+
+<p>As we were plodding along silently one day a dainty white gull came
+lilting through the air and was greeted with cries of joy by the
+weary drivers. More than one of them could "smell the salt water." In
+imagination they saw this bird following the steamer up the Stikeen
+to the first south fork, thence to meet us. It seemed only a short
+ride down the valley to the city of Glenora and the post-office.</p>
+
+<p>Each day we drove above timber line, and at noon were forced to
+rustle the dead dwarf pine for fire. The marshes were green and
+filled with exquisite flowers and mosses, little white and purple
+bells, some of them the most beautiful turquoise-green rising from
+tufts of verdure like mignonette. I observed also a sort of crocus
+and some cheery little buttercups. The ride would have been
+magnificent had it not been for the spongy, sloppy marsh through
+which our horses toiled. As it was, we felt a certain breadth and
+grandeur in it surpassing anything we had hitherto seen. Our three
+outfits with some score of horses went winding through the wide,
+green, treeless valleys with tinkle of bells and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> sharp cry of
+drivers. The trail was difficult to follow, because in the open
+ground each man before us had to take his own course, and there were
+few signs to mark the line the road-gang had taken.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to tell where we were, but I was certain we were
+upon the head-waters of some one of the many forks of the great
+Stikeen River. Marmots and a sort of little prairie dog continued
+plentiful, but there was no other life. The days were bright and
+cool, resplendent with sun and rich in grass.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the goldseekers fired a salute with shotted guns when, poised
+on the mountain side, they looked down upon a stream flowing to the
+northwest. But the joy was short-lived. The descent of this
+mountain's side was by all odds the most terrible piece of trail we
+had yet found. It led down the north slope, and was oozy and slippery
+with the melting snow. It dropped in short zigzags down through a
+grove of tangled, gnarled, and savage cedars and pines, whose roots
+were like iron and filled with spurs that were sharp as chisels. The
+horses, sliding upon their haunches and unable to turn themselves in
+the mud, crashed into the tangled pines and were in danger of being
+torn to pieces. For more than an hour we slid and slewed through this
+horrible jungle of savage trees, and when we came out below we had
+two horses badly snagged in the feet, but Ladrone was uninjured.</p>
+
+<p>We now crossed and recrossed the little stream, which dropped into a
+deep ca&ntilde;on running still to the northwest. After descending for some
+hours we took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> a trail which branched sharply to the northeast, and
+climbed heavily to a most beautiful camping-spot between the peaks,
+with good grass, and water, and wood all around us.</p>
+
+<p>We were still uncertain of our whereabouts, but all the boys were
+fairly jubilant. "This would be a splendid camp for a few weeks,"
+said partner.</p>
+
+<p>That night as the sun set in incommunicable splendor over the snowy
+peaks to the west the empty land seemed left behind. We went to sleep
+with the sound of a near-by mountain stream in our ears, and the
+voice of an eagle sounding somewhere on the high cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>The next day we crossed another divide and entered another valley
+running north. Being confident that this <i>was</i> the Stikeen, we camped
+early and put our little house up. It was raining a little. We had
+descended again to the aspens and clumps of wild roses. It was good
+to see their lovely faces once more after our long stay in the wild,
+cold valleys of the upper lands. The whole country seemed drier, and
+the vegetation quite different. Indeed, it resembled some of the
+Colorado valleys, but was less barren on the bottoms. There were
+still no insects, no crickets, no bugs, and very few birds of any
+kind.</p>
+
+<p>All along the way on the white surface of the blazed trees were
+messages left by those who had gone before us. Some of them were
+profane assaults upon the road-gang. Others were pathetic inquiries:
+"Where in hell are we?"&mdash;"How is this for a prairie route?"&mdash;"What
+river is this, anyhow?" To these pencillings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> others had added
+facetious replies. There were also warnings and signs to help us keep
+out of the mud.</p>
+
+<p>We followed the same stream all day. Whether the Iskoot or not we did
+not know. The signs of lower altitude thickened. Wild roses met us
+again, and strawberry blossoms starred the sunny slopes. The grass
+was dry and ripe, and the horses did not relish it after their long
+stay in the juicy meadows above. We had been wet every day for nearly
+three weeks, and did not mind moisture now, but my shoes were rapidly
+going to pieces, and my last pair of trousers was frazzled to the
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly every outfit had lame horses like our old bay, hobbling along
+bravely. Our grub was getting very light, which was a good thing for
+the horses; but we had an occasional grouse to fry, and so as long as
+our flour held out we were well fed.</p>
+
+<p>It became warmer each day, and some little weazened berries appeared
+on the hillsides, the first we had seen, and they tasted mighty good
+after months of bacon and beans. We were taking some pleasure in the
+trip again, and had it not been for the sores on our horses' feet and
+our scant larder we should have been quite at ease. Our course now
+lay parallel to a range of peaks on our right, which we figured to be
+the Hotailub Mountains. This settled the question of our position on
+the map&mdash;we were on the third and not the first south fork of the
+Stikeen and were a long way still from Telegraph Creek.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_LONG_TRAIL" id="THE_LONG_TRAIL"></a>THE LONG TRAIL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We tunnelled miles of silent pines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dark forests where the stillness was so deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scared wind walked a tip-toe on the spines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the restless aspen seemed to sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We threaded aisles of dripping fir;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We climbed toward mountains dim and far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where snow forever shines and shines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And only winds and waters are.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Red streams came down from hillsides crissed and crossed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With fallen firs; but on a sudden, lo!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silver lakelet bound and barred<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With sunset's clouds reflected far below.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These lakes so lonely were, so still and cool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They burned as bright as burnished steel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shadowed pine branch in the pool<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was no less vivid than the real.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We crossed the great divide and saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sun-lit valleys far below us wind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before us opened cloudless sky; the raw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gray rain swept close behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We saw great glaciers grind themselves to foam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We trod the moose's lofty home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heard, high on the yellow hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wildcat clamor of his ills.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The way grew grimmer day by day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The weeks to months stretched on and on;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hunger kept, not far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A never failing watch at dawn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We lost all reckoning of season and of time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sometimes it seemed the bitter breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of icy March brought fog and rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And next November tempests shook the trees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was a wild and lonely ride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Save the hid loon's mocking cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or marmot on the mountain side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The earth was silent as the sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All day through sunless forest aisles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On cold dark moss our horses trod;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was so lonely there for miles and miles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The land seemed lost to God.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our horses cut by rocks; by brambles torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Staggered onward, stiff and sore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or broken, bruised, and saddle-worn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fell in the sloughs to rise no more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet still we rode right on and on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shook our clenched hands at the clouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Daring the winds of early dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the dread torrent roaring loud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So long we rode, so hard, so far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We seemed condemned by stern decree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ride until the morning star<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Should sink forever in the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet now, when all is past, I dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of every mountain's shining cap.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I long to hear again the stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roar through the foam-white granite gap.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The pains recede. The joys draw near.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The splendors of great Nature's face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make me forget all need, all fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the long journey grows in grace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_GREETING_OF_THE_ROSES" id="THE_GREETING_OF_THE_ROSES"></a>THE GREETING OF THE ROSES</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We had been long in mountain snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In valleys bleak, and broad, and bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where only moss and willows grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And no bird wings the silent air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so when on our downward way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild roses met us, we were glad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They were so girlish fair, so gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seemed the sun had made them mad.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE WOLVES AND THE VULTURES ASSEMBLE</h4>
+
+
+<p>About noon of the fiftieth day out, we came down to the bank of a
+tremendously swift stream which we called the third south fork. On a
+broken paddle stuck in the sand we found this notice: "The trail
+crosses here. Swim horses from the bar. It is supposed to be about
+ninety miles to Telegraph Creek.&mdash;(Signed) The Mules."</p>
+
+<p>We were bitterly disappointed to find ourselves so far from our
+destination, and began once more to calculate on the length of time
+it would take us to get out of the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Partner showed me the flour-sack which he held in one brawny fist. "I
+believe the dern thing leaks," said he, and together we went over our
+store of food. We found ourselves with an extra supply of sugar,
+condensed cream, and other things which our friends the Manchester
+boys needed, while they were able to spare us a little flour. There
+was a tacit agreement that we should travel together and stand
+together. Accordingly we began to plan for the crossing of this swift
+and dangerous stream. A couple of canoes were found cached in the
+bushes, and these would enable us to set our goods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> across, while we
+forced our horses to swim from a big bar in the stream above.</p>
+
+<p>While we were discussing these thing around our fires at night,
+another tramper, thin and weak, came into camp. He was a little man
+with a curly red beard, and was exceedingly chipper and jocular for
+one in his condition. He had been out of food for some days, and had
+been living on squirrels, ground-hogs, and such other small deer as
+he could kill and roast along his way. He brought word of
+considerable suffering among the outfits behind us, reporting "The
+Dutchman" to be entirely out of beans and flour, while others had
+lost so many of their horses that all were in danger of starving to
+death in the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>As he warmed up on coffee and beans, he became very amusing.</p>
+
+<p>He was hairy and ragged, but neat, and his face showed a certain
+delicacy of physique. He, too, was a marked example of the craze to
+"get somewhere where gold is." He broke off suddenly in the midst of
+his story to exclaim with great energy: "I want to do two things, go
+back and get my boy away from my wife, and break the back of my
+brother-in-law. He made all the trouble."</p>
+
+<p>Once and again he said, "I'm going to find the gold up here or lay my
+bones on the hills."</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of these intense phrases he whistled gayly or broke off
+to attend to his cooking. He told of his hard experiences, with pride
+and joy, and said, "Isn't it lucky I caught you just here?" and
+seemed willing to talk all night.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+<p>In the morning I went over to the campfire to see if he were still
+with us. He was sitting in his scanty bed before the fire, mending
+his trousers. "I've just got to put a patch on right now or my
+knee'll be through," he explained. He had a neat little kit of
+materials and everything was in order. "I haven't time to turn the
+edges of the patch under," he went on. "It ought to be done&mdash;you
+can't make a durable patch unless you do. This 'housewife' my wife
+made me when we was first married. I was peddlin' then in eastern
+Oregon. If it hadn't been for her brother&mdash;oh, I'll smash his face
+in, some day"&mdash;he held up the other trouser leg: "See that patch?
+Ain't that a daisy?&mdash;that's the way I ought to do. Say, looks like I
+ought to rustle enough grub out of all these outfits to last me into
+Glenora, don't it?"</p>
+
+<p>We came down gracefully&mdash;we could not withstand such prattle. The
+blacksmith turned in some beans, the boys from Manchester divided
+their scanty store of flour and bacon, I brought some salt, some
+sugar, and some oatmeal, and as the small man put it away he chirped
+and chuckled like a cricket. His thanks were mere words, his voice
+was calm. He accepted our aid as a matter of course. No perfectly
+reasonable man would ever take such frightful chances as this absurd
+little ass set his face to without fear. He hummed a little tune as
+he packed his outfit into his shoulder-straps. "I ought to rattle
+into Glenora on this grub, hadn't I?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>At last he was ready to be ferried across the river,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> which was swift
+and dangerous. Burton set him across, and as he was about to depart I
+gave him a letter to post and a half-dollar to pay postage. My name
+was written on the corner of the envelope. He knew me then and said,
+"I've a good mind to stay right with you; I'm something of a writer
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>I hastened to say that he could reach Glenora two or three days in
+advance of us, for the reason that we were bothered with a lame
+horse. In reality, we were getting very short of provisions and were
+even then on rations. "I think you'll overtake the Borland outfit," I
+said. "If you don't, and you need help, camp by the road till we come
+up and we'll all share as long as there's anything to share. But you
+are in good trim and have as much grub as we have, so you'd better
+spin along."</p>
+
+<p>He "hit the trail" with a hearty joy that promised well, and I never
+saw him again. His cheery smile and unshrinking cheek carried him
+through a journey that appalled old packers with tents, plenty of
+grub, and good horses. To me he was simply a strongly accentuated
+type of the goldseeker&mdash;insanely persistent; blind to all danger,
+deaf to all warning, and doomed to failure at the start.</p>
+
+<p>The next day opened cold and foggy, but we entered upon a hard day's
+work. Burton became the chief canoeman, while one of the Manchester
+boys, stripped to the undershirt, sat in the bow to pull at the
+paddle "all same Siwash." Burton's skill and good judgment enabled us
+to cross without losing so much as a buckle. Some of our poor lame
+horses had a hard struggle in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> icy current. At about 4 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> we
+were able to line up in the trail on the opposite side. We pressed on
+up to the higher valleys in hopes of finding better feed, and camped
+in the rain about two miles from the ford. The wind came from the
+northwest with a suggestion of autumn in its uneasy movement. The
+boys were now exceedingly anxious to get into the gold country. They
+began to feel most acutely the passing of the summer. In the camp at
+night the talk was upon the condition of Telegraph Creek and the
+Teslin Lake Trail.</p>
+
+<p>Rain, rain, rain! It seemed as though no day could pass without rain.
+And as I woke I heard the patter of fine drops on our tent roof. The
+old man cursed the weather most eloquently, expressing the general
+feeling of the whole company. However, we saddled up and pushed on,
+much delayed by the lame horses.</p>
+
+<p>At about twelve o'clock I missed my partner's voice and looking about
+saw only two of the packhorses following. Hitching those beside the
+trail, I returned to find Burton seated beside the lame horse, which
+could not cross the slough. I examined the horse's foot and found a
+thin stream of arterial blood spouting out.</p>
+
+<p>"That ends it, Burton," I said. "I had hoped to bring all my horses
+through, but this old fellow is out of the race. It is a question now
+either of leaving him beside the trail with a notice to have him
+brought forward or of shooting him out of hand."</p>
+
+<p>To this partner gravely agreed, but said, "It's going to be pretty
+hard lines to shoot that faithful old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I replied, "I confess I haven't the courage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> to face him with
+a rifle after all these weeks of faithful service. But it must be
+done. You remember that horse back there with a hole in his flank and
+his head flung up? We mustn't leave this old fellow to be a prey to
+the wolves. Now if you'll kill him you can set your price on the
+service. Anything at all I will pay. Did you ever kill a horse?"</p>
+
+<p>Partner was honest. "Yes, once. He was old and sick and I believed it
+better to put him out of his suffering than to let him drag on."</p>
+
+<p>"That settles it, partner," said I. "Your hands are already imbued
+with gore&mdash;it must be done."</p>
+
+<p>He rose with a sigh. "All right. Lead him out into the thicket."</p>
+
+<p>I handed him the gun (into which I had shoved two steel-jacketed
+bullets, the kind that will kill a grizzly bear), and took the old
+horse by the halter. "Come, boy," I said, "it's hard, but it's the
+only merciful thing." The old horse looked at me with such serene
+trust and confidence, my courage almost failed me. His big brown eyes
+were so full of sorrow and patient endurance. With some urging he
+followed me into the thicket a little aside from the trail. Turning
+away I mounted Ladrone in order that I might not see what happened.
+There was a crack of a rifle in the bush&mdash;the sound of a heavy body
+falling, and a moment later Burton returned with a coiled rope in his
+hand and a look of trouble on his face. The horses lined up again
+with one empty place and an extra saddle topping the pony's pack. It
+was a sorrowful thing to do, but there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> was no better way. As I rode
+on, looking back occasionally to see that my train was following, my
+heart ached to think of the toil the poor old horse had
+undergone&mdash;only to meet death in the bush at the hands of his master.</p>
+
+<p>Relieved of our wounded horse we made good time and repassed before
+nine o'clock several outfits that had overhauled us during our
+trouble. We rose higher and higher, and came at last into a grassy
+country and to a series of small lakes, which were undoubtedly the
+source of the second fork of the Stikeen. But as we had lost so much
+time during the day, we pushed on with all our vigor for a couple of
+hours and camped about nine o'clock of a beautiful evening, with a
+magnificent sky arching us as if with a prophecy of better times
+ahead.</p>
+
+<p>The horses were now travelling very light, and our food supply was
+reduced to a few pounds of flour and bread&mdash;we had no game and
+no berries. Beans were all gone and our bacon reduced to the last
+shred. We had come to expect rain every day of our lives, and were
+feeling a little the effects of our scanty diet of bread and
+bacon&mdash;hill-climbing was coming to be laborious. However, the way led
+downward most of the time, and we were able to rack along at a very
+good pace even on an empty stomach.</p>
+
+<p>During the latter part of the second day the trail led along a high
+ridge, a sort of hog-back overlooking a small river valley on our
+left, and bringing into view an immense blue ca&ntilde;on far ahead of us.
+"There lies the Stikeen," I called to Burton. "We're on the second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+south fork, which we follow to the Stikeen, thence to the left to
+Telegraph Creek." I began to compose doggerel verses to express our
+exultation.</p>
+
+<p>We were very tired and glad when we reached a camping-place. We could
+not stop on this high ridge for lack of water, although the feed was
+very good. We were forced to plod on and on until we at last
+descended into the valley of a little stream which crossed our path.
+The ground had been much trampled, but as rain was falling and
+darkness coming on, there was nothing to do but camp.</p>
+
+<p>Out of our last bit of bacon grease and bread and tea we made our
+supper. While we were camping, "The Wild Dutchman," a stalwart young
+fellow we had seen once or twice on the trail, came by with a very
+sour visage. He went into camp near, and came over to see us. He
+said: "I hain't had no pread for more dan a veek. I've nuttin' put
+peans. If you can, let me haf a biscuit. By Gott, how goot dat vould
+taste."</p>
+
+<p>I yielded up a small loaf and encouraged him as best I could: "As I
+figure it, we are within thirty-five miles of Telegraph Creek; I've
+kept a careful diary of our travel. If we've passed over the Dease
+Lake Trail, which is probably about four hundred miles from Hazleton
+to Glenora, we must be now within thirty-five miles of Telegraph
+Creek."</p>
+
+<p>I was not half so sure of this as I made him think; but it gave him a
+great deal of comfort, and he went off very much enlivened.</p>
+
+<p>Sunday and no sun! It was raining when we awoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> and the mosquitoes
+were stickier than ever. Our grub was nearly gone, our horses thin
+and weak, and the journey uncertain. All ill things seemed to
+assemble like vultures to do us harm. The world was a grim place that
+day. It was a question whether we were not still on the third south
+fork instead of the second south fork, in which case we were at least
+one hundred miles from our supplies. If we were forced to cross the
+main Stikeen and go down on the other side, it might be even farther.</p>
+
+<p>The men behind us were all suffering, and some of them were sure to
+have a hard time if such weather continued. At the same time I felt
+comparatively sure of our ground.</p>
+
+<p>We were ragged, dirty, lame, unshaven, and unshorn&mdash;we were fighting
+from morning till night. The trail became more discouraging each
+moment that the rain continued to fall. There was little conversation
+even between partner and myself. For many days we had moved in
+perfect silence for the most part, though no gloom or sullenness
+appeared in Burton's face. We were now lined up once more, taking the
+trail without a word save the sharp outcry of the drivers hurrying
+the horses forward, or the tinkle of the bells on the lead horse of
+the train.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_VULTURE" id="THE_VULTURE"></a>THE VULTURE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He wings a slow and watchful flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His neck is bare, his eyes are bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His plumage fits the starless night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He sits at feast where cattle lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withering in ashen alkali,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gorges till he scarce can fly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But he is kingly on the breeze!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On rigid wing, in careless ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A soundless bark on viewless seas.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Piercing the purple storm cloud, he makes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun his neighbor, and shakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wrinkled neck in mock dismay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swings his slow, contemptuous way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the hot red lightning's play.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Monarch of cloudland&mdash;yet a ghoul of prey.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CAMPFIRES" id="CAMPFIRES"></a>CAMPFIRES</h3>
+
+
+<div class="center">1. <i>Popple</i></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A river curves like a bended bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over it winds of summer lightly blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two boys are feeding a flame with bark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the pungent popple. Hark!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are uttering dreams. "I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will go hunt gold toward the western sky,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Says the older lad; "I know it is there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the rainbow shows just where<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is. I'll go camping, and take a pan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shovel gold, when I'm a man."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<div class="center">2. <i>Sage Brush</i></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The burning day draws near its end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on the plain a man and his friend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sit feeding an odorous sage-brush fire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lofty butte like a funeral pyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the sun atop, looms high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the cloudless, windless, saffron sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A snake sleeps under a grease-wood plant;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A horned toad snaps at a passing ant;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The plain is void as a polar floe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the limitless sky has a furnace glow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The men are gaunt and shaggy and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their childhood river is far away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gold still hides at the rainbow's tip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the wanderer speaks with a resolute lip.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I will seek till I find&mdash;or till I die,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He mutters, and lifts his clenched hand high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And puts behind him love and wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the quiet round of a farmer's life.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<div class="center">3. <i>Pine</i></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dark day ends in a bitter night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty mountains cold, and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stern as avarice, still hide their gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in wild ca&ntilde;ons fold on fold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both men are old, and one is grown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As gray as the snows around him sown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hovers over a fire of pine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spicy and cheering; toward the line<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the towering peaks he lifts his eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I'd rather have a boy with shining hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bear my name, than all your share<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of earth's red gold," he said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And died, a loveless, childless man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the morning light began.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3>
+
+<h4>AT LAST THE STIKEEN</h4>
+
+
+<p>About the middle of the afternoon of the fifty-eighth day we topped a
+low divide, and came in sight of the Stikeen River. Our hearts
+thrilled with pleasure as we looked far over the deep blue and
+purple-green spread of valley, dim with mist, in which a little
+silver ribbon of water could be seen.</p>
+
+<p>After weeks of rain, as if to make amend for useless severity, the
+sun came out, a fresh westerly breeze sprang up, and the sky filled
+with glowing clouds flooded with tender light. The bloom of fireweed
+almost concealed the devastation of flame in the fallen firs, and the
+grim forest seemed a royal road over which we could pass as over a
+carpet&mdash;winter seemed far away.</p>
+
+<p>But all this was delusion. Beneath us lay a thousand quagmires. The
+forest was filled with impenetrable jungles and hidden streams,
+ridges sullen and silent were to be crossed, and the snow was close
+at hand. Across this valley an eagle might sweep with joy, but the
+pack trains must crawl in mud and mire through long hours of torture.
+We spent but a moment here, and then with grim resolution called out,
+"Line up, boys, line<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> up!" and struck down upon the last two days of
+our long journey.</p>
+
+<p>On the following noon we topped another rise, and came unmistakably
+in sight of the Stikeen River lying deep in its rocky ca&ntilde;on. We had
+ridden all the morning in a pelting rain, slashed by wet trees,
+plunging through bogs and sliding down ravines, and when we saw the
+valley just before us we raised a cheer. It seemed we could hear the
+hotel bells ringing far below.</p>
+
+<p>But when we had tumbled down into the big ca&ntilde;on near the water's
+edge, we found ourselves in scarcely better condition than before. We
+were trapped with no feed for our horses, and no way to cross the
+river, which was roaring mad by reason of the heavy rains, a swift
+and terrible flood, impossible to swim. Men were camped all along the
+bank, out of food like ourselves, and ragged and worn and weary. They
+had formed a little street of camps. Borland, the leader of the big
+mule train, was there, calm and efficient as ever. "The Wilson
+Outfit," "The Man from Chihuahua," "Throw-me-feet," and the
+Manchester boys were also included in the group. "The Dutchman" came
+sliding down just behind us.</p>
+
+<p>After a scanty dinner of bacon grease and bread we turned our horses
+out on the flat by the river, and joined the little village. Borland
+said: "We've been here for a day and a half, tryin' to induce that
+damn ferryman to come over, and now we're waitin' for re&euml;nforcements.
+Let's try it again, numbers will bring 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon we marched out solemnly upon the bank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> (some ten or fifteen
+of us) and howled like a pack of wolves.</p>
+
+<p>For two hours we clamored, alternating the Ute war-whoop with the
+Swiss yodel. It was truly cacophonous, but it produced results.
+Minute figures came to the brow of the hill opposite, and looked at
+us like cautious cockroaches and then went away. At last two shadowy
+beetles crawled down the zigzag trail to the ferry-boat, and began
+bailing her out. Ultimately three men, sweating, scared, and
+tremulous, swung a clumsy scow upon the sand at our feet. It was no
+child's play to cross that stream. Together with one of "The Little
+Dutchmen," and a representation from "The Mule Outfit," I stepped
+into the boat and it was swung off into the savage swirl of gray
+water. We failed of landing the first time. I did not wonder at the
+ferryman's nervousness, as I felt the heave and rush of the whirling
+savage flood.</p>
+
+<p>At the "ratty" little town of Telegraph Creek we purchased beans at
+fifteen cents a pound, bacon at thirty-five cents, and flour at ten
+cents, and laden with these necessaries hurried back to the hungry
+hordes on the opposite side of the river. That night "The Little
+Dutchman" did nothing but cook and eat to make up for lost time.
+Every face wore a smile.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Burton and one or two other men from the outfits
+took the horses back up the trail to find feed, while the rest of us
+remained in camp to be ready for the boats. Late in the afternoon we
+heard far down the river a steamer whistling for Telegraph<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> Creek,
+and everybody began packing truck down to the river where the boat
+was expected to land. Word was sent back over the trail to the boys
+herding the horses, and every man was in a tremor of apprehension
+lest the herders should not hear the boat and bring the horses down
+in time to get off on it.</p>
+
+<p>It was punishing work packing our stuff down the sloppy path to the
+river bank, but we buckled to it hard, and in the course of a couple
+of hours had all snug and ready for embarkation.</p>
+
+<p>There was great excitement among the outfits, and every man was
+hurrying and worrying to get away. It was known that charges would be
+high, and each of us felt in his pocket to see how many dollars he
+had left. The steamboat company had us between fire and water and
+could charge whatever it pleased. Some of the poor prospectors gave
+up their last dollar to cross this river toward which they had
+journeyed so long.</p>
+
+<p>The boys came sliding down the trail wildly excited, driving the
+horses before them, and by 5.30 we were all packed on the boat, one
+hundred and twenty horses and some two dozen men. We were a seedy and
+careworn lot, in vivid contrast with the smartly uniformed purser of
+the boat. The rates were exorbitant, but there was nothing to do but
+to pay them. However, Borland and I, acting as committee, brought
+such pressure to bear upon the purser that he "threw in" a dinner,
+and there was a joyous rush for the table when this good news was
+announced. For the first time in nearly three months we were able to
+sit down to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> a fairly good meal with clean nice tableware, with pie
+and pudding to end the meal. It seemed as though we had reached
+civilization. The boat was handsomely built, and quite new and
+capacious, too, for it held our horses without serious crowding. I
+was especially anxious about Ladrone, but was able to get him into a
+very nice place away from the engines and in no danger of being
+kicked by a vicious mule.</p>
+
+<p>We drifted down the river past Telegraph Creek without stopping, and
+late at night laid by at Glenora and unloaded in the crisp, cool
+dusk. As we came off the boat with our horses we were met by a crowd
+of cynical loafers who called to us out of the dark, "What in hell
+you fellows think you're doing?" We were regarded as wildly insane
+for having come over so long and tedious a route.</p>
+
+<p>We erected our tents, and went into camp beside our horses on the
+bank near the dock. It was too late to move farther that night. We
+fed our beasts upon hay at five cents a pound,&mdash;poor hay at
+that,&mdash;and they were forced to stand exposed to the searching river
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>As for ourselves, we were filled with dismay by the hopeless dulness
+of the town. Instead of being the hustling, rushing gold camp we had
+expected to find, it came to light as a little town of tents and
+shanties, filled with men who had practically given up the Teslin
+Lake Route as a bad job. The government trail was incomplete, the
+wagon road only built halfway, and the railroad&mdash;of which we had
+heard so much talk&mdash;had been abandoned altogether.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+<p>As I slipped the saddle and bridle from Ladrone next day and turned
+him out upon the river bottom for a two weeks' rest, my heart was
+very light. The long trail was over. No more mud, rocks, stumps, and
+roots for Ladrone. Away the other poor animals streamed down the
+trail, many of them lame, all of them poor and weak, and some of them
+still crazed by the poisonous plants of the cold green mountains
+through which they had passed.</p>
+
+<p>This ended the worst of the toil, the torment of the trail. It had no
+dangers, but it abounded in worriments and disappointments. As I look
+back upon it now I suffer, because I see my horses standing
+ankle-deep in water on barren marshes or crowding round the fire
+chilled and weak, in endless rain. If our faces looked haggard and
+worn, it was because of the never ending anxiety concerning the
+faithful animals who trusted in us to find them food and shelter.
+Otherwise we suffered little, slept perfectly dry and warm every
+night, and ate three meals each day: true, the meals grew scanty and
+monotonous, but we did not go hungry.</p>
+
+<p>The trail was a disappointment to me, not because it was long and
+crossed mountains, but because it ran through a barren, monotonous,
+silent, gloomy, and rainy country. It ceased to interest me. It had
+almost no wild animal life, which I love to hear and see. Its lakes
+and rivers were for the most part cold and sullen, and its forests
+sombre and depressing. The only pleasant places after leaving
+Hazleton were the high valleys above timber line. They were
+magnificent, although wet and marshy to traverse.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+<p>As a route to reach the gold fields of Teslin Lake and the Yukon it
+is absurd and foolish. It will never be used again for that purpose.
+Should mines develop on the high divides between the Skeena, Iskoot,
+and Stikeen, it may possibly be used again from Hazleton; otherwise
+it will be given back to the Indians and their dogs.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_FOOTSTEP_IN_THE_DESERT" id="THE_FOOTSTEP_IN_THE_DESERT"></a>THE FOOTSTEP IN THE DESERT</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A man put love forth from his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And rode across the desert far away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Woman shall have no place nor part<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In my lone life," men heard him say.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rode right on. The level rim<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the barren plain grew low and wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seemed to taunt and beckon him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To ride right on and fiercely ride.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One day he rode a well-worn path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lo! even in that far land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saw (and cursed in gusty wrath)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A woman's footprint in the sand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sharply he drew the swinging rein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hanging from his saddle bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed long and silently&mdash;cursed again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then turned as if to go.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For love will seize you at the end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fear loneliness&mdash;fear sickness, too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they will teach you wisdom, friend."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet he rode on as madmen do.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He built a cabin by a sounding stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He digged in ca&ntilde;ons dark and deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever the waters caused a dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the face of woman broke his sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was a slender little mark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the man had lived alone so long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the ca&ntilde;on's noise and dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The footprint moved him like a song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It spoke to him of women in the East,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of girls in silken robes, with shining hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And talked of those who sat at feast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While sweet-eyed laughter filled the air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And more. A hundred visions rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He saw his mother's knotted hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ply round thick-knitted homely hose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her thoughts with him in desert lands.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A smiling wife, in bib and cap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Moved busily from chair to chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or sat with apples in her lap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Content with sweet domestic care.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>All these his curse had put away,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>All these were his no more to hold;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>He had his ca&ntilde;on cold and gray,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>He had his little heaps of gold.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GOLDSEEKERS' CAMP AT GLENORA</h4>
+
+
+<p>Glenora, like Telegraph Creek, was a village of tents and shacks.
+Previous to the opening of the year it had been an old Hudson Bay
+trading-post at the head of navigation on the Stikeen River, but
+during April and May it had been turned into a swarming camp of
+goldseekers on their way to Teslin Lake by way of the much-advertised
+"Stikeen Route" to the Yukon.</p>
+
+<p>A couple of months before our arrival nearly five thousand people had
+been encamped on the river flat; but one disappointment had followed
+another, the government road had been abandoned, the pack trail had
+proved a menace, and as a result the camp had thinned away, and when
+we of the Long Trail began to drop into town Glenora contained less
+than five hundred people, including tradesmen and mechanics.</p>
+
+<p>The journey of those who accompanied me on the Long Trail was by no
+means ended. It was indeed only half done. There remained more than
+one hundred and seventy miles of pack trail before the head of
+navigation on the Yukon could be reached. I turned aside. My partner
+went on.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+<p>In order to enter the head-waters of the Pelly it was necessary to
+traverse four hundred miles of trail, over which a year's provision
+for each man must be carried. Food was reported to be "a dollar a
+pound" at Teslin Lake and winter was coming on. To set face toward
+any of these regions meant the most careful preparation or certain
+death.</p>
+
+<p>The weather was cold and bleak, and each night the boys assembled
+around the big campfire to discuss the situation. They reported the
+country full of people eager to get away. Everybody seemed studying
+the problem of what to do and how to do it. Some were for going to
+the head-waters of the Pelly, others advocated the Nisutlin, and
+others still thought it a good plan to prospect on the head-waters of
+the Tooya, from which excellent reports were coming in.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour they debated, argued, and agreed. In the midst of it
+all Burton remained cool and unhurried. Sitting in our tent, which
+flapped and quivered in the sounding southern wind, we discussed the
+question of future action. I determined to leave him here with four
+of the horses and a thousand pounds of grub with which to enter the
+gold country; for my partner was a miner, not a literary man.</p>
+
+<p>It had been my intention to go with him to Teslin Lake, there to
+build a boat and float down the river to Dawson; but I was six weeks
+behind my schedule, the trail was reported to be bad, and the water
+in the Hotalinqua very low, making boating slow and hazardous.
+Therefore I concluded to join the stream of goldseekers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> who were
+pushing down toward the coast to go in by way of Skagway.</p>
+
+<p>There was a feeling in the air on the third day after going into camp
+which suggested the coming of autumn. Some of the boys began to dread
+the desolate north, out of which the snows would soon begin to sweep.
+It took courage to set face into that wild land with winter coming
+on, and yet many of them were ready to do it. The Manchester boys and
+Burton formed a "side-partnership," and faced a year of bacon and
+beans without visible sign of dismay.</p>
+
+<p>The ominous cold deepened a little every night. It seemed like
+October as the sun went down. Around us on every side the mountain
+peaks cut the sky keen as the edge of a sword, and the wind howled up
+the river gusty and wild.</p>
+
+<p>A little group of tents sprang up around our own and every day was
+full of quiet enjoyment. We were all living very high, with plenty of
+berries and an occasional piece of fresh beef. Steel-head salmon were
+running and were a drug in the market.</p>
+
+<p>The talk of the Pelly River grew excited as a report came in
+detailing a strike, and all sorts of outfits began to sift out along
+the trail toward Teslin Lake. The rain ceased at last and the days
+grew very pleasant with the wind again in the south, roaring up the
+river all day long with great power, reminding me of the equatorial
+currents which sweep over Illinois and Wisconsin in September. We had
+nothing now to trouble us but the question of moving out into the
+gold country.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+<p>One by one the other misguided ones of the Long Trail came dropping
+into camp to meet the general depression and stagnation. They were
+brown, ragged, long-haired, and for the most part silent with dismay.
+Some of them celebrated their escape by getting drunk, but mainly
+they were too serious-minded to waste time or substance. Some of them
+had expended their last dollar on the trail and were forced to sell
+their horses for money to take them out of the country. Some of the
+partnerships went to pieces for other causes. Long-smouldering
+dissensions burst into flame. "The Swedes" divided and so did "The
+Dutchman," the more resolute of them keeping on the main trail while
+others took the trail to the coast or returned to the States.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Ladrone and his fellows were rejoicing like ourselves in
+fairly abundant food and in continuous rest. The old gray began to
+look a little more like his own proud self. As I went out to see him
+he came up to me to be curried and nosed about me, begging for salt.
+His trust in me made him doubly dear, and I took great joy in
+thinking that he, at least, was not doomed to freeze or starve in
+this savage country which has no mercy and no hope for horses.</p>
+
+<p>There was great excitement on the first Sunday following our going
+into camp, when the whistle of a steamer announced the coming of the
+mail. It produced as much movement as an election or a bear fight. We
+all ran to the bank to see her struggle with the current, gaining
+headway only inch by inch. She was a small stern-wheeler, not unlike
+the boats which run on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> upper Missouri. We all followed her down
+to the Hudson Bay post, like a lot of small boys at a circus, to see
+her unload. This was excitement enough for one day, and we returned
+to camp feeling that we were once more in touch with civilization.</p>
+
+<p>Among the first of those who met us on our arrival was a German, who
+was watching some horses and some supplies in a big tent close by the
+river bank. While pitching my tent on that first day he came over to
+see me, and after a few words of greeting said quietly, but with
+feeling, "I am glad you've come, it was so lonesome here." We were
+very busy, but I think we were reasonably kind to him in the days
+that followed. He often came over of an evening and stood about the
+fire, and although I did not seek to entertain him, I am glad to say
+I answered him civilly; Burton was even social.</p>
+
+<p>I recall these things with a certain degree of feeling, because not
+less than a week later this poor fellow was discovered by one of our
+company swinging from the crosstree of the tent, a ghastly corpse.
+There was something inexplicable in the deed. No one could account
+for it. He seemed not to be a man of deep feeling. And one of the
+last things he uttered in my hearing was a coarse jest which I did
+not like and to which I made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>In his pocket the coroner found a letter wherein he had written,
+"Bury me right here where I failed, here on the bank of the river."
+It contained also a message to his wife and children in the States.
+There were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> tragic splashes of red on the trail, murder, and violent
+death by animals and by swift waters. Now here at the end of the
+trail was a suicide.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So this is the end of the trail to him&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To swing at the tail of a rope and die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making a chapter gray and grim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adding a ghost to the midnight sky?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He toiled for days on the icy way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He slept at night on the wind-swept snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now here he hangs in the morning's gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A grisly shape by the river's flow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was just two weeks later when I put the bridle and saddle on
+Ladrone and rode him down the trail. His heart was light as mine, and
+he had gained some part of his firm, proud, leaping walk. He had
+confidence in the earth once more. This was the first firm stretch of
+road he had trod for many weeks. He was now to take the boat for the
+outside world.</p>
+
+<p>There was an element of sadness in the parting between Ladrone and
+the train he had led for so many miles. As we saddled up for the last
+time he stood waiting. The horses had fared together for ninety days.
+They had "lined up" nearly two hundred times, and now for the last
+time I called out: "Line up, boys! Line up! Heke! Heke!"</p>
+
+<p>Ladrone swung into the trail. Behind him came "Barney," next "Major,"
+then sturdy "Bay Bill," and lastly "Nibbles," the pony. For the last
+time they were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> to follow their swift gray leader, who was going
+south to live at ease, while they must begin again the ascent of the
+trail.</p>
+
+<p>Ladrone whinnied piteously for his mates as I led him aboard the
+steamer, but they did not answer. They were patiently waiting their
+master's signal. Never again would they set eyes on the stately gray
+leader who was bound to most adventurous things. Never again would
+they see the green grass come on the hills.</p>
+
+<p>I had a feeling that I could go on living this way, leading a pack
+train across the country indefinitely. It seemed somehow as though
+this way of life, this routine, must continue. I had a deep interest
+in the four horses, and it was not without a feeling of guilt that I
+saw them move away on their last trail. At bottom the end of every
+horse is tragic. Death comes sooner or later, but death here in this
+country, so cold and bleak and pitiless to all animals, seems somehow
+closer, more inevitable, more cruel, and flings over every animal the
+shadow of immediate tragedy. There was something approaching crime in
+bringing a horse over that trail for a thousand miles only to turn
+him loose at the end, or to sell him to some man who would work him
+to the point of death, and then shoot him or turn him out to freeze.</p>
+
+<p>As the time came when I must return to the south and to the tame, the
+settled, the quiet, I experienced a profound feeling of regret, of
+longing for the wild and lonely. I looked up at the shining green and
+white mountains and they allured me still, notwithstanding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> all the
+toil and discomfort of the journey just completed. The wind from the
+south, damp and cool, the great river gliding with rushing roar to
+meet the sea, had a distinct and wonderful charm from which I rent
+myself with distinct effort.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_TOIL_OF_THE_TRAIL" id="THE_TOIL_OF_THE_TRAIL"></a>THE TOIL OF THE TRAIL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What have I gained by the toil of the trail?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know and know well.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have found once again the lore I had lost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the loud city's hell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have broadened my hand to the cinch and the axe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have laid my flesh to the rain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I was hunter and trailer and guide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have touched the most primitive wildness again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have threaded the wild with the stealth of the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No eagle is freer than I;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No mountain can thwart me, no torrent appall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I defy the stern sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So long as I live these joys will remain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have touched the most primitive wildness again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h3>
+
+<h4>GREAT NEWS AT WRANGELL</h4>
+
+
+<p>Boat after boat had come up, stopped for a night, and dropped down
+the river again, carrying from ten to twenty of the goldseekers who
+had determined to quit or to try some other way in; and at last the
+time had come for me to say good-by to Burton and all those who had
+determined to keep on to Teslin Lake. I had helped them buy and sack
+and weigh their supplies, and they were ready to line up once more.</p>
+
+<p>As I led Ladrone down toward the boat, he called again for his
+fellows, but only strangers made reply. After stowing him safely away
+and giving him feed, I returned to the deck in order to wave my hat
+to Burton.</p>
+
+<p>In accordance with his peculiar, undemonstrative temperament, he
+stood for a few moments in silence, with his hands folded behind his
+back, then, with a final wave of the hand, turned on his heel and
+returned to his work.</p>
+
+<p>Farewells and advice more or less jocular rang across the rail of the
+boat between some ten or fifteen of us who had hit the new trail and
+those on shore.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, boys; see you at Dawson."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+<p>"We'll beat you in yet," called Bill. "Don't over-work."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us know if you strike it!" shouted Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"All right; you do the same," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>As the boat swung out into the stream, and the little group on the
+bank faded swiftly away, I confess to a little dimness of the eyes. I
+thought of the hardships toward which my uncomplaining partner was
+headed, and it seemed to me Nature was conspiring to crush him.</p>
+
+<p>The trip down the river was exceedingly interesting. The stream grew
+narrower as we approached the coast range, and became at last very
+dangerous for a heavy boat such as the <i>Strathcona</i> was. We were
+forced to lay by at last, some fifty miles down, on account of the
+terrific wind which roared in through the gap, making the steering of
+the big boat through the ca&ntilde;on very difficult.</p>
+
+<p>At the point where we lay for the night a small creek came in.
+Steel-headed salmon were running, and the creek was literally lined
+with bear tracks of great size, as far up as we penetrated. These
+bears are said to be a sort of brown fishing bear of enormous bulk,
+as large as polar bears, and when the salmon are spawning in the
+upper waters of the coast rivers, they become so fat they can hardly
+move. Certainly I have never been in a country where bear signs were
+so plentiful. The wood was an almost impassable tangle of vines and
+undergrowth, and the thought of really finding a bear was appalling.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+<p>The Stikeen breaks directly through the coast range at right angles,
+like a battering-ram. Immense glaciers were on either side. One
+tremendous river of ice came down on our right, presenting a face
+wall apparently hundreds of feet in height and some miles in width. I
+should have enjoyed exploring this glacier, which is said to be one
+of the greatest on the coast.</p>
+
+<p>The next day our captain, a bold and reckless man, carried us through
+to Wrangell by <i>walking</i> his boat over the sand bars on its
+paddle-wheel. I was exceedingly nervous, because if for any reason we
+had become stuck in mid river, it would have been impossible to feed
+Ladrone or to take him ashore except by means of another steamer.
+However, all things worked together to bring us safely through, and
+in the afternoon of the second day we entered an utterly different
+world&mdash;the warm, wet coast country. The air was moist, the grasses
+and tall ferns were luxuriant, and the forest trees immense. Out into
+a sun-bright bay we swept with a feeling of being in safe waters once
+more, and rounded-to about sunset at a point on the island just above
+a frowzy little town. This was Wrangell Island and the town was Fort
+Wrangell, one of the oldest stations on the coast.</p>
+
+<p>I had placed my horse under bond intending to send him through to
+Vancouver to be taken care of by the Hudson Bay Company. He was still
+a Canadian horse and so must remain upon the wharf over night. As he
+was very restless and uneasy, I camped down beside him on the
+planks.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+<p>I lay for a long time listening to the waters flowing under me and
+looking at the gray-blue sky, across which stars shot like distant
+rockets dying out in the deeps of the heavens in silence. An odious
+smell rose from the bay as the tide went out, a seal bawled in the
+distance, fishes flopped about in the pools beneath me, and a man
+playing a violin somewhere in the village added a melancholy note. I
+could hear the boys crying, "All about the war," and Ladrone
+continued restless and eager. Several times in the night, when he
+woke me with his trampling, I called to him, and hearing my voice he
+became quiet.</p>
+
+<p>I took breakfast at a twenty-five cent "joint," where I washed out of
+a tin basin in an ill-smelling area. After breakfast I grappled with
+the customs man and secured the papers which made Ladrone an American
+horse, free to eat grass wherever it could be found under the stars
+and stripes. I started immediately to lead him to pasture, and this
+was an interesting and memorable experience.</p>
+
+<p>There are no streets, that is to say no roads, in Wrangell. There are
+no carriages and no horses, not even donkeys. Therefore it was
+necessary for Ladrone to walk the perilous wooden sidewalks after me.
+This he did with all the dignity of a county judge, and at last we
+came upon grass, knee deep, rich and juicy.</p>
+
+<p>Our passage through the street created a great sensation. Little
+children ran to the gates to look upon us. "There goes a horsie,"
+they shouted. An old man stopped me on the street and asked me where
+I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> taking "T'old 'orse." I told him I had already ridden him over
+a thousand miles and now he was travelling with me back to God's
+country. He looked at me in amazement, and walked off tapping his
+forehead as a sign that I must certainly "have wheels."</p>
+
+<p>As I watched Ladrone at his feed an old Indian woman came along and
+smiled with amiable interest. At last she said, pointing to the other
+side of the village, "Over there muck-a-muck, hy-u muck-a-muck." She
+wished to see the horse eating the best grass there was to be had on
+the island.</p>
+
+<p>A little later three or four native children came down the hill and
+were so amazed and so alarmed at the sight of this great beast
+feeding beside the walk that they burst into loud outcry and ran
+desperately away. They were not accustomed to horses. To them he was
+quite as savage in appearance as a polar bear.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time everybody in the town knew of the old gray horse and
+his owner. I furnished a splendid topic for humorous conversation
+during the dull hours of the day.</p>
+
+<p>Here again I came upon other gaunt and rusty-coated men from the Long
+Trail. They could be recognized at a glance by reason of their sombre
+faces and their undecided action. They could scarcely bring
+themselves to such ignominious return from a fruitless trip on which
+they had started with so much elation, and yet they hesitated about
+attempting any further adventure to the north, mainly because their
+horses had sold for so little and their expenses had been so great.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
+Many of them were nearly broken. In the days that followed they
+discussed the matter in subdued voices, sitting in the sun on the
+great wharf, sombrely looking out upon the bay.</p>
+
+<p>On the third day a steamer came in from the north, buzzing with the
+news of another great strike not far from Skagway. Juneau, Dyea, as
+well as Skagway itself, were said to be almost deserted. Men were
+leaving the White Pass Railway in hundreds, and a number of the hands
+on the steamer herself had deserted under the excitement. Mingling
+with the passengers we eagerly extracted every drop of information
+possible. No one knew much about it, but they said all they knew and
+a good part of what they had heard, and when the boat swung round and
+disappeared in the moonlight, she left the goldseekers exultant and
+tremulous on the wharf.</p>
+
+<p>They were now aflame with desire to take part in this new stampede,
+which seemed to be within their slender means, and I, being one of
+them and eager to see such a "stampede," took a final session with
+the customs collector, and prepared to board the next boat.</p>
+
+<p>I arranged with Duncan McKinnon to have my old horse taken care of in
+his lot. I dug wells for him so that he should not lack for water,
+and treated him to a dish of salt, and just at sunset said good-by to
+him with another twinge of sadness and turned toward the wharf. He
+looked very lonely and sad standing there with drooping head in the
+midst of the stumps of his pasture lot. However, there was plenty of
+feed and half a dozen men volunteered to keep an eye on him.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Don't worry, mon," said Donald McLane. "He'll be gettin' fat and
+strong on the juicy grass, whilst you're a-heavin' out the
+gold-dust."</p>
+
+<p>There were about ten of us who lined up to the purser's window of the
+little steamer which came along that night and purchased second-class
+passage. The boat was very properly named the <i>Utopia</i>, and was so
+crowded with other goldseekers from down the coast, that we of the
+Long Trail were forced to put our beds on the floor of the little
+saloon in the stern of the boat which was called the "social room."
+We were all second-class, and we all lay down in rows on the carpet,
+covering every foot of space. Each man rolled up in his own blankets,
+and I was the object of considerable remark by reason of my mattress,
+which gave me as good a bed as the vessel afforded.</p>
+
+<p>There was a great deal of noise on the boat, and its passengers, both
+men and women, were not of the highest type. There were several
+stowaways, and some of the women were not very nice as to their
+actions, and, rightly or wrongly, were treated with scant respect by
+the men, who were loud and vulgar for the most part. Sleep was
+difficult in the turmoil.</p>
+
+<p>Though second-class passengers, strange to say, we came first at
+table and were very well fed. The boat ran entirely inside a long row
+of islands, and the water was smooth as a river. The mountains grew
+each moment more splendid as we neared Skagway, and the ride was most
+enjoyable. Whales and sharks interested us on the way. The women came
+to light next day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> and on the whole were much better than I had
+inferred from the two or three who were the source of disturbance the
+night before. The men were not of much interest; they seemed petty
+and without character for the most part.</p>
+
+<p>At Juneau we came into a still more mountainous country, and for the
+rest of the way the scenery was magnificent. Vast rivers of ice came
+curving down absolutely out of the clouds which hid the summits of
+the mountains&mdash;came curving in splendid lines down to the very
+water's edge. The sea was chill and gray, and as we entered the mouth
+of Lynn Canal a raw swift wind swept by, making us shiver with cold.
+The grim bronze-green mountains' sides formed a most impressive but
+forbidding scene.</p>
+
+<p>It was nine o'clock the next morning as we swung to and unloaded
+ourselves upon one of the long wharves which run out from the town of
+Skagway toward the deep water. We found the town exceedingly quiet.
+Half the men had gone to the new strike. Stores were being tended by
+women, some small shops were closed entirely, and nearly every
+business firm had sent representatives into the new gold fields,
+which we now found to be on Atlin Lake.</p>
+
+<p>It was difficult to believe that this wharf a few months before had
+been the scene of a bloody tragedy which involved the shooting of
+"Soapy Smith," the renowned robber and desperado. On the contrary, it
+seemed quite like any other town of its size in the States. The air
+was warm and delightful in midday, but toward night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> the piercing
+wind swept down from the high mountains, making an overcoat
+necessary.</p>
+
+<p>A few men had returned from this new district, and were full of
+enthusiasm concerning the prospects. Their reports increased the
+almost universal desire to have a part in the stampede. The Iowa boys
+from the Long Trail wasted no time, but set about their own plans for
+getting in. They expected to reach the creek by sheer force and
+awkwardness.</p>
+
+<p>They had determined to try the "cut-off," which left the wagon road
+and took off up the east fork of the Skagway River. Nearly three
+hundred people had already set out on this trail, and the boys felt
+sure of "making it all right&mdash;all right," though it led over a great
+glacier and into an unmapped region of swift streams. "After the
+Telegraph Trail," said Doc, "we're not easily scared."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me a desperate chance, and I was not ready to enter upon
+such a trip with only such grub and clothing as could be carried upon
+my back; but it was the last throw of the dice for these young
+fellows. They had very little money left, and could not afford to
+hire pack trains; but by making a swift dash into the country, each
+hoped to get a claim. How they expected to hold it or use it after
+they got it, they were unable to say; but as they were out for gold,
+and here was a chance (even though it were but the slightest chance
+in the world) to secure a location, they accepted it with the sublime
+audacity of youth and ignorance. They saddled themselves with their
+packs, and with a cheery wave of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> the hand said "Good-by and good
+luck" and marched away in single file.</p>
+
+<p>Just a week later I went round to see if any news of them had
+returned to their bunk house. I found their names on the register.
+They had failed. One of them set forth their condition of purse and
+mind by writing: "Dave Walters, Boone, Iowa. Busted and going home."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_GOLDSEEKERS" id="THE_GOLDSEEKERS"></a>THE GOLDSEEKERS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I saw these dreamers of dreams go by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I trod in their footsteps a space;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each marched with his eyes on the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each passed with a light on his face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They came from the hopeless and sad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They faced the future and gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some the tooth of want's wolf had made mad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some at the forge had grown old.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behind them these serfs of the tool<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rags of their service had flung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No longer of fortune the fool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This word from each bearded lip rung:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Once more I'm a man, I am free!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No man is my master, I say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow I fail, it may be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No matter, I'm freeman to-day."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They go to a toil that is sure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To despair and hunger and cold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their sickness no warning can cure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are mad with a longing for gold.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The light will fade from each eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The smile from each face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They will curse the impassible sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the earth when the snow torrents race.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some will sink by the way and be laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the frost of the desolate earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some will return to a maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Empty of hand as at birth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>But this out of all will remain,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>They have lived and have tossed;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>So much in the game will be gain,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Though the gold of the dice has been lost.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RUSH TO ATLIN LAKE</h4>
+
+
+<p>It took me longer to get under way, for I had determined to take at
+least thirty days' provisions for myself and a newspaper man who
+joined me here. Our supplies, together with tent, tools, and
+clothing, made a considerable outfit. However, in a few days we were
+ready to move, and when I again took my place at the head of a little
+pack train it seemed quite in the natural order of things.</p>
+
+<p>We left late in the day with intent to camp at the little village of
+White Pass, which was the end of the wagon road and some twelve miles
+away. We moved out of town along a road lined with refuse,
+camp-bottoms, ruined cabins, tin cans, and broken bottles,&mdash;all the
+unsightly debris of the rush of May and June. A part of the way had
+been corduroyed, for which I was exceedingly grateful, for the
+Skagway River roared savagely under our feet, while on either side of
+the roadway at other points I could see abysses of mud which, in the
+growing darkness, were sufficiently menacing.</p>
+
+<p>Our course was a northerly one. We were ascending the ever narrowing
+ca&ntilde;on of the river at a gentle grade, with snowy mountains in vista.
+We arrived at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> White Pass at about ten o'clock at night. A little
+town is springing up there, confident of being an important station
+on the railroad which was already built to that point.</p>
+
+<p>Thus far the journey had been easy and simple, but immediately after
+leaving White Pass we entered upon an exceedingly stony road, filled
+with sharp rock which had been blasted from the railway above us.
+Upon reaching the end of the wagon road, and entering upon the trail,
+we came upon the Way of Death. The waters reeked with carrion. The
+breeze was the breath of carrion, and all nature was made indecent
+and disgusting by the presence of carcasses. Within the distance of
+fifteen miles we passed more than two thousand dead horses. It was a
+cruel land, a land filled with the record of men's merciless greed.
+Nature herself was cold, majestic, and grand. The trail rough, hard,
+and rocky. The horses labored hard under their heavy burdens, though
+the floor they trod was always firm.</p>
+
+<p>Just at the summit in the gray mist, where a bulbous granite ridge
+cut blackly and lonesomely against the sky, we overtook a flock of
+turkeys being driven by a one-armed man with a singularly appropriate
+Scotch cap on his head. The birds sat on the bleak gray rocks in the
+gathering dusk with the suggestion of being utterly at the end of the
+world. Their feathers were blown awry by the merciless wind and they
+looked weary, disconsolate, and bewildered. Their faint, sad gobbling
+was like the talk of sick people lost in a desert. They were on their
+way to Dawson City to their death and they seemed to know it.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p>
+<p>We camped at the Halfway House, a big tent surrounded by the most
+diabolical landscape of high peaks lost in mist, with near-by slopes
+of gray rocks scantily covered with yellow-green grass. All was bare,
+wild, desolate, and drear. The wind continued to whirl down over the
+divide, carrying torn gray masses of vapor which cast a gloomy half
+light across the gruesome little meadow covered with rotting
+carcasses and crates of bones which filled the air with odor of
+disease and death.</p>
+
+<p>Within the tent, which flopped and creaked in the wind, we huddled
+about the cook-stove in the light of a lantern, listening to the loud
+talk of a couple of packers who were discussing their business with
+enormous enthusiasm. Happily they grew sleepy at last and peace
+settled upon us. I unrolled my sleeping bag and slept dreamlessly
+until the "Russian nobleman," who did the cooking, waked me.</p>
+
+<p>Morning broke bleak and desolate. Mysterious clouds which hid the
+peaks were still streaming wildly down the ca&ntilde;on. We got away at
+last, leaving behind us that sad little meadow and its gruesome
+lakes, and began the slow and toilsome descent over slippery ledges
+of rock, among endless rows of rotting carcasses, over poisonous
+streams and through desolate, fire-marked, and ghastly forests of
+small pines. Everywhere were the traces of the furious flood of
+humankind that had broken over this height in the early spring.
+Wreckage of sleighs, abandoned tackle, heaps of camp refuse,
+clothing, and most eloquent of all the pathway itself, worn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> into the
+pitiless iron ledges, made it possible for me to realize something of
+the scene.</p>
+
+<p>Down there in the gully, on the sullen drift of snow, the winter
+trail could still be seen like an unclean ribbon and here, where the
+shrivelled hides of horses lay thick, wound the summer pathway. Up
+yonder summit, lock-stepped like a file of convicts, with tongues
+protruding and breath roaring from their distended throats, thousands
+of men had climbed with killing burdens on their backs, mad to reach
+the great inland river and the gold belt. Like the men of the Long
+Trail, they, too, had no time to find the gold under their feet.</p>
+
+<p>It was terrible to see how on every slippery ledge the ranks of
+horses had broken like waves to fall in heaps like rows of seaweed,
+tumbled, contorted, and grinning. Their dried skins had taken on the
+color of the soil, so that I sometimes set foot upon them without
+realizing what they were. Many of them had saddles on and nearly all
+had lead-ropes. Some of them had even been tied to trees and left to
+starve.</p>
+
+<p>In all this could be read the merciless greed and impracticability of
+these goldseekers. Men who had never driven a horse in their lives,
+and had no idea what an animal could do, or what he required to eat,
+loaded their outfits upon some poor patient beast and drove him
+without feed until, weakened and insecure of foot, he slipped and
+fell on some one of these cruel ledges of flinty rock.</p>
+
+<p>The business of packing, however, had at last fallen into less cruel
+or at least more judicial hands, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> though the trail was filled
+with long pack trains going and coming, they were for the most part
+well taken care of. We met many long trains of packhorses returning
+empty from Bennett Lake. They were followed by shouting drivers who
+clattered along on packhorses wherever the trail would permit.</p>
+
+<p>One train carried four immense trunks&mdash;just behind the trunks,
+mounted astride of one of the best horses, rode a bold-faced,
+handsome white woman followed by a huge negress. The white woman had
+made her pile by dancing a shameless dance in the dissolute dens of
+Dawson City, and was on her way to Paris or New York for a "good
+time." The reports of the hotel keepers made her out to be
+unspeakably vile. The negress was quite decent by contrast.</p>
+
+<p>At Log Cabin we came in sight of the British flag which marks the
+boundary line of United States territory, where a camp of mounted
+police and the British customs officer are located. It was a drear
+season even in midsummer, a land of naked ledges and cold white
+peaks. A few small pine trees furnished logs for the cabins and wood
+for their fires. The government offices were located in tents.</p>
+
+<p>I found the officers most courteous, and the customs fair. The
+treatment given me at Log Cabin was in marked contrast with the
+exactions of my own government at Wrangell. All goods were unloaded
+before the inspector's tent and quickly examined. The miner suffered
+very little delay.</p>
+
+<p>A number of badly maimed packhorses were running<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> about on the
+American side. I was told that the police had stopped them by reason
+of their sore backs. If a man came to the line with horses overloaded
+or suffering, he was made to strip the saddles from their backs.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't cross this line with animals like that," was the stern
+sentence in many cases. This humanity, as unexpected as it was
+pleasing, deserves the best word of praise of which I am capable.</p>
+
+<p>At last we left behind us all these wrecks of horseflesh, these
+poisonous streams, and came down upon Lake Bennett, where the water
+was considered safe to drink, and where the eye could see something
+besides death-spotted ledges of savage rocks.</p>
+
+<p>The town was a double row of tents, and log huts set close to the
+beach whereon boats were building and saws and hammers were uttering
+a cheerful chorus. Long trains of packhorses filled the streets. The
+wharfs swarmed with men loading chickens, pigs, vegetables,
+furniture, boxes of dry-goods, stoves, and every other conceivable
+domestic utensil into big square barges, which were rigged with tall
+strong masts bearing most primitive sails. It was a busy scene, but
+of course very quiet as compared with the activity of May, June, and
+July.</p>
+
+<p>These barges appealed to me very strongly. They were in some cases
+floating homes, a combination of mover's wagon and river boat. Many
+of them contained women and children, with accompanying cats and
+canary birds. In every face was a look of exultant faith in the
+venture. They were bound for Dawson City.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> The men for Atlin were
+setting forth in rowboats, or were waiting for the little steamers
+which had begun to ply between Bennett City and the new gold fields.</p>
+
+<p>I set my little tent, which was about as big as a dog kennel, and
+crawled into it early, in order to be shielded from the winds, which
+grew keen as sword blades as the sun sank behind the western
+mountains. The sky was like November, and I wondered where Burton was
+encamped. I would have given a great deal to have had him with me on
+this trip.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_COAST_RANGE_OF_ALASKA" id="THE_COAST_RANGE_OF_ALASKA"></a>THE COAST RANGE OF ALASKA</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The wind roars up from the angry sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a message of warning and haste to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It bids me go where the asters blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sun-flower waves in the sunset glow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the granite mountains the glaciers crawl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In snow-white spray the waters fall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bay is white with the crested waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever the sea wind ramps and raves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I hate this cold, bleak northern land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear its snow-flecked harborless strand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fly to the south as a homing dove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to the land of corn I love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never again shall I set my feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the snow and the sea and the mountains meet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h3>
+
+<h4>ATLIN LAKE AND THE GOLD FIELDS</h4>
+
+
+<p>There is nothing drearier than camping on the edge of civilization
+like this, where one is surrounded by ill smells, invaded by streams
+of foul dust, and deprived of wood and clear water. I was exceedingly
+eager to get away, especially as the wind continued cold and very
+searching. It was a long dull day of waiting.</p>
+
+<p>At last the boat came in and we trooped aboard&mdash;a queer mixture of
+men and bundles. The boat itself was a mere scow with an upright
+engine in the centre and a stern-wheel tacked on the outside. There
+were no staterooms, of course, and almost no bunks. The interior
+resembled a lumberman's shanty.</p>
+
+<p>We moved off towing a big scow laden with police supplies for Tagish
+House. The wind was very high and pushed steadily behind, or we would
+not have gone faster than a walk. We had some eight or ten
+passengers, all bound for the new gold fields, and these together
+with their baggage and tools filled the boat to the utmost corner.
+The feeling of elation among these men reminded me of the great land
+boom of Dakota in 1883, in which I took a part. There was something
+fine and free and primitive in it all.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+<p>We cooked our supper on the boat's stove, furnishing our own food
+from the supplies we were taking in with us. The ride promised to be
+very fine. We made off down the narrow lake, which lies between two
+walls of high bleak mountains, but far in the distance more alluring
+ranges arose. There was no sign of mineral in the near-by peaks.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon the wind became so high and the captain of our
+boat so timid, we were forced to lay by for the night and so swung
+around under a point, seeking shelter from the wind, which became
+each moment more furious. I made my bed down on the roof of the boat
+and went to sleep looking at the drifting clouds overhead. Once or
+twice during the night when I awoke I heard the howling blast
+sweeping by with increasing power.</p>
+
+<p>All the next day we loitered on Bennett Lake&mdash;the wind roaring
+without ceasing, and the white-caps running like hares. We drifted at
+last into a cove and there lay in shelter till six o'clock at night.
+The sky was clear and the few clouds were gloriously bright and cool
+and fleecy.</p>
+
+<p>We met several canoes of goldseekers on their return who shouted
+doleful warnings at us and cursed the worthlessness of the district
+to which we were bound. They all looked exceedingly dirty, ragged,
+and sour of visage. At the same time, however, boat after boat went
+sailing down past us on their way to Atlin and Dawson. They drove
+straight before the wind, and for the most part experienced little
+danger, all of which seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> us to emphasize the unnecessary
+timidity of our own captain.</p>
+
+<p>There was a charm in this wild spot, but we were too impatient to
+enjoy it. There were men on board who felt that they were being
+cheated of a chance to get a gold mine, and when the wind began to
+fall we fired up and started down the lake. As deep night came on I
+made my bed on the roof again and went to sleep with the flying
+sparks lining the sky overhead. I was in some danger of being set on
+fire, but I preferred sleeping there to sleeping on the floor inside
+the boat, where the reek of tobacco smoke was sickening.</p>
+
+<p>When I awoke we were driving straight up Tagish Lake, a beautiful,
+clear, green and blue spread of rippling water with lofty and boldly
+outlined peaks on each side. The lake ran from southeast to northwest
+and was much larger than any map shows. We drove steadily for ten
+hours up this magnificent water with ever increasing splendor of
+scenery, arriving about sunset at Taku City, which we found to be a
+little group of tents at the head of Taku arm.</p>
+
+<p>Innumerable boats of every design fringed the shore. Men were coming
+and men were going, producing a bewildering clash of opinions with
+respect to the value of the mines. A few of these to whom we spoke
+said, "It's all a fake," and others were equally certain it was "All
+right."</p>
+
+<p>A short portage was necessary to reach Atlin Lake, and taking a part
+of our baggage upon our shoulders we hired the remainder packed on
+horses and within an hour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> were moving up the smooth path under the
+small black pines, across the low ridge which separates the two
+lakes. At the top of this ridge we were able to look out over the
+magnificent spread of Atlin Lake, which was more beautiful in every
+way than Tagish or Taku. It is, in fact, one of the most beautiful
+lakes I have ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>Far to the southeast it spread until it was lost to view among the
+bases of the gigantic glacier-laden mountains of the coast range. To
+the left&mdash;that is to the north&mdash;it seemed to divide, enclosing a
+splendid dome-shaped solitary mountain, one fork moving to the east,
+the other to the west. Its end could not be determined by the eye in
+either direction. Its width was approximately about ten miles.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the trail we found an enterprising Canadian with a
+naphtha launch ready to ferry us across to Atlin City, but were
+forced to wait for some one who had gone back to Taku for a second
+load.</p>
+
+<p>While we were waiting, the engineer, who was a round-faced and rather
+green boy, fell under the influences of a large, plump, and very
+talkative lady who made the portage just behind us. She so absorbed
+and fascinated the lad that he let the engine run itself into some
+cramp of piston or wheel. There was a sudden crunching sound and the
+propeller stopped. The boy minimized the accident, but the captain
+upon arrival told us it would be necessary to unload from the boat
+while the engine was being repaired.</p>
+
+<p>It was now getting dark, and as it was pretty evident that the
+repairs on the boat would take a large part of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> the night, we camped
+where we were. The talkative lady, whom the irreverent called "the
+glass front," occupied a tent which belonged to the captain of the
+launch and the rest of us made our beds down under the big trees.</p>
+
+<p>A big fire was built and around this we sat, doing more or less
+talking. There was an old Tennesseean in the party from Dawson, who
+talked interminably. He told us of his troubles, trials, and
+victories in Dawson: how he had been successful, how he had fallen
+ill, and how his life had been saved by a good old miner who gave him
+an opportunity to work over his dump. Sick as he was he was able in a
+few days to find gold enough to take him out of the country to a
+doctor. He was now on his way back to his claim and professed to be
+very sceptical of Atlin and every other country except Dawson.</p>
+
+<p>The plump lady developed exceedingly kittenish manners late in the
+evening, and invited the whole company to share her tent. A singular
+type of woman, capable of most ladylike manners and having
+astonishingly sensible moments, but inexpressibly silly most of the
+time. She was really a powerful, self-confident, and shrewd woman,
+but preferred to seem young and helpless. Altogether the company was
+sufficiently curious. There was a young civil engineer from New York
+City, a land boomer from Skagway, an Irishman from Juneau, a
+representative of a New York paper, one or two nondescripts from the
+States, and one or two prospectors from Quebec. The night was cold
+and beautiful and my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> partner and I, by going sufficiently far away
+from the old Tennesseean and the plump lady, were able to sleep
+soundly until sunrise.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning we hired a large unpainted skiff and by working very
+hard ourselves in addition to paying full fare we reached camp at
+about ten o'clock in the morning. Atlin City was also a clump of
+tents half hidden in the trees on the beach of the lake near the
+mouth of Pine Creek. The lake was surpassingly beautiful under the
+morning sun.</p>
+
+<p>A crowd of sullen, profane, and grimy men were lounging around,
+cursing the commissioners and the police. The beach was fringed with
+rowboats and canoes, like a New England fishing village, and all day
+long men were loading themselves into these boats, hungry, tired, and
+weary, hastening back to Skagway or the coast; while others, fresh,
+buoyant, and hopeful, came gliding in.</p>
+
+<p>To those who came, the sullen and disappointed ones who were about to
+go uttered approbrious cries: "See the damn fools come! What d'you
+think you're doin'? On a fishin' excursion?"</p>
+
+<p>We went into camp on the water front, and hour after hour men laden
+with packs tramped ceaselessly to and fro along the pathway just
+below our door. I was now chief cook and bottle washer, my partner,
+who was entirely unaccustomed to work of this kind, having the status
+of a boarder.</p>
+
+<p>The lake was a constant joy to us. As the sun sank the glacial
+mountains to the southwest became most royal in their robes of purple
+and silver. The sky filled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> with crimson and saffron clouds which the
+lake reflected like a mirror. The little rocky islands drowsed in the
+mist like some strange monsters sleeping on the bosom of the water.
+The men were filthy and profane for the most part, and made enjoyment
+of nature almost impossible. Many of them were of the rudest and most
+uninteresting types, nomads&mdash;almost tramps. They had nothing of the
+epic qualities which belong to the mountaineers and natural miners of
+the Rocky Mountains. Many of them were loafers and ne'er-do-wells
+from Skagway and other towns of the coast.</p>
+
+<p>We had a gold pan, a spade, and a pick. Therefore early the next
+morning we flung a little pack of grub over our shoulders and set
+forth to test the claims which were situated upon Pine Creek, a
+stream which entered Lake Atlin near the camp. It was said to be
+eighteen miles long and Discovery claim was some eight miles up.</p>
+
+<p>We traced our way up the creek as far as Discovery and back, panning
+dirt at various places with resulting colors in some cases. The trail
+was full of men racking to and fro with heavy loads on their backs.
+They moved in little trains of four or five or six men, some going
+out of the country, others coming in&mdash;about an equal number each way.
+Everything along the creek was staked, and our test work resulted in
+nothing more than gaining information with regard to what was going
+on.</p>
+
+<p>The camps on the hills at night swarmed with men in hot debate. The
+majority believed the camps to be a failure, and loud discussions
+resounded from the trees as partner and I sat at supper. The
+town-site men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> were very nervous. The camps were decreasing in
+population, and the tone was one of general foreboding.</p>
+
+<p>The campfires flamed all along the lake walk, and the talk of each
+group could be overheard by any one who listened. Altercations went
+on with clangorous fury. Almost every party was in division. Some
+enthusiastic individual had made a find, or had seen some one else
+who had. His cackle reached other groups, and out of the dark hulking
+figures loomed to listen or to throw in hot missiles of profanity.
+Phrases multiplied, mingling inextricably.</p>
+
+<p>"Morgan claims thirty cents to the pan ... good creek claim ... his
+sluice is about ready ... a clean-up last night ... I don't believe
+it.... No, Sir, I wouldn't give a hundred dollars for the whole damn
+moose pasture.... Well, it's good enough for me.... I tell you it's
+rotten, the whole damn cheese.... You've got to stand in with the
+police or you can't get...." and so on and on unendingly, without
+coherence. I went to sleep only when the sound of the wordy warfare
+died away.</p>
+
+<p>I permitted myself a day of rest. Borrowing a boat next day, we went
+out upon the water and up to the mouth of Pine Creek, where we panned
+some dirt to amuse ourselves. The lake was like liquid glass, the
+bottom visible at an enormous depth. It made me think of the
+marvellous water of McDonald Lake in the Kalispels. I steered the
+boat (with a long-handled spade) and so was able to look about me and
+absorb at ease the wonderful beauty of this unbroken and unhewn
+wilderness. The clouds were resplendent, and in every direction<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> the
+lake vistas were ideally beautiful and constantly changing.</p>
+
+<p>Toward night the sky grew thick and heavy with clouds. The water of
+the lake was like molten jewels, ruby and amethyst. The boat seemed
+floating in some strange, ethereal substance hitherto unknown to
+man&mdash;translucent and iridescent. The mountains loomed like dim purple
+pillars at the western gate of the world, and the rays of the
+half-hidden sun plunging athwart these sentinels sank deep into the
+shining flood. Later the sky cleared, and the inverted mountains in
+the lake were scarcely less vivid than those which rose into the sky.</p>
+
+<p>The next day I spent with gold pan and camera, working my way up
+Spruce Creek, a branch of Pine. I found men cheerily at work getting
+out sluice boxes and digging ditches. I panned everywhere, but did
+not get much in the way of colors, but the creek seemed to grow
+better as I went up, and promised very rich returns. I came back
+rushing, making five miles just inside an hour, hungry and tired.</p>
+
+<p>The crowded camp thinned out. The faint-hearted ones who had no
+courage to sweat for gold sailed away. Others went out upon their
+claims to build cabins and lay sluices. I found them whip-sawing
+lumber, building cabins, and digging ditches. Each day the news grew
+more encouraging, each day brought the discovery of a new creek or a
+lake. Men came back in swarms and reporting finds on "Lake Surprise,"
+a newly discovered big body of water, and at last came the report of
+surprising discoveries in the benches high above the creek.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
+<p>In the camp one night I heard a couple of men talking around a
+campfire near me. One of them said: "Why, you know old Sperry was
+digging on the ridge just above Discovery and I came along and see
+him up there. And I said, 'Hullo, uncle, what you doin', diggin' your
+grave?' And the old feller said, 'You just wait a few minutes and
+I'll show ye.' Well, sir, he filled up a sack o' dirt and toted it
+down to the creek, and I went along with him to see him wash it out,
+and say, he took $3.25 out of one pan of that dirt, and $1.85 out of
+the other pan. Well, that knocked me. I says, 'Uncle, you're all
+right.' And then I made tracks for a bench claim next him. Well,
+about that time everybody began to hustle for bench claims, and now
+you can't get one anywhere near him."</p>
+
+<p>At another camp, a packer was telling of an immense nugget that had
+been discovered somewhere on the upper waters of Birch Creek. "And
+say, fellers, you know there is another lake up there pretty near as
+big as Atlin. They are calling it Lake Surprise. I heard a feller say
+a few days ago there was a big lake up there and I thought he meant a
+lake six or eight miles long. On the very high ground next to Birch,
+you can look down over that lake and I bet it's sixty miles long. It
+must reach nearly to Teslin Lake." There was something pretty fine in
+the thought of being in a country where lakes sixty miles long were
+being discovered and set forth on the maps of the world. Up to this
+time Atlin Lake itself was unmapped. To an unpractical man like
+myself it was reward enough to feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> the thrill of excitement which
+comes with such discoveries.</p>
+
+<p>However, I was not a goldseeker, and when I determined to give up any
+further pursuit of mining and to delegate it entirely to my partner,
+I experienced a feeling of relief. I determined to "stick to my
+last," notwithstanding the fascination which I felt in the sight of
+placer gold. Quartz mining has never had the slightest attraction for
+me, but to see the gold washed out of the sand, to see it appear
+bright and shining in the black sand in the bottom of the pan, is
+really worth while. It is first-hand contact with Nature's stores of
+wealth.</p>
+
+<p>I went up to Discovery for the last time with my camera slung over my
+shoulder, and my note-book in hand to take a final survey of the
+miners and to hear for the last time their exultant talk. I found
+them exceedingly cheerful, even buoyant.</p>
+
+<p>The men who had gone in with ten days' provisions, the tenderfoot
+miners, the men "with a cigarette and a sandwich," had gone out.
+Those who remained were men who knew their business and were resolute
+and self-sustaining.</p>
+
+<p>There was a crowd of such men around the land-office tents and many
+filings were made. Nearly every man had his little phial of gold to
+show. No one was loud, but every one seemed to be quietly confident
+and replied to my questions in a low voice, "Well, you can safely say
+the country is all right."</p>
+
+<p>The day was fine like September in Wisconsin. The lake as I walked
+back to it was very alluring. My mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> returned again and again to
+the things I had left behind for so long. My correspondence, my
+books, my friends, all the literary interests of my life, began to
+reassert their dominion over me. For some time I had realized that
+this was almost an ideal spot for camping or mining. Just over in the
+wild country toward Teslin Lake, herds of caribou were grazing. Moose
+and bear were being killed daily, rich and unknown streams were
+waiting for the gold pan, the pick and the shovel, but&mdash;it was not
+for me! I was ready to return&mdash;eager to return.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_FREEMAN_OF_THE_HILLS" id="THE_FREEMAN_OF_THE_HILLS"></a>THE FREEMAN OF THE HILLS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have no master but the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My only liege the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All bonds and ties I leave behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free as the wolf I run.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My master wind is passionless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He neither chides nor charms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He fans me or he freezes me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And helps are quick as harms.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He never turns to injure me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when his voice is high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I crouch behind a rock and see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His storm of snows go by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He too is subject of the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As all things earthly are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where'er he flies, where'er I run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We know our kingly star.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_VOICE_OF_THE_MAPLE_TREE" id="THE_VOICE_OF_THE_MAPLE_TREE"></a>THE VOICE OF THE MAPLE TREE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am worn with the dull-green spires of fir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am tired of endless talk of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I long for the cricket's cheery whirr,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the song that the maples sang of old.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O the beauty and learning and light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lie in the leaves of the level lands!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shake my heart in the deep of the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They call me and bless me with calm, cool hands.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1"><i>Sing, O leaves of the maple tree,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>I hear your voice by the savage sea,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>Hear and hasten to home and thee!</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h3>
+
+<h4>THE END OF THE TRAIL</h4>
+
+
+<p>The day on which I crossed the lake to Taku City was most glorious. A
+September haze lay on the mountains, whose high slopes, orange, ruby,
+and golden-green, allured with almost irresistible attraction.
+Although the clouds were gathering in the east, the sunset was
+superb. Taku arm seemed a river of gold sweeping between gates of
+purple. As the darkness came on, a long creeping line of fire crept
+up a near-by mountain's side, and from time to time, as it reached
+some great pine, it flamed to the clouds like a mighty geyser of
+red-hot lava. It was splendid but terrible to witness.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was a long, long wait for the steamer. I now had in my
+pocket just twelve dollars, but possessed a return ticket on one of
+the boats. This ticket was not good on any other boat, and naturally
+I felt considerable anxiety for fear it would not turn up. My dinner
+consisted of moose steak, potatoes, and bread, and was most
+thoroughly enjoyed.</p>
+
+<p>At last the steamer came, but it was not the one on which I had
+secured passage, and as it took almost my last dollar to pay for deck
+passage thereon, I lived on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> some small cakes of my own baking, which
+I carried in a bag. I was now in a sad predicament unless I should
+connect at Lake Bennett with some one who would carry my outfit back
+to Skagway on credit. I ate my stale cakes and drank lake water, and
+thus fooled the little Jap steward out of two dollars. It was a sad
+business, but unavoidable.</p>
+
+<p>The lake being smooth, the trip consumed but thirteen hours, and we
+arrived at Bennett Lake late at night. Hoisting my bed and luggage to
+my shoulder, I went up on the side-hill like a stray dog, and made my
+bed down on the sand beside a cart, near a shack. The wind, cold and
+damp, swept over the mountains with a roar. I was afraid the owners
+of the cart might discover me there, and order me to seek a bed
+elsewhere. Dogs sniffed around me during the night, but on the whole
+I slept very well. I could feel the sand blowing over me in the wild
+gusts of wind which relented not in all my stay at Bennett City.</p>
+
+<p>I spent literally the last cent I had on a scanty breakfast, and
+then, in company with Doctor G. (a fellow prospector), started on my
+return to the coast over the far-famed Chilcoot Pass.</p>
+
+<p>At 9 <span class="smcap">A.M.</span> we took the little ferry for the head of Lindernan Lake.
+The doctor paid my fare. The boat, a wabbly craft, was crowded with
+returning Klondikers, many of whom were full of importance and talk
+of their wealth; while others, sick and worn, with a wistful gleam in
+their eyes, seemed eager to get back to civilization and medical
+care. There were some women,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> also, who had made a fortune in
+dance-houses and were now bound for New York and Paris, where dresses
+could be had in the latest styles and in any quantities.</p>
+
+<p>My travelling mate, the doctor, was a tall and vigorous man from
+Winnipeg, accustomed to a plainsman's life, hardy and resolute. He
+said, "We ought to make Dyea to-day." I said in reply, "Very well, we
+can try."</p>
+
+<p>It was ten o'clock when we left the little boat and hit the trail,
+which was thirty miles long, and passed over the summit three
+thousand six hundred feet above the sea. The doctor's pace was
+tremendous, and we soon left every one else behind.</p>
+
+<p>I carried my big coat and camera, which hindered me not a little. For
+the first part of the journey the doctor preceded me, his broad
+shoulders keeping off the powerful wind and driving mist, which grew
+thicker as we rose among the ragged cliffs beside a roaring stream.</p>
+
+<p>That walk was a grim experience. Until two o'clock we climbed
+resolutely along a rough, rocky, and wooded trail, with the heavy
+mist driving into our faces. The road led up a rugged ca&ntilde;on and over
+a fairly good wagon road until somewhere about twelve o'clock. Then
+the foot trail deflected to the left, and climbed sharply over
+slippery ledges, along banks of ancient snows in which carcasses of
+horses lay embedded, and across many rushing little streams. The way
+grew grimmer each step. At last we came to Crater Lake, and from that
+point on it was a singular and sinister<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> land of grassless crags
+swathed in mist. Nothing could be seen at this point but a desolate,
+flat expanse of barren sands over which gray-green streams wandered
+in confusion, coming from darkness and vanishing in obscurity.
+Strange shapes showed in the gray dusk of the Crater. It was like a
+landscape in hell. It seemed to be the end of the earth, where no
+life had ever been or could long exist.</p>
+
+<p>Across this flat to its farther wall we took our way, facing the
+roaring wind now heavy with clouds of rain. At last we stood in the
+mighty notch of the summit, through which the wind rushed as though
+hurrying to some far-off, deep-hidden vacuum in the world. The peaks
+of the mountains were lost in clouds out of which water fell in
+vicious slashes.</p>
+
+<p>The mist set the imagination free. The pinnacles around us were like
+those which top the Valley of Desolation. We seemed each moment about
+to plunge into ladderless abysses. Nothing ever imagined by Poe or
+Dor&eacute; could be more singular, more sinister, than these summits in
+such a light, in such a storm. It might serve as the scene for an
+exiled devil. The picture of Beelzebub perched on one of those gray,
+dimly seen crags, his form outlined in the mist, would shake the
+heart. I thought of "Peer Gynt" wandering in the high home of the
+Trolls. Crags beetled beyond crags, and nothing could be heard but
+the wild waters roaring in the obscure depths beneath our feet. There
+was no sky, no level place, no growing thing, no bird or beast,&mdash;only
+crates of bones to show where some heartless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> master had pushed a
+faithful horse up these terrible heights to his death.</p>
+
+<p>And here&mdash;just here in a world of crags and mist&mdash;I heard a shout of
+laughter, and then bursting upon my sight, strong-limbed, erect, and
+full-bosomed, appeared a girl. Her face was like a rain-wet rose&mdash;a
+splendid, unexpected flower set in this dim and gray and desolate
+place. Fearlessly she fronted me to ask the way, a laugh upon her
+lips, her big gray eyes confident of man's chivalry, modest and
+sincere. I had been so long among rude men and their coarse consorts
+that this fair woman lit the mist as if with sudden sunshine&mdash;just a
+moment and was gone. There were others with her, but they passed
+unnoticed. There in the gloom, like a stately pink rose, I set the
+Girl of the Mist.</p>
+
+<p>Sheep Camp was the end of the worst portion of the trail. I had now
+crossed both the famed passes, much improved of course. They are no
+longer dangerous (a woman in good health can cross them easily), but
+they are grim and grievous ways. They reek of cruelty and every
+association that is coarse and hard. They possess a peculiar value to
+me in that they throw into fadeless splendor the wealth, the calm,
+the golden sunlight which lay upon the proud beauty of Atlin Lake.</p>
+
+<p>The last hours of the trip formed a supreme test of endurance. At
+Sheep Camp, a wet and desolate shanty town, eight miles from Dyea, we
+came upon stages just starting over our road. But as they were all
+open carriages, and we were both wet with perspiration and rain, and
+hungry and tired, we refused to book passage.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+<p>"To ride eight miles in an open wagon would mean a case of pneumonia
+to me," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right," said the doctor, and we pulled out down the road at a
+smart clip.</p>
+
+<p>The rain had ceased, but the air was raw and the sky gray, and I was
+very tired, and those eight miles stretched out like a rubber string.
+Night fell before we had passed over half the road, which lay for the
+most part down the flat along the Chilcoot River. In fact, we crossed
+this stream again and again. In places there were bridges, but most
+of the crossings were fords where it was necessary to wade through
+the icy water above our shoe tops. Our legs, numb and weary, threw
+off this chill with greater pain each time. As the night fell we
+could only see the footpath by the dim shine of its surface patted
+smooth by the moccasined feet of the Indian packers. At last I walked
+with a sort of mechanical action which was dependent on my
+subconscious will. There was nothing else to do but to go through.
+The doctor was a better walker than I. His long legs had more reach
+as well as greater endurance. Nevertheless he admitted being about as
+tired as ever in his life.</p>
+
+<p>At last, when it seemed as though I could not wade any more of those
+icy streams and continue to walk, we came in sight of the electric
+lights on the wharfs of Dyea, sparkling like jewels against the gray
+night. Their radiant promise helped over the last mile miraculously.
+We were wet to the knees and covered with mud as we entered upon the
+straggling street of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>decaying town. We stopped in at the first
+restaurant to get something hot to eat, but found ourselves almost
+too tired to enjoy even pea soup. But it warmed us up a little, and
+keeping on down the street we came at last to a hotel of very
+comfortable accommodations. We ordered a fire built to dry our
+clothing, and staggered up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>That ended the goldseekers' trail for me. Henceforward I intended to
+ride&mdash;nevertheless I was pleased to think I could still walk thirty
+miles in eleven hours through a rain storm, and over a summit three
+thousand six hundred feet in height. The city had not entirely eaten
+the heart out of my body.</p>
+
+<p>We arose from a dreamless sleep, somewhat sore, but in amazingly good
+trim considering our condition the night before, and made our way
+into our muddy clothing with grim resolution. After breakfast we took
+a small steamer which ran to Skagway, where we spent the day
+arranging to take the steamer to the south. We felt quite at home in
+Skagway now, and Chicago seemed not very far away. Having made
+connection with my bankers I stretched out in my twenty-five cent
+bunk with the assurance of a gold king.</p>
+
+<p>Here the long trail took a turn. I had been among the miners and
+hunters for four months. I had been one of them. I had lived the
+essentials of their lives, and had been able to catch from them some
+hint of their outlook on life. They were a disappointment to me in
+some ways. They seemed like mechanisms. They moved as if drawn by
+some great magnet whose centre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> was Dawson City. They appeared to
+drift on and in toward that human maelstrom going irresolutely to
+their ruin. They did not seem to me strong men&mdash;on the contrary, they
+seemed weak men&mdash;or men strong with one insane purpose. They set
+their faces toward the golden north, and went on and on through every
+obstacle like men dreaming, like somnambulists&mdash;bending their backs
+to the most crushing burdens, their faces distorted with effort. "On
+to Dawson!" "To the Klondike!" That was all they knew.</p>
+
+<p>I overtook them in the Fraser River Valley, I found them in Hazleton.
+They were setting sail at Bennett, tugging oars on the Hotalinqua,
+and hundreds of them were landing every day at Dawson, there to stand
+with lax jaws waiting for something to turn up&mdash;lost among thousands
+of their kind swarming in with the same insane purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Skagway was to me a sad place. On either side rose green mountains
+covered with crawling glaciers. Between these stern walls, a cold and
+violent wind roared ceaselessly from the sea gates through which the
+ships drive hurriedly. All these grim presences depressed me. I
+longed for release from them. I waited with impatience the coming of
+the steamer which was to rescue me from the merciless beach.</p>
+
+<p>At last it came, and its hoarse boom thrilled the heart of many a
+homesick man like myself. We had not much to put aboard, and when I
+climbed the gang-plank it was with a feeling of fortunate escape.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="A_GIRL_ON_THE_TRAIL" id="A_GIRL_ON_THE_TRAIL"></a>A GIRL ON THE TRAIL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A flutter of skirts in the dapple of leaves on the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sound of a small, happy voice on the breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The print of a slim little foot on the trail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the miners rejoice as they hammer with picks in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">the vale.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For fairer than gold is the face of a maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sovereign as stars the light of her eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For women alone were the long trenches laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For women alone they defy the stern skies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These toilers are grimy, and hairy, and dun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the wear of the wind, the scorch of the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But their picks fall slack, their foul tongues are mute&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the maiden goes by these earthworms salute!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h3>
+
+<h4>HOMEWARD BOUND</h4>
+
+
+<p>The steamer was crowded with men who had also made the turn at the
+end of the trail. There were groups of prospectors (disappointed and
+sour) from Copper River, where neither copper nor gold had been
+found. There were miners sick and broken who had failed on the
+Tanana, and others, emaciated and eager-eyed, from Dawson City going
+out with a part of the proceeds of the year's work to see their wives
+and children. There were a few who considered themselves great
+capitalists, and were on their way to spend the winter in luxury in
+the Eastern cities, and there were grub stakers who had squandered
+their employers' money in drink and gaming.</p>
+
+<p>None of them interested me very greatly. I was worn out with the
+filth and greed and foolishness of many of these men. They were
+commonplace citizens, turned into stampeders without experience or
+skill.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most successful men on the boat had been a truckman in the
+streets of Tacoma, and was now the silly possessor of a one-third
+interest in some great mines on the Klondike River. He told every one
+of his great deeds, and what he was worth. He let us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> know how big
+his house was, and how much he paid for his piano. He was not a bad
+man, he was merely a cheap man, and was followed about by a gang of
+heelers to whom drink was luxury and vice an entertainment. These
+parasites slapped the teamster on the shoulder and listened to every
+empty phrase he uttered, as though his gold had made of him something
+sacred and omniscient.</p>
+
+<p>I had no interest in him till being persuaded to play the fiddle he
+sat in the "social room," and sawed away on "Honest John," "The
+Devil's Dream," "Haste to the Wedding," and "The Fisher's Hornpipe."
+He lost all sense of being a millionnaire, and returned to his
+simple, unsophisticated self. The others cheered him because he had
+gold. I cheered him because he was a good old "corduroy fiddler."</p>
+
+<p>Again we passed between the lofty blue-black and bronze-green walls
+of Lynn Canal. The sea was cold, placid, and gray. The mist cut the
+mountains at the shoulder. Vast glaciers came sweeping down from the
+dread mystery of the upper heights. Lower still lines of running
+water white as silver came leaping down from cliff to cliff&mdash;slender,
+broken of line, nearly perpendicular&mdash;to fall at last into the gray
+hell of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sullen land which menaced as with lowering brows and
+clenched fists. A landscape without delicacy of detail or warmth or
+variety of color&mdash;a land demanding young, cheerful men. It was no
+place for the old or for women.</p>
+
+<p>As we neared Wrangell the next afternoon I tackled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> the purser about
+carrying my horse. He had no room, so I left the boat in order to
+wait for another with better accommodations for Ladrone.</p>
+
+<p>Almost the first man I met on the wharf was Donald.</p>
+
+<p>"How's the horse?" I queried.</p>
+
+<p>"Gude!&mdash;fat and sassy. There's no a fence in a' the town can hold
+him. He jumped into Colonel Crittendon's garden patch, and there's a
+dollar to pay for the cauliflower he ate, and he broke down a fence
+by the church, ye've to fix that up&mdash;but he's in gude trim himsel'."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell 'm to send in their bills," I replied with vast relief. "Has he
+been much trouble to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Verra leetle except to drive into the lot at night. I had but to go
+down where he was feeding and soon as he heard me comin' he made for
+the lot&mdash;he knew quite as well as I did what was wanted of him. He's
+a canny old boy."</p>
+
+<p>As I walked out to find the horse I discovered his paths everywhere.
+He had made himself entirely at home. He owned the village and was
+able to walk any sidewalk in town. Everybody knew his habits. He
+drank in a certain place, and walked a certain round of daily
+feeding. The children all cried out at me: "Goin' to find the horsie?
+He's over by the church." A darky woman smiled from the door of a
+cabin and said, "You ole hoss lookin' mighty fine dese days."</p>
+
+<p>When I came to him I was delighted and amused. He had taken on some
+fat and a great deal of dirt. He had also acquired an aldermanic
+paunch which quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> destroyed his natural symmetry of body, but he
+was well and strong and lively. He seemed to recognize me, and as I
+put the rope about his neck and fell to in the effort to make him
+clean once more, he seemed glad of my presence.</p>
+
+<p>That day began my attempt to get away. I carted out my feed and
+saddles, and when all was ready I sat on the pier and watched the
+burnished water of the bay for the dim speck which a steamer makes in
+rounding the distant island. At last the cry arose, "A steamer from
+the north!" I hurried for Ladrone, and as I passed with the horse the
+citizens smiled incredulously and asked, "Goin' to take the horse
+with you, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The boys and girls came out to say good-by to the horse on whose back
+they had ridden. Ladrone followed me most trustfully, looking
+straight ahead, his feet clumping loudly on the boards of the walk.
+Hitching him on the wharf I lugged and heaved and got everything in
+readiness.</p>
+
+<p>In vain! The steamer had no place for my horse and I was forced to
+walk him back and turn him loose once more upon the grass. I renewed
+my watching. The next steamer did not touch at the same wharf.
+Therefore I carted all my goods, feed, hay, and general plunder,
+around to the other wharf. As I toiled to and fro the citizens began
+to smile very broadly. I worked like a hired man in harvest. At last,
+horse, feed, and baggage were once more ready. When the next boat
+came in I timidly approached the purser.</p>
+
+<p>No, he had no place for me but would take my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> horse! Once more I led
+Ladrone back to pasture and the citizens laughed most unconcealedly.
+They laid bets on my next attempt. In McKinnon's store I was greeted
+as a permanent citizen of Fort Wrangell. I began to grow nervous on
+my own account. Was I to remain forever in Wrangell? The bay was most
+beautiful, but the town was wretched. It became each day more
+unendurable to me. I searched the waters of the bay thereafter, with
+gaze that grew really anxious. I sat for hours late at night holding
+my horse and glaring out into the night in the hope to see the lights
+of a steamer appear round the high hills of the coast.</p>
+
+<p>At last the <i>Forallen</i>, a great barnyard of a ship, came in. I met
+the captain. I paid my fare. I got my contract and ticket, and
+leading Ladrone into the hoisting box I stepped aside.</p>
+
+<p>The old boy was quiet while I stood near, but when the whistle
+sounded and the sling rose in air leaving me below, his big eyes
+flashed with fear and dismay. He struggled furiously for a moment and
+then was quiet. A moment later he dropped into the hold and was safe.
+He thought himself in a barn once more, and when I came hurrying down
+the stairway he whinnied. He seized the hay I put before him and
+thereafter was quite at home.</p>
+
+<p>The steamer had a score of mules and work horses on board, but they
+occupied stalls on the upper deck, leaving Ladrone aristocratically
+alone in his big, well-ventilated barn, and there three times each
+day I went to feed and water him. I rubbed him with hay till his coat
+began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> to glimmer in the light and planned what I could do to help
+him through a storm. Fortunately the ocean was perfectly smooth even
+across the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound, where the open sea
+enters and the big swells are sometimes felt. Ladrone never knew he
+was moving at all.</p>
+
+<p>The mate of the boat took unusual interest in the horse because of
+his deeds and my care of him.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile I was hearing from time to time of my fellow-sufferers on
+the Long Trail. It was reported in Wrangell that some of the
+unfortunates were still on the snowy divide between the Skeena and
+the Stikeen. That terrible trail will not soon be forgotten by any
+one who traversed it.</p>
+
+<p>On the fifth day we entered Seattle and once more the sling-box
+opened its doors for Ladrone. This time he struggled not at all. He
+seemed to say: "I know this thing. I tried it once and it didn't hurt
+me&mdash;I'm not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>Now this horse belongs to the wild country. He was born on the
+bunch-grass hills of British Columbia and he had never seen a
+street-car in his life. Engines he knew something about, but not
+much. Steamboats and ferries he knew a great deal about; but all the
+strange monsters and diabolical noises of a city street were new to
+him, and it was with some apprehension that I took his rein to lead
+him down to the freight depot and his car.</p>
+
+<p>Again this wonderful horse amazed me. He pointed his alert and
+quivering ears at me and followed with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> never so much as a single
+start or shying bound. He seemed to reason that as I had led him
+through many dangers safely I could still be trusted. Around us huge
+trucks rattled, electric cars clanged, railway engines whizzed and
+screamed, but Ladrone never so much as tightened the rein; and when
+in the dark of the chute (which led to the door of the car) he put
+his soft nose against me to make sure I was still with him, my heart
+grew so tender that I would not have left him behind for a thousand
+dollars.</p>
+
+<p>I put him in a roomy box-car and bedded him knee-deep in clean yellow
+straw. I padded the hitching pole with his blanket, moistened his
+hay, and put some bran before him. Then I nailed him in and took my
+leave of him with some nervous dread, for the worst part of his
+journey was before him. He must cross three great mountain ranges and
+ride eight days, over more than two thousand miles of railway. I
+could not well go with him, but I planned to overhaul him at Spokane
+and see how he was coming on.</p>
+
+<p>I did not sleep much that night. I recalled how the great forest
+trees were blazing last year when I rode over this same track. I
+thought of the sparks flying from the engine, and how easy it would
+be for a single cinder to fall in the door and set all that dry straw
+ablaze. I was tired and my mind conjured up such dire images as men
+dream of after indigestible dinners.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="O_THE_FIERCE_DELIGHT" id="O_THE_FIERCE_DELIGHT"></a>O THE FIERCE DELIGHT</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O the fierce delight, the passion<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That comes from the wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the rains and the snows go over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And man is a child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go, set your face to the open,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lay your breast to the blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the pines are rocking and groaning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the rent clouds tumble past.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go swim the streams of the mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the gray-white waters are mad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go set your foot on the summit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shout and be glad!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h3>
+
+<h4>LADRONE TRAVELS IN STATE</h4>
+
+
+<p>With a little leisure to walk about and talk with the citizens of
+Seattle, I became aware of a great change since the year before. The
+boom of the goldseeker was over. The talk was more upon the Spanish
+war; the business of outfitting was no longer paramount; the reckless
+hurrah, the splendid exultation, were gone. Men were sailing to the
+north, but they embarked, methodically, in business fashion.</p>
+
+<p>It is safe to say that the north will never again witness such a
+furious rush of men as that which took place between August, '97, and
+June, '98. Gold is still there, and it will continue to be sought,
+but the attention of the people is directed elsewhere. In Seattle, as
+all along the line, the talk a year ago had been almost entirely on
+gold hunting. Every storekeeper advertised Klondike goods, but these
+signs were now rusty and faded. The fever was over, the reign of the
+humdrum was restored.</p>
+
+<p>Taking the train next day, I passed Ladrone in the night somewhere,
+and as I looked from my window at the great fires blazing in the
+forest, my fear of his burning came upon me again. At Spokane I
+waited with great anxiety for him to arrive. At last the train drew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
+in and I hurried to his car. The door was closed, and as I nervously
+forced it open he whinnied with that glad chuckling a gentle horse
+uses toward his master. He had plenty of hay, but was hot and
+thirsty, and I hurried at risk of life and limb to bring him cool
+water. His eyes seemed to shine with delight as he saw me coming with
+the big bucket of cool drink. Leaving him a tub of water, I bade him
+good-by once more and started him for Helena, five hundred miles
+away.</p>
+
+<p>At Missoula, the following evening, I rushed into the ticket office
+and shouted, "Where is '54'?"</p>
+
+<p>The clerk knew me and smilingly extended his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"How de do? She has just pulled out. The horse is all OK. We gave him
+fresh water and feed."</p>
+
+<p>I thanked him and returned to my train.</p>
+
+<p>Reaching Livingston in the early morning I was forced to wait nearly
+all day for the train. This was no hardship, however, for it enabled
+me to return once more to the plain. All the old familiar presences
+were there. The splendid sweep of brown, smooth hills, the glory of
+clear sky, the crisp exhilarating air, appealed to me with great
+power after my long stay in the cold, green mountains of the north.</p>
+
+<p>I walked out a few miles from the town over the grass brittle and
+hot, from which the clapping grasshoppers rose in swarms, and
+dropping down on the point of a mesa I relived again in drowse the
+joys of other days. It was plain to me that goldseeking in the Rocky
+Mountains was marvellously simple and easy compared to even the best
+sections of the Northwest, and the long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> journey of the Forty-niners
+was not only incredibly more splendid and dramatic, but had the
+allurement of a land of eternal summer beyond the final great range.
+The long trail I had just passed was not only grim and monotonous,
+but led toward an ever increasing ferocity of cold and darkness to
+the arctic circle and the silence of death.</p>
+
+<p>When the train came crawling down the pink and purple slopes of the
+hills at sunset that night, I was ready for my horse. Bridle in hand
+I raced after the big car while it was being drawn up into the
+freight yards. As I galloped I held excited controversy with the head
+brakeman. I asked that the car be sent to the platform. He objected.
+I insisted and the car was thrown in. I entered, and while Ladrone
+whinnied glad welcome I knocked out some bars, bridled him, and said,
+"Come, boy, now for a gambol." He followed me without the slightest
+hesitation out on the platform and down the steep slope to the
+ground. There I mounted him without waiting for saddle and away we
+flew.</p>
+
+<p>He was gay as a bird. His neck arched and his eyes and ears were
+quick as squirrels. We galloped down to the Yellowstone River and
+once more he thrust his dusty nozzle deep into the clear mountain
+water. Then away he raced until our fifteen minutes were up. I was
+glad to quit. He was too active for me to enjoy riding without a
+saddle. Right up to the door of the car he trotted, seeming to
+understand that his journey was not yet finished. He entered
+unhesitatingly and took his place. I battened down the bars, nailed
+the doors into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> place, filled his tub with cold water, mixed him a
+bran mash, and once more he rolled away. I sent him on this time,
+however, with perfect confidence. He was actually getting fat on his
+prison fare, and was too wise to allow himself to be bruised by the
+jolting of the cars.</p>
+
+<p>The bystanders seeing a horse travelling in such splendid loneliness
+asked, "Runnin' horse?" and I (to cover my folly) replied evasively,
+"He can run a little for good money." This satisfied every one that
+he was a sprinter and quite explained his private car.</p>
+
+<p>At Bismarck I found myself once more ahead of "54" and waited all day
+for the horse to appear. As the time of the train drew near I
+borrowed a huge water pail and tugged a supply of water out beside
+the track and there sat for three hours, expecting the train each
+moment. At last it came, but Ladrone was not there. His car was
+missing. I rushed into the office of the operator: "Where's the horse
+in '13,238'?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," answered the agent, in the tone of one who didn't
+care.</p>
+
+<p>Visions of Ladrone side-tracked somewhere and perishing for want of
+air and water filled my mind. I waxed warm.</p>
+
+<p>"That horse must be found at once," I said. The clerks and operators
+wearily looked out of the window. The idea of any one being so
+concerned about a horse was to them insanity or worse. I insisted. I
+banged my fist on the table. At last one of the young men yawned
+languidly, looked at me with dim eyes, and as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> one brain-cell
+coalesced with another seemed to mature an idea. He said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Rheinhart had a horse this morning on his extra."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he&mdash;maybe that's the one." They discussed this probability with
+lazy indifference. At last they condescended to include me in their
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>I insisted on their telegraphing till they found that horse, and with
+an air of distress and saint-like patience the agent wrote out a
+telegram and sent it. Thereafter he could not see me; nevertheless I
+persisted. I returned to the office each quarter of an hour to ask if
+an answer had come to the telegram. At last it came. Ladrone was
+ahead and would arrive in St. Paul nearly twelve hours before me. I
+then telegraphed the officers of the road to see that he did not
+suffer and composed myself as well as I could for the long wait.</p>
+
+<p>At St. Paul I hurried to the freight office and found the horse had
+been put in a stable. I sought the stable, and there, among the big
+dray horses, looking small and trim as a racer, was the lost horse,
+eating merrily on some good Minnesota timothy. He was just as much at
+ease there as in the car or the boat or on the marshes of the Skeena
+valley, but he was still a half-day's ride from his final home.</p>
+
+<p>I bustled about filling up another car. Again for the last time I
+sweated and tugged getting feed, water, and bedding. Again the
+railway hands marvelled and looked askance. Again some one said,
+"Does it pay to bring a horse like that so far?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pay!" I shouted, thoroughly disgusted, "does it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> pay to feed a dog
+for ten years? Does it pay to ride a bicycle? Does it pay to bring up
+a child? Pay&mdash;no; it does not pay. I'm amusing myself. You drink beer
+because you like to, you use tobacco&mdash;I squander my money on a
+horse." I said a good deal more than the case demanded, being hot and
+dusty and tired and&mdash;I had broken loose. The clerk escaped through a
+side door.</p>
+
+<p>Once more I closed the bars on the gray and saw him wheeled out into
+the grinding, jolting tangle of cars where the engines cried out like
+some untamable flesh-eating monsters. The light was falling, the
+smoke thickening, and it was easy to imagine a tragic fate for the
+patient and lonely horse.</p>
+
+<p>Delay in getting the car made me lose my train and I was obliged to
+take a late train which did not stop at my home. I was still paying
+for my horse out of my own bone and sinew. At last the luscious green
+hills, the thick grasses, the tall corn-shocks and the portly
+hay-stacks of my native valley came in view and they never looked so
+abundant, so generous, so entirely sufficing to man and beast as now
+in returning from a land of cold green forests, sparse grass, and icy
+streams.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock another huge freight train rolled in, Ladrone's car
+was side-tracked and sent to the chute. For the last time he felt the
+jolt of the car. In a few minutes I had his car opened and a plank
+laid.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, boy!" I called. "This is home."</p>
+
+<p>He followed me as before, so readily, so trustingly, my heart
+responded to his affection. I swung to the saddle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> With neck arched
+high and with a proud and lofty stride he left the door of his prison
+behind him. His fame had spread through the village. On every corner
+stood the citizens to see him pass.</p>
+
+<p>As I opened the door to the barn I said to him:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Enter! Your days of thirst, of hunger, of cruel exposure to rain and
+snow are over. Here is food that shall not fail," and he seemed to
+understand.</p>
+
+<p>It might seem absurd if I were to give expression to the relief and
+deep pleasure it gave me to put that horse into that familiar stall.
+He had been with me more than four thousand miles. He had carried me
+through hundreds of icy streams and over snow fields. He had
+responded to every word and obeyed every command. He had suffered
+from cold and hunger and poison. He had walked logs and wallowed
+through quicksands. He had helped me up enormous mountains and I had
+guided him down dangerous declivities. His faithful heart had never
+failed even in days of direst need, and now he shall live amid plenty
+and have no care so long as he lives. It does not pay,&mdash;that is
+sure,&mdash;but after all what does pay?</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="THE_LURE_OF_THE_DESERT" id="THE_LURE_OF_THE_DESERT"></a>THE LURE OF THE DESERT</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I lie in my blanket, alone, alone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hearing the voice of the roaring rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my heart is moved by the wind's low moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wander the wastes of the wind-worn plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Searching for something&mdash;I cannot tell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The face of a woman, the love of a child&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or only the rain-wet prairie swell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the savage woodland wide and wild.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I must go away&mdash;I know not where!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lured by voices that cry and cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drawn by fingers that clutch my hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called to the mountains bleak and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led to the mesas hot and bare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O God! How my heart's blood wakes and thrills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the cry of the wind, the lure of the hills.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll follow you, follow you far;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye voices of winds, and rain and sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the peaks that shatter the evening star.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wealth, honor, wife, child&mdash;all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have in the city's keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I loose and forget when ye call and call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the desert winds around me sweep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GOLDSEEKERS REACH THE GOLDEN RIVER</h4>
+
+
+<p>The goldseekers are still seeking. I withdrew, but they went on. In
+the warmth and security of my study, surrounded by the peace and
+comfort of my native Coolly, I thought of them as they went toiling
+over the trail, still toward the north. It was easy for me to imagine
+their daily life. The Manchester boys and Burton, my partner, left
+Glenora with ten horses and more than two thousand pounds of
+supplies.</p>
+
+<p>Twice each day this immense load had to be handled; sometimes in
+order to rest and graze the ponies, every sack and box had to be
+taken down and lifted up to their lashings again four times each day.
+This meant toil. It meant also constant worry and care while the
+train was in motion. Three times each day a campfire was built and
+coffee and beans prepared.</p>
+
+<p>However, the weather continued fair, my partner wrote me, and they
+arrived at Teslin Lake in September, after being a month on the road,
+and there set about building a boat to carry them down the river.</p>
+
+<p>Here the horses were sold, and I know it must have been a sad moment
+for Burton to say good-by to his faithful brutes. But there was no
+help for it. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> was no more thought of going to the head-waters
+of the Pelly and no more use for the horses. Indeed, the gold-hunters
+abandoned all thought of the Nisutlin and the Hotalinqua. They were
+fairly in the grasp of the tremendous current which seemed to get
+ever swifter as it approached the mouth of the Klondike River. They
+were mad to reach the pool wherein all the rest of the world was
+fishing. Nothing less would satisfy them.</p>
+
+<p>At last they cast loose from the shore and started down the river,
+straight into the north. Each hour, each mile, became a menace. Day
+by day they drifted while the spitting snows fell hissing into the
+cold water, and ice formed around the keel of the boat at night. They
+passed men camped and panning dirt, but continued resolute, halting
+only "to pass the good word."</p>
+
+<p>It grew cold with appalling rapidity and the sun fell away to the
+south with desolating speed. The skies darkened and lowered as the
+days shortened. All signs of life except those of other argonauts
+disappeared. The river filled with drifting ice, and each night
+landing became more difficult.</p>
+
+<p>At last the winter came. The river closed up like an iron trap, and
+before they knew it they were caught in the jam of ice and fighting
+for their lives. They landed on a wooded island after a desperate
+struggle and went into camp with the thermometer thirty below zero.
+But what of that? They were now in the gold belt. After six months of
+incessant toil, of hope deferred, they were at last on the spot
+toward which they had struggled.</p>
+
+<p>All around them was the overflow from the Klondike.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> Their desire to
+go farther was checked. They had reached the counter current&mdash;the
+back-water&mdash;and were satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving to others the task of building a permanent camp, my sturdy
+partner, a couple of days later, started prospecting in company with
+two others whom he had selected to represent the other outfit. The
+thermometer was fifty-six degrees below zero, and yet for seven days,
+with less than six hours' sleep, without a tent, those devoted idiots
+hunted the sands of a near-by creek for gold, and really staked
+claims.</p>
+
+<p>On the way back one of the men grew sleepy and would have lain down
+to die except for the vigorous treatment of Burton, who mauled him
+and dragged him about and rubbed him with snow until his blood began
+to circulate once more. In attempting to walk on the river, which was
+again in motion, Burton fell through, wetting one leg above the knee.
+It was still more than thirty degrees below zero, but what of that?
+He merely kept going.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the bank opposite the camp late on the seventh day, but
+were unable to cross the moving ice. For the eighth night they
+"danced around the fire as usual," not daring to sleep for fear of
+freezing. They literally frosted on one side while scorching at the
+fire on the other, turning like so many roasting pigs before the
+blaze. The river solidified during the night and they crossed to the
+camp to eat and sleep in safety.</p>
+
+<p>A couple of weeks later they determined to move down the river to a
+new stampede in Thistle Creek.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> Once more these indomitable souls
+left their warm cabin, took up their beds and nearly two thousand
+pounds of outfit and toiled down the river still farther into the
+terrible north. The chronicle of this trip by Burton is of
+mathematical brevity: "On 20th concluded to move. Took four days.
+Very cold. Ther. down to 45 below. Froze one toe. Got claim&mdash;now
+building cabin. Expect to begin singeing in a few days."</p>
+
+<p>The toil, the suffering, the monotonous food, the lack of fire, he
+did not dwell upon, but singeing, that is to say burning down through
+the eternally frozen ground, was to begin at once. To singe a hole
+into the soil ten or fifteen feet deep in the midst of the sunless
+seventy of the arctic circle is no light task, but these men will do
+it; if hardihood and honest toil are of any avail they will all share
+in the precious sand whose shine has lured them through all the dark
+days of the long trail, calling with such power that nothing could
+stay them or turn them aside.</p>
+
+<p>If they fail, well&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This out of all will remain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have lived and have tossed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So much of the game will be gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though the gold of the dice has been lost.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="section" />
+<h3><a name="HERE_THE_TRAIL_ENDS" id="HERE_THE_TRAIL_ENDS"></a>HERE THE TRAIL ENDS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here the trail ends&mdash;Here by a river<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So swifter, and darker, and colder<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than any we crossed on our long, long way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steady, Dan, steady. Ho, there, my dapple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You first from the saddle shall slip and be free.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now go, you are clear from command of a master;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go wade in the grasses, go munch at the grain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I love you, my faithful, but all is now over;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ended the comradeship held 'twixt us twain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I go to the river and the wide lands beyond it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You go to the pasture, and death claims us all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>For here the trail ends!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Here the trail ends!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Draw near with the broncos.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slip the hitch, loose the cinches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slide the saw-bucks away from each worn, weary back.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We are done with the axe, the camp, and the kettle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strike hand to each cayuse and send him away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let them go where the roses and grasses are growing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the meadows that slope to the warm western sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more shall they serve us; no more shall they suffer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sting of the lash, the heat of the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon they will go to a winterless haven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the haven of beasts where none may enslave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>For here the trail ends</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Here the trail ends.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never again shall the far-shining mountains allure us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more shall the icy mad torrents appall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fold up the sling ropes, coil down the cinches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cache the saddles, and put the brown bridles away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not one of the roses of Navajo silver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not even a spur shall we save from the rust.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Put away the worn tent-cloth, let the red people have it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We are done with all shelter, we are done with the gun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so much as a pine branch, not even a willow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall swing in the air 'twixt us and our God.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Naked and lone we cross the wide ferry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bare to the cold, the dark and the rain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>For here the trail ends.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Here the trail ends.</i> Here by the landing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wait the last boat, the slow silent one.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We each go alone&mdash;no man with another,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each into the gloom of the swift black flood&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boys, it is hard, but here we must scatter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gray boatman waits, and I&mdash;I go first.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All is dark over there where the dim boat is rocking&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that is no matter! No man need to fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For clearly we're told the powers that lead us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall govern the game to the end of the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Good-by&mdash;here the trail ends!</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div class="center">
+<br /><br />
+WORKS BY
+<br /><br />
+<span class="large"><b>GILBERT PARKER</b></span>
+</div>
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr class="tenth" />
+<div class="center"><b>16mo. Cloth. Each, $1.25.</b></div>
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr class="tenth" />
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;"><span class="smcap">Pierre and his People.</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><span class="smcap">When Valmond Came to Pontiac.</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><span class="smcap">An Adventurer of the North.</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;"><span class="smcap">A Romany of the Snows.</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 30em;"><span class="smcap">A Lover's Diary.</span></span><br />
+</p>
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr class="tenth" />
+
+
+<p>"He has the instinct of the thing: his narrative has distinction, his
+characters and incidents have the picturesque quality, and he has the
+sense for the scale of character-drawing demanded by romance, hitting
+the happy mean between lay figures and over-analyzed 'souls.'"</p>
+
+<div class="right">&mdash;<i>St. James Gazette.</i></div>
+<div><br /></div>
+
+<p>"Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and
+genius in Mr. Parker's style."</p>
+
+<div class="right">&mdash;<i>Daily Telegraph,</i> London.</div>
+
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr class="tenth" />
+
+<div class="center">
+<span class="medium">PUBLISHED BY</span>
+<br />
+<span class="large">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY,</span>
+<br />
+66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
+</div>
+<div><br /><br /></div>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div class="center">
+<br />
+<i>A NEW EDITION</i>
+<br /><br />
+<span class="large"><b>ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY</b></span>
+<br /><br />
+<span class="smcap">BY</span>
+<br /><br />
+<b>HAMLIN GARLAND</b>
+<br /><br />
+<b>Cloth, 12mo. $1.50</b>
+</div>
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr class="tenth" />
+
+<div class="center"><i>WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</i></div>
+
+<p>"I cherish with a grateful sense of the high pleasure they have given
+me Mr. Garland's splendid achievements in objective fiction."</p>
+
+<div class="center"><i>THE CRITIC</i></div>
+
+<p>"Its realism is hearty, vivid, flesh and blood realism, which makes
+the book readable even to those who disapprove most conscientiously
+of many things in it."</p>
+
+<div class="center"><i>THE NEW AGE</i></div>
+
+<p>"It is, beyond all manner of doubt, one of the most powerful novels
+of recent years. It has created a sensation."</p>
+
+<div class="center"><i>KANSAS CITY JOURNAL</i></div>
+
+<p>"After the fashion of all rare vintages Mr. Garland seems to improve
+with age. No more evidence of this is needed than a perusal of his
+'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly.' One might sum up the many excellences of
+the entire story by saying that it is not unworthy of any American
+writer."</p>
+
+<hr class="tenth" />
+
+<div class="center">
+<span class="large">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span>
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">66 Fifth Avenue</span>
+<br />
+NEW YORK
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 28551-h.txt or 28551-h.zip *******</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,7162 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trail of the Goldseekers, by Hamlin
+Garland
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Trail of the Goldseekers
+       A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse
+
+
+Author: Hamlin Garland
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 10, 2009  [eBook #28551]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Karen Dalrymple and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital material
+generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/trailgoldseekers00garlrich
+
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+[Illustration: Publisher logo]
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse
+
+by
+
+HAMLIN GARLAND
+
+Author of
+   Rose of Dutcher's Coolly
+   Main Travelled Roads
+   Prairie Folks
+   Boy Life on the Prairie, etc.
+
+
+New York
+The MacMillan Company
+London: MacMillan & Co., Ltd.
+1906
+
+Copyright, 1899,
+by Hamlin Garland.
+
+Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1899. Reprinted January,
+1906.
+
+Norwood Press
+J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
+Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                        PAGE
+
+  I.     Coming of the Ships                                      3
+
+  II.    Outfitting                                              11
+
+  III.   On the Stage Road                                       21
+
+  IV.    In Camp at Quesnelle                                    33
+
+  V.     The Blue Rat                                            37
+
+  VI.    The Beginning of the Long Trail                         45
+
+  VII.   The Blackwater Divide                                   53
+
+  VIII.  We swim the Nechaco                                     63
+
+  IX.    First Crossing of the Bulkley                           73
+
+  X.     Down the Bulkley Valley                                 81
+
+  XI.    Hazleton. Midway on the Trail                           97
+
+  XII.   Crossing the Big Divide                                107
+
+  XIII.  The Silent Forests                                     119
+
+  XIV.   The Great Stikeen Divide                               131
+
+  XV.    In the Cold Green Mountains                            139
+
+  XVI.   The Passing of the Beans                               151
+
+  XVII.  The Wolves and the Vultures Assemble                   163
+
+  XVIII. At Last the Stikeen                                    175
+
+  XIX.   The Goldseekers' Camp at Glenora                       185
+
+  XX.    Great News at Wrangell                                 195
+
+  XXI.   The Rush to Atlin Lake                                 207
+
+  XXII.  Atlin Lake and the Gold Fields                         217
+
+  XXIII. The End of the Trail                                   231
+
+  XXIV.  Homeward Bound                                         241
+
+  XXV.   Ladrone travels in State                               251
+
+  XXVI.  The Goldseekers reach the Golden River                 259
+
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+
+  Anticipation                                                      1
+
+  Where the Desert flames with Furnace Heat                         2
+
+  The Cow-boy                                                       9
+
+  From Plain to Peak                                               19
+
+  Momentous Hour                                                   31
+
+  A Wish                                                           32
+
+  The Gift of Water                                                35
+
+  Mounting                                                         35
+
+  The Eagle Trail                                                  36
+
+  Moon on the Plain                                                43
+
+  The Whooping Crane                                               51
+
+  The Loon                                                         51
+
+  Yet still we rode                                                61
+
+  The Gaunt Gray Wolf                                              79
+
+  Abandoned on the Trail                                           80
+
+  Do you fear the Wind?                                            95
+
+  Siwash Graves                                                   105
+
+  Line up, Brave Boys                                             106
+
+  A Child of the Sun                                              117
+
+  In the Grass                                                    118
+
+  The Faithful Broncos                                            129
+
+  The Whistling Marmot                                            130
+
+  The Clouds                                                      137
+
+  The Great Stikeen Divide                                        138
+
+  The Ute Lover                                                   147
+
+  Devil's Club                                                    150
+
+  In the Cold Green Mountains                                     150
+
+  The Long Trail                                                  159
+
+  The Greeting of the Roses                                       161
+
+  The Vulture                                                     172
+
+  Campfires                                                       173
+
+  The Footstep in the Desert                                      182
+
+  So this is the End of the Trail to him                          190
+
+  The Toil of the Trail                                           193
+
+  The Goldseekers                                                 205
+
+  The Coast Range of Alaska                                       215
+
+  The Freeman of the Hills                                        229
+
+  The Voice of the Maple Tree                                     230
+
+  A Girl on the Trail                                             239
+
+  O the Fierce Delight                                            249
+
+  The Lure of the Desert                                          258
+
+  This out of All will remain                                     262
+
+  Here the Trail ends                                             263
+
+
+
+
+ANTICIPATION
+
+
+    I will wash my brain in the splendid breeze,
+    I will lay my cheek to the northern sun,
+    I will drink the breath of the mossy trees,
+    And the clouds shall meet me one by one.
+    I will fling the scholar's pen aside,
+    And grasp once more the bronco's rein,
+    And I will ride and ride and ride,
+    Till the rain is snow, and the seed is grain.
+
+    The way is long and cold and lone--
+                But I go.
+    It leads where pines forever moan
+            Their weight of snow,
+                Yet I go.
+    There are voices in the wind that call,
+    There are hands that beckon to the plain;
+    I must journey where the trees grow tall,
+    And the lonely heron clamors in the rain.
+
+    Where the desert flames with furnace heat,
+                I have trod.
+    Where the horned toad's tiny feet
+                In a land
+                Of burning sand
+                Leave a mark,
+    I have ridden in the noon and in the dark.
+    Now I go to see the snows,
+    Where the mossy mountains rise
+    Wild and bleak--and the rose
+    And pink of morning fill the skies
+    With a color that is singing,
+                And the lights
+                Of polar nights
+                Utter cries
+    As they sweep from star to star,
+                Swinging, ringing,
+    Where the sunless middays are.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+COMING OF THE SHIPS
+
+
+I
+
+
+A little over a year ago a small steamer swung to at a Seattle wharf,
+and emptied a flood of eager passengers upon the dock. It was an
+obscure craft, making infrequent trips round the Aleutian Islands
+(which form the farthest western point of the United States) to the
+mouth of a practically unknown river called the Yukon, which empties
+into the ocean near the post of St. Michaels, on the northwestern
+coast of Alaska.
+
+The passengers on this boat were not distinguished citizens, nor fair
+to look upon. They were roughly dressed, and some of them were pale
+and worn as if with long sickness or exhausting toil. Yet this ship
+and these passengers startled the whole English-speaking world. Swift
+as electricity could fly, the magical word GOLD went forth like a
+brazen eagle across the continent to turn the faces of millions of
+earth's toilers toward a region which, up to that time, had been
+unknown or of ill report. For this ship contained a million dollars
+in gold: these seedy passengers carried great bags of nuggets and
+bottles of shining dust which they had burned, at risk of their
+lives, out of the perpetually frozen ground, so far in the north that
+the winter had no sun and the summer midnight had no dusk.
+
+The world was instantly filled with the stories of these men and of
+their tons of bullion. There was a moment of arrested attention--then
+the listeners smiled and nodded knowingly to each other, and went
+about their daily affairs.
+
+But other ships similarly laden crept laggardly through the gates of
+Puget Sound, bringing other miners with bags and bottles, and then
+the world believed. Thereafter the journals of all Christendom had to
+do with the "Klondike" and "The Golden River." Men could not hear
+enough or read enough of the mysterious Northwest.
+
+In less than ten days after the landing of the second ship, all
+trains westward-bound across America were heavily laden with
+fiery-hearted adventurers, who set their faces to the new Eldorado
+with exultant confidence, resolute to do and dare.
+
+Miners from Colorado and cow-boys from Montana met and mingled with
+civil engineers and tailors from New York City, and adventurous
+merchants from Chicago set shoulder to shoemakers from Lynn. All
+kinds and conditions of prospectors swarmed upon the boats at
+Seattle, Vancouver, and other coast cities. Some entered upon new
+routes to the gold fields, which were now known to be far in the
+Yukon Valley, while others took the already well-known route by way
+of St. Michaels, and thence up the sinuous and sinister stream whose
+waters began on the eastern slope of the glacial peaks just inland
+from Juneau, and swept to the north and west for more than two
+thousand miles. It was understood that this way was long and hard and
+cold, yet thousands eagerly embarked on keels of all designs and of
+all conditions of unseaworthiness. By far the greater number
+assaulted the mountain passes of Skagway.
+
+As the autumn came on, the certainty of the gold deposits deepened;
+but the tales of savage cliffs, of snow-walled trails, of swift and
+icy rivers, grew more numerous, more definite, and more appalling.
+Weak-hearted Jasons dropped out and returned to warn their friends of
+the dread powers to be encountered in the northern mountains.
+
+As the uncertainties of the river route and the sufferings and toils
+of the Chilcoot and the White Pass became known, the adventurers cast
+about to find other ways of reaching the gold fields, which had come
+now to be called "The Klondike," because of the extreme richness of a
+small river of that name which entered the Yukon, well on toward the
+Arctic Circle.
+
+From this attempt to avoid the perils of other routes, much talk
+arose of the Dalton Trail, the Taku Trail, the Stikeen Route, the
+Telegraph Route, and the Edmonton Overland Trail. Every town within
+two thousand miles of the Klondike River advertised itself as "the
+point of departure for the gold fields," and set forth the special
+advantages of its entrance way, crying out meanwhile against the
+cruel mendacity of those who dared to suggest other and "more
+dangerous and costly" ways.
+
+The winter was spent in urging these claims, and thousands of men
+planned to try some one or the other of these "side-doors." The
+movement overland seemed about to surpass the wonderful
+transcontinental march of miners in '49 and '50, and those who loved
+the trail for its own sake and were eager to explore an unknown
+country hesitated only between the two trails which were entirely
+overland. One of these led from Edmonton to the head-waters of the
+Pelly, the other started from the Canadian Pacific Railway at
+Ashcroft and made its tortuous way northward between the great
+glacial coast range on the left and the lateral spurs of the
+Continental Divide on the east.
+
+The promoters of each of these routes spoke of the beautiful valleys
+to be crossed, of the lovely streams filled with fish, of the game
+and fruit. Each was called "the poor man's route," because with a few
+ponies and a gun the prospector could traverse the entire distance
+during the summer, "arriving on the banks of the Yukon, not merely
+browned and hearty, but a veteran of the trail."
+
+It was pointed out also that the Ashcroft Route led directly across
+several great gold districts and that the adventurer could combine
+business and pleasure on the trip by examining the Ominica country,
+the Kisgagash Mountains, the Peace River, and the upper waters of the
+Stikeen. These places were all spoken of as if they were close
+beside the trail and easy of access, and the prediction was freely
+made that a flood of men would sweep up this valley such as had never
+been known in the history of goldseeking.
+
+As the winter wore on this prediction seemed about to be realized. In
+every town in the West, in every factory in the East, men were
+organizing parties of exploration. Grub stakers by the hundred were
+outfitted, a vast army was ready to march in the early spring, when a
+new interest suddenly appeared--a new army sprang into being.
+
+Against the greed for gold arose the lust of battle. WAR came to
+change the current of popular interest. The newspapers called home
+their reporters in the North and sent them into the South, the Dakota
+cow-boys just ready to join the ranks of the goldseekers entered the
+army of the United States, finding in its Southern campaigns an
+outlet to their undying passion for adventure; while the factory
+hands who had organized themselves into a goldseeking company turned
+themselves into a squad of military volunteers. For the time the gold
+of the North was forgotten in the war of the South.
+
+
+II
+
+
+However, there were those not so profoundly interested in the war or
+whose arrangements had been completed before the actual outbreak of
+cannon-shot, and would not be turned aside. An immense army still
+pushed on to the north. This I joined on the 20th day of April,
+leaving my home in Wisconsin, bound for the overland trail and
+bearing a joyous heart. I believed that I was about to see and take
+part in a most picturesque and impressive movement across the
+wilderness. I believed it to be the last great march of the kind
+which could ever come in America, so rapidly were the wild places
+being settled up. I wished, therefore, to take part in this tramp of
+the goldseekers, to be one of them, and record their deeds. I wished
+to return to the wilderness also, to forget books and theories of art
+and social problems, and come again face to face with the great free
+spaces of woods and skies and streams. I was not a goldseeker, but a
+nature hunter, and I was eager to enter this, the wildest region yet
+remaining in Northern America. I willingly and with joy took the long
+way round, the hard way through.
+
+
+
+
+THE COW-BOY
+
+
+    Of rough rude stock this saddle sprite
+    Is grosser grown with savage things.
+    Inured to storms, his fierce delight
+    Is lawless as the beasts he swings
+    His swift rope over.--Libidinous, obscene,
+    Careless of dust and dirt, serene,
+    He faces snows in calm disdain,
+    Or makes his bed down in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+OUTFITTING
+
+
+We went to sleep while the train was rushing past the lonely
+settler's shacks on the Minnesota Prairies. When we woke we found
+ourselves far out upon the great plains of Canada. The morning was
+cold and rainy, and there were long lines of snow in the swales of
+the limitless sod, which was silent, dun, and still, with a majesty
+of arrested motion like a polar ocean. It was like Dakota as I saw it
+in 1881. When it was a treeless desolate expanse, swept by owls and
+hawks, cut by feet of wild cattle, unmarred and unadorned of man. The
+clouds ragged, forbidding, and gloomy swept southward as if with a
+duty to perform. No green thing appeared, all was gray and sombre,
+and the horizon lines were hid in the cold white mist. Spring was
+just coming on.
+
+Our car, which was a tourist sleeper, was filled with goldseekers,
+some of them bound for the Stikeen River, some for Skagway. While a
+few like myself had set out for Teslin Lake by way of "The Prairie
+Route." There were women going to join their husbands at Dawson City,
+and young girls on their way to Vancouver and Seattle, and whole
+families emigrating to Washington.
+
+By the middle of the forenoon we were pretty well acquainted, and
+knowing that two long days were before us, we set ourselves to the
+task of passing the time. The women cooked their meals on the range
+in the forward part of the car, or attended to the toilets of the
+children, quite as regularly as in their own homes; while the men,
+having no duties to perform, played cards, or talked endlessly
+concerning their prospects in the Northwest, and when weary of this,
+joined in singing topical songs.
+
+No one knew his neighbor's name, and, for the most part, no one
+cared. All were in mountaineer dress, with rifles, revolvers, and
+boxes of cartridges, and the sight of a flock of antelopes developed
+in each man a frenzy of desire to have a shot at them. It was a wild
+ride, and all day we climbed over low swells, passing little lakes
+covered with geese and brant, practically the only living things.
+Late in the afternoon we entered upon the Selkirks, where no life
+was.
+
+These mountains I had long wished to see, and they were in no sense a
+disappointment. Desolate, death-haunted, they pushed their white
+domes into the blue sky in savage grandeur. The little snow-covered
+towns seemed to cower at their feet like timid animals lost in the
+immensity of the forest. All day we rode among these heights, and at
+night we went to sleep feeling the chill of their desolate presence.
+
+We reached Ashcroft (which was the beginning of the long trail) at
+sunrise. The town lay low on the sand, a spatter of little frame
+buildings, mainly saloons and lodging houses, and resembled an
+ordinary cow-town in the Western States.
+
+Rivers of dust were flowing in the streets as we debarked from the
+train. The land seemed dry as ashes, and the hills which rose near
+resembled those of Montana or Colorado. The little hotel swarmed with
+the rudest and crudest types of men; not dangerous men, only
+thoughtless and profane teamsters and cow-boys, who drank thirstily
+and ate like wolves. They spat on the floor while at the table,
+leaning on their elbows gracelessly. In the bar-room they drank and
+chewed tobacco, and talked in loud voices upon nothing at all.
+
+Down on the flats along the railway a dozen camps of Klondikers were
+set exposed to the dust and burning sun. The sidewalks swarmed with
+outfitters. Everywhere about us the talk of teamsters and cattle men
+went on, concerning regions of which I had never heard. Men spoke of
+Hat Creek, the Chilcoten country, Soda Creek, Lake La Hache, and
+Lilloat. Chinamen in long boots, much too large for them, came and
+went sombrely, buying gold sacks and picks. They were mining quietly
+on the upper waters of the Fraser, and were popularly supposed to be
+getting rich.
+
+The townspeople were possessed of thrift quite American in quality,
+and were making the most of the rush over the trail. "The grass is
+improving each day," they said to the goldseekers, who were disposed
+to feel that the townsmen were anything but disinterested, especially
+the hotel keepers. Among the outfitters of course the chief
+beneficiaries were the horse dealers, and every corral swarmed with
+mangy little cayuses, thin, hairy, and wild-eyed; while on the
+fences, in silent meditation or low-voiced conferences, the intending
+purchasers sat in rows like dyspeptic ravens. The wind storm
+continued, filling the houses with dust and making life intolerable
+in the camps below the town. But the crowds moved to and fro
+restlessly on the one wooden sidewalk, outfitting busily. The
+costumes were as various as the fancies of the men, but laced boots
+and cow-boy hats predominated.
+
+As I talked with some of the more thoughtful and conscientious
+citizens, I found them taking a very serious view of our trip into
+the interior. "It is a mighty hard and long road," they said, "and a
+lot of those fellows who have never tried a trail of this kind will
+find it anything but a picnic excursion." They had known a few men
+who had been as far as Hazleton, and the tales of rain, flies, and
+mosquitoes which these adventurers brought back with them, they
+repeated in confidential whispers.
+
+However, I had determined to go, and had prepared myself for every
+emergency. I had designed an insect-proof tent, and was provided with
+a rubber mattress, a down sleeping-bag, rain-proof clothing, and
+stout shoes. I purchased, as did many of the others, two bills of
+goods from the Hudson Bay Company, to be delivered at Hazleton on the
+Skeena, and at Glenora on the Stikeen. Even with this arrangement it
+was necessary to carry every crumb of food, in one case three hundred
+and sixty miles, and in the other case four hundred miles. However,
+the first two hundred and twenty miles would be in the nature of a
+practice march, for the trail ran through a country with occasional
+ranches where feed could be obtained. We planned to start with four
+horses, taking on others as we needed them. And for one week we
+scrutinized the ponies swarming around the corrals, in an attempt to
+find two packhorses that would not give out on the trail, or buck
+their packs off at the start.
+
+"We do not intend to be bothered with a lot of mean broncos," I said,
+and would not permit myself to be deceived. Before many days had
+passed, we had acquired the reputation of men who thoroughly knew
+what they wanted. At least, it became known that we would not buy
+wild cayuses at an exorbitant price.
+
+All the week long we saw men starting out with sore-backed or blind
+or weak or mean broncos, and heard many stories of their troubles and
+trials. The trail was said to be littered for fifty miles with all
+kinds of supplies.
+
+One evening, as I stood on the porch of the hotel, I saw a man riding
+a spirited dapple-gray horse up the street. As I watched the splendid
+fling of his fore-feet, the proud carriage of his head, the splendid
+nostrils, the deep intelligent eyes, I said: "There is my horse! I
+wonder if he is for sale."
+
+A bystander remarked, "He's coming to see you, and you can have the
+horse if you want it."
+
+The rider drew rein, and I went out to meet him. After looking the
+horse all over, with a subtle show of not being in haste, I asked,
+"How much will you take for him?"
+
+"Fifty dollars," he replied, and I knew by the tone of his voice that
+he would not take less.
+
+I hemmed and hawed a decent interval, examining every limb meanwhile;
+finally I said, "Get off your horse."
+
+With a certain sadness the man complied. I placed in his hand a
+fifty-dollar bill, and took the horse by the bridle. "What is his
+name?"
+
+"I call him Prince."
+
+"He shall be called Prince Ladrone," I said to Burton, as I led the
+horse away.
+
+Each moment increased my joy and pride in my dapple-gray gelding. I
+could scarcely convince myself of my good fortune, and concluded
+there must be something the matter with the horse. I was afraid of
+some trick, some meanness, for almost all mountain horses are
+"streaky," but I could discover nothing. He was quick on his feet as
+a cat, listened to every word that was spoken to him, and obeyed as
+instantly and as cheerfully as a dog. He took up his feet at request,
+he stood over in the stall at a touch, and took the bit readily (a
+severe test). In every way he seemed to be exactly the horse I had
+been waiting for. I became quite satisfied of his value the following
+morning, when his former owner said to me, in a voice of sadness,
+"Now treat him well, won't you?"
+
+"He shall have the best there is," I replied.
+
+My partner, meanwhile, had rustled together three packhorses, which
+were guaranteed to be kind and gentle, and so at last we were ready
+to make a trial. It was a beautiful day for a start, sunny, silent,
+warm, with great floating clouds filling the sky.
+
+We had tried our tent, and it was pronounced a "jim-cracker-jack" by
+all who saw it, and exciting almost as much comment among the natives
+as my Anderson pack-saddles. Our "truck" was ready on the platform of
+the storehouse, and the dealer in horses had agreed to pack the
+animals in order to show that they were "as represented." The whole
+town turned out to see the fun. The first horse began bucking before
+the pack-saddle was fairly on, to the vast amusement of the
+bystanders.
+
+"That will do for that beast," I remarked, and he was led away.
+"Bring up your other candidate."
+
+The next horse seemed to be gentle enough, but when one of the men
+took off his bandanna and began binding it round the pony's head, I
+interrupted.
+
+"That'll do," I said; "I know that trick. I don't want a horse whose
+eyes have to be blinded. Take him away."
+
+This left us as we were before, with the exception of Ladrone. An
+Indian standing near said to Burton, "I have gentle horse, no buck,
+all same like dog."
+
+"All right," said partner, with a sigh, "let's see him."
+
+The "dam Siwash" proved to be more reliable than his white detractor.
+His horses turned out to be gentle and strong, and we made a bargain
+without noise. At last it seemed we might be able to get away.
+"To-morrow morning," said I to Burton, "if nothing further
+intervenes, we hit the trail a resounding whack."
+
+All around us similar preparations were going on. Half-breeds were
+breaking wild ponies, cow-boys were packing, roping, and instructing
+the tenderfoot, the stores swarmed with would-be miners fitting out,
+while other outfits already supplied were crawling up the distant
+hill like loosely articulated canvas-colored worms. Outfits from
+Spokane and other southern towns began to drop down into the valley,
+and every train from the East brought other prospectors to stand
+dazed and wondering before the squalid little camp. Each day, each
+hour, increased the general eagerness to get away.
+
+
+
+
+FROM PLAIN TO PEAK
+
+
+    From hot low sands aflame with heat,
+      From crackling cedars dripping odorous gum,
+    I ride to set my burning feet
+      On heights whence Uncompagre's waters hum,
+    From rock to rock, and run
+                As white as wool.
+
+    My panting horse sniffs on the breeze
+      The water smell, too faint for me to know;
+    But I can see afar the trees,
+      Which tell of grasses where the asters blow,
+    And columbines and clover bending low
+                Are honey-full.
+
+    I catch the gleam of snow-fields, bright
+      As burnished shields of tempered steel,
+    And round each sovereign lonely height
+      I watch the storm-clouds vault and reel,
+    Heavy with hail and trailing
+                Veils of sleet.
+
+    "Hurrah, my faithful! soon you shall plunge
+      Your burning nostril to the bit in snow;
+    Soon you shall rest where foam-white waters lunge
+      From cliff to cliff, and you shall know
+    No more of hunger or the flame of sand
+                Or windless desert's heat!"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+ON THE STAGE ROAD
+
+
+On the third day of May, after a whole forenoon of packing and
+"fussing," we made our start and passed successfully over some
+fourteen miles of the road. It was warm and beautiful, and we felt
+greatly relieved to escape from the dry and dusty town with its
+conscienceless horse jockeys and its bibulous teamsters.
+
+As we mounted the white-hot road which climbed sharply to the
+northeast, we could scarcely restrain a shout of exultation. It was
+perfect weather. We rode good horses, we had chosen our companions,
+and before us lay a thousand miles of trail, and the mysterious gold
+fields of the far-off Yukon. For two hundred and twenty miles the
+road ran nearly north toward the town of Quesnelle, which was the
+trading camp for the Caribou Mining Company. This highway was filled
+with heavy teams, and stage houses were frequent. We might have gone
+by the river trail, but as the grass was yet young, many of the
+outfits decided to keep to the stage road.
+
+We made our first camp beside the dusty road near the stage barn, in
+which we housed our horses. A beautiful stream came down from the
+hills near us. A little farther up the road a big and hairy
+Californian, with two half-breed assistants, was struggling with
+twenty-five wild cayuses. Two or three campfires sparkled near.
+
+There was a vivid charm in the scene. The poplars were in tender
+leaf. The moon, round and brilliant, was rising just above the
+mountains to the east, as we made our bed and went to sleep with the
+singing of the stream in our ears.
+
+While we were cooking our breakfast the next morning the big
+Californian sauntered by, looking at our little folding stove, our
+tent, our new-fangled pack-saddles, and our luxurious beds, and
+remarked:--
+
+"I reckon you fellers are just out on a kind of little hunting trip."
+
+We resented the tone of derision in his voice, and I replied:--
+
+"We are bound for Teslin Lake. We shall be glad to see you any time
+during the coming fall."
+
+He never caught up with us again.
+
+We climbed steadily all the next day with the wind roaring over our
+heads in the pines. It grew much colder and the snow covered the
+near-by hills. The road was full of trampers on their way to the
+mines at Quesnelle and Stanley. I will not call them _tramps_, for
+every man who goes afoot in this land is entitled to a certain
+measure of respect. We camped at night just outside the little
+village called Clinton, which was not unlike a town in Vermont, and
+was established during the Caribou rush in '66. It lay in a lovely
+valley beside a swift, clear stream. The sward was deliciously green
+where we set our tent.
+
+Thus far Burton had wrestled rather unsuccessfully with the
+crystallized eggs and evaporated potatoes which made up a part of our
+outfit. "I don't seem to get just the right twist on 'em," he said.
+
+"You'll have plenty of chance to experiment," I remarked. However,
+the bacon was good and so was the graham bread which he turned out
+piping hot from the little oven of our folding stove.
+
+Leaving Clinton we entered upon a lonely region, a waste of wooded
+ridges breaking illimitably upon the sky. The air sharpened as we
+rose, till it seemed like March instead of April, and our overcoats
+were grateful.
+
+Somewhere near the middle of the forenoon, as we were jogging along,
+I saw a deer standing just at the edge of the road and looking across
+it, as if in fear of its blazing publicity. It seemed for a moment as
+if he were an optical illusion, so beautiful, so shapely, and so
+palpitant was he. I had no desire to shoot him, but, turning to
+Burton, called in a low voice, "See that deer."
+
+He replied, "Where is your gun?"
+
+Now under my knee I carried a new rifle with a quantity of smokeless
+cartridges, steel-jacketed and soft-nosed, and yet I was disposed to
+argue the matter. "See here, Burton, it will be bloody business if we
+kill that deer. We couldn't eat all of it; you wouldn't want to skin
+it; I couldn't. You'd get your hands all bloody and the memory of
+that beautiful creature would not be pleasant. Therefore I stand for
+letting him go."
+
+Burton looked thoughtful. "Well, we might sell it or give it away."
+
+Meanwhile the deer saw us, but seemed not to be apprehensive. Perhaps
+it was a thought-reading deer, and knew that we meant it no harm. As
+Burton spoke, it turned, silent as a shadow, and running to the crest
+of the hill stood for a moment outlined like a figure of bronze
+against the sky, then disappeared into the forest. He was so much a
+part of nature that the horses gave no sign of having seen him at
+all.
+
+At a point a few miles beyond Clinton most of the pack trains turned
+sharply to the left to the Fraser River, where the grass was reported
+to be much better. We determined to continue on the stage road,
+however, and thereafter met but few outfits. The road was by no means
+empty, however. We met, from time to time, great blue or red wagons
+drawn by four or six horses, moving with pleasant jangle of bells and
+the crack of great whips. The drivers looked down at us curiously and
+somewhat haughtily from their high seats, as if to say, "We know
+where we are going--do you know as much?"
+
+The landscape grew ever wilder, and the foliage each day spring-like.
+We were on a high hilly plateau between Hat Creek and the valley of
+Lake La Hache. We passed lakes surrounded by ghostly dead trees,
+which looked as though the water had poisoned them. There were no
+ranches of any extent on these hills. The trail continued to be
+filled with tramping miners; several seemed to be without bedding or
+food. Some drove little pack animals laden with blankets, and all
+walked like fiends, pressing forward doggedly, hour after hour. Many
+of them were Italians, and one group which we overtook went along
+killing robins for food. They were a merry and dramatic lot, making
+the silent forests echo with their chatter.
+
+I headed my train on Ladrone, who led the way with a fine stately
+tread, his deep brown eyes alight with intelligence, his sensitive
+ears attentive to every word. He had impressed me already by his
+learning and gentleness, but when one of my packhorses ran around
+him, entangling me in the lead rope, pulling me to the ground, the
+final test of his quality came. I expected to be kicked into shreds.
+But Ladrone stopped instantly, and looking down at me inquiringly,
+waited for me to scramble out from beneath his feet and drag the
+saddle up to its place.
+
+With heart filled with gratitude, I patted him on the nose, and said,
+"Old boy, if you carry me through to Teslin Lake, I will take care of
+you for the rest of your days."
+
+At about noon the next day we came down off the high plateau, with
+its cold and snow, and camped in a sunny sward near a splendid ranch
+where lambs were at play on the green grass. Blackbirds were calling,
+and we heard our first crane bugling high in the sky. From the
+loneliness and desolation of the high country, with its sparse road
+houses, we were now surrounded by sunny fields mellow with thirty
+seasons' ploughing.
+
+The ride was very beautiful. Just the sort of thing we had been
+hoping for. All day we skirted fine lakes with grassy shores. Cranes,
+ducks, and geese filled every pond, the voice of spring in their
+brazen throats.
+
+Once a large flight of crane went sweeping by high in the sky, a
+royal, swift scythe reaping the clouds. I called to them in their own
+tongue, and they answered. I called again and again, and they began
+to waver and talk among themselves; and at last, having decided that
+this voice from below should be heeded, they broke rank and commenced
+sweeping round and round in great circles, seeking the lost one whose
+cry rose from afar. Baffled and angered, they rearranged themselves
+at last in long regular lines, and swept on into the north.
+
+We camped on this, the sixth day, beside a fine stream which came
+from a lake, and here we encountered our first mosquitoes. Big, black
+fellows they were, with a lazy, droning sound quite different from
+any I had ever heard. However, they froze up early and did not bother
+us very much.
+
+At the one hundred and fifty-nine mile house, which was a stage
+tavern, we began to hear other bogie stories of the trail. We were
+assured that horses were often poisoned by eating a certain plant,
+and that the mud and streams were terrible. Flies were a never ending
+torment. All these I regarded as the croakings of men who had never
+had courage to go over the trail, and who exaggerated the accounts
+they had heard from others.
+
+We were jogging along now some fifteen or twenty miles a day,
+thoroughly enjoying the trip. The sky was radiant, the aspens were
+putting forth transparent yellow leaves. On the grassy slopes some
+splendid yellow flowers quite new to me waved in the warm but strong
+breeze. On the ninth day we reached Soda Creek, which is situated on
+the Fraser River, at a point where the muddy stream is deep sunk in
+the wooded hills.
+
+The town was a single row of ramshackle buildings, not unlike a small
+Missouri River town. The citizens, so far as visible, formed a queer
+collection of old men addicted to rum. They all came out to admire
+Ladrone and to criticise my pack-saddle, and as they stood about
+spitting and giving wise instances, they reminded me of the Jurors in
+Mark Twain's "Puddin Head Wilson."
+
+One old man tottered up to my side to inquire, "Cap, where you
+going?"
+
+"To Teslin Lake," I replied.
+
+"Good Lord, think of it," said he. "Do you ever expect to get there?
+It is a terrible trip, my son, a terrible trip."
+
+At this point a large number of the outfits crossed to the opposite
+side of the river and took the trail which kept up the west bank of
+the river. We, however, kept the stage road which ran on the high
+ground of the eastern bank, forming a most beautiful drive. The river
+was in full view all the time, with endless vista of blue hills above
+and the shimmering water with radiant foliage below.
+
+Aside from the stage road and some few ranches on the river bottom,
+we were now in the wilderness. On our right rolled a wide wild sea
+of hills and forests, breaking at last on the great gold range. To
+the west, a still wilder country reaching to the impassable east
+range. On this, our eighth day out, we had our second sight of big
+game. In the night I was awakened by Burton, calling in excited
+whisper, "There's a bear outside."
+
+It was cold, I was sleepy, my bed was very comfortable, and I did not
+wish to be disturbed. I merely growled, "Let him alone."
+
+But Burton, putting his head out of the door of the tent, grew still
+more interested. "There is a bear out there eating those mutton
+bones. Where's the gun?"
+
+I was nearly sinking off to sleep once more and I muttered, "Don't
+bother me; the gun is in the corner of the tent." Burton began
+snapping the lever of the gun impatiently and whispering something
+about not being able to put the cartridge in. He was accustomed to
+the old-fashioned Winchester, but had not tried these.
+
+"Put it right in the top," I wearily said, "put it right in the top."
+
+"I have," he replied; "but I can't get it _in_ or out!"
+
+Meanwhile I had become sufficiently awake to take a mild interest in
+the matter. I rose and looked out. As I saw a long, black, lean
+creature muzzling at something on the ground, I began to get excited
+myself.
+
+"I guess we better let him go, hadn't we?" said Burton.
+
+"Well, yes, as the cartridge is stuck in the gun; and so long as he
+lets us alone I think we had better let him alone, especially as his
+hide is worth nothing at this season of the year, and he is too thin
+to make steak."
+
+The situation was getting comic, but probably it is well that the
+cartridge failed to go in. Burton stuck his head out of the tent,
+gave a sharp yell, and the huge creature vanished in the dark of the
+forest. The whole adventure came about naturally. The smell of our
+frying meat had gone far up over the hills to our right and off into
+the great wilderness, alluring this lean hungry beast out of his den.
+Doubtless if Burton had been able to fire a shot into his woolly
+hide, we should have had a rare "mix up" of bear, tent, men,
+mattresses, and blankets.
+
+Mosquitoes increased, and, strange to say, they seemed to like the
+shade. They were all of the big, black, lazy variety. We came upon
+flights of humming-birds. I was rather tired of the saddle, and of
+the slow jog, jog, jog. But at last there came an hour which made the
+trouble worth while. When our camp was set, our fire lighted, our
+supper eaten, and we could stretch out and watch the sun go down over
+the hills beyond the river, then the day seemed well spent. At such
+an hour we grew reminiscent of old days, and out of our talk an
+occasional verse naturally rose.
+
+
+
+
+
+MOMENTOUS HOUR
+
+
+    A coyote wailing in the yellow dawn,
+    A mountain land that stretches on and on,
+    And ceases not till in the skies
+    Vast peaks of rosy snow arise,
+    Like walls of plainsman's paradise.
+
+    I cannot tell why this is so;
+    I cannot say, I do not know
+    Why wind and wolf and yellow sky,
+    And grassy mesa, square and high,
+    Possess such power to satisfy.
+
+    But so it is. Deep in the grass
+    I lie and hear the winds' feet pass;
+    And all forgot is maid and man,
+    And hope and set ambitious plan
+    Are lost as though they ne'er began.
+
+
+
+
+A WISH
+
+
+    All day and many days I rode,
+    My horse's head set toward the sea;
+    And as I rode a longing came to me
+    That I might keep the sunset road,
+    Riding my horse right on and on,
+    O'ertake the day still lagging at the west,
+    And so reach boyhood from the dawn,
+    And be with all the days at rest.
+
+    For then the odor of the growing wheat,
+    The flare of sumach on the hills,
+    The touch of grasses to my feet
+    Would cure my brain of all its ills,--
+    Would fill my heart so full of joy
+    That no stern lines could fret my face.
+    There would I be forever boy,
+    Lit by the sky's unfailing grace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN CAMP AT QUESNELLE
+
+
+We came into Quesnelle about three o'clock of the eleventh day out.
+From a high point which overlooked the two rivers, we could see great
+ridges rolling in waves of deep blue against the sky to the
+northwest. Over these our slender little trail ran. The wind was in
+the south, roaring up the river, and green grass was springing on the
+slopes.
+
+Quesnelle we found to be a little town on a high, smooth slope above
+the Fraser. We overtook many prospectors like ourselves camped on the
+river bank waiting to cross.
+
+Here also telegraph bulletins concerning the Spanish war, dated
+London, Hong Kong, and Madrid, hung on the walls of the post-office.
+They were very brief and left plenty of room for imagination and
+discussion.
+
+Here I took a pony and a dog-cart and jogged away toward the
+long-famous Caribou Mining district next day, for the purpose of
+inspecting a mine belonging to some friends of mine. The ride was
+very desolate and lonely, a steady climb all the way, through
+fire-devastated forests, toward the great peaks. Snow lay in the
+roadside ditches. Butterflies were fluttering about, and in the high
+hills I saw many toads crawling over the snowbanks, a singular sight
+to me. They were silent, perhaps from cold.
+
+Strange to say, this ride called up in my mind visions of the hot
+sands, and the sun-lit buttes and valleys of Arizona and Montana, and
+I wrote several verses as I jogged along in the pony-cart.
+
+When I returned to camp two days later, I found Burton ready and
+eager to move. The town swarmed with goldseekers pausing here to rest
+and fill their parfleches. On the opposite side of the river others
+could be seen in camp, or already moving out over the trail, which
+left the river and climbed at once into the high ridges dark with
+pines in the west.
+
+As I sat with my partner at night talking of the start the next day,
+I began to feel not a fear but a certain respect for that narrow
+little path which was not an arm's span in width, but which was
+nearly eight hundred miles in length. "From this point, Burton, it is
+business. Our practice march is finished."
+
+The stories of flies and mosquitoes gave me more trouble than
+anything else, but a surveyor who had had much experience in this
+Northwestern country recommended the use of oil of pennyroyal, mixed
+with lard or vaseline. "It will keep the mosquitoes and most of the
+flies away," he said. "I know, for I have tried it. You can't wear a
+net, at least I never could. It is too warm, and then it is always in
+your way. You are in no danger from beasts, but you will curse the
+day you set out on this trail on account of the insects. It is the
+worst mosquito country in the world."
+
+
+
+
+THE GIFT OF WATER
+
+
+        "Is water nigh?"
+        The plainsmen cry,
+    As they meet and pass in the desert grass.
+        With finger tip
+        Across the lip
+    I ask the sombre Navajo.
+    The brown man smiles and answers "Sho!"[1]
+    With fingers high, he signs the miles
+        To the desert spring,
+    And so we pass in the dry dead grass,
+        Brothers in bond of the water's ring.
+
+
+[Footnote 1: Listen. Your attention.]
+
+
+
+
+MOUNTING
+
+
+    I mount and mount toward the sky,
+    The eagle's heart is mine,
+    I ride to put the clouds a-by
+    Where silver lakelets shine.
+    The roaring streams wax white with snow,
+    The eagle's nest draws near,
+    The blue sky widens, hid peaks glow,
+    The air is frosty clear.
+    _And so from cliff to cliff I rise,_
+    _The eagle's heart is mine;_
+    _Above me ever broadning skies,_
+    _Below the rivers shine._
+
+
+
+
+THE EAGLE TRAIL
+
+
+    From rock-built nest,
+    The mother eagle, with a threatning tongue,
+    Utters a warning scream. Her shrill voice rings
+    Wild as the snow-topped crags she sits among;
+    While hovering with her quivering wings
+    Her hungry brood, with eyes ablaze
+    She watches every shadow. The water calls
+    Far, far below. The sun's red rays
+    Ascend the icy, iron walls,
+    And leap beyond the mountains in the west,
+    And over the trail and the eagle's nest
+    The clear night falls.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE BLUE RAT
+
+_Camp Twelve_
+
+
+Next morning as we took the boat--which was filled with horses wild
+and restless--I had a moment of exultation to think we had left the
+way of tin cans and whiskey bottles, and were now about to enter upon
+the actual trail. The horses gave us a great deal of trouble on the
+boat, but we managed to get across safely without damage to any part
+of our outfit.
+
+Here began our acquaintance with the Blue Rat. It had become evident
+to me during our stay in Quesnelle that we needed one more horse to
+make sure of having provisions sufficient to carry us over the three
+hundred and sixty miles which lay between the Fraser and our next
+eating-place on the Skeena. Horses, however, were very scarce, and it
+was not until late in the day that we heard of a man who had a pony
+to sell. The name of this man was Dippy.
+
+He was a German, and had a hare-lip and a most seductive gentleness
+of voice. I gladly make him historical. He sold me the Blue Rat, and
+gave me a chance to study a new type of horse.
+
+Herr Dippy was not a Washington Irving sort of Dutchman; he conformed
+rather to the modern New York tradesman. He was small, candid, and
+smooth, very smooth, of speech. He said: "Yes, the pony is gentle. He
+can be rode or packed, but you better lead him for a day or two till
+he gets quiet."
+
+I had not seen the pony, but my partner had crossed to the west side
+of the Fraser River, and had reported him to be a "nice little pony,
+round and fat and gentle." On that I had rested. Mr. Dippy joined us
+at the ferry and waited around to finish the trade. I presumed he
+intended to cross and deliver the pony, which was in a corral on the
+west side, but he lisped out a hurried excuse. "The ferry is not
+coming back for to-day and so--"
+
+Well, I paid him the money on the strength of my side partner's
+report; besides, it was Hobson's choice.
+
+Mr. Dippy took the twenty-five dollars eagerly and vanished into
+obscurity. We passed to the wild side of the Fraser and entered upon
+a long and intimate study of the Blue Rat. He shucked out of the log
+stable a smooth, round, lithe-bodied little cayuse of a blue-gray
+color. He looked like a child's toy, but seemed sturdy and of good
+condition. His foretop was "banged," and he had the air of a
+mischievous, resolute boy. His eyes were big and black, and he
+studied us with tranquil but inquiring gaze as we put the pack-saddle
+on him. He was very small.
+
+"He's not large, but he's a gentle little chap," said I, to ease my
+partner of his dismay over the pony's surprising smallness.
+
+"I believe he shrunk during the night," replied my partner. "He
+seemed two sizes bigger yesterday."
+
+We packed him with one hundred pounds of our food and lashed it all
+on with rope, while the pony dozed peacefully. Once or twice I
+thought I saw his ears cross; one laid back, the other set
+forward,--bad signs,--but it was done so quickly I could not be sure
+of it.
+
+We packed the other horses while the blue pony stood resting one hind
+leg, his eyes dreaming.
+
+I flung the canvas cover over the bay packhorse.... Something took
+place. I heard a bang, a clatter, a rattling of hoofs. I peered
+around the bay and saw the blue pony performing some of the most
+finished, vigorous, and varied bucking it has ever been given me to
+witness. He all but threw somersaults. He stood on his upper lip. He
+humped up his back till he looked like a lean cat on a graveyard
+fence. He stood on his toe calks and spun like a weather-vane on a
+livery stable, and when the pack exploded and the saddle slipped
+under his belly, he kicked it to pieces by using both hind hoofs as
+featly as a man would stroke his beard.
+
+After calming the other horses, I faced my partner solemnly.
+
+"Oh, by the way, partner, where did you get that nice, quiet, little
+blue pony of yours?"
+
+Partner smiled sheepishly. "The little divil. Buffalo Bill ought to
+have that pony."
+
+"Well, now," said I, restraining my laughter, "the thing to do is to
+put that pack on so that it will stay. That pony will try the same
+thing again, sure."
+
+We packed him again with great care. His big, innocent black eyes
+shining under his bang were a little more alert, but they showed
+neither fear nor rage. We roped him in every conceivable way, and at
+last stood clear and dared him to do his prettiest.
+
+He did it. All that had gone before was merely preparatory, a
+blood-warming, so to say; the real thing now took place. He stood up
+on his hind legs and shot into the air, alighting on his four feet as
+if to pierce the earth. He whirled like a howling dervish, grunting,
+snorting--unseeing, and almost unseen in a nimbus of dust, strap
+ends, and flying pine needles. His whirling undid him. We seized the
+rope, and just as the pack again slid under his feet we set shoulder
+to the rope and threw him. He came to earth with a thud, his legs
+whirling uselessly in the air. He resembled a beetle in molasses. We
+sat upon his head and discussed him.
+
+"He is a wonder," said my partner.
+
+We packed him again with infinite pains, and when he began bucking we
+threw him again and tried to kill him. We were getting irritated. We
+threw him hard, and drew his hind legs up to his head till he
+grunted. When he was permitted to rise, he looked meek and small and
+tired and we were both deeply remorseful. We rearranged the pack--it
+was some encouragement to know he had not bucked it entirely off--and
+by blindfolding him we got him started on the trail behind the
+train.
+
+"I suppose that simple-hearted Dutchman is gloating over us from
+across the river," said I to partner; "but no matter, we are
+victorious."
+
+I was now quite absorbed in a study of the blue pony's psychology. He
+was a new type of mean pony. His eye did not roll nor his ears fall
+back. He seemed neither scared nor angry. He still looked like a
+roguish, determined boy. He was alert, watchful, but not vicious. He
+went off--precisely like one of those mechanical mice or turtles
+which sidewalk venders operate. Once started, he could not stop till
+he ran down. He seemed not to take our stern measures in bad part. He
+regarded it as a fair contract, apparently, and considered that we
+had won. True, he had lost both hair and skin by getting tangled in
+the rope, but he laid up nothing against us, and, as he followed
+meekly along behind, partner dared to say:--
+
+"He's all right now. I presume he has been running out all winter and
+is a little wild. He's satisfied now. We'll have no more trouble with
+him."
+
+Every time I looked back at the poor, humbled little chap, my heart
+tingled with pity and remorse. "We were too rough," I said. "We must
+be more gentle."
+
+"Yes, he's nervous and scary; we must be careful not to give him a
+sudden start. I'll lead him for a while."
+
+An hour later, as we were going down a steep and slippery hill, the
+Rat saw his chance. He passed into another spasm, opening and
+shutting like a self-acting jack-knife. He bounded into the midst of
+the peaceful horses, scattering them to right and to left in terror.
+
+He turned and came up the hill to get another start. Partner took a
+turn on a stump, and all unmindful of it the Rat whirled and made a
+mighty spring. He reached the end of the rope and his hand-spring
+became a vaulting somersault. He lay, unable to rise, spatting the
+wind, breathing heavily. Such annoying energy I have never seen. We
+were now mad, muddy, and very resolute. We held him down till he lay
+quite still. Any well-considered, properly bred animal would have
+been ground to bone dust by such wondrous acrobatic movements. He was
+skinned in one or two places, the hair was scraped from his nose, his
+tongue bled, but all these were mere scratches. When we repacked him
+he walked off comparatively unhurt.
+
+
+
+
+NOON ON THE PLAIN
+
+
+    The horned toad creeping along the sand,
+    The rattlesnake asleep beneath the sage,
+    Have now a subtle fatal charm.
+    In their sultry calm, their love of heat,
+    I read once more the burning page
+    Of nature under cloudless skies.
+    O pitiless and splendid land!
+    Mine eyelids close, my lips are dry
+    By force of thy hot floods of light.
+    Soundless as oil the wind flows by,
+    Mine aching brain cries out for night!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BEGINNING OF THE LONG TRAIL
+
+
+As we left the bank of the Fraser River we put all wheel tracks
+behind. The trail turned to the west and began to climb, following an
+old swath which had been cut into the black pines by an adventurous
+telegraph company in 1865. Immense sums of money were put into this
+venture by men who believed the ocean cable could not be laid. The
+work was stopped midway by the success of Field's wonderful plan, and
+all along the roadway the rusted and twisted wire lay in testimony of
+the seriousness of the original design.
+
+The trail was a white man's road. It lacked grace and charm. It cut
+uselessly over hills and plunged senselessly into ravines. It was an
+irritation to all of us who knew the easy swing, the circumspection,
+and the labor-saving devices of an Indian trail. The telegraph line
+was laid by compass, not by the stars and the peaks; it evaded
+nothing; it saved distance, not labor.
+
+My feeling of respect deepened into awe as we began to climb the
+great wooded divide which lies between the Fraser and the Blackwater.
+The wild forest settled around us, grim, stern, and forbidding. We
+were done with civilization. Everything that was required for a home
+in the cold and in the heat was bound upon our five horses. We must
+carry bed, board, roof, food, and medical stores, over three hundred
+and sixty miles of trail, through all that might intervene of flood
+and forest.
+
+This feeling of awe was emphasized by the coming on of the storm in
+which we camped that night. We were forced to keep going until late
+in order to obtain feed, and to hustle in order to get everything
+under cover before the rain began to fall. We were only twelve miles
+on our way, but being wet and cold and hungry, we enjoyed the full
+sense of being in the wilderness. However, the robins sang from the
+damp woods and the loons laughed from hidden lakes.
+
+It rained all night, and in the morning we were forced to get out in
+a cold, wet dawn. It was a grim start, dismal and portentous,
+bringing the realities of the trail very close to us. While I rustled
+the horses out of the wet bush, partner stirred up a capital
+breakfast of bacon, evaporated potatoes, crystallized eggs, and
+graham bread. He had discovered at last the exact amount of water to
+use in cooking these "vegetables," and they were very good. The
+potatoes tasted not unlike mashed potatoes, and together with the
+eggs made a very savory and wholesome dish. With a cup of strong
+coffee and some hot graham gems we got off in very good spirits
+indeed.
+
+It continued muddy, wet, and cold. I walked most of the day, leading
+my horse, upon whom I had packed a part of the outfit to relieve the
+other horses. There was no fun in the day, only worry and trouble. My
+feet were wet, my joints stiff, and my brain weary of the monotonous
+black, pine forest.
+
+There is a great deal of work on the trail,--cooking, care of the
+horses, together with almost ceaseless packing and unpacking, and the
+bother of keeping the packhorses out of the mud. We were busy from
+five o'clock in the morning until nine at night. There were other
+outfits on the trail having a full ton of supplies, and this great
+weight had to be handled four times a day. In our case the toil was
+much less, but it was only by snatching time from my partner that I
+was able to work on my notes and keep my diary. Had the land been
+less empty of game and richer in color, I should not have minded the
+toil and care taking. As it was, we were all looking forward to the
+beautiful lake country which we were told lay just beyond the
+Blackwater.
+
+One tremendous fact soon impressed me. There were no returning
+footsteps on this trail. All toes pointed in one way, toward the
+golden North. No man knew more than his neighbor the character of the
+land which lay before us.
+
+The life of each outfit was practically the same. At about 4.30 in
+the morning the campers awoke. The click-clack of axes began, and
+slender columns of pale blue smoke stole softly into the air. Then
+followed the noisy rustling of the horses by those set aside for that
+duty. By the time the horses were "cussed into camp," the coffee was
+hot, and the bacon and beans ready to be eaten. A race in packing
+took place to see who should pull out first. At about seven o'clock
+in the morning the outfits began to move. But here there was a
+difference of method. Most of them travelled for six or seven hours
+without unpacking, whereas our plan was to travel for four hours,
+rest from twelve to three, and pack up and travel four hours more.
+This difference in method resulted in our passing outfit after outfit
+who were unable to make the same distances by their one march.
+
+We went to bed with the robins and found it no hardship to rise with
+the sparrows. As Burton got the fire going, I dressed and went out to
+see if all the horses were in the bunch, and edged them along toward
+the camp. I then packed up the goods, struck the tent and folded it,
+and had everything ready to sling on the horses by the time breakfast
+was ready.
+
+With my rifle under my knee, my rain coat rolled behind my saddle, my
+camera dangling handily, my rope coiled and lashed, I called out,
+"Are we all set?"
+
+"Oh, I guess so," Burton invariably replied.
+
+With a last look at the camping ground to see that nothing of value
+was left, we called in exactly the same way each time, "Hike, boys,
+hike, hike." (Hy-ak: Chinook for "hurry up.") It was a fine thing,
+and it never failed to touch me, to see them fall in, one by one. The
+"Ewe-neck" just behind Ladrone, after him "Old Bill," and behind him,
+groaning and taking on as if in great pain, "Major Grunt," while at
+the rear, with sharp outcry, came Burton riding the blue pony, who
+was quite content, as we soon learned, to carry a man weighing
+seventy pounds more than his pack. He considered himself a saddle
+horse, not a pack animal.
+
+It was not an easy thing to keep a pack train like this running. As
+the horses became tired of the saddle, two of them were disposed to
+run off into the brush in an attempt to scrape their load from their
+backs. Others fell to feeding. Sometimes Bill would attempt to pass
+the bay in order to walk next Ladrone. Then they would _scrouge_
+against each other like a couple of country schoolboys, to see who
+should get ahead. It was necessary to watch the packs with worrysome
+care to see that nothing came loose, to keep the cinches tight, and
+to be sure that none of the horses were being galled by their
+burdens.
+
+We travelled for the most part alone and generally in complete
+silence, for I was too far in advance to have any conversation with
+my partner.
+
+The trail continued wet, muddy, and full of slippery inclines, but we
+camped on a beautiful spot on the edge of a marshy lake two or three
+miles in length. As we threw up our tent and started our fire, I
+heard two cranes bugling magnificently from across the marsh, and
+with my field-glass I could see them striding along in the edge of
+the water. The sun was getting well toward the west. All around stood
+the dark and mysterious forest, out of which strange noises broke.
+
+In answer to the bugling of the cranes, loons were wildly calling, a
+flock of geese, hidden somewhere under the level blaze of the
+orange-colored light of the setting sun, were holding clamorous
+convention. This is one of the compensating moments of the trail. To
+come out of a gloomy and forbidding wood into an open and grassy
+bank, to see the sun setting across the marsh behind the most
+splendid blue mountains, makes up for many weary hours of toil.
+
+As I lay down to sleep I heard a coyote cry, and the loons answered,
+and out of the cold, clear night the splendid voices of the cranes
+rang triumphantly. The heavens were made as brass by their superb,
+defiant notes.
+
+
+
+
+THE WHOOPING CRANE
+
+
+    At sunset from the shadowed sedge
+      Of lonely lake, among the reeds,
+    He lifts his brazen-throated call,
+      And the listening cat with teeth at edge
+    With famine hears and heeds.
+
+    "_Come one, come all, come all, come all!_"
+    Is the bird's challenge bravely blown
+    To every beast the woodlands own.
+
+    "_My legs are long, my wings are strong,_
+      _I wait the answer to my threat._"
+    Echoing, fearless, triumphant, the cry
+      Disperses through the world, and yet
+    Only the clamorous, cloudless sky
+      And the wooded mountains make reply.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOON
+
+
+          At some far time
+          This water sprite
+    A brother of the coyote must have been.
+          For when the sun is set,
+          Forth from the failing light
+          His harsh cries fret
+          The silence of the night,
+    And the hid wolf answers with a wailing keen.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BLACKWATER DIVIDE
+
+
+About noon the next day we suddenly descended to the Blackwater, a
+swift stream which had been newly bridged by those ahead of us. In
+this wild land streams were our only objective points; the mountains
+had no names, and the monotony of the forest produced a singular
+effect on our minds. Our journey at times seemed a sort of motionless
+progression. Once our tent was set and our baggage arranged about us,
+we lost all sense of having moved at all.
+
+Immediately after leaving the Blackwater bridge we had a grateful
+touch of an Indian trail. The telegraph route kept to the valley
+flat, but an old trail turned to the right and climbed the north bank
+by an easy and graceful grade which it was a joy to follow. The top
+of the bench was wooded and grassy, and the smooth brown trail wound
+away sinuous as a serpent under the splendid pine trees. For more
+than three hours we strolled along this bank as distinguished as
+those who occupy boxes at the theatre. Below us the Blackwater looped
+away under a sunny sky, and far beyond, enormous and unnamed, deep
+blue mountains rose, notching the western sky. The scene was so
+exceedingly rich and amiable we could hardly believe it to be
+without farms and villages, yet only an Indian hut or two gave
+indication of human life.
+
+After following this bank for a few miles, we turned to the right and
+began to climb the high divide which lies between the Blackwater and
+the Muddy, both of which are upper waters of the Fraser. Like all the
+high country through which we had passed this ridge was covered with
+a monotonous forest of small black pines, with very little bird or
+animal life of any kind. By contrast the valley of the Blackwater
+shone in our memory like a jewel.
+
+After a hard drive we camped beside a small creek, together with
+several other outfits. One of them belonged to a doctor from the
+Chilcoten country. He was one of those Englishmen who are natural
+plainsmen. He was always calm, cheerful, and self-contained. He took
+all worry and danger as a matter of course, and did not attempt to
+carry the customs of a London hotel into the camp. When an Englishman
+has this temper, he makes one of the best campaigners in the world.
+
+As I came to meet the other men on the trail, I found that some
+peculiar circumstance had led to their choice of route. The doctor
+had a ranch in the valley of the Fraser. One of "the Manchester boys"
+had a cousin near Soda Creek. "Siwash Charley" wished to prospect on
+the head-waters of the Skeena; and so in almost every case some
+special excuse was given. When the truth was known, the love of
+adventure had led all of us to take the telegraph route. Most of the
+miners argued that they could make their entrance by horse as
+cheaply, if not as quickly, as by boat. For the most part they were
+young, hardy, and temperate young men of the middle condition of
+American life.
+
+One of the Manchester men had been a farmer in Connecticut, an
+attendant in an insane asylum in Massachusetts, and an engineer. He
+was fat when he started, and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds.
+By the time we had overtaken him his trousers had begun to flap
+around him. He was known as "Big Bill." His companion, Frank, was a
+sinewy little fellow with no extra flesh at all,--an alert, cheery,
+and vociferous boy, who made noise enough to scare all the game out
+of the valley. Neither of these men had ever saddled a horse before
+reaching the Chilcoten, but they developed at once into skilful
+packers and rugged trailers, though they still exposed themselves
+unnecessarily in order to show that they were not "tenderfeet."
+
+"Siwash Charley" was a Montana miner who spoke Chinook fluently, and
+swore in splendid rhythms on occasion. He was small, alert, seasoned
+to the trail, and capable of any hardship. "The Man from Chihuahua"
+was so called because he had been prospecting in Mexico. He had the
+best packhorses on the trail, and cared for them like a mother. He
+was small, weazened, hardy as oak, inured to every hardship, and very
+wise in all things. He had led his fine little train of horses from
+Chihuahua to Seattle, thence to the Thompson River, joining us at
+Quesnelle. He was the typical trailer. He spoke in the Missouri
+fashion, though he was a born Californian. His partner was a quiet
+little man from Snohomish flats, in Washington. These outfits were
+typical of scores of others, and it will be seen that they were for
+the most part Americans, the group of Germans from New York City and
+the English doctor being the exceptions.
+
+There was little talk among us. We were not merely going a journey,
+but going as rapidly as was prudent, and there was close attention to
+business. There was something morbidly persistent in the action of
+these trains. They pushed on resolutely, grimly, like blind worms
+following some directing force from within. This peculiarity of
+action became more noticeable day by day. We were not on the trail,
+after all, to hunt, or fish, or skylark. We had set our eyes on a
+distant place, and toward it our feet moved, even in sleep.
+
+The Muddy River, which we reached late in the afternoon, was silent
+as oil and very deep, while the banks, muddy and abrupt, made it a
+hard stream to cross.
+
+As we stood considering the problem, a couple of Indians appeared on
+the opposite bank with a small raft, and we struck a bargain with
+them to ferry our outfit. They set us across in short order, but our
+horses were forced to swim. They were very much alarmed and shivered
+with excitement (this being the first stream that called for
+swimming), but they crossed in fine style, Ladrone leading, his neck
+curving, his nostrils wide-blown. We were forced to camp in the mud
+of the river bank, and the gray clouds flying overhead made the land
+exceedingly dismal. The night closed in wet and cheerless.
+
+The two Indians stopped to supper with us and ate heartily. I seized
+the opportunity to talk with them, and secured from them the tragic
+story of the death of the Blackwater Indians. "Siwash, he die hy-u
+(great many). Hy-u die, chilens, klootchmans (women), all die. White
+man no help. No send doctor. Siwash all die, white man no care belly
+much."
+
+In this simple account of the wiping out of a village of harmless
+people by "the white man's disease" (small-pox), unaided by the white
+man's wonderful skill, there lies one of the great tragedies of
+savage life. Very few were left on the Blackwater or on the Muddy,
+though a considerable village had once made the valley cheerful with
+its primitive pursuits.
+
+They were profoundly impressed by our tent and gun, and sat on their
+haunches clicking their tongues again and again in admiration, saying
+of the tent, "All the same lilly (little) house." I tried to tell
+them of the great world to the south, and asked them a great many
+questions to discover how much they knew of the people or the
+mountains. They knew nothing of the plains Indians, but one of them
+had heard of Vancouver and Seattle. They had not the dignity and
+thinking power of the plains people, but they seemed amiable and
+rather jovial.
+
+We passed next day two adventurers tramping their way to Hazleton.
+Each man carried a roll of cheap quilts, a skillet, and a cup. We
+came upon them as they were taking off their shoes and stockings to
+wade through a swift little river, and I realized with a sudden pang
+of sympathetic pain, how distressing these streams must be to such as
+go afoot, whereas I, on my fine horse, had considered them entirely
+from an aesthetic point of view.
+
+We had been on the road from Quesnelle a week, and had made nearly
+one hundred miles, jogging along some fifteen miles each day,
+camping, eating, sleeping, with nothing to excite us--indeed, the
+trail was quiet as a country lane. A dead horse here and there warned
+us to be careful how we pushed our own burden-bearers. We were deep
+in the forest, with the pale blue sky filled with clouds showing only
+in patches overhead. We passed successively from one swamp of black
+pine to another, over ridges covered with white pine, all precisely
+alike. As soon as our camp was set and fires lighted, we lost all
+sense of having travelled, so similar were the surroundings of each
+camp.
+
+Partridges could be heard drumming in the lowlands. Mosquitoes were
+developing by the millions, and cooking had become almost impossible
+without protection. The "varments" came in relays. A small gray
+variety took hold of us while it was warm, and when it became too
+cold for them, the big, black, "sticky" fellows appeared
+mysteriously, and hung around in the air uttering deep, bass notes
+like lazy flies. The little gray fellows were singularly ferocious
+and insistent in their attentions.
+
+At last, as we were winding down the trail beneath the pines, we came
+suddenly upon an Indian with a gun in the hollow of his arm. So
+still, so shadowy, so neutral in color was he, that at first sight he
+seemed a part of the forest, like the shaded hole of a tree. He
+turned out to be a "runner," so to speak, for the ferrymen at
+Tchincut Crossing, and led us down to the outlet of the lake where a
+group of natives with their slim canoes sat waiting to set us over.
+An hour's brisk work and we rose to the fine grassy eastern slope
+overlooking the lake.
+
+We rose on our stirrups with shouts of joy. We had reached the land
+of our dreams! Here was the trailers' heaven! Wooded promontories,
+around which the wavelets sparkled, pushed out into the deep, clear
+flood. Great mountains rose in the background, lonely, untouched by
+man's all-desolating hand, while all about us lay suave slopes
+clothed with most beautiful pea-vine, just beginning to ripple in the
+wind, and beyond lay level meadows lit by little ponds filled with
+wildfowl. There was just forest enough to lend mystery to these
+meadows, and to shut from our eager gaze the beauties of other and
+still more entrancing glades. The most exacting hunter or trailer
+could not desire more perfect conditions for camping. It was God's
+own country after the gloomy monotony of the barren pine forest, and
+needed only a passing deer or a band of elk to be a poem as well as a
+picture.
+
+All day we skirted this glorious lake, and at night we camped on its
+shores. The horses were as happy as their masters, feeding in plenty
+on sweet herbage for the first time in long days.
+
+Late in the day we passed the largest Indian village we had yet seen.
+It was situated on Stony Creek, which came from Tatchick Lake and
+emptied into Tchincut Lake. The shallows flickered with the passing
+of trout, and the natives were busy catching and drying them. As we
+rode amid the curing sheds, the children raised a loud clamor, and
+the women laughed and called from house to house, "Oh, see the white
+men!" We were a circus parade to them.
+
+Their opportunities for earning money are scant, and they live upon a
+very monotonous diet of fish and possibly dried venison and berries.
+Except at favorable points like Stony Creek, where a small stream
+leads from one lake to another, there are no villages because there
+are no fish.
+
+I shall not soon forget the shining vistas through which we rode that
+day, nor the meadows which possessed all the allurement and mystery
+which the word "savanna" has always had with me. It was like going
+back to the prairies of Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa, as they were
+sixty years ago, except in this case the elk and the deer were
+absent.
+
+
+
+
+YET STILL WE RODE
+
+
+    We wallowed deep in mud and sand;
+      We swam swift streams that roared in wrath;
+    They stood at guard in that lone land,
+      Like dragons in the slender path.
+
+    Yet still we rode right on and on,
+      And shook our clenched hands at the sky.
+    We dared the frost at early dawn,
+      And the dread tempest sweeping by.
+
+    It was not all so dark. Now and again
+      The robin, singing loud and long,
+    Made wildness tame, and lit the rain
+      With sudden sunshine with his song.
+
+    Wild roses filled the air with grace,
+      The shooting-star swung like a bell
+    From bended stem, and all the place
+      Was like to heaven after hell.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+WE SWIM THE NECHACO
+
+
+Here was perfection of camping, but no allurement could turn the
+goldseekers aside. Some of them remained for a day, a few for two
+days, but not one forgot for a moment that he was on his way to the
+Klondike River sixteen hundred miles away. In my enthusiasm I
+proposed to camp for a week, but my partner, who was "out for gold
+instid o' daisies, 'guessed' we'd better be moving." He could not
+bear to see any one pass us, and that was the feeling of every man on
+the trail. Each seemed to fear that the gold might all be claimed
+before he arrived. With a sigh I turned my back on this glorious
+region and took up the forward march.
+
+All the next day we skirted the shores of Tatchick Lake, coming late
+in the afternoon to the Nechaco River, a deep, rapid stream which
+rose far to our left in the snowy peaks of the coast range. All day
+the sky to the east had a brazen glow, as if a great fire were raging
+there, but toward night the wind changed and swept it away. The trail
+was dusty for the first time, and the flies venomous. Late in the
+afternoon we pitched camp, setting our tent securely, expecting rain.
+Before we went to sleep the drops began to drum on the tent roof, a
+pleasant sound after the burning dust of the trail. The two trampers
+kept abreast of us nearly all day, but they began to show fatigue and
+hunger, and a look of almost sullen desperation had settled on their
+faces.
+
+As we came down next day to where the swift Nechaco met the Endako
+rushing out of Fraser Lake, we found the most dangerous flood we had
+yet crossed. A couple of white men were calking a large ferry-boat,
+but as it was not yet seaworthy and as they had no cable, the horses
+must swim. I dreaded to see them enter this chill, gray stream, for
+not only was it wide and swift, but the two currents coming together
+made the landing confusing to the horses as well as to ourselves.
+Rain was at hand and we had no time to waste.
+
+The horses knew that some hard swimming was expected of them and
+would gladly have turned back if they could. We surrounded them with
+furious outcry and at last Ladrone sprang in and struck for the
+nearest point opposite, with that intelligence which marks the bronco
+horse. The others followed readily. Two of the poorer ones labored
+heavily, but all touched shore in good order.
+
+The rain began to fall sharply and we were forced to camp on the
+opposite bank as swiftly as possible, in order to get out of the
+storm. We worked hard and long to put everything under cover and were
+muddy and tired at the end of it. At last the tent was up, the outfit
+covered with waterproof canvas, the fire blazing and our bread
+baking. In pitching our camp we had plenty of assistance at the
+hands of several Indian boys from a near-by village, who hung about,
+eager to lend a hand, in the hope of getting a cup of coffee and a
+piece of bread in payment. The streaming rain seemed to have no more
+effect upon them than on a loon. The conditions were all strangely
+similar to those at the Muddy River.
+
+Night closed in swiftly. Through the dark we could hear the low swish
+of the rising river, and Burton, with a sly twinkle in his eye,
+remarked, "For a semi-arid country, this is a pretty wet rain."
+
+In planning the trip, I had written to him saying: "The trail runs
+for the most part though a semi-arid country, somewhat like eastern
+Washington."
+
+It rained all the next day and we were forced to remain in camp,
+which was dismal business; but we made the best of it, doing some
+mending of clothes and tackle during the long hours.
+
+We were visited by all the Indians from Old Fort Fraser, which was
+only a mile away. They sat about our blazing fire laughing and
+chattering like a group of girls, discussing our characters minutely,
+and trying to get at our reasons for going on such a journey.
+
+One of them who spoke a little English said, after looking over my
+traps: "You boss, you ty-ee, you belly rich man. Why you come?"
+
+This being interpreted meant, "You have a great many splendid things,
+you are rich. Now, why do you come away out here in this poor Siwash
+country?"
+
+I tried to convey to him that I wished to see the mountains and to
+get acquainted with the people. He then asked, "More white men come?"
+
+Throwing my hands in the air and spreading my fingers many times, I
+exclaimed, "Hy-u white man, hy-u!" Whereat they all clicked their
+tongues and looked at each other in astonishment. They could not
+understand why this sudden flood of white people should pour into
+their country. This I also explained in lame Chinook: "We go klap
+Pilchickamin (gold). White man hears say Hy-u Pilchickamin there (I
+pointed to the north). White man heap like Pilchickamin, so he
+comes."
+
+All the afternoon and early evening little boys came and went on the
+swift river in their canoes, singing wild, hauntingly musical boating
+songs. They had no horses, but assembled in their canoes, racing and
+betting precisely as the Cheyenne lads run horses at sunset in the
+valley of the Lamedeer. All about the village the grass was rich and
+sweet, uncropped by any animal, for these poor fishermen do not
+aspire to the wonderful wealth of owning a horse. They had heard that
+cattle were coming over the trail and all inquired, "Spose when
+Moos-Moos come?" They knew that milk and butter were good things, and
+some of them had hopes of owning a cow sometime.
+
+They had tiny little gardens in sheltered places on the sunny slopes,
+wherein a few potatoes were planted; for the rest they hunt and fish
+and trap in winter and trade skins for meat and flour and coffee, and
+so live. How they endure the winters in such wretched houses, it is
+impossible to say. There was a lone white man living on the site of
+the old fort, as agent of the Hudson Bay Company. He kept a small
+stock of clothing and groceries and traded for "skins," as the
+Indians all call pelts. They count in skins. So many skins will buy a
+rifle, so many more will secure a sack of flour.
+
+The storekeeper told me that the two trampers had arrived there a few
+days before without money and without food. "I gave 'em some flour
+and sent 'em on," he said. "The Siwashes will take care of them, but
+it ain't right. What the cussed idiots mean by setting out on such a
+journey I can't understand. Why, one tramp came in here early in the
+spring who couldn't speak English, and who left Quesnelle without
+even a blanket or an axe. Fact! And yet the Lord seems to take care
+of these fools. You wouldn't believe it, but that fellow picked up an
+axe and a blanket the first day out. But he'd a died only for the
+Indians. They won't let even a white man starve to death. I helped
+him out with some flour and he went on. They all rush on. Seems like
+they was just crazy to get to Dawson--couldn't sleep without dreamin'
+of it."
+
+I was almost as eager to get on as the tramps, but Burton went about
+his work regularly as a clock. I wrote, yawned, stirred the big
+campfire, gazed at the clouds, talked with the Indians, and so passed
+the day. I began to be disturbed, for I knew the power of a rain on
+the trail. It transforms it, makes it ferocious. The path that has
+charmed and wooed, becomes uncertain, treacherous, gloomy, and
+engulfing. Creeks become rivers, rivers impassable torrents, and
+marshes bottomless abysses. Pits of quicksand develop in most
+unexpected places. Driven from smooth lake margins, the trailers'
+ponies are forced to climb ledges of rock, and to rattle over long
+slides of shale. In places the threadlike way itself becomes an
+aqueduct for a rushing overflow of water.
+
+At such times the man on the trail feels the grim power of Nature.
+She has no pity, no consideration. She sets mud, torrents, rocks,
+cold, mist, to check and chill him, to devour him. Over him he has no
+roof, under him no pavement. Never for an instant is he free from the
+pressure of the elements. Sullen streams lie athwart his road like
+dragons, and in a land like this, where snowy peaks rise on all
+sides, rain meant sudden and enormous floods of icy water.
+
+It was still drizzling on the third day, but we packed and pushed on,
+though the hills were slippery and the creeks swollen. Water was
+everywhere, but the sun came out, lighting the woods into radiant
+greens and purples. Robins and sparrows sang ecstatically, and
+violets, dandelions, and various kinds of berries were in odorous
+bloom. A vine with a blue flower, new to me, attracted my attention,
+also a yellow blossom of the cowslip variety. This latter had a form
+not unlike a wild sunflower.
+
+Here for the first time I heard a bird singing a song quite new to
+me. He was a thrushlike little fellow, very shy and difficult to see
+as he sat poised on the tip of a black pine in the deep forest. His
+note was a clear cling-ling, like the ringing of a steel triangle.
+_Chingaling, chingaling_, one called near at hand, and then farther
+off another answered, _ching, ching, chingaling-aling_, with immense
+vim, power, and vociferation.
+
+Burton, who had spent many years in the mighty forests of Washington,
+said: "That little chap is familiar to me. Away in the pines where
+there is no other bird I used to hear his voice. No matter how dark
+it was, I could always tell when morning was coming by his note, and
+on cloudy days I could always tell when the sunset was coming by
+hearing him call."
+
+To me his phrase was not unlike the metallic ringing cry of a sort of
+blackbird which I heard in the torrid plazas of Mexico. He was very
+difficult to distinguish, for the reason that he sat so high in the
+tree and was so wary. He was very shy of approach. He was a plump,
+trim little fellow of a plain brown color, not unlike a small robin.
+
+There was another cheerful little bird, new to me also, which uttered
+an amusing phrase in two keys, something like _tee tay, tee tay, tee
+tay_, one note sustained high and long, followed by another given on
+a lower key. It was not unlike to the sound made by a boy with a
+tuning pipe. This, Burton said, was also a familiar sound in the
+depths of the great Washington firs. These two cheery birds kept us
+company in the gloomy, black-pine forest, when we sorely needed
+solace of some kind.
+
+Fraser Lake was also very charming, romantic enough to be the scene
+of Cooper's best novels. The water was deliciously clear and cool,
+and from the farther shore great mountains rose in successive sweeps
+of dark green foothills. At this time we felt well satisfied with
+ourselves and the trip. With a gleam in his eyes Burton said, "This
+is the kind of thing our folks think we're doing all the time."
+
+
+
+
+RELENTLESS NATURE
+
+
+    She laid her rivers to snare us,
+    She set her snows to chill,
+    Her clouds had the cunning of vultures,
+    Her plants were charged to kill.
+    The glooms of her forests benumbed us,
+    On the slime of her ledges we sprawled;
+    But we set our feet to the northward,
+    And crawled and crawled and crawled!
+    We defied her, and cursed her, and shouted:
+    "To hell with your rain and your snow.
+    Our minds we have set on a journey,
+    And despite of your anger we go!"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE FIRST CROSSING OF THE BULKLEY
+
+
+We were now following a chain of lakes to the source of the Endako,
+one of the chief northwest sources of the Fraser, and were surrounded
+by tumultuous ridges covered with a seamless robe of pine forests.
+For hundreds of miles on either hand lay an absolutely untracked
+wilderness. In a land like this the trail always follows a
+water-course, either ascending or descending it; so for some days we
+followed the edges of these lakes and the banks of the connecting
+streams, toiling over sharp hills and plunging into steep ravines,
+over a trail belly-deep in mud and water and through a wood empty of
+life.
+
+These were hard days. We travelled for many hours through a burnt-out
+tract filled with twisted, blackened uprooted trees in the wake of
+fire and hurricane. From this tangled desolation I received the
+suggestion of some verses which I call "The Song of the North Wind."
+The wind and the fire worked together. If the wind precedes, he
+prepares the way for his brother fire, and in return the fire weakens
+the trees to the wind.
+
+We had settled into a dull routine, and the worst feature of each
+day's work was the drag, drag of slow hours on the trail. We could
+not hurry, and we were forced to watch our horses with unremitting
+care in order to nurse them over the hard spots, or, rather, the soft
+spots, in the trail. We were climbing rapidly and expected soon to
+pass from the watershed of the Fraser into that of the Skeena.
+
+We passed a horse cold in death, with his head flung up as if he had
+been fighting the wolves in his final death agony. It was a grim
+sight. Another beast stood abandoned beside the trail, gazing at us
+reproachfully, infinite pathos in his eyes. He seemed not to have the
+energy to turn his head, but stood as if propped upon his legs, his
+ribs showing with horrible plainness a tragic dejection in every
+muscle and limb.
+
+The feed was fairly good, our horses were feeling well, and curiously
+enough the mosquitoes had quite left us. We overtook and passed a
+number of outfits camped beside a splendid rushing stream.
+
+On Burns' Lake we came suddenly upon a settlement of quite sizable
+Indian houses with beautiful pasturage about. The village contained
+twenty-five or thirty families of carrier Indians, and was musical
+with the plaintive boat-songs of the young people. How long these
+native races have lived here no one can tell, but their mark on the
+land is almost imperceptible. They are not of those who mar the
+landscape.
+
+On the first of June we topped the divide between the two mighty
+watersheds. Behind us lay the Fraser, before us the Skeena. The
+majestic coast range rose like a wall of snow far away to the
+northwest, while a near-by lake, filling the foreground, reflected
+the blue ridges of the middle distance--a magnificent spread of wild
+landscape. It made me wish to abandon the trail and push out into the
+unexplored.
+
+From this point we began to descend toward the Bulkley, which is the
+most easterly fork of the Skeena. Soon after starting on our downward
+path we came to a fork in the trail. One trail, newly blazed, led to
+the right and seemed to be the one to take. We started upon it, but
+found it dangerously muddy, and so returned to the main trail which
+seemed to be more numerously travelled. Afterward we wished we had
+taken the other, for we got one of our horses into the quicksand and
+worked for more than three hours in the attempt to get him out. A
+horse is a strange animal. He is counted intelligent, and so he is if
+he happens to be a bronco or a mule. But in proportion as he is a
+thoroughbred, he seems to lose power to take care of himself--loses
+heart. Our Ewe-neck bay had a trace of racer in him, and being
+weakened by poor food, it was his bad luck to slip over the bank into
+a quicksand creek. Having found himself helpless he instantly gave up
+heart and lay out with a piteous expression of resignation in his big
+brown eyes. We tugged and lifted and rolled him around from one
+position to another, each more dangerous than the first, all to no
+result.
+
+While I held him up from drowning, my partner "brushed in" around him
+so that he _could_ not become submerged. We tried hitching the other
+horses to him in order to drag him out, but as they were
+saddle-horses, and had never set shoulder to a collar in their
+lives, they refused to pull even enough to take the proverbial
+setting hen off the nest.
+
+Up to this time I had felt no need of company on the trail, and for
+the most part we had travelled alone. But I now developed a poignant
+desire to hear the tinkle of a bell on the back trail, for there is
+no "funny business" about losing a packhorse in the midst of a wild
+country. His value is not represented by the twenty-five dollars
+which you originally paid for him. Sometimes his life is worth all
+you can give for him.
+
+After some three hours of toil (the horse getting weaker all the
+time), I looked around once more with despairing gaze, and caught
+sight of a bunch of horses across the valley flat. In this country
+there were no horses except such as the goldseeker owned, and this
+bunch of horses meant a camp of trailers. Leaping to my saddle, I
+galloped across the spongy marsh to hailing distance.
+
+My cries for help brought two of the men running with spades to help
+us. The four of us together lifted the old horse out of the pit more
+dead than alive. We fell to and rubbed his legs to restore
+circulation. Later we blanketed him and turned him loose upon the
+grass. In a short time he was nearly as well as ever.
+
+It was a sorrowful experience, for a fallen horse is a horse in ruins
+and makes a most woful appeal upon one's sympathies. I went to bed
+tired out, stiff and sore from pulling on the rope, my hands
+blistered, my nerves shaken.
+
+As I was sinking off to sleep I heard a wolf howl, as though he
+mourned the loss of a feast.
+
+We had been warned that the Bulkley River was a bad stream to
+cross,--in fact, the road-gang had cut a new trail in order to avoid
+it,--that is to say, they kept to the right around the sharp elbow
+which the river makes at this point, whereas the old trail cut
+directly across the elbow, making two crossings. At the point where
+the new trail led to the right we held a council of war to determine
+whether to keep to the old trail, and so save several days' travel,
+or to turn to the right and avoid the difficult crossing. The new
+trail was reported to be exceedingly miry, and that determined the
+matter--we concluded to make the short cut.
+
+We descended to the Bulkley through clouds of mosquitoes and endless
+sloughs of mud. The river was out of its banks, and its quicksand
+flats were exceedingly dangerous to our pack animals, although the
+river itself at this point was a small and sluggish stream.
+
+It took us exactly five hours of most exhausting toil to cross the
+river and its flat. We worked like beavers, we sweated like hired
+men, wading up to our knees in water, and covered with mud, brushing
+in a road over the quicksand for the horses to walk. The Ewe-necked
+bay was fairly crazy with fear of the mud, and it was necessary to
+lead him over every foot of the way. We went into camp for the first
+time too late to eat by daylight. It became necessary for us to use a
+candle inside the tent at about eleven o'clock.
+
+The horses were exhausted, and crazy for feed. It was a struggle to
+get them unpacked, so eager were they to forage. Ladrone, always
+faithful, touched my heart by his patience and gentleness, and his
+reliance upon me. I again heard a gray wolf howl as I was sinking off
+to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+THE GAUNT GRAY WOLF
+
+
+    O a shadowy beast is the gaunt gray wolf!
+    And his feet fall soft on a carpet of spines;
+    Where the night shuts quick and the winds are cold
+    He haunts the deeps of the northern pines.
+
+    His eyes are eager, his teeth are keen,
+    As he slips at night through the bush like a snake,
+    Crouching and cringing, straight into the wind,
+    To leap with a grin on the fawn in the brake.
+
+    He falls like a cat on the mother grouse
+    Brooding her young in the wind-bent weeds,
+    Or listens to heed with a start of greed
+    The bittern booming from river reeds.
+
+    He's the symbol of hunger the whole earth through,
+    His spectre sits at the door or cave,
+    And the homeless hear with a thrill of fear
+    The sound of his wind-swept voice on the air.
+
+
+
+
+ABANDONED ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+    A poor old horse with down-cast mien and sad wild eyes,
+    Stood by the lonely trail--and oh!
+    He was so piteous lean.
+    He seemed to look a mild surprise
+    At all mankind that we should treat him so.
+    How hardily he struggled up the trail
+    And through the streams
+    All men should know.
+    Yet now abandoned to the wolf, his waiting foe,
+    He stood in silence, as an old man dreams.
+    And as his master left him, this he seemed to say:
+    "You leave me helpless by the path;
+    I do not curse you, but I pray
+    Defend me from the wolves' wild wrath!"
+    And yet his master rode away!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DOWN THE BULKLEY VALLEY
+
+
+As we rose to the top of the divide which lies between the two
+crossings of the Bulkley, a magnificent view of the coast range again
+lightened the horizon. In the foreground a lovely lake lay. On the
+shore of this lake stood a single Indian shack occupied by a
+half-dozen children and an old woman. They were all wretchedly
+clothed in graceless rags, and formed a bitter and depressing
+contrast to the magnificence of nature.
+
+One of the lads could talk a little Chinook mixed with English.
+
+"How far is it to the ford?" I asked of him.
+
+"White man say, mebbe-so six, mebbe-so nine mile."
+
+Knowing the Indian's vague idea of miles, I said:--
+
+"How _long_ before we reach the ford? Sit-kum sun?" which is to say
+noon.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"Klip sun come. Me go-hyak make canoe. Me felly."
+
+By which he meant: "You will arrive at the ford by sunset. I will
+hurry on and build a raft and ferry you over the stream."
+
+With an axe and a sack of dried fish on his back and a poor old
+shot-gun in his arm, he led the way down the trail at a slapping
+pace. He kept with us till dinner-time, however, in order to get some
+bread and coffee.
+
+Like the _Jicarilla_ Apaches, these people have discovered the
+virtues of the inner bark of the black pine. All along the trail were
+trees from which wayfarers had lunched, leaving a great strip of the
+white inner wood exposed.
+
+"Man heap dry--this muck-a-muck heap good," said the young fellow, as
+he handed me a long strip to taste. It was cool and sweet to the
+tongue, and on a hot day would undoubtedly quench thirst. The boy
+took it from the tree by means of a chisel-shaped iron after the
+heavy outer bark has been hewed away by the axe.
+
+All along the trail were tree trunks whereon some loitering young
+Siwash had delineated a human face by a few deft and powerful strokes
+of the axe, the sculptural planes of cheeks, brow, and chin being
+indicated broadly but with truth and decision. Often by some old camp
+a tree would bear on a planed surface the rude pictographs, so that
+those coming after could read the number, size, sex, and success at
+hunting of those who had gone before. There is something Japanese, it
+seems to me, in this natural taste for carving among all the
+Northwest people.
+
+All about us was now riotous June. The season was incredibly warm and
+forward, considering the latitude. Strawberries were in bloom, birds
+were singing, wild roses appeared in miles and in millions, plum and
+cherry trees were white with blossoms--in fact, the splendor and
+radiance of Iowa in June. A beautiful lake occupied our left nearly
+all day.
+
+As we arrived at the second crossing of the Bulkley about six
+o'clock, our young Indian met us with a sorrowful face.
+
+"Stick go in chuck. No canoe. Walk stick."
+
+A big cottonwood log had fallen across the stream and lay
+half-submerged and quivering in the rushing river. Over this log a
+half-dozen men were passing like ants, wet with sweat, "bucking"
+their outfits across. The poor Siwash was out of a job and
+exceedingly sorrowful.
+
+"This is the kind of picnic we didn't expect," said one of the young
+men, as I rode up to see what progress they were making.
+
+We took our turn at crossing the tree trunk, which was submerged
+nearly a foot deep with water running at mill-race speed, and resumed
+the trail, following running water most of the way over a very good
+path. Once again we had a few hours' positive enjoyment, with no
+sense of being in a sub-arctic country. We could hardly convince
+ourselves that we were in latitude 54. The only peculiarity which I
+never quite forgot was the extreme length of the day. At 10.30 at
+night it was still light enough to write. No sooner did it get dark
+on one side of the hut than it began to lighten on the other. The
+weather was gloriously cool, crisp, and invigorating, and whenever we
+had sound soil under our feet we were happy.
+
+The country was getting each hour more superbly mountainous. Great
+snowy peaks rose on all sides. The coast range, lofty, roseate, dim,
+and far, loomed ever in the west, but on our right a group of other
+giants assembled, white and stern. A part of the time we threaded our
+way through fire-devastated forests of fir, and then as suddenly
+burst out into tracts of wild roses with beautiful open spaces of
+waving pea-vine on which our horses fed ravenously.
+
+We were forced to throw up our tent at every meal, so intolerable had
+the mosquitoes become. Here for the first time our horses were
+severely troubled by myriads of little black flies. They were small,
+but resembled our common house flies in shape, and were exceedingly
+venomous. They filled the horses' ears, and their sting produced
+minute swellings all over the necks and breasts of the poor animals.
+Had it not been for our pennyroyal and bacon grease, the bay horse
+would have been eaten raw.
+
+We overtook the trampers again at Chock Lake. They were thin, their
+legs making sharp creases in their trouser legs--I could see that as
+I neared them. They were walking desperately, reeling from side to
+side with weakness. There was no more smiling on their faces. One
+man, the smaller, had the countenance of a wolf, pinched in round the
+nose. His bony jaw was thrust forward resolutely. The taller man was
+limping painfully because of a shoe which had gone to one side. Their
+packs were light, but their almost incessant change of position gave
+evidence of pain and great weariness.
+
+I drew near to ask how they were getting along. The tall man, with a
+look of wistful sadness like that of a hungry dog, said, "Not very
+well."
+
+"How are you off for grub?"
+
+"Nothing left but some beans and a mere handful of flour."
+
+I invited them to a "square meal" a few miles farther on, and in
+order to help them forward I took one of their packs on my horse. I
+inferred that they would take turns at the remaining pack and so keep
+pace with us, for we were dropping steadily now--down, down through
+the most beautiful savannas, with fine spring brooks rushing from the
+mountain's side. Flowers increased; the days grew warmer; it began to
+feel like summer. The mountains grew ever mightier, looming cloudlike
+at sunset, bearing glaciers on their shoulders. We were almost
+completely happy--but alas, the mosquitoes! Their hum silenced the
+songs of the birds; their feet made the mountains of no avail. The
+otherwise beautiful land became a restless hell for the unprotected
+man or beast. It was impossible to eat or sleep without some defence,
+and our pennyroyal salve was invaluable. It enabled us to travel with
+some degree of comfort, where others suffered martyrdom.
+
+At noon Burton made up a heavy mess, in expectation of the trampers,
+who had fallen a little behind. The small man came into view first,
+for he had abandoned his fellow-traveller. This angered me, and I was
+minded to cast the little sneak out of camp, but his pinched and
+hungry face helped me to put up with him. I gave him a smart lecture
+and said, "I supposed you intended to help the other man, or I
+wouldn't have relieved you of a pound."
+
+The other toiler turned up soon, limping, and staggering with
+weakness. When dinner was ready, they came to the call like a couple
+of starving dogs. The small man had no politeness left. He gorged
+himself like a wolf. He fairly snapped the food down his throat. The
+tall man, by great effort, contrived to display some knowledge of
+better manners. As they ate, I studied them. They were blotched by
+mosquito bites and tanned to a leather brown. Their thin hands were
+like claws, their doubled knees seemed about to pierce their trouser
+legs.
+
+"Yes," said the taller man, "the mosquitoes nearly eat us up. We can
+only sleep in the middle of the day, or from about two o'clock in the
+morning till sunrise. We walk late in the evening--till nine or
+ten--and then sit in the smoke till it gets cold enough to drive away
+the mosquitoes. Then we try to sleep. But the trouble is, when it is
+cold enough to keep them off, it's too cold for us to sleep."
+
+"What did you do during the late rains?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, we kept moving most of the time. At night we camped under a fir
+tree by the trail and dried off. The mosquitoes didn't bother us so
+much then. We were wet nearly all the time."
+
+I tried to get at his point of view, his justification for such
+senseless action, but could only discover a sort of blind belief
+that something would help him pull through. He had gone to the
+Caribou mines to find work, and, failing, had pushed on toward
+Hazleton with a dim hope of working his way to Teslin Lake and to the
+Klondike. He started with forty pounds of provisions and three or
+four dollars in his pocket. He was now dead broke, and his provisions
+almost gone.
+
+Meanwhile, the smaller man made no sign of hearing a word. He ate and
+ate, till my friend looked at me with a comical wink. We fed him
+staples--beans, graham bread, and coffee--and he slowly but surely
+reached the bottom of every dish. He did not fill up, he simply
+"wiped out" the cooked food. The tall man was not far behind him.
+
+As he talked, I imagined the life they had led. At first the trail
+was good, and they were able to make twenty miles each day. The
+weather was dry and warm, and sleeping was not impossible. They
+camped close beside the trail when they grew tired--I had seen and
+recognized their camping-places all along. But the rains came on, and
+they were forced to walk all day through the wet shrubs with the
+water dripping from their ragged garments. They camped at night
+beneath the firs (for the ground is always dry under a fir), where a
+fire is easily built. There they hung over the flame, drying their
+clothing and their rapidly weakening shoes. The mosquitoes swarmed
+upon them bloodily in the shelter and warmth of the trees, for they
+had no netting or tent. Their meals were composed of tea, a few
+hastily stewed beans, and a poor quality of sticky camp bread. Their
+sleep was broken and fitful. They were either too hot or too cold,
+and the mosquitoes gave way only when the frost made slumber
+difficult. In the morning they awoke to the necessity of putting on
+their wet shoes, and taking the muddy trail, to travel as long as
+they could stagger forward.
+
+In addition to all this, they had no maps, and knew nothing of their
+whereabouts or how far it was to a human habitation. Their only
+comfort lay in the passing of outfits like mine. From such as I, they
+"rustled food" and clothing. The small man did not even thank us for
+the meal; he sat himself down for a smoke and communed with his
+stomach. The tall man was plainly worsted. His voice had a plaintive
+droop. His shoe gnawed into his foot, and his pack was visibly
+heavier than that of his companion.
+
+We were two weeks behind our schedule, and our own flour sack was not
+much bigger than a sachet-bag, but we gave them some rice and part of
+our beans and oatmeal, and they moved away.
+
+We were approaching sea-level, following the Bulkley, which flows in
+a northwesterly direction and enters the great Skeena River at right
+angles, just below its three forks. Each hour the peaks seemed to
+assemble and uplift. The days were at their maximum, the sun set
+shortly after eight, but it was light until nearly eleven. At midday
+the sun was fairly hot, but the wind swept down from the mountains
+cool and refreshing. I shall not soon forget those radiant meadows,
+over which the far mountains blazed in almost intolerable splendor;
+it was too perfect to endure. Like the light of the sun lingering on
+the high peaks with most magical beauty, it passed away to be seen no
+more.
+
+In the midst of these grandeurs we lost one of our horses. Whenever a
+horse breaks away from his fellows on the trail, it is pretty safe to
+infer he has "hit the back track." As I went out to round up the
+horses, "Major Grunt" was nowhere to be found. He had strayed from
+the bunch and we inferred had started back over the trail. We trailed
+him till we met one of the trampers, who assured us that no horse had
+passed him in the night, for he had been camped within six feet of
+the path.
+
+Up to this time there had been no returning footsteps, and it was
+easy to follow the horse so long as he kept to the trail, but the
+tramper's report was positive--no horse had passed him. We turned
+back and began searching the thickets around the camp.
+
+We toiled all day, not merely because the horse was exceedingly
+valuable to us, but also for the reason that he had a rope attached
+to his neck and I was afraid he might become entangled in the fallen
+timber and so starve to death.
+
+The tall tramper, who had been definitely abandoned by his partner,
+was a sad spectacle. He was blotched by mosquito bites, thin and weak
+with hunger, and his clothes hung in tatters. He had just about
+reached the limit of his courage, and though we were uncertain of our
+horses, and our food was nearly exhausted, we gave him all the rice
+we had and some fruit and sent him on his way.
+
+Night came, and still no signs of "Major Grunt." It began to look as
+though some one had ridden him away and we should be forced to go on
+without him. This losing of a horse is one of the accidents which
+make the trail so uncertain. We were exceedingly anxious to get on.
+There was an oppressive warmth in the air, and flies and mosquitoes
+were the worst we had ever seen. Altogether this was a dark day on
+our calendar.
+
+After we had secured ourselves in our tents that night the sound of
+the savage insects without was like the roaring of a far-off
+hailstorm. The horses rolled in the dirt, snorted, wheeled madly,
+stamped, shook their heads, and flung themselves again and again on
+the ground, giving every evidence of the most terrible suffering. "If
+this is to continue," I said to my partner, "I shall quit, and either
+kill all my horses or ship them out of the country. I will not have
+them eaten alive in this way."
+
+It was impossible to go outside to attend to them. Nothing could be
+done but sit in gloomy silence and listen to the drumming of their
+frantic feet on the turf as they battled against their invisible
+foes. At last, led by old Ladrone, they started off at a hobbling
+gallop up the trail.
+
+"Well, we are in for it now," I remarked, as the footsteps died away.
+"They've hit the back trail, and we'll have another day's hard work
+to catch 'em and bring 'em back. However, there's no use worrying.
+The mosquitoes would eat us alive if we went out now. We might just
+as well go to sleep and wait till morning." Sleep was difficult under
+the circumstances, but we dozed off at last.
+
+As we took their trail in the cool of the next morning, we found the
+horses had taken the back trail till they reached an open hillside,
+and had climbed to the very edge of the timber. There they were all
+in a bunch, with the exception of "Major Grunt," of whom we had no
+trace.
+
+With a mind filled with distressing pictures of the lost horse
+entangled in his rope, and lying flat on his side hidden among the
+fallen tree trunks, there to struggle and starve, I reluctantly gave
+orders for a start, with intent to send an Indian back to search for
+him.
+
+After two hours' smart travel we came suddenly upon the little Indian
+village of Morricetown, which is built beside a narrow canyon through
+which the Bulkley rushes with tremendous speed. Here high on the
+level grassy bank we camped, quite secure from mosquitoes, and
+surrounded by the curious natives, who showed us where to find wood
+and water, and brought us the most beautiful spring salmon, and
+potatoes so tender and fine that the skin could be rubbed from them
+with the thumb. They were exactly like new potatoes in the States.
+Out of this, it may be well understood, we had a most satisfying
+dinner. Summer was in full tide. Pieplant was two feet high, and
+strawberries were almost ripe.
+
+Calling the men of the village around me, I explained in
+Pigeon-English and worse Chinook that I had lost a horse, and that I
+would give five dollars to the man who would bring him to me. They
+all listened attentively, filled with joy at a chance to earn so much
+money. At last the chief man of the village, a very good-looking
+fellow of twenty-five or thirty, said to me: "All light, me go, me
+fetch 'um. You stop here. Mebbe-so, klip-sun, I come bling horse."
+
+His confidence relieved us of anxiety, and we had a very pleasant day
+of it, digesting our bountiful meal of salmon and potatoes, and
+mending up our clothing. We were now pretty ragged and very brown,
+but in excellent health.
+
+Late in the afternoon a gang of road-cutters (who had been sent out
+by the towns interested in the route) came into town from Hazleton,
+and I had a talk with the boss, a very decent fellow, who gave a grim
+report of the trail beyond. He said: "Nobody knows anything about
+that trail. Jim Deacon, the head-man of our party when we left
+Hazleton, was only about seventy miles out, and cutting fallen timber
+like a man chopping cord wood, and sending back for more help. We are
+now going back to bridge and corduroy the places we had no time to
+fix as we came."
+
+Morricetown was a superb spot, and Burton was much inclined to stay
+right there and prospect the near-by mountains. So far as a mere
+casual observer could determine, this country offers every inducement
+to prospectors. It is possible to grow potatoes, hay, and oats,
+together with various small fruits, in this valley, and if gold
+should ever be discovered in the rushing mountain streams, it would
+be easy to sustain a camp and feed it well.
+
+Long before sunset an Indian came up to us and smilingly said, "You
+hoss--come." And a few minutes later the young ty-ee came riding into
+town leading "Major Grunt," well as ever, but a little sullen. He had
+taken the back trail till he came to a narrow and insecure bridge.
+There he had turned up the stream, going deeper and deeper into the
+"stick," as the Siwash called the forest. I paid the reward gladly,
+and Major took his place among the other horses with no sign of joy.
+
+
+
+
+
+DO YOU FEAR THE WIND?
+
+
+    Do you fear the force of the wind,
+    The slash of the rain?
+    Go face them and fight them,
+    Be savage again.
+    Go hungry and cold like the wolf,
+        Go wade like the crane.
+    The palms of your hands will thicken,
+    The skin of your cheek will tan,
+    You'll grow ragged and weary and swarthy,
+        But you'll walk like a man!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+HAZLETON. MIDWAY ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+We were now but thirty miles from Hazleton, where our second bill of
+supplies was waiting for us, and we were eager to push on. Taking the
+advice of the road-gang we crossed the frail suspension bridge (which
+the Indians had most ingeniously constructed out of logs and pieces
+of old telegraph wire) and started down the west side of the river.
+Every ravine was filled by mountain streams' foam--white with speed.
+
+We descended all day and the weather grew more and more summer-like
+each mile. Ripe strawberries lured us from the warm banks. For the
+first time we came upon great groves of red cedar under which the
+trail ran very muddy and very slippery by reason of the hard roots of
+the cedars which never decay. Creeks that seemed to me a good field
+for placer mining came down from the left, but no one stopped to do
+more than pan a little gravel from a cut bank or a bar.
+
+At about two o'clock of the second day we came to the Indian village
+of Hagellgate, which stands on the high bank overhanging the roaring
+river just before it empties into the Skeena. Here we got news of the
+tramp who had fallen in exhaustion and was being cared for by the
+Indians.
+
+Descending swiftly we came to the bank of the river, which was wide,
+tremendously swift and deep and cold. Rival Indian ferry companies
+bid for our custom, each man extolling his boat at the expense of the
+"old canoe--no good" of his rivals.
+
+The canoes were like those to be seen all along the coast, that is to
+say they had been hollowed from cottonwood or pine trees and
+afterward steamed and spread by means of hot water to meet the
+maker's idea of the proper line of grace and speed. They were really
+beautiful and sat the water almost as gracefully as the birch-bark
+canoe of the Chippewas. At each end they rose into a sort of neck,
+which terminated often in a head carved to resemble a deer or some
+fabled animal. Some of them had white bands encircling the throat of
+this figurehead. Their paddles were short and broad, but light and
+strong.
+
+These canoes are very seaworthy. As they were driven across the swift
+waters, they danced on the waves like leaves, and the boatmen bent to
+their oars with almost desperate energy and with most excited outcry.
+
+Therein is expressed a mighty difference between the Siwash and the
+plains Indian. The Cheyenne, the Sioux, conceal effort, or fear, or
+enthusiasm. These little people chattered and whooped at each other
+like monkeys. Upon hearing them for the first time I imagined they
+were losing control of the boat. Judging from their accent they were
+shrieking phrases like these:--
+
+"Quick, quick! Dig in deep, Joe. Scratch now, we're going
+down--whoop! Hay, now! All together--swing her, dog-gone ye--SWING
+HER! Now straight--keep her straight! Can't ye see that eddy? Whoop,
+whoop! Let out a link or two, you spindle-armed child. Now _quick_ or
+we're lost!"
+
+While the other men seemed to reply in kind: "Oh, rats, we're a
+makin' it. Head her toward that bush. Don't get scared--trust
+me--I'll sling her ashore!"
+
+A plains Indian, under similar circumstances, would have strained
+every muscle till his bones cracked, before permitting himself to
+show effort or excitement.
+
+With all their confusion and chatter these little people were always
+masters of the situation. They came out right, no matter how savage
+the river, and the Bulkley at this point was savage. Every drop of
+water was in motion. It had no eddies, no slack water. Its momentum
+was terrific. In crossing, the boatmen were obliged to pole their
+canoes far up beyond the point at which they meant to land; then, at
+the word, they swung into the rushing current and pulled like fiends
+for the opposite shore. Their broad paddles dipped so rapidly they
+resembled paddle-wheels. They kept the craft head-on to the current,
+and did not attempt to charge the bank directly, but swung-to
+broadside. In this way they led our horses safely across, and came up
+smiling each time.
+
+We found Hazleton to be a small village composed mainly of Indians,
+with a big Hudson Bay post at its centre. It was situated on a lovely
+green flat, but a few feet above the Skeena, which was a majestic
+flood at this point. There were some ten or fifteen outfits camped
+in and about the village, resting and getting ready for the last half
+of the trail. Some of the would-be miners had come up the river in
+the little Hudson Bay steamer, which makes two or three trips a year,
+and were waiting for her next trip in order to go down again.
+
+The town was filled with gloomy stories of the trail. No one knew its
+condition. In fact, it had not been travelled in seventeen years,
+except by the Indians on foot with their packs of furs. The road
+party was ahead, but toiling hard and hurrying to open a way for us.
+
+As I now reread all the advance literature of this "prairie route," I
+perceived how skilfully every detail with regard to the last half of
+the trail had been slurred over. We had been led into a sort of sack,
+and the string was tied behind us.
+
+The Hudson Bay agent said to me with perfect frankness, "There's no
+one in this village, except one or two Indians, who's ever been over
+the trail, or who can give you any information concerning it." He
+furthermore said, "A large number of these fellows who are starting
+in on this trip with their poor little cayuses will never reach the
+Stikeen River, and might better stop right here."
+
+Feed was scarce here as everywhere, and we were forced to camp on the
+trail, some two miles above the town. In going to and from our tent
+we passed the Indian burial ground, which was very curious and
+interesting to me. It was a veritable little city of the dead, with
+streets of tiny, gayly painted little houses in which the silent and
+motionless ones had been laid in their last sleep. Each tomb was a
+shelter, a roof, and a tomb, and upon each the builder had lavished
+his highest skill in ornament. They were all vivid with paint and
+carving and lattice work. Each builder seemed trying to outdo his
+neighbor in making a cheerful habitation for his dead.
+
+More curious still, in each house were the things which the dead had
+particularly loved. In one, a trunk contained all of a girl's
+much-prized clothing. A complete set of dishes was visible in
+another, while in a third I saw a wash-stand, bowl, pitcher, and
+mirror. There was something deeply touching to me in all this. They
+are so poor, their lives are so bare of comforts, that the
+consecration of these articles to the dead seemed a greater sacrifice
+than we, who count ourselves civilized, would make. Each chair, or
+table, or coat, or pair of shoes, costs many skins. The set of
+furniture meant many hard journeys in the cold, long days of
+trailing, trapping, and packing. The clothing had a high money value,
+yet it remained undisturbed. I saw one day a woman and two young
+girls halt to look timidly in at the window of a newly erected tomb,
+but only for a moment; and then, in a panic of fear and awe, they
+hurried away.
+
+The days which followed were cold and gloomy, quite in keeping with
+the grim tales of the trail. Bodies of horses and mules, drowned in
+the attempt to cross the Skeena, were reported passing the wharf at
+the post. The wife of a retired Indian agent, who claimed to have
+been over the route many years ago, was interviewed by my partner.
+After saying that it was a terrible trail, she sententiously ended
+with these words, "Gentlemen, you may consider yourselves
+explorers."
+
+I halted a very intelligent Indian who came riding by our camp. "How
+far to Teslin Lake?" I asked.
+
+He mused. "Maybe so forty days, maybe so thirty days. Me think forty
+days."
+
+"Good feed? Hy-u muck-a-muck?"
+
+He looked at me in silence and his face grew a little graver. "Ha--lo
+muck-a-muck (no feed). Long time no glass. Hy-yu stick (woods). Hy-u
+river--all day swim."
+
+Turning to Burton, I said, "Here we get at the truth of it. This man
+has no reason for lying. We need another horse, and we need fifty
+pounds more flour."
+
+One by one the outfits behind us came dropping down into Hazleton in
+long trains of weary horses, some of them in very bad condition. Many
+of the goldseekers determined to "quit." They sold their horses as
+best they could to the Indians (who were glad to buy them), and hired
+canoes to take them to the coast, intent to catch one of the steamers
+which ply to and fro between Skagway and Seattle.
+
+But one by one, with tinkling bells and sharp outcry of drivers,
+other outfits passed us, cheerily calling: "Good luck! See you
+later," all bound for the "gold belt." Gloomy skies continued to fill
+the imaginative ones with forebodings, and all day they could be seen
+in groups about the village discussing ways and means. Quarrels broke
+out, and parties disbanded in discouragement and bitterness. The road
+to the golden river seemed to grow longer, and the precious sand more
+elusive, from day to day. Here at Hazleton, where they had hoped to
+reach a gold region, nothing was doing. Those who had visited the
+Kisgagash Mountains to the north were lukewarm in their reports, and
+no one felt like stopping to explore. The cry was, "On to Dawson."
+
+Here in Hazleton I came upon the lame tramp. He had secured lodging
+in an empty shack and was being helped to food by some citizens in
+the town for whom he was doing a little work. Seeing me pass he
+called to me and began to inquire about the trail.
+
+I read in the gleam of his eye an insane resolution to push forward.
+This I set about to check. "If you wish to commit suicide, start on
+this trail. The four hundred miles you have been over is a summer
+picnic excursion compared to that which is now to follow. My advice
+to you is to stay right where you are until the next Hudson Bay
+steamer comes by, then go to the captain and tell him just how you
+are situated, and ask him to carry you down to the coast. You are
+insane to think for a moment of attempting the four hundred miles of
+unknown trail between here and Glenora, especially without a cent in
+your pocket and no grub. You have no right to burden the other
+outfits with your needs."
+
+This plain talk seemed to affect him and he looked aggrieved. "But
+what can I do? I have no money and no work."
+
+I replied in effect: "Whatever you do, you can't afford to enter upon
+this trail, and you can't expect men who are already short of grub to
+feed and take care of you. There's a chance for you to work your way
+back to the coast on the Hudson Bay steamer. There's only starvation
+on the trail."
+
+As I walked away he called after me, but I refused to return. I had
+the feeling in spite of all I had said that he would attempt to
+rustle a little grub and make his start on the trail. The whole
+goldseeking movement was, in a way, a craze; he was simply an extreme
+development of it.
+
+It seemed necessary to break camp in order not to be eaten up by the
+Siwash dogs, whose peculiarities grew upon me daily. They were indeed
+strange beasts. They seemed to have no youth. I never saw them play;
+even the puppies were grave and sedate. They were never in a hurry
+and were not afraid. They got out of our way with the least possible
+exertion, looking meekly reproachful or snarling threateningly at us.
+They were ever watchful. No matter how apparently deep their slumber,
+they saw every falling crumb, they knew where we had hung our fish,
+and were ready as we turned our backs to make away with it. It was
+impossible to leave anything eatable for a single instant. Nothing
+but the sleight of hand of a conjurer could equal the mystery of
+their stealing.
+
+After buying a fourth pack animal and reshoeing all our horses, we
+got our outfit into shape for the long, hard drive which lay before
+us. Every ounce of superfluous weight, every tool, every article not
+absolutely essential, was discarded and its place filled with food.
+We stripped ourselves like men going into battle, and on the third
+day lined up for Teslin Lake, six hundred miles to the north.
+
+
+
+
+SIWASH GRAVES
+
+
+    Here in their tiny gayly painted homes
+    They sleep, these small dead people of the streams,
+    Their names unknown, their deeds forgot,
+    Their by-gone battles lost in dreams.
+    A few short days and we who laugh
+    Will be as still, will lie as low
+    As utterly in dark as they who rot
+    Here where the roses blow.
+    They fought, and loved, and toiled, and died,
+    As all men do, and all men must.
+    Of what avail? we at the end
+    Fall quite as shapelessly to dust.
+
+
+
+
+LINE UP, BRAVE BOYS
+
+
+    The packs are on, the cinches tight,
+    The patient horses wait,
+    Upon the grass the frost lies white,
+    The dawn is gray and late.
+    The leader's cry rings sharp and clear,
+    The campfires smoulder low;
+    Before us lies a shallow mere,
+    Beyond, the mountain snow.
+          "_Line up, Billy, line up, boys,_
+              _The east is gray with coming day,_
+              _We must away, we cannot stay._
+              _Hy-o, hy-ak, brave boys!_"
+
+    Five hundred miles behind us lie,
+    As many more ahead,
+    Through mud and mire on mountains high
+    Our weary feet must tread.
+    So one by one, with loyal mind,
+    The horses swing to place,
+    The strong in lead, the weak behind,
+    In patient plodding grace.
+          "_Hy-o, Buckskin, brave boy, Joe!_
+              _The sun is high,_
+              _The hid loons cry:_
+              _Hy-ak--away! Hy-o!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CROSSING THE BIG DIVIDE
+
+
+Our stay at Hazleton in some measure removed the charm of the first
+view. The people were all so miserably poor, and the hosts of
+howling, hungry dogs made each day more distressing. The mountains
+remained splendid to the last; and as we made our start I looked back
+upon them with undiminished pleasure.
+
+We pitched tent at night just below the ford, and opposite another
+Indian village in which a most mournful medicine song was going on,
+timed to the beating of drums. Dogs joined with the mourning of the
+people with cries of almost human anguish, to which the beat of the
+passionless drum added solemnity, and a sort of inexorable marching
+rhythm. It seemed to announce pestilence and flood, and made the
+beautiful earth a place of hunger and despair.
+
+I was awakened in the early dawn by a singular cry repeated again and
+again on the farther side of the river. It seemed the voice of a
+woman uttering in wailing; chant the most piercing agony of
+despairing love. It ceased as the sun arose and was heard no more. It
+was difficult to imagine such anguish in the bustle of the bright
+morning. It seemed as though it must have been an illusion--a dream
+of tragedy.
+
+In the course of an hour's travel we came down to the sandy bottom of
+the river, whereon a half-dozen fine canoes were beached and waiting
+for us. The skilful natives set us across very easily, although it
+was the maddest and wildest of all the rivers we had yet seen. We
+crossed the main river just above the point at which the west fork
+enters. The horses were obliged to swim nearly half a mile, and some
+of them would not have reached the other shore had it not been for
+the Indians, who held their heads out of water from the sterns of the
+canoes, and so landed them safely on the bar just opposite the little
+village called Kispyox, which is also the Indian name of the west
+fork.
+
+The trail made off up the eastern bank of this river, which was as
+charming as any stream ever imagined by a poet. The water was
+gray-green in color, swift and active. It looped away in most
+splendid curves, through opulent bottom lands, filled with wild
+roses, geranium plants, and berry blooms. Openings alternated with
+beautiful woodlands and grassy meadows, while over and beyond all
+rose the ever present mountains of the coast range, deep blue and
+snow-capped.
+
+There was no strangeness in the flora--on the contrary, everything
+seemed familiar. Hazel bushes, poplars, pines, all growth was
+amazingly luxuriant. The trail was an Indian path, graceful and full
+of swinging curves. We had passed beyond the telegraph wire of the
+old trail.
+
+Early in the afternoon we passed some five or six outfits camped on a
+beautiful grassy bank overlooking the river, and forming a most
+satisfying picture. The bells on the grazing horses were tinkling,
+and from sparkling fires, thin columns of smoke arose. Some of the
+young men were bathing, while others were washing their shirts in the
+sunny stream. There was a cheerful sound of whistling and rattling of
+tinware mingled with the sound of axes. Nothing could be more jocund,
+more typical, of the young men and the trail. It was one of the few
+pleasant camps of the long journey.
+
+It was raining when we awoke, but before noon it cleared sufficiently
+to allow us to pack. We started at one, though the bushes were loaded
+with water, and had we not been well clothed in waterproof, we should
+have been drenched to the bone. We rode for four hours over a good
+trail, dodging wet branches in the pouring rain. It lightened at
+five, and we went into camp quite dry and comfortable.
+
+We unpacked near an Indian ranch belonging to an old man and his
+wife, who came up at once to see us. They were good-looking, rugged
+old souls, like powerful Japanese. They could not speak Chinook, and
+we could not get much out of them. The old wife toted a monstrous big
+salmon up the hill to sell to us, but we had more fish than we could
+eat, and were forced to decline. There was a beautiful spring just
+back of the cabin, and the old man seemed to take pleasure in having
+us get our water from it. Neither did he object to our horses feeding
+about his house, where there was very excellent grass. It was a
+charming camping-place, wild flowers made the trail radiant even in
+the midst of rain. The wild roses grew in clumps of sprays as high
+as a horse's head.
+
+Just before we determined to camp we had passed three or four outfits
+grouped together on the sward on the left bank of the river. As we
+rode by, one of the men had called to me saying: "You had better
+camp. It is thirty miles from here to feed." To this I had merely
+nodded, giving it little attention; but now as we sat around our
+campfire, Burton brought the matter up again: "If it is thirty miles
+to feed, we will have to get off early to-morrow morning and make as
+big a drive as we can, while the horses are fresh, and then make the
+latter part of the run on empty stomachs."
+
+"Oh, I think they were just talking for our special benefit," I
+replied.
+
+"No, they were in earnest. One of them came out to see me. He said he
+got his pointer from the mule train ahead of us. Feed is going to be
+very scarce, and the next run is fully thirty miles."
+
+I insisted it could not be possible that we should go at once from
+the luxuriant pea-vine and bluejoint into a thirty-mile stretch of
+country where nothing grew. "There must be breaks in the forest where
+we can graze our horses."
+
+It rained all night and in the morning it seemed as if it had settled
+into a week's downpour. However, we were quite comfortable with
+plenty of fresh salmon, and were not troubled except with the thought
+of the mud which would result from this rainstorm. We were falling
+steadily behind our schedule each day, but the horses were feeding
+and gaining strength--"And when we hit the trail, we will hit it
+hard," I said to Burton.
+
+It was Sunday. The day was perfectly quiet and peaceful, like a rainy
+Sunday in the States. The old Indian below kept to his house all day,
+not visiting us. It is probable that he was a Catholic. The dogs came
+about us occasionally; strange, solemn creatures that they are, they
+had the persistence of hunger and the silence of burglars.
+
+It was raining when we awoke Monday morning, but we were now restless
+to get under way. We could not afford to spend another day waiting in
+the rain. It was gloomy business in camp, and at the first sign of
+lightening sky we packed up and started promptly at twelve o'clock.
+
+That ride was the sternest we had yet experienced. It was like
+swimming in a sea of green water. The branches sloshed us with
+blinding raindrops. The mud spurted under our horses' hoofs, the sky
+was gray and drizzled moisture, and as we rose we plunged into ever
+deepening forests. We left behind us all hazel bushes, alders, wild
+roses, and grasses. Moss was on every leaf and stump: the forest
+became savage, sinister and silent, not a living thing but ourselves
+moved or uttered voice.
+
+This world grew oppressive with its unbroken clear greens, its
+dripping branches, its rotting trees; its snake-like roots half
+buried in the earth convinced me that our warning was well-born. At
+last we came into upper heights where no blade of grass grew, and we
+pushed on desperately, on and on, hour after hour. We began to suffer
+with the horses, being hungry and cold ourselves. We plunged into
+bottomless mudholes, slid down slippery slopes of slate, and leaped
+innumerable fallen logs of fir. The sky had no more pity than the
+mossy ground and the desolate forest. It was a mocking land, a land
+of green things, but not a blade of grass: only austere trees and
+noxious weeds.
+
+During the day we met an old man so loaded down I could not tell
+whether he was man, woman, or beast. A sort of cap or wide cloth band
+went across his head, concealing his forehead. His huge pack loomed
+over his shoulders, and as he walked, using two paddles as canes, he
+seemed some anomalous four-footed beast of burden.
+
+As he saw us he threw off his pack to rest and stood erect, a sturdy
+man of sixty, with short bristling hair framing a kindly resolute
+face. He was very light-hearted. He shook hands with me, saying,
+"Kla-how-ya," in answer to my, "Kla-how-ya six," which is to say,
+"How are you, friend?" He smiled, pointed to his pack, and said,
+"Hy-u skin." His season had been successful and he was going now to
+sell his catch. A couple of dogs just behind carried each twenty
+pounds on their backs. We were eating lunch, and I invited him to sit
+and eat. He took a seat and began to parcel out the food in two
+piles.
+
+"He has a companion coming," I said to my partner. In a few moments a
+boy of fourteen or fifteen came up, carrying a pack that would test
+the strength of a powerful white man. He, too, threw off his load and
+at a word from the old man took a seat at the table. They shared
+exactly alike. It was evident that they were father and son.
+
+A few miles farther on we met another family, two men, a woman, a
+boy, and six dogs, all laden in proportion. They were all handsomer
+than the Siwashes of the Fraser River. They came from the head-waters
+of the Nasse, they said. They could speak but little Chinook and no
+English at all. When I asked in Chinook, "How far is it to feed for
+our horses?" the woman looked first at our thin animals, then at us,
+and shook her head sorrowfully; then lifting her hands in the most
+dramatic gesture she half whispered, "Si-ah, si-ah!" That is to say,
+"Far, very far!"
+
+Both these old people seemed very kind to their dogs, which were fat
+and sleek and not related to those I had seen in Hazleton. When the
+old man spoke to them, his voice was gentle and encouraging. At the
+word they all took up the line of march and went off down the hill
+toward the Hudson Bay store, there to remain during the summer. We
+pushed on, convinced by the old woman's manner that our long trail
+was to be a gloomy one.
+
+Night began to settle over us at last, adding the final touches of
+uncertainty and horror to the gloom. We pushed on with necessary
+cruelty, forcing the tired horses to their utmost, searching every
+ravine and every slope for a feed; but only ferns and strange green
+poisonous plants could be seen. We were angling up the side of the
+great ridge which separated the west fork of the Skeena River from
+the middle fork. It was evident that we must cross this high divide
+and descend into the valley of the middle fork before we could hope
+to feed our horses.
+
+However, just as darkness was beginning to come on, we came to an
+almost impassable slough in the trail, where a small stream descended
+into a little flat marsh and morass. This had been used as a
+camping-place by others, and we decided to camp, because to travel,
+even in the twilight, was dangerous to life and limb.
+
+It was a gloomy and depressing place to spend the night. There was
+scarcely level ground enough to receive our camp. The wood was soggy
+and green. In order to reach the marsh we were forced to lead our
+horses one by one through a dangerous mudhole, and once through this
+they entered upon a quaking bog, out of which grew tufts of grass
+which had been gnawed to the roots by the animals which had preceded
+them; only a rank bottom of dead leaves of last year's growth was
+left for our tired horses. I was deeply anxious for fear they would
+crowd into the central bog in their efforts to reach the uncropped
+green blades which grew out of reach in the edge of the water. They
+were ravenous with hunger after eight hours of hard labor.
+
+Our clothing was wet to the inner threads, and we were tired and
+muddy also, but our thoughts were on the horses rather than upon
+ourselves. We soon had a fire going and some hot supper, and by ten
+o'clock were stretched out in our beds for the night.
+
+I have never in my life experienced a gloomier or more distressing
+camp on the trail. My bed was dry and warm, but I could not forget
+our tired horses grubbing about in the chilly night on that desolate
+marsh.
+
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD OF THE SUN
+
+
+    Give me the sun and the sky,
+    The wide sky. Let it blaze with light,
+    Let it burn with heat--I care not.
+    The sun is the blood of my heart,
+    The wind of the plain my breath.
+    No woodsman am I. My eyes are set
+    For the wide low lines. The level rim
+    Of the prairie land is mine.
+    The semi-gloom of the pointed firs,
+    The sleeping darks of the mountain spruce,
+    Are prison and poison to such as I.
+    In the forest I long for the rose of the plain,
+    In the dark of the firs I die.
+
+
+
+
+IN THE GRASS
+
+
+    O to lie in long grasses!
+    O to dream of the plain!
+    Where the west wind sings as it passes
+    A weird and unceasing refrain;
+    Where the rank grass wallows and tosses,
+    And the plains' ring dazzles the eye;
+    Where hardly a silver cloud bosses
+    The flashing steel arch of the sky.
+
+    To watch the gay gulls as they flutter
+    Like snowflakes and fall down the sky,
+    To swoop in the deeps of the hollows,
+    Where the crow's-foot tosses awry;
+    And gnats in the lee of the thickets
+    Are swirling like waltzers in glee
+    To the harsh, shrill creak of the crickets
+    And the song of the lark and the bee.
+
+    O far-off plains of my west land!
+    O lands of winds and the free,
+    Swift deer--my mist-clad plain!
+    From my bed in the heart of the forest,
+    From the clasp and the girdle of pain
+    Your light through my darkness passes;
+    To your meadows in dreaming I fly
+    To plunge in the deeps of your grasses,
+    To bask in the light of your sky!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SILENT FORESTS OF THE DREAD SKEENA
+
+
+We were awake early and our first thought was of our horses. They
+were quite safe and cropping away on the dry stalks with patient
+diligence. We saddled up and pushed on, for food was to be had only
+in the valley, whose blue and white walls we could see far ahead of
+us. After nearly six hours' travel we came out of the forest, out
+into the valley of the middle fork of the Skeena, into sunlight and
+grass in abundance, where we camped till the following morning,
+giving the horses time to recuperate.
+
+We were done with smiling valleys--that I now perceived. We were
+coming nearer to the sub-arctic country, grim and desolate. The view
+was magnificent, but the land seemed empty and silent except of
+mosquitoes, of which there were uncounted millions. On our right just
+across the river rose the white peaks of the Kisgagash Mountains.
+Snow was still lying in the gullies only a few rods above us.
+
+The horses fed right royally and soon forgot the dearth of the big
+divide. As we were saddling up to move the following morning, several
+outfits came trailing down into the valley, glad as we had been of
+the splendid field of grass. They were led by a grizzled old
+American, who cursed the country with fine fervor.
+
+"I can stand any kind of a country," said he, "except one where
+there's no feed. And as near's I can find out we're in fer hell's own
+time fer feed till we reach them prairies they tell about."
+
+After leaving this flat, we had the Kuldo (a swift and powerful
+river) to cross, but we found an old Indian and a girl camped on the
+opposite side waiting for us. The daughter, a comely child about
+sixteen years of age, wore a calico dress and "store" shoes. She was
+a self-contained little creature, and clearly in command of the boat,
+and very efficient. It was no child's play to put the light canoe
+across such a stream, but the old man, with much shouting and under
+command of the girl, succeeded in crossing six times, carrying us and
+our baggage. As we were being put across for the last time it became
+necessary for some one to pull the canoe through the shallow water,
+and the little girl, without hesitation, leaped out regardless of new
+shoes, and tugged at the rope while the old man poled at the stern,
+and so we were landed.
+
+As a recognition of her resolution I presented her with a dollar,
+which I tried to make her understand was her own, and not to be given
+to her father. Up to that moment she had been very shy and rather
+sullen, but my present seemed to change her opinion of us, and she
+became more genial at once. She was short and sturdy, and her little
+footsteps in the trail were strangely suggestive of civilization.
+
+After leaving the river we rose sharply for about three miles. This
+brought us to the first notice on the trail which was signed by the
+road-gang, an ambiguous scrawl to the effect that feed was to be very
+scarce for a long, long way, and that we should feed our horses
+before going forward. The mystery of the sign lay in the fact that no
+feed was in sight, and if it referred back to the flat, then it was
+in the nature of an Irish bull.
+
+There was a fork in the trail here, and another notice informed us
+that the trail to the right ran to the Indian village of Kuldo. Rain
+threatened, and as it was late and no feed promised, I determined to
+camp. Turning to the right down a tremendously steep path (the horses
+sliding on their haunches), we came to an old Indian fishing village
+built on a green shelf high above the roaring water of the Skeena.
+
+The people all came rushing out to see us, curious but very
+hospitable. Some of the children began plucking grasses for the
+horses, but being unaccustomed to animals of any kind, not one would
+approach within reach of them. I tried, by patting Ladrone and
+putting his head over my shoulder, to show them how gentle he was,
+but they only smiled and laughed as much as to say, "Yes, that is all
+right for _you_, but we are afraid." They were all very good-looking,
+smiling folk, but poorly dressed. They seemed eager to show us where
+the best grass grew, demanded nothing of us, begged nothing, and did
+not attempt to overcharge us. There were some eight or ten families
+in the canyon, and their houses were wretched shacks, mere lodges of
+slabs with vents in the peak. So far as they could, they conformed to
+the ways of white men.
+
+Here they dwell by this rushing river in the midst of a gloomy and
+trackless forest, far removed from any other people of any sort. They
+were but a handful of human souls. As they spoke little Chinook and
+almost no English, it was difficult to converse with them. They had
+lost the sign language or seemed not to use it. Their village was
+built here because the canyon below offered a capital place for
+fishing and trapping, and the principal duty of the men was to watch
+the salmon trap dancing far below. For the rest they hunt wild
+animals and sell furs to the Hudson Bay Company at Hazleton, which is
+their metropolis.
+
+They led us to the edge of the village and showed us where the
+road-gang had set their tent, and we soon had a fire going in our
+little stove, which was the amazement and delight of a circle of men,
+women, and children, but they were not intrusive and asked for
+nothing.
+
+Later in the evening the old man and the girl who had helped to ferry
+us across the Kuldo came down the hill and joined the circle of our
+visitors.
+
+She smiled as we greeted her and so did the father, who assured me he
+was the ty-ee (boss) of the village, which he seemed to be.
+
+After our supper we distributed some fruit among the children, and
+among the old women some hot coffee with sugar, which was a keen
+delight to them. Our desire to be friendly was deeply appreciated by
+these poor people, and our wish to do them good was greater than our
+means. The way was long before us and we could not afford to give
+away our supplies. How they live in winter I cannot understand;
+probably they go down the river to Hazleton.
+
+I began to dread the dark green dripping firs which seemed to
+encompass us like some vast army. They chilled me, oppressed me.
+Moreover, I was lame in every joint from the toil of crossing rivers,
+climbing steep hills, and dragging at cinches. I had walked down
+every hill and in most cases on the sharp upward slopes in order to
+relieve Ladrone of my weight.
+
+As we climbed back to our muddy path next day, we were filled with
+dark forebodings of the days to come. We climbed all day, keeping the
+bench high above the river. The land continued silent. It was a
+wilderness of firs and spruce pines. It was like a forest of bronze.
+Nothing but a few rose bushes and some leek-like plants rose from the
+mossy floor, on which the sun fell, weak and pale, in rare places. No
+beast or bird uttered sound save a fishing eagle swinging through the
+canyon above the roaring water.
+
+In the gloom the voice of the stream became a raucous roar. On every
+side cold and white and pitiless the snowy peaks lifted above the
+serrate rim of the forest.
+
+Life was scant here. In all the mighty spread of forest between the
+continental divide on the east and the coast range at the west there
+are few living things, and these few necessarily centre in the warm
+openings on the banks of the streams where the sunlight falls or in
+the high valleys above the firs. There are no serpents and no
+insects.
+
+As we mounted day by day we crossed dozens of swift little streams
+cold and gray with silt. Our rate of speed was very low. One of our
+horses became very weak and ill, evidently poisoned, and we were
+forced to stop often to rest him. All the horses were weakening day
+by day.
+
+Toward the middle of the third day, after crossing a stream which
+came from the left, the trail turned as if to leave the Skeena
+behind. We were mighty well pleased and climbed sharply and with
+great care of our horses till we reached a little meadow at the
+summit, very tired and disheartened, for the view showed only other
+peaks and endless waves of spruce and fir. We rode on under drizzling
+skies and dripping trees. There was little sunshine and long lines of
+heavily weighted gray clouds came crawling up the valley from the sea
+to break in cold rain over the summits.
+
+The horses again grew hungry and weak, and it was necessary to use
+great care in crossing the streams. We were lame and sore with the
+toil of the day, and what was more depressing found ourselves once
+more upon the banks of the Skeena, where only an occasional bunch of
+bluejoint could be found. The constant strain of watching the horses
+and guiding them through the mud began to tell on us both. There was
+now no moment of ease, no hour of enjoyment. We had set ourselves
+grimly to the task of bringing our horses through alive. We no longer
+rode, we toiled in silence, leading our saddle-horses on which we
+had packed a part of our outfit to relieve the sick and starving
+packhorses.
+
+On the fourth day we took a westward shoot from the river, and
+following the course of a small stream again climbed heavily up the
+slope. Our horses were now so weak we could only climb a few rods at
+a time without rest. But at last, just as night began to fall, we
+came upon a splendid patch of bluejoint, knee-deep and rich. It was
+high on the mountain side, on a slope so steep that the horses could
+not lie down, so steep that it was almost impossible to set our tent.
+We could not persuade ourselves to pass it, however, and so made the
+best of it. Everywhere we could see white mountains, to the south, to
+the west, to the east.
+
+"Now we have left the Skeena Valley," said Burton.
+
+"Yes, we have seen the last of the Skeena," I replied, "and I'm glad
+of it. I never want to see that gray-green flood again."
+
+A part of the time that evening we spent in picking the thorns of
+devil's-club out of our hands. This strange plant I had not seen
+before, and do not care to see it again. In plunging through the
+mudholes we spasmodically clutched these spiny things. Ladrone nipped
+steadily at the bunch of leaves which grew at the top of the twisted
+stalk. Again we plunged down into the cold green forest, following a
+stream whose current ran to the northeast. This brought us once again
+to the bank of the dreaded Skeena. The trail was "punishing," and the
+horses plunged and lunged all day through the mud, over logs, stones,
+and roots. Our nerves quivered with the torture of piloting our
+mistrusted desperate horses through these awful pitfalls. We were
+still in the region of ferns and devil's-club.
+
+We allowed no feed to escape us. At any hour of the day, whenever we
+found a bunch of grass, no matter if it were not bigger than a broom,
+we stopped for the horses to graze it and so we kept them on their
+feet.
+
+At five o'clock in the afternoon we climbed to a low, marshy lake
+where an Indian hunter was camped. He said we would find feed on
+another lake some miles up, and we pushed on, wallowing through mud
+and water of innumerable streams, each moment in danger of leaving a
+horse behind. I walked nearly all day, for it was torture to me as
+well as to Ladrone to ride him over such a trail. Three of our horses
+now showed signs of poisoning, two of them walked with a sprawling
+action of the fore legs, their eyes big and glassy. One was too weak
+to carry anything more than his pack-saddle, and our going had a sort
+of sullen desperation in it. Our camps were on the muddy ground,
+without comfort or convenience.
+
+Next morning, as I swung into the saddle and started at the head of
+my train, Ladrone threw out his nose with a sharp indrawn squeal of
+pain. At first I paid little attention to it, but it came again--and
+then I noticed a weakness in his limbs. I dismounted and examined him
+carefully. He, too, was poisoned and attacked by spasms. It was a
+sorrowful thing to see my proud gray reduced to this condition. His
+eyes were dilated and glassy and his joints were weak. We could not
+stop, we could not wait, we must push on to feed and open ground; and
+so leading him carefully I resumed our slow march.
+
+But at last, just when it seemed as though we could not go any
+farther with our suffering animals, we came out of the poisonous
+forest upon a broad grassy bottom where a stream was flowing to the
+northwest. We raised a shout of joy, for it seemed this must be a
+branch of the Nasse. If so, we were surely out of the clutches of the
+Skeena. This bottom was the first dry and level ground we had seen
+since leaving the west fork, and the sun shone. "Old man, the worst
+of our trail is over," I shouted to my partner. "The land looks more
+open to the north. We're coming to that plateau they told us of."
+
+Oh, how sweet, fine, and sunny the short dry grass seemed to us after
+our long toilsome stay in the sub-aqueous gloom of the Skeena
+forests! We seemed about to return to the birds and the flowers.
+
+Ladrone was very ill, but I fed him some salt mixed with lard, and
+after a doze in the sun he began to nibble grass with the others, and
+at last stretched out on the warm dry sward to let the glorious sun
+soak into his blood. It was a joyous thing to us to see the faithful
+ones revelling in the healing sunlight, their stomachs filled at last
+with sweet rich forage. We were dirty, ragged, and lame, and our
+hands were calloused and seamed with dirt, but we were strong and
+hearty.
+
+We were high in the mountains here. Those little marshy lakes and
+slow streams showed that we were on a divide, and to our minds could
+be no other than the head-waters of the Nasse, which has a watershed
+of its own to the sea. We believed the worst of our trip to be over.
+
+
+
+
+THE FAITHFUL BRONCOS
+
+
+    They go to certain death--to freeze,
+    To grope their way through blinding snow,
+    To starve beneath the northern trees--
+    Their curse on us who made them go!
+    They trust and we betray the trust;
+    They humbly look to us for keep.
+    The rifle crumbles them to dust,
+    And we--have hardly grace to weep
+    As they line up to die.
+
+
+
+
+THE WHISTLING MARMOT
+
+
+    On mountains cold and bold and high,
+    Where only golden eagles fly,
+    He builds his home against the sky.
+
+    Above the clouds he sits and whines,
+    The morning sun about him shines;
+    Rivers loop below in shining lines.
+
+    No wolf or cat may find him there,
+    That winged corsair of the air,
+    The eagle, is his only care.
+
+    He sees the pink snows slide away,
+    He sees his little ones at play,
+    And peace fills out each summer day.
+
+    In winter, safe within his nest,
+    He eats his winter store with zest,
+    And takes his young ones to his breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GREAT STIKEEN DIVIDE
+
+
+At about eight o'clock the next morning, as we were about to line up
+for our journey, two men came romping down the trail, carrying packs
+on their backs and taking long strides. They were "hitting the high
+places in the scenery," and seemed to be entirely absorbed in the
+work. I hailed them and they turned out to be two young men from
+Duluth, Minnesota. They were without hats, very brown, very hairy,
+and very much disgusted with the country.
+
+For an hour we discussed the situation. They were the first white men
+we had met on the entire journey, almost the only returning
+footsteps, and were able to give us a little information of the
+trail, but only for a distance of about forty miles; beyond this they
+had not ventured.
+
+"We left our outfits back here on a little lake--maybe you saw our
+Indian guide--and struck out ahead to see if we could find those
+splendid prairies they were telling us about, where the caribou and
+the moose were so thick you couldn't miss 'em. We've been forty miles
+up the trail. It's all a climb, and the very worst yet. You'll come
+finally to a high snowy divide with nothing but mountains on every
+side. There _is_ no prairie; it's all a lie, and we're going back to
+Hazleton to go around by way of Skagway. Have you any idea where we
+are?"
+
+"Why, certainly; we're in British Columbia."
+
+"But where? On what stream?"
+
+"Oh, that is a detail," I replied. "I consider the little camp on
+which we are camped one of the head-waters of the Nasse; but we're
+not on the Telegraph Trail at all. We're more nearly in line with the
+old Dease Lake Trail."
+
+"Why is it, do you suppose, that the road-gang ahead of us haven't
+left a single sign, not even a word as to where we are?"
+
+"Maybe they can't write," said my partner.
+
+"Perhaps they don't know where they are at, themselves," said I.
+
+"Well, that's exactly the way it looks to me."
+
+"Are there any outfits ahead of us?"
+
+"Yes, old Bob Borlan's about two days up the slope with his train of
+mules, working like a slave to get through. They're all getting short
+of grub and losing a good many horses. You'll have to work your way
+through with great care, or you'll lose a horse or two in getting
+from here to the divide."
+
+"Well, this won't do. So-long, boys," said one of the young fellows,
+and they started off with immense vigor, followed by their handsome
+dogs, and we lined up once more with stern faces, knowing now that a
+terrible trail for at least one hundred miles was before us. There
+was no thought of retreat, however. We had set our feet to this
+journey, and we determined to go.
+
+After a few hours' travel we came upon the grassy shore of another
+little lake, where the bells of several outfits were tinkling
+merrily. On the bank of a swift little river setting out of the lake,
+a couple of tents stood, and shirts were flapping from the limbs of
+near-by willows. The owners were "The Man from Chihuahua," his
+partner, the blacksmith, and the two young men from Manchester, New
+Hampshire, who had started from Ashcroft as markedly tenderfoot as
+any men could be. They had been lambasted and worried into perfect
+efficiency as packers and trailers, and were entitled to
+respect--even the respect of "The Man from Chihuahua."
+
+They greeted us with jovial outcry.
+
+"Hullo, strangers! Where ye think you're goin'?"
+
+"Goin' crazy," replied Burton.
+
+"You look it," said Bill.
+
+"By God, we was all sure crazy when we started on this damn trail,"
+remarked the old man. He was in bad humor on account of his horses,
+two of which were suffering from poisoning. When anything touched his
+horses, he was "plum irritable."
+
+He came up to me very soberly. "Have you any idee where we're at?"
+
+"Yes--we're on the head-waters of the Nasse."
+
+"Are we on the Telegraph Trail?"
+
+"No; as near as I can make out we're away to the right of the
+telegraph crossing."
+
+Thereupon we compared maps. "It's mighty little use to look at
+maps--they're all drew by guess--an'--by God, anyway," said the old
+fellow, as he ran his grimy forefinger over the red line which
+represented the trail. "We've been a slantin' hellwards ever since we
+crossed the Skeeny--I figure it we're on the old Dease Lake Trail."
+
+To this we all agreed at last, but our course thereafter was by no
+means clear.
+
+"If we took the old Dease Lake Trail we're three hundred miles from
+Telegraph Creek yit--an' somebody's goin' to be hungry before we get
+in," said the old trailer. "I'd like to camp here for a few days and
+feed up my horses, but it ain't safe--we got 'o keep movin'. We've
+been on this damn trail long enough, and besides grub is gittin'
+lighter all the time."
+
+"What do you think of the trail?" asked Burton.
+
+"I've been on the trail all my life," he replied, "an' I never was in
+such a pizen, empty no-count country in my life. Wasn't that big
+divide hell? Did ye ever see the beat of that fer a barren? No more
+grass than a cellar. Might as well camp in a cistern. I wish I could
+lay hands on the feller that called this 'The Prairie Route'--they'd
+sure be a dog-fight right here."
+
+The old man expressed the feeling of those of us who were too shy and
+delicate of speech to do it justice, and we led him on to most
+satisfying blasphemy of the land and the road-gang.
+
+"Yes, there's that road-gang sent out to put this trail into
+shape--what have they done? You'd think they couldn't read or
+write--not a word to help us out."
+
+Partner and I remained in camp all the afternoon and all the next
+day, although our travelling companions packed up and moved out the
+next morning. We felt the need of a day's freedom from worry, and our
+horses needed feed and sunshine.
+
+Oh, the splendor of the sun, the fresh green grass, the rippling
+water of the river, the beautiful lake! And what joy it was to see
+our horses feed and sleep. They looked distressingly thin and poor
+without their saddles. Ladrone was still weak in the ankle joints and
+the arch had gone out of his neck, while faithful Bill, who never
+murmured or complained, had a glassy stare in his eyes, the lingering
+effects of poisoning. The wind rose in the afternoon, bringing to us
+a sound of moaning tree-tops, and somehow it seemed to be an augury
+of better things--seemed to prophesy a fairer and dryer country to
+the north of us. The singing of the leaves went to my heart with a
+hint of home, and I remembered with a start how absolutely windless
+the sullen forest of the Skeena had been.
+
+Near by a dam was built across the river, and a fishing trap made out
+of willows was set in the current. Piles of caribou hair showed that
+the Indians found game in the autumn. We took time to explore some
+old fishing huts filled with curious things,--skins, toboggans,
+dog-collars, cedar ropes, and many other traps of small value to
+anybody. Most curious of all we found some flint-lock muskets made
+exactly on the models of one hundred years ago, but dated 1883! It
+seemed impossible that guns of such ancient models should be
+manufactured up to the present date; but there they were all
+carefully marked "London, 1883."
+
+It was a long day of rest and regeneration. We took a bath in the
+clear, cold waters of the stream, washed our clothing and hung it up
+to dry, beat the mud out of our towels, and so made ready for the
+onward march. We should have stayed longer, but the ebbing away of
+our grub pile made us apprehensive. To return was impossible.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOUDS
+
+
+    Circling the mountains the gray clouds go
+    Heavy with storms as a mother with child,
+    Seeking release from their burden of snow
+    With calm slow motion they cross the wild--
+    Stately and sombre, they catch and cling
+    To the barren crags of the peaks in the west,
+    Weary with waiting, and mad for rest.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREAT STIKEEN DIVIDE
+
+
+    A land of mountains based in hills of fir,
+    Empty, lone, and cold. A land of streams
+    Whose roaring voices drown the whirr
+    Of aspen leaves, and fill the heart with dreams
+    Of dearth and death. The peaks are stern and white
+    The skies above are grim and gray,
+    And the rivers cleave their sounding way
+    Through endless forests dark as night,
+    Toward the ocean's far-off line of spray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IN THE COLD GREEN MOUNTAINS
+
+
+The Nasse River, like the Skeena and the Stikeen, rises in the
+interior mountains, and flows in a south-westerly direction, breaking
+through the coast range into the Pacific Ocean, not far from the
+mouth of the Stikeen.
+
+It is a much smaller stream than the Skeena, which is, moreover,
+immensely larger than the maps show. We believed we were about to
+pass from the watershed of the Nasse to the east fork of the Iskoot,
+on which those far-shining prairies were said to lie, with their
+flowery meadows rippling under the west wind. If we could only reach
+that mystical plateau, our horses would be safe from all disease.
+
+We crossed the Cheweax, a branch of the Nasse, and after climbing
+briskly to the northeast along the main branch we swung around over a
+high wooded hog-back, and made off up the valley along the north and
+lesser fork. We climbed all day, both of us walking, leading our
+horses, with all our goods distributed with great care over the six
+horses. It was a beautiful day overhead--that was the only
+compensation. We were sweaty, eaten by flies and mosquitoes, and
+covered with mud. All day we sprawled over roots, rocks, and logs,
+plunging into bogholes and slopping along in the running water, which
+in places had turned the trail into an aqueduct. The men from Duluth
+had told no lie.
+
+After crawling upward for nearly eight hours we came upon a little
+patch of bluejoint, on the high side of the hill, and there camped in
+the gloom of the mossy and poisonous forest. By hard and persistent
+work we ticked off nearly fifteen miles, and judging from the stream,
+which grew ever swifter, we should come to a divide in the course of
+fifteen or twenty miles.
+
+The horses being packed light went along fairly well, although it was
+a constant struggle to get them to go through the mud. Old Ladrone
+walking behind me groaned with dismay every time we came to one of
+those terrible sloughs. He seemed to plead with me, "Oh, my master,
+don't send me into that dreadful hole!"
+
+But there was no other way. It must be done, and so Burton's sharp
+cry would ring out behind and our little train would go in one after
+the other, plunging, splashing, groaning, struggling through.
+Ladrone, seeing me walk a log by the side of the trail, would
+sometimes follow me as deftly as a cat. He seemed to think his right
+to avoid the mud as good as mine. But as there was always danger of
+his slipping off and injuring himself, I forced him to wallow in the
+mud, which was as distressing to me as to him.
+
+The next day we started with the determination to reach the divide.
+"There is no hope of grass so long as we remain in this forest," said
+Burton. "We must get above timber where the sun shines to get any
+feed for our horses. It is cruel, but we must push them to-day just
+as long as they can stand up, or until we reach the grass."
+
+Nothing seemed to appall or disturb my partner; he was always ready
+to proceed, his voice ringing out with inflexible resolution.
+
+It was one of the most laborious days of all our hard journey. Hour
+after hour we climbed steadily up beside the roaring gray-white
+little stream, up toward the far-shining snowfields, which blazed
+back the sun like mirrors. The trees grew smaller, the river bed
+seemed to approach us until we slumped along in the running water. At
+last we burst out into the light above timber line. Around us
+porcupines galloped, and whistling marmots signalled with shrill
+vehemence. We were weak with fatigue and wet with icy water to the
+knees, but we pushed on doggedly until we came to a little mound of
+short, delicious green grass from which the snow had melted. On this
+we stopped to let the horses graze. The view was magnificent, and
+something wild and splendid came on the wind over the snowy peaks and
+smooth grassy mounds.
+
+We were now in the region of great snowfields, under which roared
+swift streams from still higher altitudes. There were thousands of
+marmots, which seemed to utter the most intense astonishment at the
+inexplicable coming of these strange creatures. The snow in the
+gullies had a curious bloody line which I could not account for. A
+little bird high up here uttered a sweet little whistle, so sad, so
+full of pleading, it almost brought tears to my eyes. In form it
+resembled a horned lark, but was smaller and kept very close to the
+ground.
+
+We reached the summit at sunset, there to find only other mountains
+and other enormous gulches leading downward into far blue canyons. It
+was the wildest land I have ever seen. A country unmapped,
+unsurveyed, and unprospected. A region which had known only an
+occasional Indian hunter or trapper with his load of furs on his way
+down to the river and his canoe. Desolate, without life, green and
+white and flashing illimitably, the gray old peaks aligned themselves
+rank on rank until lost in the mists of still wilder regions.
+
+From this high point we could see our friends, the Manchester boys,
+on the north slope two or three miles below us at timber line. Weak
+in the knees, cold and wet and hungry as we were, we determined to
+push down the trail over the snowfields, down to grass and water. Not
+much more than forty minutes later we came out upon a comparatively
+level spot of earth where grass was fairly good, and where the
+wind-twisted stunted pines grew in clumps large enough to furnish
+wood for our fires and a pole for our tent. The land was meshed with
+roaring rills of melting snow, and all around went on the incessant
+signalling of the marmots--the only cheerful sound in all the wide
+green land.
+
+We had made about twenty-three miles that day, notwithstanding
+tremendous steeps and endless mudholes mid-leg deep. It was the
+greatest test of endurance of our trip.
+
+We had the good luck to scare up a ptarmigan (a sort of piebald
+mountain grouse), and though nearly fainting with hunger, we held
+ourselves in check until we had that bird roasted to a turn. I shall
+never experience greater relief or sweeter relaxation of rest than
+that I felt as I stretched out in my down sleeping bag for twelve
+hours' slumber.
+
+I considered that we were about one hundred and ninety miles from
+Hazleton, and that this must certainly be the divide between the
+Skeena and the Stikeen. The Manchester boys reported finding some
+very good pieces of quartz on the hills, and they were all out with
+spade and pick prospecting, though it seemed to me they showed but
+very little enthusiasm in the search.
+
+"I b'lieve there's gold here," said "Chihuahua," "but who's goin' to
+stay here and look fer it? In the first place, you couldn't work fer
+mor'n 'bout three months in the year, and it 'ud take ye the other
+nine months fer to git yer grub in. Them hills look to me to be
+mineralized, but I ain't honin' to camp here."
+
+This seemed to be the general feeling of all the other prospectors,
+and I did not hear that any one else went so far even as to dig a
+hole.
+
+As near as I could judge there seemed to be three varieties of
+"varmints" galloping around over the grassy slopes of this high
+country. The largest of these, a gray and brown creature with a
+tawny, bristling mane, I took to be a porcupine. Next in size were
+the giant whistlers, who sat up like old men and signalled, like one
+boy to another. And last and least, and more numerous than all, were
+the smaller "chucks" resembling prairie dogs. These animals together
+with the ptarmigan made up the inhabitants of these lofty slopes.
+
+I searched every green place on the mountains far and near with my
+field-glasses, but saw no sheep, caribou, or moose, although one or
+two were reported to have been killed by others on the trail. The
+ptarmigan lived in the matted patches of willow. There were a great
+many of them, and they helped out our monotonous diet very
+opportunely. They moved about in pairs, the cock very loyal to the
+hen in time of danger; but not even this loyalty could save him.
+Hunger such as ours considered itself very humane in stopping short
+of the slaughter of the mother bird. The cock was easily
+distinguished by reason of his party-colored plumage and his pink
+eyes.
+
+We spent the next forenoon in camp to let our horses feed up, and
+incidentally to rest our own weary bones. All the forenoon great,
+gray clouds crushed against the divide behind us, flinging themselves
+in rage against the rocks like hungry vultures baffled in their
+chase. We exulted over their impotence. "We are done with you, you
+storms of the Skeena--we're out of your reach at last!"
+
+We were confirmed in this belief as we rode down the trail, which was
+fairly pleasant except for short periods, when the clouds leaped the
+snowy walls behind and scattered drizzles of rain over us. Later the
+clouds thickened, the sky became completely overcast, and my
+exultation changed to dismay, and we camped at night as desolate as
+ever, in the rain, and by the side of a little marsh on which the
+horses could feed only by wading fetlock deep in the water. We were
+wet to the skin, and muddy and tired.
+
+I could no longer deceive myself. Our journey had become a grim race
+with the wolf. Our food grew each day scantier, and we were forced to
+move each day and every day, no matter what the sky or trail might
+be. Going over our food carefully that night, we calculated that we
+had enough to last us ten days, and if we were within one hundred and
+fifty miles of the Skeena, and if no accident befell us, we would be
+able to pull in without great suffering.
+
+But accidents on the trail are common. It is so easy to lose a couple
+of horses, we were liable to delay and to accident, and the chances
+were against us rather than in our favor. It seemed as though the
+trail would never mend. We were dropping rapidly down through dwarf
+pines, down into endless forests of gloom again. We had splashed,
+slipped, and tumbled down the trail to this point with three horses
+weak and sick. The rain had increased, and all the brightness of the
+morning on the high mountain had passed away. For hours we had walked
+without a word except to our horses, and now night was falling in
+thick, cold rain. As I plodded along I saw in vision and with great
+longing the plains, whose heat and light seemed paradise by contrast.
+
+The next day was the Fourth of July, and such a day! It rained all
+the forenoon, cold, persistent, drizzling rain. We hung around the
+campfire waiting for some let-up to the incessant downpour. We
+discussed the situation. I said: "Now, if the stream in the canyon
+below us runs to the left, it will be the east fork of the Iskoot,
+and we will then be within about one hundred miles of Glenora. If it
+runs to the right, Heaven only knows where we are."
+
+The horses, chilled with the rain, came off the sloppy marsh to stand
+under the trees, and old Ladrone edged close to the big fire to share
+its warmth. This caused us to bring in the other horses and put them
+close to the fire under the big branches of the fir tree. It was
+deeply pathetic to watch the poor worn animals, all life and spirit
+gone out of them, standing about the fire with drooping heads and
+half-closed eyes. Perhaps they dreamed, like us, of the beautiful,
+warm, grassy hills of the south.
+
+
+
+
+THE UTE LOVER
+
+
+    Beneath the burning brazen sky,
+    The yellowed tepes stand.
+    Not far away a singing river
+    Sets through the sand.
+    Within the shadow of a lonely elm tree
+    The tired ponies keep.
+    The wild land, throbbing with the sun's hot magic,
+    Is rapt as sleep.
+
+    From out a clump of scanty willows
+    A low wail floats.
+    The endless repetition of a lover's
+    Melancholy notes;
+    So sad, so sweet, so elemental,
+    All lover's pain
+    Seems borne upon its sobbing cadence--
+    The love-song of the plain.
+    From frenzied cry forever falling,
+    To the wind's wild moan,
+    It seems the voice of anguish calling
+    Alone! alone!
+
+    Caught from the winds forever moaning
+    On the plain,
+    Wrought from the agonies of woman
+    In maternal pain,
+    It holds within its simple measure
+    All death of joy,
+    Breathed though it be by smiling maiden
+    Or lithe brown boy.
+
+    It hath this magic, sad though its cadence
+    And short refrain;
+    It helps the exiled people of the mountain
+    Endure the plain;
+    For when at night the stars aglitter
+    Defy the moon,
+    The maiden listens, leans to seek her lover
+    Where waters croon.
+
+    Flute on, O lithe and tuneful Utah,
+    Reply brown jade;
+    There are no other joys secure to either
+    Man or maid.
+    Soon you are old and heavy hearted,
+    Lost to mirth;
+    While on you lies the white man's gory
+    Greed of earth.
+
+    Strange that to me that burning desert
+    Seems so dear.
+    The endless sky and lonely mesa,
+    Flat and drear,
+    Calls me, calls me as the flute of Utah
+    Calls his mate--
+    This wild, sad, sunny, brazen country,
+    Hot as hate.
+
+    Again the glittering sky uplifts star-blazing;
+    Again the stream
+    From out the far-off snowy mountains
+    Sings through my dream;
+    And on the air I hear the flute-voice calling
+    The lover's croon,
+    And see the listening, longing maiden
+    Lit by the moon.
+
+
+
+
+DEVIL'S CLUB
+
+
+    It is a sprawling, hateful thing,
+    Thorny and twisted like a snake,
+    Writhing to work a mischief, in the brake
+    It stands at menace, in its cling
+    Is danger and a venomed sting.
+    It grows on green and slimy slopes,
+    It is a thing of shades and slums,
+    For passing feet it wildly gropes,
+    And loops to catch all feet that run
+    Seeking a path to sky and sun.
+
+
+
+
+IN THE COLD GREEN MOUNTAINS
+
+
+    In the cold green mountains where the savage torrents roared,
+    And the clouds were gray above us,
+    And the fishing eagle soared,
+    Where no grass waved, where no robins cried,
+    There our horses starved and died,
+    In the cold green mountains.
+
+    In the cold green mountains,
+    Nothing grew but moss and trees,
+    Water dripped and sludgy streamlets
+    Trapped our horses by the knees.
+    Where we slipped, slid, and lunged,
+    Mired down and wildly plunged
+    Toward the cold green mountains!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE PASSING OF THE BEANS
+
+
+At noon, the rain slacking a little, we determined to pack up, and
+with such cheer as we could called out, "Line up, boys--line up!"
+starting on our way down the trail.
+
+After making about eight miles we came upon a number of outfits
+camped on the bank of the river. As I rode along on my gray horse,
+for the trail there allowed me to ride, I passed a man seated
+gloomily at the mouth of his tent. To him I called with an assumption
+of jocularity I did not feel, "Stranger, where are you bound for?"
+
+He replied, "The North Pole."
+
+"Do you expect to get there?"
+
+"Sure," he replied.
+
+Riding on I met others beside the trail, and all wore a similar look
+of almost sullen gravity. They were not disposed to joke with me, and
+perceiving something to be wrong, I passed on without further remark.
+
+When we came down to the bank of the stream, behold it ran to the
+right. And I could have sat me down and blasphemed with the rest. I
+now understood the gloom of the others. _We were still in the valley
+of the inexorable Skeena._ It could be nothing else; this tremendous
+stream running to our right could be no other than the head-waters of
+that ferocious flood which no surveyor has located. It is immensely
+larger and longer than any map shows.
+
+We crossed the branch without much trouble, and found some beautiful
+bluejoint-grass on the opposite bank, into which we joyfully turned
+our horses. When they had filled their stomachs, we packed up and
+pushed on about two miles, overtaking the Manchester boys on the
+side-hill in a tract of dead, burned-out timber, a cheerless spot.
+
+In speaking about the surly answer I had received from the man on the
+banks of the river, I said: "I wonder why those men are camped there?
+They must have been there for several days."
+
+Partner replied: "They are all out of grub and are waiting for some
+one to come by to whack-up with 'em. One of the fellows came out and
+talked with me and said he had nothing left but beans, and tried to
+buy some flour of me."
+
+This opened up an entirely new line of thought. I understood now that
+what I had taken for sullenness was the dejection of despair. The way
+was growing gloomy and dark to them. They, too, were racing with the
+wolf.
+
+We had one short moment of relief next day as we entered a lovely
+little meadow and camped for noon. The sun shone warm, the grass was
+thick and sweet. It was like late April in the central West--cool,
+fragrant, silent. Aisles of peaks stretched behind us and before us.
+We were still high in the mountains, and the country was less wooded
+and more open. But we left this beautiful spot and entered again on a
+morass. It was a day of torture to man and beast. The land continued
+silent. There were no toads, no butterflies, no insects of any kind,
+except a few mosquitoes, no crickets, no singing thing. I have never
+seen a land so empty of life. We had left even the whistling marmots
+entirely behind us.
+
+We travelled now four outfits together, with some twenty-five horses.
+Part of the time I led with Ladrone, part of the time "The Man from
+Chihuahua" took the lead, with his fine strong bays. If a horse got
+down we all swarmed around and lifted him out, and when any question
+of the trail came up we held "conferences of the powers."
+
+We continued for the most part up a wide mossy and grassy river
+bottom covered with water. We waded for miles in water to our ankles,
+crossing hundreds of deep little rivulets. Occasionally a horse went
+down into a hole and had to be "snailed out," and we were wet and
+covered with mud all day. It was a new sort of trail and a terror.
+The mountains on each side were very stately and impressive, but we
+could pay little attention to views when our horses were miring down
+at every step.
+
+We could not agree about the river. Some were inclined to the belief
+that it was a branch of the Stikeen, the old man was sure it was
+"Skeeny." We were troubled by a new sort of fly, a little
+orange-colored fellow whose habits were similar to those of the
+little black fiends of the Bulkley Valley. They were very poisonous
+indeed, and made our ears swell up enormously--the itching and
+burning was well-nigh intolerable. We saw no life at all save one
+grouse hen guarding her young. A paradise for game it seemed, but no
+game. A beautiful grassy, marshy, and empty land. We passed over one
+low divide after another with immense snowy peaks thickening all
+around us. For the first time in over two hundred miles we were all
+able to ride. Whistling marmots and grouse again abounded. We had a
+bird at every meal. The wind was cool and the sky was magnificent,
+and for the first time in many days we were able to take off our hats
+and face the wind in exultation.
+
+Toward night, however, mosquitoes became troublesome in their
+assaults, covering the horses in solid masses. Strange to say, none
+of them, not even Ladrone, seemed to mind them in the least. We felt
+sure now of having left the Skeena forever. One day we passed over a
+beautiful little spot of dry ground, which filled us with delight; it
+seemed as though we had reached the prairies of the pamphlets. We
+camped there for noon, and though the mosquitoes were terrific we
+were all chortling with joy. The horses found grass in plenty and
+plucked up spirits amazingly. We were deceived. In half an hour we
+were in the mud again.
+
+The whole country for miles and miles in every direction was a series
+of high open valleys almost entirely above timber line. These
+valleys formed the starting-points of innumerable small streams which
+fell away into the Iskoot on the left, the Stikeen on the north, the
+Skeena on the east and south. These valleys were covered with grass
+and moss intermingled, and vast tracts were flooded with water from
+four to eight inches deep, through which we were forced to slop hour
+after hour, and riding was practically impossible.
+
+As we were plodding along silently one day a dainty white gull came
+lilting through the air and was greeted with cries of joy by the
+weary drivers. More than one of them could "smell the salt water." In
+imagination they saw this bird following the steamer up the Stikeen
+to the first south fork, thence to meet us. It seemed only a short
+ride down the valley to the city of Glenora and the post-office.
+
+Each day we drove above timber line, and at noon were forced to
+rustle the dead dwarf pine for fire. The marshes were green and
+filled with exquisite flowers and mosses, little white and purple
+bells, some of them the most beautiful turquoise-green rising from
+tufts of verdure like mignonette. I observed also a sort of crocus
+and some cheery little buttercups. The ride would have been
+magnificent had it not been for the spongy, sloppy marsh through
+which our horses toiled. As it was, we felt a certain breadth and
+grandeur in it surpassing anything we had hitherto seen. Our three
+outfits with some score of horses went winding through the wide,
+green, treeless valleys with tinkle of bells and sharp cry of
+drivers. The trail was difficult to follow, because in the open
+ground each man before us had to take his own course, and there were
+few signs to mark the line the road-gang had taken.
+
+It was impossible to tell where we were, but I was certain we were
+upon the head-waters of some one of the many forks of the great
+Stikeen River. Marmots and a sort of little prairie dog continued
+plentiful, but there was no other life. The days were bright and
+cool, resplendent with sun and rich in grass.
+
+Some of the goldseekers fired a salute with shotted guns when, poised
+on the mountain side, they looked down upon a stream flowing to the
+northwest. But the joy was short-lived. The descent of this
+mountain's side was by all odds the most terrible piece of trail we
+had yet found. It led down the north slope, and was oozy and slippery
+with the melting snow. It dropped in short zigzags down through a
+grove of tangled, gnarled, and savage cedars and pines, whose roots
+were like iron and filled with spurs that were sharp as chisels. The
+horses, sliding upon their haunches and unable to turn themselves in
+the mud, crashed into the tangled pines and were in danger of being
+torn to pieces. For more than an hour we slid and slewed through this
+horrible jungle of savage trees, and when we came out below we had
+two horses badly snagged in the feet, but Ladrone was uninjured.
+
+We now crossed and recrossed the little stream, which dropped into a
+deep canyon running still to the northwest. After descending for some
+hours we took a trail which branched sharply to the northeast, and
+climbed heavily to a most beautiful camping-spot between the peaks,
+with good grass, and water, and wood all around us.
+
+We were still uncertain of our whereabouts, but all the boys were
+fairly jubilant. "This would be a splendid camp for a few weeks,"
+said partner.
+
+That night as the sun set in incommunicable splendor over the snowy
+peaks to the west the empty land seemed left behind. We went to sleep
+with the sound of a near-by mountain stream in our ears, and the
+voice of an eagle sounding somewhere on the high cliffs.
+
+The next day we crossed another divide and entered another valley
+running north. Being confident that this _was_ the Stikeen, we camped
+early and put our little house up. It was raining a little. We had
+descended again to the aspens and clumps of wild roses. It was good
+to see their lovely faces once more after our long stay in the wild,
+cold valleys of the upper lands. The whole country seemed drier, and
+the vegetation quite different. Indeed, it resembled some of the
+Colorado valleys, but was less barren on the bottoms. There were
+still no insects, no crickets, no bugs, and very few birds of any
+kind.
+
+All along the way on the white surface of the blazed trees were
+messages left by those who had gone before us. Some of them were
+profane assaults upon the road-gang. Others were pathetic inquiries:
+"Where in hell are we?"--"How is this for a prairie route?"--"What
+river is this, anyhow?" To these pencillings others had added
+facetious replies. There were also warnings and signs to help us keep
+out of the mud.
+
+We followed the same stream all day. Whether the Iskoot or not we did
+not know. The signs of lower altitude thickened. Wild roses met us
+again, and strawberry blossoms starred the sunny slopes. The grass
+was dry and ripe, and the horses did not relish it after their long
+stay in the juicy meadows above. We had been wet every day for nearly
+three weeks, and did not mind moisture now, but my shoes were rapidly
+going to pieces, and my last pair of trousers was frazzled to the
+knees.
+
+Nearly every outfit had lame horses like our old bay, hobbling along
+bravely. Our grub was getting very light, which was a good thing for
+the horses; but we had an occasional grouse to fry, and so as long as
+our flour held out we were well fed.
+
+It became warmer each day, and some little weazened berries appeared
+on the hillsides, the first we had seen, and they tasted mighty good
+after months of bacon and beans. We were taking some pleasure in the
+trip again, and had it not been for the sores on our horses' feet and
+our scant larder we should have been quite at ease. Our course now
+lay parallel to a range of peaks on our right, which we figured to be
+the Hotailub Mountains. This settled the question of our position on
+the map--we were on the third and not the first south fork of the
+Stikeen and were a long way still from Telegraph Creek.
+
+
+
+
+THE LONG TRAIL
+
+
+    We tunnelled miles of silent pines,
+      Dark forests where the stillness was so deep
+    The scared wind walked a tip-toe on the spines,
+      And the restless aspen seemed to sleep.
+
+    We threaded aisles of dripping fir;
+      We climbed toward mountains dim and far,
+    Where snow forever shines and shines,
+      And only winds and waters are.
+
+    Red streams came down from hillsides crissed and crossed
+      With fallen firs; but on a sudden, lo!
+    A silver lakelet bound and barred
+      With sunset's clouds reflected far below.
+
+    These lakes so lonely were, so still and cool,
+      They burned as bright as burnished steel;
+    The shadowed pine branch in the pool
+      Was no less vivid than the real.
+
+    We crossed the great divide and saw
+      The sun-lit valleys far below us wind;
+    Before us opened cloudless sky; the raw,
+      Gray rain swept close behind.
+
+    We saw great glaciers grind themselves to foam;
+      We trod the moose's lofty home,
+    And heard, high on the yellow hills,
+      The wildcat clamor of his ills.
+
+    The way grew grimmer day by day,
+      The weeks to months stretched on and on;
+    And hunger kept, not far away,
+      A never failing watch at dawn.
+
+    We lost all reckoning of season and of time;
+      Sometimes it seemed the bitter breeze
+    Of icy March brought fog and rain,
+      And next November tempests shook the trees.
+
+    It was a wild and lonely ride.
+      Save the hid loon's mocking cry,
+    Or marmot on the mountain side,
+      The earth was silent as the sky.
+
+    All day through sunless forest aisles,
+      On cold dark moss our horses trod;
+    It was so lonely there for miles and miles,
+      The land seemed lost to God.
+
+    Our horses cut by rocks; by brambles torn,
+      Staggered onward, stiff and sore;
+    Or broken, bruised, and saddle-worn,
+      Fell in the sloughs to rise no more.
+
+    Yet still we rode right on and on,
+      And shook our clenched hands at the clouds,
+    Daring the winds of early dawn,
+      And the dread torrent roaring loud.
+
+    So long we rode, so hard, so far,
+      We seemed condemned by stern decree
+    To ride until the morning star
+      Should sink forever in the sea.
+
+    Yet now, when all is past, I dream
+      Of every mountain's shining cap.
+    I long to hear again the stream
+      Roar through the foam-white granite gap.
+
+    The pains recede. The joys draw near.
+      The splendors of great Nature's face
+    Make me forget all need, all fear,
+      And the long journey grows in grace.
+
+
+
+
+THE GREETING OF THE ROSES
+
+
+    We had been long in mountain snow,
+    In valleys bleak, and broad, and bare,
+    Where only moss and willows grow,
+    And no bird wings the silent air.
+    And so when on our downward way,
+    Wild roses met us, we were glad;
+    They were so girlish fair, so gay,
+    It seemed the sun had made them mad.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE WOLVES AND THE VULTURES ASSEMBLE
+
+
+About noon of the fiftieth day out, we came down to the bank of a
+tremendously swift stream which we called the third south fork. On a
+broken paddle stuck in the sand we found this notice: "The trail
+crosses here. Swim horses from the bar. It is supposed to be about
+ninety miles to Telegraph Creek.--(Signed) The Mules."
+
+We were bitterly disappointed to find ourselves so far from our
+destination, and began once more to calculate on the length of time
+it would take us to get out of the wilderness.
+
+Partner showed me the flour-sack which he held in one brawny fist. "I
+believe the dern thing leaks," said he, and together we went over our
+store of food. We found ourselves with an extra supply of sugar,
+condensed cream, and other things which our friends the Manchester
+boys needed, while they were able to spare us a little flour. There
+was a tacit agreement that we should travel together and stand
+together. Accordingly we began to plan for the crossing of this swift
+and dangerous stream. A couple of canoes were found cached in the
+bushes, and these would enable us to set our goods across, while we
+forced our horses to swim from a big bar in the stream above.
+
+While we were discussing these thing around our fires at night,
+another tramper, thin and weak, came into camp. He was a little man
+with a curly red beard, and was exceedingly chipper and jocular for
+one in his condition. He had been out of food for some days, and had
+been living on squirrels, ground-hogs, and such other small deer as
+he could kill and roast along his way. He brought word of
+considerable suffering among the outfits behind us, reporting "The
+Dutchman" to be entirely out of beans and flour, while others had
+lost so many of their horses that all were in danger of starving to
+death in the mountains.
+
+As he warmed up on coffee and beans, he became very amusing.
+
+He was hairy and ragged, but neat, and his face showed a certain
+delicacy of physique. He, too, was a marked example of the craze to
+"get somewhere where gold is." He broke off suddenly in the midst of
+his story to exclaim with great energy: "I want to do two things, go
+back and get my boy away from my wife, and break the back of my
+brother-in-law. He made all the trouble."
+
+Once and again he said, "I'm going to find the gold up here or lay my
+bones on the hills."
+
+In the midst of these intense phrases he whistled gayly or broke off
+to attend to his cooking. He told of his hard experiences, with pride
+and joy, and said, "Isn't it lucky I caught you just here?" and
+seemed willing to talk all night.
+
+In the morning I went over to the campfire to see if he were still
+with us. He was sitting in his scanty bed before the fire, mending
+his trousers. "I've just got to put a patch on right now or my
+knee'll be through," he explained. He had a neat little kit of
+materials and everything was in order. "I haven't time to turn the
+edges of the patch under," he went on. "It ought to be done--you
+can't make a durable patch unless you do. This 'housewife' my wife
+made me when we was first married. I was peddlin' then in eastern
+Oregon. If it hadn't been for her brother--oh, I'll smash his face
+in, some day"--he held up the other trouser leg: "See that patch?
+Ain't that a daisy?--that's the way I ought to do. Say, looks like I
+ought to rustle enough grub out of all these outfits to last me into
+Glenora, don't it?"
+
+We came down gracefully--we could not withstand such prattle. The
+blacksmith turned in some beans, the boys from Manchester divided
+their scanty store of flour and bacon, I brought some salt, some
+sugar, and some oatmeal, and as the small man put it away he chirped
+and chuckled like a cricket. His thanks were mere words, his voice
+was calm. He accepted our aid as a matter of course. No perfectly
+reasonable man would ever take such frightful chances as this absurd
+little ass set his face to without fear. He hummed a little tune as
+he packed his outfit into his shoulder-straps. "I ought to rattle
+into Glenora on this grub, hadn't I?" he said.
+
+At last he was ready to be ferried across the river, which was swift
+and dangerous. Burton set him across, and as he was about to depart I
+gave him a letter to post and a half-dollar to pay postage. My name
+was written on the corner of the envelope. He knew me then and said,
+"I've a good mind to stay right with you; I'm something of a writer
+myself."
+
+I hastened to say that he could reach Glenora two or three days in
+advance of us, for the reason that we were bothered with a lame
+horse. In reality, we were getting very short of provisions and were
+even then on rations. "I think you'll overtake the Borland outfit," I
+said. "If you don't, and you need help, camp by the road till we come
+up and we'll all share as long as there's anything to share. But you
+are in good trim and have as much grub as we have, so you'd better
+spin along."
+
+He "hit the trail" with a hearty joy that promised well, and I never
+saw him again. His cheery smile and unshrinking cheek carried him
+through a journey that appalled old packers with tents, plenty of
+grub, and good horses. To me he was simply a strongly accentuated
+type of the goldseeker--insanely persistent; blind to all danger,
+deaf to all warning, and doomed to failure at the start.
+
+The next day opened cold and foggy, but we entered upon a hard day's
+work. Burton became the chief canoeman, while one of the Manchester
+boys, stripped to the undershirt, sat in the bow to pull at the
+paddle "all same Siwash." Burton's skill and good judgment enabled us
+to cross without losing so much as a buckle. Some of our poor lame
+horses had a hard struggle in the icy current. At about 4 P.M. we
+were able to line up in the trail on the opposite side. We pressed on
+up to the higher valleys in hopes of finding better feed, and camped
+in the rain about two miles from the ford. The wind came from the
+northwest with a suggestion of autumn in its uneasy movement. The
+boys were now exceedingly anxious to get into the gold country. They
+began to feel most acutely the passing of the summer. In the camp at
+night the talk was upon the condition of Telegraph Creek and the
+Teslin Lake Trail.
+
+Rain, rain, rain! It seemed as though no day could pass without rain.
+And as I woke I heard the patter of fine drops on our tent roof. The
+old man cursed the weather most eloquently, expressing the general
+feeling of the whole company. However, we saddled up and pushed on,
+much delayed by the lame horses.
+
+At about twelve o'clock I missed my partner's voice and looking about
+saw only two of the packhorses following. Hitching those beside the
+trail, I returned to find Burton seated beside the lame horse, which
+could not cross the slough. I examined the horse's foot and found a
+thin stream of arterial blood spouting out.
+
+"That ends it, Burton," I said. "I had hoped to bring all my horses
+through, but this old fellow is out of the race. It is a question now
+either of leaving him beside the trail with a notice to have him
+brought forward or of shooting him out of hand."
+
+To this partner gravely agreed, but said, "It's going to be pretty
+hard lines to shoot that faithful old chap."
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I confess I haven't the courage to face him with
+a rifle after all these weeks of faithful service. But it must be
+done. You remember that horse back there with a hole in his flank and
+his head flung up? We mustn't leave this old fellow to be a prey to
+the wolves. Now if you'll kill him you can set your price on the
+service. Anything at all I will pay. Did you ever kill a horse?"
+
+Partner was honest. "Yes, once. He was old and sick and I believed it
+better to put him out of his suffering than to let him drag on."
+
+"That settles it, partner," said I. "Your hands are already imbued
+with gore--it must be done."
+
+He rose with a sigh. "All right. Lead him out into the thicket."
+
+I handed him the gun (into which I had shoved two steel-jacketed
+bullets, the kind that will kill a grizzly bear), and took the old
+horse by the halter. "Come, boy," I said, "it's hard, but it's the
+only merciful thing." The old horse looked at me with such serene
+trust and confidence, my courage almost failed me. His big brown eyes
+were so full of sorrow and patient endurance. With some urging he
+followed me into the thicket a little aside from the trail. Turning
+away I mounted Ladrone in order that I might not see what happened.
+There was a crack of a rifle in the bush--the sound of a heavy body
+falling, and a moment later Burton returned with a coiled rope in his
+hand and a look of trouble on his face. The horses lined up again
+with one empty place and an extra saddle topping the pony's pack. It
+was a sorrowful thing to do, but there was no better way. As I rode
+on, looking back occasionally to see that my train was following, my
+heart ached to think of the toil the poor old horse had
+undergone--only to meet death in the bush at the hands of his master.
+
+Relieved of our wounded horse we made good time and repassed before
+nine o'clock several outfits that had overhauled us during our
+trouble. We rose higher and higher, and came at last into a grassy
+country and to a series of small lakes, which were undoubtedly the
+source of the second fork of the Stikeen. But as we had lost so much
+time during the day, we pushed on with all our vigor for a couple of
+hours and camped about nine o'clock of a beautiful evening, with a
+magnificent sky arching us as if with a prophecy of better times
+ahead.
+
+The horses were now travelling very light, and our food supply was
+reduced to a few pounds of flour and bread--we had no game and
+no berries. Beans were all gone and our bacon reduced to the last
+shred. We had come to expect rain every day of our lives, and were
+feeling a little the effects of our scanty diet of bread and
+bacon--hill-climbing was coming to be laborious. However, the way led
+downward most of the time, and we were able to rack along at a very
+good pace even on an empty stomach.
+
+During the latter part of the second day the trail led along a high
+ridge, a sort of hog-back overlooking a small river valley on our
+left, and bringing into view an immense blue canyon far ahead of us.
+"There lies the Stikeen," I called to Burton. "We're on the second
+south fork, which we follow to the Stikeen, thence to the left to
+Telegraph Creek." I began to compose doggerel verses to express our
+exultation.
+
+We were very tired and glad when we reached a camping-place. We could
+not stop on this high ridge for lack of water, although the feed was
+very good. We were forced to plod on and on until we at last
+descended into the valley of a little stream which crossed our path.
+The ground had been much trampled, but as rain was falling and
+darkness coming on, there was nothing to do but camp.
+
+Out of our last bit of bacon grease and bread and tea we made our
+supper. While we were camping, "The Wild Dutchman," a stalwart young
+fellow we had seen once or twice on the trail, came by with a very
+sour visage. He went into camp near, and came over to see us. He
+said: "I hain't had no pread for more dan a veek. I've nuttin' put
+peans. If you can, let me haf a biscuit. By Gott, how goot dat vould
+taste."
+
+I yielded up a small loaf and encouraged him as best I could: "As I
+figure it, we are within thirty-five miles of Telegraph Creek; I've
+kept a careful diary of our travel. If we've passed over the Dease
+Lake Trail, which is probably about four hundred miles from Hazleton
+to Glenora, we must be now within thirty-five miles of Telegraph
+Creek."
+
+I was not half so sure of this as I made him think; but it gave him a
+great deal of comfort, and he went off very much enlivened.
+
+Sunday and no sun! It was raining when we awoke and the mosquitoes
+were stickier than ever. Our grub was nearly gone, our horses thin
+and weak, and the journey uncertain. All ill things seemed to
+assemble like vultures to do us harm. The world was a grim place that
+day. It was a question whether we were not still on the third south
+fork instead of the second south fork, in which case we were at least
+one hundred miles from our supplies. If we were forced to cross the
+main Stikeen and go down on the other side, it might be even farther.
+
+The men behind us were all suffering, and some of them were sure to
+have a hard time if such weather continued. At the same time I felt
+comparatively sure of our ground.
+
+We were ragged, dirty, lame, unshaven, and unshorn--we were fighting
+from morning till night. The trail became more discouraging each
+moment that the rain continued to fall. There was little conversation
+even between partner and myself. For many days we had moved in
+perfect silence for the most part, though no gloom or sullenness
+appeared in Burton's face. We were now lined up once more, taking the
+trail without a word save the sharp outcry of the drivers hurrying
+the horses forward, or the tinkle of the bells on the lead horse of
+the train.
+
+
+
+
+THE VULTURE
+
+
+    He wings a slow and watchful flight,
+    His neck is bare, his eyes are bright,
+    His plumage fits the starless night.
+
+    He sits at feast where cattle lie
+    Withering in ashen alkali,
+    And gorges till he scarce can fly.
+
+    But he is kingly on the breeze!
+    On rigid wing, in careless ease,
+    A soundless bark on viewless seas.
+    Piercing the purple storm cloud, he makes
+    The sun his neighbor, and shakes
+    His wrinkled neck in mock dismay,
+    And swings his slow, contemptuous way
+    Above the hot red lightning's play.
+
+    Monarch of cloudland--yet a ghoul of prey.
+
+
+
+
+CAMPFIRES
+
+
+1. _Popple_
+
+    A river curves like a bended bow,
+    And over it winds of summer lightly blow;
+    Two boys are feeding a flame with bark
+    Of the pungent popple. Hark!
+    They are uttering dreams. "I
+    Will go hunt gold toward the western sky,"
+    Says the older lad; "I know it is there,
+    For the rainbow shows just where
+    It is. I'll go camping, and take a pan,
+    And shovel gold, when I'm a man."
+
+
+2. _Sage Brush_
+
+    The burning day draws near its end,
+    And on the plain a man and his friend
+    Sit feeding an odorous sage-brush fire.
+    A lofty butte like a funeral pyre,
+    With the sun atop, looms high
+    In the cloudless, windless, saffron sky.
+    A snake sleeps under a grease-wood plant;
+    A horned toad snaps at a passing ant;
+    The plain is void as a polar floe,
+    And the limitless sky has a furnace glow.
+    The men are gaunt and shaggy and gray,
+    And their childhood river is far away;
+    The gold still hides at the rainbow's tip,
+    Yet the wanderer speaks with a resolute lip.
+    "I will seek till I find--or till I die,"
+    He mutters, and lifts his clenched hand high,
+    And puts behind him love and wife,
+    And the quiet round of a farmer's life.
+
+
+3. _Pine_
+
+    The dark day ends in a bitter night.
+    The mighty mountains cold, and white,
+    And stern as avarice, still hide their gold
+    Deep in wild canyons fold on fold,
+    Both men are old, and one is grown
+    As gray as the snows around him sown.
+    He hovers over a fire of pine,
+    Spicy and cheering; toward the line
+    Of the towering peaks he lifts his eyes.
+    "I'd rather have a boy with shining hair,
+    To bear my name, than all your share
+    Of earth's red gold," he said;
+    And died, a loveless, childless man,
+    Before the morning light began.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT LAST THE STIKEEN
+
+
+About the middle of the afternoon of the fifty-eighth day we topped a
+low divide, and came in sight of the Stikeen River. Our hearts
+thrilled with pleasure as we looked far over the deep blue and
+purple-green spread of valley, dim with mist, in which a little
+silver ribbon of water could be seen.
+
+After weeks of rain, as if to make amend for useless severity, the
+sun came out, a fresh westerly breeze sprang up, and the sky filled
+with glowing clouds flooded with tender light. The bloom of fireweed
+almost concealed the devastation of flame in the fallen firs, and the
+grim forest seemed a royal road over which we could pass as over a
+carpet--winter seemed far away.
+
+But all this was delusion. Beneath us lay a thousand quagmires. The
+forest was filled with impenetrable jungles and hidden streams,
+ridges sullen and silent were to be crossed, and the snow was close
+at hand. Across this valley an eagle might sweep with joy, but the
+pack trains must crawl in mud and mire through long hours of torture.
+We spent but a moment here, and then with grim resolution called out,
+"Line up, boys, line up!" and struck down upon the last two days of
+our long journey.
+
+On the following noon we topped another rise, and came unmistakably
+in sight of the Stikeen River lying deep in its rocky canyon. We had
+ridden all the morning in a pelting rain, slashed by wet trees,
+plunging through bogs and sliding down ravines, and when we saw the
+valley just before us we raised a cheer. It seemed we could hear the
+hotel bells ringing far below.
+
+But when we had tumbled down into the big canyon near the water's
+edge, we found ourselves in scarcely better condition than before. We
+were trapped with no feed for our horses, and no way to cross the
+river, which was roaring mad by reason of the heavy rains, a swift
+and terrible flood, impossible to swim. Men were camped all along the
+bank, out of food like ourselves, and ragged and worn and weary. They
+had formed a little street of camps. Borland, the leader of the big
+mule train, was there, calm and efficient as ever. "The Wilson
+Outfit," "The Man from Chihuahua," "Throw-me-feet," and the
+Manchester boys were also included in the group. "The Dutchman" came
+sliding down just behind us.
+
+After a scanty dinner of bacon grease and bread we turned our horses
+out on the flat by the river, and joined the little village. Borland
+said: "We've been here for a day and a half, tryin' to induce that
+damn ferryman to come over, and now we're waitin' for reenforcements.
+Let's try it again, numbers will bring 'em."
+
+Thereupon we marched out solemnly upon the bank (some ten or fifteen
+of us) and howled like a pack of wolves.
+
+For two hours we clamored, alternating the Ute war-whoop with the
+Swiss yodel. It was truly cacophonous, but it produced results.
+Minute figures came to the brow of the hill opposite, and looked at
+us like cautious cockroaches and then went away. At last two shadowy
+beetles crawled down the zigzag trail to the ferry-boat, and began
+bailing her out. Ultimately three men, sweating, scared, and
+tremulous, swung a clumsy scow upon the sand at our feet. It was no
+child's play to cross that stream. Together with one of "The Little
+Dutchmen," and a representation from "The Mule Outfit," I stepped
+into the boat and it was swung off into the savage swirl of gray
+water. We failed of landing the first time. I did not wonder at the
+ferryman's nervousness, as I felt the heave and rush of the whirling
+savage flood.
+
+At the "ratty" little town of Telegraph Creek we purchased beans at
+fifteen cents a pound, bacon at thirty-five cents, and flour at ten
+cents, and laden with these necessaries hurried back to the hungry
+hordes on the opposite side of the river. That night "The Little
+Dutchman" did nothing but cook and eat to make up for lost time.
+Every face wore a smile.
+
+The next morning Burton and one or two other men from the outfits
+took the horses back up the trail to find feed, while the rest of us
+remained in camp to be ready for the boats. Late in the afternoon we
+heard far down the river a steamer whistling for Telegraph Creek,
+and everybody began packing truck down to the river where the boat
+was expected to land. Word was sent back over the trail to the boys
+herding the horses, and every man was in a tremor of apprehension
+lest the herders should not hear the boat and bring the horses down
+in time to get off on it.
+
+It was punishing work packing our stuff down the sloppy path to the
+river bank, but we buckled to it hard, and in the course of a couple
+of hours had all snug and ready for embarkation.
+
+There was great excitement among the outfits, and every man was
+hurrying and worrying to get away. It was known that charges would be
+high, and each of us felt in his pocket to see how many dollars he
+had left. The steamboat company had us between fire and water and
+could charge whatever it pleased. Some of the poor prospectors gave
+up their last dollar to cross this river toward which they had
+journeyed so long.
+
+The boys came sliding down the trail wildly excited, driving the
+horses before them, and by 5.30 we were all packed on the boat, one
+hundred and twenty horses and some two dozen men. We were a seedy and
+careworn lot, in vivid contrast with the smartly uniformed purser of
+the boat. The rates were exorbitant, but there was nothing to do but
+to pay them. However, Borland and I, acting as committee, brought
+such pressure to bear upon the purser that he "threw in" a dinner,
+and there was a joyous rush for the table when this good news was
+announced. For the first time in nearly three months we were able to
+sit down to a fairly good meal with clean nice tableware, with pie
+and pudding to end the meal. It seemed as though we had reached
+civilization. The boat was handsomely built, and quite new and
+capacious, too, for it held our horses without serious crowding. I
+was especially anxious about Ladrone, but was able to get him into a
+very nice place away from the engines and in no danger of being
+kicked by a vicious mule.
+
+We drifted down the river past Telegraph Creek without stopping, and
+late at night laid by at Glenora and unloaded in the crisp, cool
+dusk. As we came off the boat with our horses we were met by a crowd
+of cynical loafers who called to us out of the dark, "What in hell
+you fellows think you're doing?" We were regarded as wildly insane
+for having come over so long and tedious a route.
+
+We erected our tents, and went into camp beside our horses on the
+bank near the dock. It was too late to move farther that night. We
+fed our beasts upon hay at five cents a pound,--poor hay at
+that,--and they were forced to stand exposed to the searching river
+wind.
+
+As for ourselves, we were filled with dismay by the hopeless dulness
+of the town. Instead of being the hustling, rushing gold camp we had
+expected to find, it came to light as a little town of tents and
+shanties, filled with men who had practically given up the Teslin
+Lake Route as a bad job. The government trail was incomplete, the
+wagon road only built halfway, and the railroad--of which we had
+heard so much talk--had been abandoned altogether.
+
+As I slipped the saddle and bridle from Ladrone next day and turned
+him out upon the river bottom for a two weeks' rest, my heart was
+very light. The long trail was over. No more mud, rocks, stumps, and
+roots for Ladrone. Away the other poor animals streamed down the
+trail, many of them lame, all of them poor and weak, and some of them
+still crazed by the poisonous plants of the cold green mountains
+through which they had passed.
+
+This ended the worst of the toil, the torment of the trail. It had no
+dangers, but it abounded in worriments and disappointments. As I look
+back upon it now I suffer, because I see my horses standing
+ankle-deep in water on barren marshes or crowding round the fire
+chilled and weak, in endless rain. If our faces looked haggard and
+worn, it was because of the never ending anxiety concerning the
+faithful animals who trusted in us to find them food and shelter.
+Otherwise we suffered little, slept perfectly dry and warm every
+night, and ate three meals each day: true, the meals grew scanty and
+monotonous, but we did not go hungry.
+
+The trail was a disappointment to me, not because it was long and
+crossed mountains, but because it ran through a barren, monotonous,
+silent, gloomy, and rainy country. It ceased to interest me. It had
+almost no wild animal life, which I love to hear and see. Its lakes
+and rivers were for the most part cold and sullen, and its forests
+sombre and depressing. The only pleasant places after leaving
+Hazleton were the high valleys above timber line. They were
+magnificent, although wet and marshy to traverse.
+
+As a route to reach the gold fields of Teslin Lake and the Yukon it
+is absurd and foolish. It will never be used again for that purpose.
+Should mines develop on the high divides between the Skeena, Iskoot,
+and Stikeen, it may possibly be used again from Hazleton; otherwise
+it will be given back to the Indians and their dogs.
+
+
+
+
+THE FOOTSTEP IN THE DESERT
+
+
+    A man put love forth from his heart,
+      And rode across the desert far away.
+    "Woman shall have no place nor part
+      In my lone life," men heard him say.
+    He rode right on. The level rim
+      Of the barren plain grew low and wide;
+    It seemed to taunt and beckon him,
+      To ride right on and fiercely ride.
+
+    One day he rode a well-worn path,
+      And lo! even in that far land
+    He saw (and cursed in gusty wrath)
+      A woman's footprint in the sand.
+    Sharply he drew the swinging rein,
+      And hanging from his saddle bow
+    Gazed long and silently--cursed again,
+      Then turned as if to go.
+
+    "For love will seize you at the end,
+      Fear loneliness--fear sickness, too,
+    For they will teach you wisdom, friend."
+      Yet he rode on as madmen do.
+    He built a cabin by a sounding stream,
+      He digged in canyons dark and deep,
+    And ever the waters caused a dream
+      And the face of woman broke his sleep.
+
+    It was a slender little mark,
+      And the man had lived alone so long
+    Within the canyon's noise and dark,
+      The footprint moved him like a song.
+    It spoke to him of women in the East,
+      Of girls in silken robes, with shining hair,
+    And talked of those who sat at feast,
+      While sweet-eyed laughter filled the air.
+
+    And more. A hundred visions rose,
+      He saw his mother's knotted hands
+    Ply round thick-knitted homely hose,
+      Her thoughts with him in desert lands.
+    A smiling wife, in bib and cap,
+      Moved busily from chair to chair,
+    Or sat with apples in her lap,
+      Content with sweet domestic care.
+
+    _All these his curse had put away,_
+      _All these were his no more to hold;_
+    _He had his canyon cold and gray,_
+      _He had his little heaps of gold._
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE GOLDSEEKERS' CAMP AT GLENORA
+
+
+Glenora, like Telegraph Creek, was a village of tents and shacks.
+Previous to the opening of the year it had been an old Hudson Bay
+trading-post at the head of navigation on the Stikeen River, but
+during April and May it had been turned into a swarming camp of
+goldseekers on their way to Teslin Lake by way of the much-advertised
+"Stikeen Route" to the Yukon.
+
+A couple of months before our arrival nearly five thousand people had
+been encamped on the river flat; but one disappointment had followed
+another, the government road had been abandoned, the pack trail had
+proved a menace, and as a result the camp had thinned away, and when
+we of the Long Trail began to drop into town Glenora contained less
+than five hundred people, including tradesmen and mechanics.
+
+The journey of those who accompanied me on the Long Trail was by no
+means ended. It was indeed only half done. There remained more than
+one hundred and seventy miles of pack trail before the head of
+navigation on the Yukon could be reached. I turned aside. My partner
+went on.
+
+In order to enter the head-waters of the Pelly it was necessary to
+traverse four hundred miles of trail, over which a year's provision
+for each man must be carried. Food was reported to be "a dollar a
+pound" at Teslin Lake and winter was coming on. To set face toward
+any of these regions meant the most careful preparation or certain
+death.
+
+The weather was cold and bleak, and each night the boys assembled
+around the big campfire to discuss the situation. They reported the
+country full of people eager to get away. Everybody seemed studying
+the problem of what to do and how to do it. Some were for going to
+the head-waters of the Pelly, others advocated the Nisutlin, and
+others still thought it a good plan to prospect on the head-waters of
+the Tooya, from which excellent reports were coming in.
+
+Hour after hour they debated, argued, and agreed. In the midst of it
+all Burton remained cool and unhurried. Sitting in our tent, which
+flapped and quivered in the sounding southern wind, we discussed the
+question of future action. I determined to leave him here with four
+of the horses and a thousand pounds of grub with which to enter the
+gold country; for my partner was a miner, not a literary man.
+
+It had been my intention to go with him to Teslin Lake, there to
+build a boat and float down the river to Dawson; but I was six weeks
+behind my schedule, the trail was reported to be bad, and the water
+in the Hotalinqua very low, making boating slow and hazardous.
+Therefore I concluded to join the stream of goldseekers who were
+pushing down toward the coast to go in by way of Skagway.
+
+There was a feeling in the air on the third day after going into camp
+which suggested the coming of autumn. Some of the boys began to dread
+the desolate north, out of which the snows would soon begin to sweep.
+It took courage to set face into that wild land with winter coming
+on, and yet many of them were ready to do it. The Manchester boys and
+Burton formed a "side-partnership," and faced a year of bacon and
+beans without visible sign of dismay.
+
+The ominous cold deepened a little every night. It seemed like
+October as the sun went down. Around us on every side the mountain
+peaks cut the sky keen as the edge of a sword, and the wind howled up
+the river gusty and wild.
+
+A little group of tents sprang up around our own and every day was
+full of quiet enjoyment. We were all living very high, with plenty of
+berries and an occasional piece of fresh beef. Steel-head salmon were
+running and were a drug in the market.
+
+The talk of the Pelly River grew excited as a report came in
+detailing a strike, and all sorts of outfits began to sift out along
+the trail toward Teslin Lake. The rain ceased at last and the days
+grew very pleasant with the wind again in the south, roaring up the
+river all day long with great power, reminding me of the equatorial
+currents which sweep over Illinois and Wisconsin in September. We had
+nothing now to trouble us but the question of moving out into the
+gold country.
+
+One by one the other misguided ones of the Long Trail came dropping
+into camp to meet the general depression and stagnation. They were
+brown, ragged, long-haired, and for the most part silent with dismay.
+Some of them celebrated their escape by getting drunk, but mainly
+they were too serious-minded to waste time or substance. Some of them
+had expended their last dollar on the trail and were forced to sell
+their horses for money to take them out of the country. Some of the
+partnerships went to pieces for other causes. Long-smouldering
+dissensions burst into flame. "The Swedes" divided and so did "The
+Dutchman," the more resolute of them keeping on the main trail while
+others took the trail to the coast or returned to the States.
+
+Meanwhile, Ladrone and his fellows were rejoicing like ourselves in
+fairly abundant food and in continuous rest. The old gray began to
+look a little more like his own proud self. As I went out to see him
+he came up to me to be curried and nosed about me, begging for salt.
+His trust in me made him doubly dear, and I took great joy in
+thinking that he, at least, was not doomed to freeze or starve in
+this savage country which has no mercy and no hope for horses.
+
+There was great excitement on the first Sunday following our going
+into camp, when the whistle of a steamer announced the coming of the
+mail. It produced as much movement as an election or a bear fight. We
+all ran to the bank to see her struggle with the current, gaining
+headway only inch by inch. She was a small stern-wheeler, not unlike
+the boats which run on the upper Missouri. We all followed her down
+to the Hudson Bay post, like a lot of small boys at a circus, to see
+her unload. This was excitement enough for one day, and we returned
+to camp feeling that we were once more in touch with civilization.
+
+Among the first of those who met us on our arrival was a German, who
+was watching some horses and some supplies in a big tent close by the
+river bank. While pitching my tent on that first day he came over to
+see me, and after a few words of greeting said quietly, but with
+feeling, "I am glad you've come, it was so lonesome here." We were
+very busy, but I think we were reasonably kind to him in the days
+that followed. He often came over of an evening and stood about the
+fire, and although I did not seek to entertain him, I am glad to say
+I answered him civilly; Burton was even social.
+
+I recall these things with a certain degree of feeling, because not
+less than a week later this poor fellow was discovered by one of our
+company swinging from the crosstree of the tent, a ghastly corpse.
+There was something inexplicable in the deed. No one could account
+for it. He seemed not to be a man of deep feeling. And one of the
+last things he uttered in my hearing was a coarse jest which I did
+not like and to which I made no reply.
+
+In his pocket the coroner found a letter wherein he had written,
+"Bury me right here where I failed, here on the bank of the river."
+It contained also a message to his wife and children in the States.
+There were tragic splashes of red on the trail, murder, and violent
+death by animals and by swift waters. Now here at the end of the
+trail was a suicide.
+
+    So this is the end of the trail to him--
+    To swing at the tail of a rope and die;
+    Making a chapter gray and grim,
+    Adding a ghost to the midnight sky?
+    He toiled for days on the icy way,
+    He slept at night on the wind-swept snow;
+    Now here he hangs in the morning's gray,
+    A grisly shape by the river's flow.
+
+It was just two weeks later when I put the bridle and saddle on
+Ladrone and rode him down the trail. His heart was light as mine, and
+he had gained some part of his firm, proud, leaping walk. He had
+confidence in the earth once more. This was the first firm stretch of
+road he had trod for many weeks. He was now to take the boat for the
+outside world.
+
+There was an element of sadness in the parting between Ladrone and
+the train he had led for so many miles. As we saddled up for the last
+time he stood waiting. The horses had fared together for ninety days.
+They had "lined up" nearly two hundred times, and now for the last
+time I called out: "Line up, boys! Line up! Heke! Heke!"
+
+Ladrone swung into the trail. Behind him came "Barney," next "Major,"
+then sturdy "Bay Bill," and lastly "Nibbles," the pony. For the last
+time they were to follow their swift gray leader, who was going
+south to live at ease, while they must begin again the ascent of the
+trail.
+
+Ladrone whinnied piteously for his mates as I led him aboard the
+steamer, but they did not answer. They were patiently waiting their
+master's signal. Never again would they set eyes on the stately gray
+leader who was bound to most adventurous things. Never again would
+they see the green grass come on the hills.
+
+I had a feeling that I could go on living this way, leading a pack
+train across the country indefinitely. It seemed somehow as though
+this way of life, this routine, must continue. I had a deep interest
+in the four horses, and it was not without a feeling of guilt that I
+saw them move away on their last trail. At bottom the end of every
+horse is tragic. Death comes sooner or later, but death here in this
+country, so cold and bleak and pitiless to all animals, seems somehow
+closer, more inevitable, more cruel, and flings over every animal the
+shadow of immediate tragedy. There was something approaching crime in
+bringing a horse over that trail for a thousand miles only to turn
+him loose at the end, or to sell him to some man who would work him
+to the point of death, and then shoot him or turn him out to freeze.
+
+As the time came when I must return to the south and to the tame, the
+settled, the quiet, I experienced a profound feeling of regret, of
+longing for the wild and lonely. I looked up at the shining green and
+white mountains and they allured me still, notwithstanding all the
+toil and discomfort of the journey just completed. The wind from the
+south, damp and cool, the great river gliding with rushing roar to
+meet the sea, had a distinct and wonderful charm from which I rent
+myself with distinct effort.
+
+
+
+
+THE TOIL OF THE TRAIL
+
+
+    What have I gained by the toil of the trail?
+    I know and know well.
+    I have found once again the lore I had lost
+    In the loud city's hell.
+
+    I have broadened my hand to the cinch and the axe,
+    I have laid my flesh to the rain;
+    I was hunter and trailer and guide;
+    I have touched the most primitive wildness again.
+
+    I have threaded the wild with the stealth of the deer,
+    No eagle is freer than I;
+    No mountain can thwart me, no torrent appall,
+    I defy the stern sky.
+    So long as I live these joys will remain,
+    I have touched the most primitive wildness again.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+GREAT NEWS AT WRANGELL
+
+
+Boat after boat had come up, stopped for a night, and dropped down
+the river again, carrying from ten to twenty of the goldseekers who
+had determined to quit or to try some other way in; and at last the
+time had come for me to say good-by to Burton and all those who had
+determined to keep on to Teslin Lake. I had helped them buy and sack
+and weigh their supplies, and they were ready to line up once more.
+
+As I led Ladrone down toward the boat, he called again for his
+fellows, but only strangers made reply. After stowing him safely away
+and giving him feed, I returned to the deck in order to wave my hat
+to Burton.
+
+In accordance with his peculiar, undemonstrative temperament, he
+stood for a few moments in silence, with his hands folded behind his
+back, then, with a final wave of the hand, turned on his heel and
+returned to his work.
+
+Farewells and advice more or less jocular rang across the rail of the
+boat between some ten or fifteen of us who had hit the new trail and
+those on shore.
+
+"Good-by, boys; see you at Dawson."
+
+"We'll beat you in yet," called Bill. "Don't over-work."
+
+"Let us know if you strike it!" shouted Frank.
+
+"All right; you do the same," I replied.
+
+As the boat swung out into the stream, and the little group on the
+bank faded swiftly away, I confess to a little dimness of the eyes. I
+thought of the hardships toward which my uncomplaining partner was
+headed, and it seemed to me Nature was conspiring to crush him.
+
+The trip down the river was exceedingly interesting. The stream grew
+narrower as we approached the coast range, and became at last very
+dangerous for a heavy boat such as the _Strathcona_ was. We were
+forced to lay by at last, some fifty miles down, on account of the
+terrific wind which roared in through the gap, making the steering of
+the big boat through the canyon very difficult.
+
+At the point where we lay for the night a small creek came in.
+Steel-headed salmon were running, and the creek was literally lined
+with bear tracks of great size, as far up as we penetrated. These
+bears are said to be a sort of brown fishing bear of enormous bulk,
+as large as polar bears, and when the salmon are spawning in the
+upper waters of the coast rivers, they become so fat they can hardly
+move. Certainly I have never been in a country where bear signs were
+so plentiful. The wood was an almost impassable tangle of vines and
+undergrowth, and the thought of really finding a bear was appalling.
+
+The Stikeen breaks directly through the coast range at right angles,
+like a battering-ram. Immense glaciers were on either side. One
+tremendous river of ice came down on our right, presenting a face
+wall apparently hundreds of feet in height and some miles in width. I
+should have enjoyed exploring this glacier, which is said to be one
+of the greatest on the coast.
+
+The next day our captain, a bold and reckless man, carried us through
+to Wrangell by _walking_ his boat over the sand bars on its
+paddle-wheel. I was exceedingly nervous, because if for any reason we
+had become stuck in mid river, it would have been impossible to feed
+Ladrone or to take him ashore except by means of another steamer.
+However, all things worked together to bring us safely through, and
+in the afternoon of the second day we entered an utterly different
+world--the warm, wet coast country. The air was moist, the grasses
+and tall ferns were luxuriant, and the forest trees immense. Out into
+a sun-bright bay we swept with a feeling of being in safe waters once
+more, and rounded-to about sunset at a point on the island just above
+a frowzy little town. This was Wrangell Island and the town was Fort
+Wrangell, one of the oldest stations on the coast.
+
+I had placed my horse under bond intending to send him through to
+Vancouver to be taken care of by the Hudson Bay Company. He was still
+a Canadian horse and so must remain upon the wharf over night. As he
+was very restless and uneasy, I camped down beside him on the
+planks.
+
+I lay for a long time listening to the waters flowing under me and
+looking at the gray-blue sky, across which stars shot like distant
+rockets dying out in the deeps of the heavens in silence. An odious
+smell rose from the bay as the tide went out, a seal bawled in the
+distance, fishes flopped about in the pools beneath me, and a man
+playing a violin somewhere in the village added a melancholy note. I
+could hear the boys crying, "All about the war," and Ladrone
+continued restless and eager. Several times in the night, when he
+woke me with his trampling, I called to him, and hearing my voice he
+became quiet.
+
+I took breakfast at a twenty-five cent "joint," where I washed out of
+a tin basin in an ill-smelling area. After breakfast I grappled with
+the customs man and secured the papers which made Ladrone an American
+horse, free to eat grass wherever it could be found under the stars
+and stripes. I started immediately to lead him to pasture, and this
+was an interesting and memorable experience.
+
+There are no streets, that is to say no roads, in Wrangell. There are
+no carriages and no horses, not even donkeys. Therefore it was
+necessary for Ladrone to walk the perilous wooden sidewalks after me.
+This he did with all the dignity of a county judge, and at last we
+came upon grass, knee deep, rich and juicy.
+
+Our passage through the street created a great sensation. Little
+children ran to the gates to look upon us. "There goes a horsie,"
+they shouted. An old man stopped me on the street and asked me where
+I was taking "T'old 'orse." I told him I had already ridden him over
+a thousand miles and now he was travelling with me back to God's
+country. He looked at me in amazement, and walked off tapping his
+forehead as a sign that I must certainly "have wheels."
+
+As I watched Ladrone at his feed an old Indian woman came along and
+smiled with amiable interest. At last she said, pointing to the other
+side of the village, "Over there muck-a-muck, hy-u muck-a-muck." She
+wished to see the horse eating the best grass there was to be had on
+the island.
+
+A little later three or four native children came down the hill and
+were so amazed and so alarmed at the sight of this great beast
+feeding beside the walk that they burst into loud outcry and ran
+desperately away. They were not accustomed to horses. To them he was
+quite as savage in appearance as a polar bear.
+
+In a short time everybody in the town knew of the old gray horse and
+his owner. I furnished a splendid topic for humorous conversation
+during the dull hours of the day.
+
+Here again I came upon other gaunt and rusty-coated men from the Long
+Trail. They could be recognized at a glance by reason of their sombre
+faces and their undecided action. They could scarcely bring
+themselves to such ignominious return from a fruitless trip on which
+they had started with so much elation, and yet they hesitated about
+attempting any further adventure to the north, mainly because their
+horses had sold for so little and their expenses had been so great.
+Many of them were nearly broken. In the days that followed they
+discussed the matter in subdued voices, sitting in the sun on the
+great wharf, sombrely looking out upon the bay.
+
+On the third day a steamer came in from the north, buzzing with the
+news of another great strike not far from Skagway. Juneau, Dyea, as
+well as Skagway itself, were said to be almost deserted. Men were
+leaving the White Pass Railway in hundreds, and a number of the hands
+on the steamer herself had deserted under the excitement. Mingling
+with the passengers we eagerly extracted every drop of information
+possible. No one knew much about it, but they said all they knew and
+a good part of what they had heard, and when the boat swung round and
+disappeared in the moonlight, she left the goldseekers exultant and
+tremulous on the wharf.
+
+They were now aflame with desire to take part in this new stampede,
+which seemed to be within their slender means, and I, being one of
+them and eager to see such a "stampede," took a final session with
+the customs collector, and prepared to board the next boat.
+
+I arranged with Duncan McKinnon to have my old horse taken care of in
+his lot. I dug wells for him so that he should not lack for water,
+and treated him to a dish of salt, and just at sunset said good-by to
+him with another twinge of sadness and turned toward the wharf. He
+looked very lonely and sad standing there with drooping head in the
+midst of the stumps of his pasture lot. However, there was plenty of
+feed and half a dozen men volunteered to keep an eye on him.
+
+"Don't worry, mon," said Donald McLane. "He'll be gettin' fat and
+strong on the juicy grass, whilst you're a-heavin' out the
+gold-dust."
+
+There were about ten of us who lined up to the purser's window of the
+little steamer which came along that night and purchased second-class
+passage. The boat was very properly named the _Utopia_, and was so
+crowded with other goldseekers from down the coast, that we of the
+Long Trail were forced to put our beds on the floor of the little
+saloon in the stern of the boat which was called the "social room."
+We were all second-class, and we all lay down in rows on the carpet,
+covering every foot of space. Each man rolled up in his own blankets,
+and I was the object of considerable remark by reason of my mattress,
+which gave me as good a bed as the vessel afforded.
+
+There was a great deal of noise on the boat, and its passengers, both
+men and women, were not of the highest type. There were several
+stowaways, and some of the women were not very nice as to their
+actions, and, rightly or wrongly, were treated with scant respect by
+the men, who were loud and vulgar for the most part. Sleep was
+difficult in the turmoil.
+
+Though second-class passengers, strange to say, we came first at
+table and were very well fed. The boat ran entirely inside a long row
+of islands, and the water was smooth as a river. The mountains grew
+each moment more splendid as we neared Skagway, and the ride was most
+enjoyable. Whales and sharks interested us on the way. The women came
+to light next day, and on the whole were much better than I had
+inferred from the two or three who were the source of disturbance the
+night before. The men were not of much interest; they seemed petty
+and without character for the most part.
+
+At Juneau we came into a still more mountainous country, and for the
+rest of the way the scenery was magnificent. Vast rivers of ice came
+curving down absolutely out of the clouds which hid the summits of
+the mountains--came curving in splendid lines down to the very
+water's edge. The sea was chill and gray, and as we entered the mouth
+of Lynn Canal a raw swift wind swept by, making us shiver with cold.
+The grim bronze-green mountains' sides formed a most impressive but
+forbidding scene.
+
+It was nine o'clock the next morning as we swung to and unloaded
+ourselves upon one of the long wharves which run out from the town of
+Skagway toward the deep water. We found the town exceedingly quiet.
+Half the men had gone to the new strike. Stores were being tended by
+women, some small shops were closed entirely, and nearly every
+business firm had sent representatives into the new gold fields,
+which we now found to be on Atlin Lake.
+
+It was difficult to believe that this wharf a few months before had
+been the scene of a bloody tragedy which involved the shooting of
+"Soapy Smith," the renowned robber and desperado. On the contrary, it
+seemed quite like any other town of its size in the States. The air
+was warm and delightful in midday, but toward night the piercing
+wind swept down from the high mountains, making an overcoat
+necessary.
+
+A few men had returned from this new district, and were full of
+enthusiasm concerning the prospects. Their reports increased the
+almost universal desire to have a part in the stampede. The Iowa boys
+from the Long Trail wasted no time, but set about their own plans for
+getting in. They expected to reach the creek by sheer force and
+awkwardness.
+
+They had determined to try the "cut-off," which left the wagon road
+and took off up the east fork of the Skagway River. Nearly three
+hundred people had already set out on this trail, and the boys felt
+sure of "making it all right--all right," though it led over a great
+glacier and into an unmapped region of swift streams. "After the
+Telegraph Trail," said Doc, "we're not easily scared."
+
+It seemed to me a desperate chance, and I was not ready to enter upon
+such a trip with only such grub and clothing as could be carried upon
+my back; but it was the last throw of the dice for these young
+fellows. They had very little money left, and could not afford to
+hire pack trains; but by making a swift dash into the country, each
+hoped to get a claim. How they expected to hold it or use it after
+they got it, they were unable to say; but as they were out for gold,
+and here was a chance (even though it were but the slightest chance
+in the world) to secure a location, they accepted it with the sublime
+audacity of youth and ignorance. They saddled themselves with their
+packs, and with a cheery wave of the hand said "Good-by and good
+luck" and marched away in single file.
+
+Just a week later I went round to see if any news of them had
+returned to their bunk house. I found their names on the register.
+They had failed. One of them set forth their condition of purse and
+mind by writing: "Dave Walters, Boone, Iowa. Busted and going home."
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDSEEKERS
+
+
+    I saw these dreamers of dreams go by,
+    I trod in their footsteps a space;
+    Each marched with his eyes on the sky,
+    Each passed with a light on his face.
+
+    They came from the hopeless and sad,
+    They faced the future and gold;
+    Some the tooth of want's wolf had made mad,
+    And some at the forge had grown old.
+
+    Behind them these serfs of the tool
+    The rags of their service had flung;
+    No longer of fortune the fool,
+    This word from each bearded lip rung:
+
+    "Once more I'm a man, I am free!
+    No man is my master, I say;
+    To-morrow I fail, it may be--
+    No matter, I'm freeman to-day."
+
+    They go to a toil that is sure,
+    To despair and hunger and cold;
+    Their sickness no warning can cure,
+    They are mad with a longing for gold.
+
+    The light will fade from each eye,
+    The smile from each face;
+    They will curse the impassible sky,
+    And the earth when the snow torrents race.
+
+    Some will sink by the way and be laid
+    In the frost of the desolate earth;
+    And some will return to a maid,
+    Empty of hand as at birth.
+
+    _But this out of all will remain,_
+    _They have lived and have tossed;_
+    _So much in the game will be gain,_
+    _Though the gold of the dice has been lost._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE RUSH TO ATLIN LAKE
+
+
+It took me longer to get under way, for I had determined to take at
+least thirty days' provisions for myself and a newspaper man who
+joined me here. Our supplies, together with tent, tools, and
+clothing, made a considerable outfit. However, in a few days we were
+ready to move, and when I again took my place at the head of a little
+pack train it seemed quite in the natural order of things.
+
+We left late in the day with intent to camp at the little village of
+White Pass, which was the end of the wagon road and some twelve miles
+away. We moved out of town along a road lined with refuse,
+camp-bottoms, ruined cabins, tin cans, and broken bottles,--all the
+unsightly debris of the rush of May and June. A part of the way had
+been corduroyed, for which I was exceedingly grateful, for the
+Skagway River roared savagely under our feet, while on either side of
+the roadway at other points I could see abysses of mud which, in the
+growing darkness, were sufficiently menacing.
+
+Our course was a northerly one. We were ascending the ever narrowing
+canyon of the river at a gentle grade, with snowy mountains in vista.
+We arrived at White Pass at about ten o'clock at night. A little
+town is springing up there, confident of being an important station
+on the railroad which was already built to that point.
+
+Thus far the journey had been easy and simple, but immediately after
+leaving White Pass we entered upon an exceedingly stony road, filled
+with sharp rock which had been blasted from the railway above us.
+Upon reaching the end of the wagon road, and entering upon the trail,
+we came upon the Way of Death. The waters reeked with carrion. The
+breeze was the breath of carrion, and all nature was made indecent
+and disgusting by the presence of carcasses. Within the distance of
+fifteen miles we passed more than two thousand dead horses. It was a
+cruel land, a land filled with the record of men's merciless greed.
+Nature herself was cold, majestic, and grand. The trail rough, hard,
+and rocky. The horses labored hard under their heavy burdens, though
+the floor they trod was always firm.
+
+Just at the summit in the gray mist, where a bulbous granite ridge
+cut blackly and lonesomely against the sky, we overtook a flock of
+turkeys being driven by a one-armed man with a singularly appropriate
+Scotch cap on his head. The birds sat on the bleak gray rocks in the
+gathering dusk with the suggestion of being utterly at the end of the
+world. Their feathers were blown awry by the merciless wind and they
+looked weary, disconsolate, and bewildered. Their faint, sad gobbling
+was like the talk of sick people lost in a desert. They were on their
+way to Dawson City to their death and they seemed to know it.
+
+We camped at the Halfway House, a big tent surrounded by the most
+diabolical landscape of high peaks lost in mist, with near-by slopes
+of gray rocks scantily covered with yellow-green grass. All was bare,
+wild, desolate, and drear. The wind continued to whirl down over the
+divide, carrying torn gray masses of vapor which cast a gloomy half
+light across the gruesome little meadow covered with rotting
+carcasses and crates of bones which filled the air with odor of
+disease and death.
+
+Within the tent, which flopped and creaked in the wind, we huddled
+about the cook-stove in the light of a lantern, listening to the loud
+talk of a couple of packers who were discussing their business with
+enormous enthusiasm. Happily they grew sleepy at last and peace
+settled upon us. I unrolled my sleeping bag and slept dreamlessly
+until the "Russian nobleman," who did the cooking, waked me.
+
+Morning broke bleak and desolate. Mysterious clouds which hid the
+peaks were still streaming wildly down the canyon. We got away at
+last, leaving behind us that sad little meadow and its gruesome
+lakes, and began the slow and toilsome descent over slippery ledges
+of rock, among endless rows of rotting carcasses, over poisonous
+streams and through desolate, fire-marked, and ghastly forests of
+small pines. Everywhere were the traces of the furious flood of
+humankind that had broken over this height in the early spring.
+Wreckage of sleighs, abandoned tackle, heaps of camp refuse,
+clothing, and most eloquent of all the pathway itself, worn into the
+pitiless iron ledges, made it possible for me to realize something of
+the scene.
+
+Down there in the gully, on the sullen drift of snow, the winter
+trail could still be seen like an unclean ribbon and here, where the
+shrivelled hides of horses lay thick, wound the summer pathway. Up
+yonder summit, lock-stepped like a file of convicts, with tongues
+protruding and breath roaring from their distended throats, thousands
+of men had climbed with killing burdens on their backs, mad to reach
+the great inland river and the gold belt. Like the men of the Long
+Trail, they, too, had no time to find the gold under their feet.
+
+It was terrible to see how on every slippery ledge the ranks of
+horses had broken like waves to fall in heaps like rows of seaweed,
+tumbled, contorted, and grinning. Their dried skins had taken on the
+color of the soil, so that I sometimes set foot upon them without
+realizing what they were. Many of them had saddles on and nearly all
+had lead-ropes. Some of them had even been tied to trees and left to
+starve.
+
+In all this could be read the merciless greed and impracticability of
+these goldseekers. Men who had never driven a horse in their lives,
+and had no idea what an animal could do, or what he required to eat,
+loaded their outfits upon some poor patient beast and drove him
+without feed until, weakened and insecure of foot, he slipped and
+fell on some one of these cruel ledges of flinty rock.
+
+The business of packing, however, had at last fallen into less cruel
+or at least more judicial hands, and though the trail was filled
+with long pack trains going and coming, they were for the most part
+well taken care of. We met many long trains of packhorses returning
+empty from Bennett Lake. They were followed by shouting drivers who
+clattered along on packhorses wherever the trail would permit.
+
+One train carried four immense trunks--just behind the trunks,
+mounted astride of one of the best horses, rode a bold-faced,
+handsome white woman followed by a huge negress. The white woman had
+made her pile by dancing a shameless dance in the dissolute dens of
+Dawson City, and was on her way to Paris or New York for a "good
+time." The reports of the hotel keepers made her out to be
+unspeakably vile. The negress was quite decent by contrast.
+
+At Log Cabin we came in sight of the British flag which marks the
+boundary line of United States territory, where a camp of mounted
+police and the British customs officer are located. It was a drear
+season even in midsummer, a land of naked ledges and cold white
+peaks. A few small pine trees furnished logs for the cabins and wood
+for their fires. The government offices were located in tents.
+
+I found the officers most courteous, and the customs fair. The
+treatment given me at Log Cabin was in marked contrast with the
+exactions of my own government at Wrangell. All goods were unloaded
+before the inspector's tent and quickly examined. The miner suffered
+very little delay.
+
+A number of badly maimed packhorses were running about on the
+American side. I was told that the police had stopped them by reason
+of their sore backs. If a man came to the line with horses overloaded
+or suffering, he was made to strip the saddles from their backs.
+
+"You can't cross this line with animals like that," was the stern
+sentence in many cases. This humanity, as unexpected as it was
+pleasing, deserves the best word of praise of which I am capable.
+
+At last we left behind us all these wrecks of horseflesh, these
+poisonous streams, and came down upon Lake Bennett, where the water
+was considered safe to drink, and where the eye could see something
+besides death-spotted ledges of savage rocks.
+
+The town was a double row of tents, and log huts set close to the
+beach whereon boats were building and saws and hammers were uttering
+a cheerful chorus. Long trains of packhorses filled the streets. The
+wharfs swarmed with men loading chickens, pigs, vegetables,
+furniture, boxes of dry-goods, stoves, and every other conceivable
+domestic utensil into big square barges, which were rigged with tall
+strong masts bearing most primitive sails. It was a busy scene, but
+of course very quiet as compared with the activity of May, June, and
+July.
+
+These barges appealed to me very strongly. They were in some cases
+floating homes, a combination of mover's wagon and river boat. Many
+of them contained women and children, with accompanying cats and
+canary birds. In every face was a look of exultant faith in the
+venture. They were bound for Dawson City. The men for Atlin were
+setting forth in rowboats, or were waiting for the little steamers
+which had begun to ply between Bennett City and the new gold fields.
+
+I set my little tent, which was about as big as a dog kennel, and
+crawled into it early, in order to be shielded from the winds, which
+grew keen as sword blades as the sun sank behind the western
+mountains. The sky was like November, and I wondered where Burton was
+encamped. I would have given a great deal to have had him with me on
+this trip.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE COAST RANGE OF ALASKA
+
+
+    The wind roars up from the angry sea
+    With a message of warning and haste to me.
+    It bids me go where the asters blow,
+    And the sun-flower waves in the sunset glow.
+    From the granite mountains the glaciers crawl,
+    In snow-white spray the waters fall.
+    The bay is white with the crested waves,
+    And ever the sea wind ramps and raves.
+
+    I hate this cold, bleak northern land,
+    I fear its snow-flecked harborless strand--
+    I fly to the south as a homing dove,
+    Back to the land of corn I love.
+    And never again shall I set my feet
+    Where the snow and the sea and the mountains meet.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+ATLIN LAKE AND THE GOLD FIELDS
+
+
+There is nothing drearier than camping on the edge of civilization
+like this, where one is surrounded by ill smells, invaded by streams
+of foul dust, and deprived of wood and clear water. I was exceedingly
+eager to get away, especially as the wind continued cold and very
+searching. It was a long dull day of waiting.
+
+At last the boat came in and we trooped aboard--a queer mixture of
+men and bundles. The boat itself was a mere scow with an upright
+engine in the centre and a stern-wheel tacked on the outside. There
+were no staterooms, of course, and almost no bunks. The interior
+resembled a lumberman's shanty.
+
+We moved off towing a big scow laden with police supplies for Tagish
+House. The wind was very high and pushed steadily behind, or we would
+not have gone faster than a walk. We had some eight or ten
+passengers, all bound for the new gold fields, and these together
+with their baggage and tools filled the boat to the utmost corner.
+The feeling of elation among these men reminded me of the great land
+boom of Dakota in 1883, in which I took a part. There was something
+fine and free and primitive in it all.
+
+We cooked our supper on the boat's stove, furnishing our own food
+from the supplies we were taking in with us. The ride promised to be
+very fine. We made off down the narrow lake, which lies between two
+walls of high bleak mountains, but far in the distance more alluring
+ranges arose. There was no sign of mineral in the near-by peaks.
+
+Late in the afternoon the wind became so high and the captain of our
+boat so timid, we were forced to lay by for the night and so swung
+around under a point, seeking shelter from the wind, which became
+each moment more furious. I made my bed down on the roof of the boat
+and went to sleep looking at the drifting clouds overhead. Once or
+twice during the night when I awoke I heard the howling blast
+sweeping by with increasing power.
+
+All the next day we loitered on Bennett Lake--the wind roaring
+without ceasing, and the white-caps running like hares. We drifted at
+last into a cove and there lay in shelter till six o'clock at night.
+The sky was clear and the few clouds were gloriously bright and cool
+and fleecy.
+
+We met several canoes of goldseekers on their return who shouted
+doleful warnings at us and cursed the worthlessness of the district
+to which we were bound. They all looked exceedingly dirty, ragged,
+and sour of visage. At the same time, however, boat after boat went
+sailing down past us on their way to Atlin and Dawson. They drove
+straight before the wind, and for the most part experienced little
+danger, all of which seemed to us to emphasize the unnecessary
+timidity of our own captain.
+
+There was a charm in this wild spot, but we were too impatient to
+enjoy it. There were men on board who felt that they were being
+cheated of a chance to get a gold mine, and when the wind began to
+fall we fired up and started down the lake. As deep night came on I
+made my bed on the roof again and went to sleep with the flying
+sparks lining the sky overhead. I was in some danger of being set on
+fire, but I preferred sleeping there to sleeping on the floor inside
+the boat, where the reek of tobacco smoke was sickening.
+
+When I awoke we were driving straight up Tagish Lake, a beautiful,
+clear, green and blue spread of rippling water with lofty and boldly
+outlined peaks on each side. The lake ran from southeast to northwest
+and was much larger than any map shows. We drove steadily for ten
+hours up this magnificent water with ever increasing splendor of
+scenery, arriving about sunset at Taku City, which we found to be a
+little group of tents at the head of Taku arm.
+
+Innumerable boats of every design fringed the shore. Men were coming
+and men were going, producing a bewildering clash of opinions with
+respect to the value of the mines. A few of these to whom we spoke
+said, "It's all a fake," and others were equally certain it was "All
+right."
+
+A short portage was necessary to reach Atlin Lake, and taking a part
+of our baggage upon our shoulders we hired the remainder packed on
+horses and within an hour were moving up the smooth path under the
+small black pines, across the low ridge which separates the two
+lakes. At the top of this ridge we were able to look out over the
+magnificent spread of Atlin Lake, which was more beautiful in every
+way than Tagish or Taku. It is, in fact, one of the most beautiful
+lakes I have ever seen.
+
+Far to the southeast it spread until it was lost to view among the
+bases of the gigantic glacier-laden mountains of the coast range. To
+the left--that is to the north--it seemed to divide, enclosing a
+splendid dome-shaped solitary mountain, one fork moving to the east,
+the other to the west. Its end could not be determined by the eye in
+either direction. Its width was approximately about ten miles.
+
+At the end of the trail we found an enterprising Canadian with a
+naphtha launch ready to ferry us across to Atlin City, but were
+forced to wait for some one who had gone back to Taku for a second
+load.
+
+While we were waiting, the engineer, who was a round-faced and rather
+green boy, fell under the influences of a large, plump, and very
+talkative lady who made the portage just behind us. She so absorbed
+and fascinated the lad that he let the engine run itself into some
+cramp of piston or wheel. There was a sudden crunching sound and the
+propeller stopped. The boy minimized the accident, but the captain
+upon arrival told us it would be necessary to unload from the boat
+while the engine was being repaired.
+
+It was now getting dark, and as it was pretty evident that the
+repairs on the boat would take a large part of the night, we camped
+where we were. The talkative lady, whom the irreverent called "the
+glass front," occupied a tent which belonged to the captain of the
+launch and the rest of us made our beds down under the big trees.
+
+A big fire was built and around this we sat, doing more or less
+talking. There was an old Tennesseean in the party from Dawson, who
+talked interminably. He told us of his troubles, trials, and
+victories in Dawson: how he had been successful, how he had fallen
+ill, and how his life had been saved by a good old miner who gave him
+an opportunity to work over his dump. Sick as he was he was able in a
+few days to find gold enough to take him out of the country to a
+doctor. He was now on his way back to his claim and professed to be
+very sceptical of Atlin and every other country except Dawson.
+
+The plump lady developed exceedingly kittenish manners late in the
+evening, and invited the whole company to share her tent. A singular
+type of woman, capable of most ladylike manners and having
+astonishingly sensible moments, but inexpressibly silly most of the
+time. She was really a powerful, self-confident, and shrewd woman,
+but preferred to seem young and helpless. Altogether the company was
+sufficiently curious. There was a young civil engineer from New York
+City, a land boomer from Skagway, an Irishman from Juneau, a
+representative of a New York paper, one or two nondescripts from the
+States, and one or two prospectors from Quebec. The night was cold
+and beautiful and my partner and I, by going sufficiently far away
+from the old Tennesseean and the plump lady, were able to sleep
+soundly until sunrise.
+
+The next morning we hired a large unpainted skiff and by working very
+hard ourselves in addition to paying full fare we reached camp at
+about ten o'clock in the morning. Atlin City was also a clump of
+tents half hidden in the trees on the beach of the lake near the
+mouth of Pine Creek. The lake was surpassingly beautiful under the
+morning sun.
+
+A crowd of sullen, profane, and grimy men were lounging around,
+cursing the commissioners and the police. The beach was fringed with
+rowboats and canoes, like a New England fishing village, and all day
+long men were loading themselves into these boats, hungry, tired, and
+weary, hastening back to Skagway or the coast; while others, fresh,
+buoyant, and hopeful, came gliding in.
+
+To those who came, the sullen and disappointed ones who were about to
+go uttered approbrious cries: "See the damn fools come! What d'you
+think you're doin'? On a fishin' excursion?"
+
+We went into camp on the water front, and hour after hour men laden
+with packs tramped ceaselessly to and fro along the pathway just
+below our door. I was now chief cook and bottle washer, my partner,
+who was entirely unaccustomed to work of this kind, having the status
+of a boarder.
+
+The lake was a constant joy to us. As the sun sank the glacial
+mountains to the southwest became most royal in their robes of purple
+and silver. The sky filled with crimson and saffron clouds which the
+lake reflected like a mirror. The little rocky islands drowsed in the
+mist like some strange monsters sleeping on the bosom of the water.
+The men were filthy and profane for the most part, and made enjoyment
+of nature almost impossible. Many of them were of the rudest and most
+uninteresting types, nomads--almost tramps. They had nothing of the
+epic qualities which belong to the mountaineers and natural miners of
+the Rocky Mountains. Many of them were loafers and ne'er-do-wells
+from Skagway and other towns of the coast.
+
+We had a gold pan, a spade, and a pick. Therefore early the next
+morning we flung a little pack of grub over our shoulders and set
+forth to test the claims which were situated upon Pine Creek, a
+stream which entered Lake Atlin near the camp. It was said to be
+eighteen miles long and Discovery claim was some eight miles up.
+
+We traced our way up the creek as far as Discovery and back, panning
+dirt at various places with resulting colors in some cases. The trail
+was full of men racking to and fro with heavy loads on their backs.
+They moved in little trains of four or five or six men, some going
+out of the country, others coming in--about an equal number each way.
+Everything along the creek was staked, and our test work resulted in
+nothing more than gaining information with regard to what was going
+on.
+
+The camps on the hills at night swarmed with men in hot debate. The
+majority believed the camps to be a failure, and loud discussions
+resounded from the trees as partner and I sat at supper. The
+town-site men were very nervous. The camps were decreasing in
+population, and the tone was one of general foreboding.
+
+The campfires flamed all along the lake walk, and the talk of each
+group could be overheard by any one who listened. Altercations went
+on with clangorous fury. Almost every party was in division. Some
+enthusiastic individual had made a find, or had seen some one else
+who had. His cackle reached other groups, and out of the dark hulking
+figures loomed to listen or to throw in hot missiles of profanity.
+Phrases multiplied, mingling inextricably.
+
+"Morgan claims thirty cents to the pan ... good creek claim ... his
+sluice is about ready ... a clean-up last night ... I don't believe
+it.... No, Sir, I wouldn't give a hundred dollars for the whole damn
+moose pasture.... Well, it's good enough for me.... I tell you it's
+rotten, the whole damn cheese.... You've got to stand in with the
+police or you can't get...." and so on and on unendingly, without
+coherence. I went to sleep only when the sound of the wordy warfare
+died away.
+
+I permitted myself a day of rest. Borrowing a boat next day, we went
+out upon the water and up to the mouth of Pine Creek, where we panned
+some dirt to amuse ourselves. The lake was like liquid glass, the
+bottom visible at an enormous depth. It made me think of the
+marvellous water of McDonald Lake in the Kalispels. I steered the
+boat (with a long-handled spade) and so was able to look about me and
+absorb at ease the wonderful beauty of this unbroken and unhewn
+wilderness. The clouds were resplendent, and in every direction the
+lake vistas were ideally beautiful and constantly changing.
+
+Toward night the sky grew thick and heavy with clouds. The water of
+the lake was like molten jewels, ruby and amethyst. The boat seemed
+floating in some strange, ethereal substance hitherto unknown to
+man--translucent and iridescent. The mountains loomed like dim purple
+pillars at the western gate of the world, and the rays of the
+half-hidden sun plunging athwart these sentinels sank deep into the
+shining flood. Later the sky cleared, and the inverted mountains in
+the lake were scarcely less vivid than those which rose into the sky.
+
+The next day I spent with gold pan and camera, working my way up
+Spruce Creek, a branch of Pine. I found men cheerily at work getting
+out sluice boxes and digging ditches. I panned everywhere, but did
+not get much in the way of colors, but the creek seemed to grow
+better as I went up, and promised very rich returns. I came back
+rushing, making five miles just inside an hour, hungry and tired.
+
+The crowded camp thinned out. The faint-hearted ones who had no
+courage to sweat for gold sailed away. Others went out upon their
+claims to build cabins and lay sluices. I found them whip-sawing
+lumber, building cabins, and digging ditches. Each day the news grew
+more encouraging, each day brought the discovery of a new creek or a
+lake. Men came back in swarms and reporting finds on "Lake Surprise,"
+a newly discovered big body of water, and at last came the report of
+surprising discoveries in the benches high above the creek.
+
+In the camp one night I heard a couple of men talking around a
+campfire near me. One of them said: "Why, you know old Sperry was
+digging on the ridge just above Discovery and I came along and see
+him up there. And I said, 'Hullo, uncle, what you doin', diggin' your
+grave?' And the old feller said, 'You just wait a few minutes and
+I'll show ye.' Well, sir, he filled up a sack o' dirt and toted it
+down to the creek, and I went along with him to see him wash it out,
+and say, he took $3.25 out of one pan of that dirt, and $1.85 out of
+the other pan. Well, that knocked me. I says, 'Uncle, you're all
+right.' And then I made tracks for a bench claim next him. Well,
+about that time everybody began to hustle for bench claims, and now
+you can't get one anywhere near him."
+
+At another camp, a packer was telling of an immense nugget that had
+been discovered somewhere on the upper waters of Birch Creek. "And
+say, fellers, you know there is another lake up there pretty near as
+big as Atlin. They are calling it Lake Surprise. I heard a feller say
+a few days ago there was a big lake up there and I thought he meant a
+lake six or eight miles long. On the very high ground next to Birch,
+you can look down over that lake and I bet it's sixty miles long. It
+must reach nearly to Teslin Lake." There was something pretty fine in
+the thought of being in a country where lakes sixty miles long were
+being discovered and set forth on the maps of the world. Up to this
+time Atlin Lake itself was unmapped. To an unpractical man like
+myself it was reward enough to feel the thrill of excitement which
+comes with such discoveries.
+
+However, I was not a goldseeker, and when I determined to give up any
+further pursuit of mining and to delegate it entirely to my partner,
+I experienced a feeling of relief. I determined to "stick to my
+last," notwithstanding the fascination which I felt in the sight of
+placer gold. Quartz mining has never had the slightest attraction for
+me, but to see the gold washed out of the sand, to see it appear
+bright and shining in the black sand in the bottom of the pan, is
+really worth while. It is first-hand contact with Nature's stores of
+wealth.
+
+I went up to Discovery for the last time with my camera slung over my
+shoulder, and my note-book in hand to take a final survey of the
+miners and to hear for the last time their exultant talk. I found
+them exceedingly cheerful, even buoyant.
+
+The men who had gone in with ten days' provisions, the tenderfoot
+miners, the men "with a cigarette and a sandwich," had gone out.
+Those who remained were men who knew their business and were resolute
+and self-sustaining.
+
+There was a crowd of such men around the land-office tents and many
+filings were made. Nearly every man had his little phial of gold to
+show. No one was loud, but every one seemed to be quietly confident
+and replied to my questions in a low voice, "Well, you can safely say
+the country is all right."
+
+The day was fine like September in Wisconsin. The lake as I walked
+back to it was very alluring. My mind returned again and again to
+the things I had left behind for so long. My correspondence, my
+books, my friends, all the literary interests of my life, began to
+reassert their dominion over me. For some time I had realized that
+this was almost an ideal spot for camping or mining. Just over in the
+wild country toward Teslin Lake, herds of caribou were grazing. Moose
+and bear were being killed daily, rich and unknown streams were
+waiting for the gold pan, the pick and the shovel, but--it was not
+for me! I was ready to return--eager to return.
+
+
+
+
+THE FREEMAN OF THE HILLS
+
+
+    I have no master but the wind,
+      My only liege the sun;
+      All bonds and ties I leave behind,
+    Free as the wolf I run.
+    My master wind is passionless,
+      He neither chides nor charms;
+    He fans me or he freezes me,
+      And helps are quick as harms.
+
+    He never turns to injure me,
+      And when his voice is high
+    I crouch behind a rock and see
+      His storm of snows go by.
+    He too is subject of the sun,
+      As all things earthly are,
+    Where'er he flies, where'er I run,
+      We know our kingly star.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE MAPLE TREE
+
+
+    I am worn with the dull-green spires of fir,
+    I am tired of endless talk of gold,
+    I long for the cricket's cheery whirr,
+    And the song that the maples sang of old.
+    O the beauty and learning and light
+    That lie in the leaves of the level lands!
+    They shake my heart in the deep of the night,
+    They call me and bless me with calm, cool hands.
+
+      _Sing, O leaves of the maple tree,_
+      _I hear your voice by the savage sea,_
+      _Hear and hasten to home and thee!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE END OF THE TRAIL
+
+
+The day on which I crossed the lake to Taku City was most glorious. A
+September haze lay on the mountains, whose high slopes, orange, ruby,
+and golden-green, allured with almost irresistible attraction.
+Although the clouds were gathering in the east, the sunset was
+superb. Taku arm seemed a river of gold sweeping between gates of
+purple. As the darkness came on, a long creeping line of fire crept
+up a near-by mountain's side, and from time to time, as it reached
+some great pine, it flamed to the clouds like a mighty geyser of
+red-hot lava. It was splendid but terrible to witness.
+
+The next day was a long, long wait for the steamer. I now had in my
+pocket just twelve dollars, but possessed a return ticket on one of
+the boats. This ticket was not good on any other boat, and naturally
+I felt considerable anxiety for fear it would not turn up. My dinner
+consisted of moose steak, potatoes, and bread, and was most
+thoroughly enjoyed.
+
+At last the steamer came, but it was not the one on which I had
+secured passage, and as it took almost my last dollar to pay for deck
+passage thereon, I lived on some small cakes of my own baking, which
+I carried in a bag. I was now in a sad predicament unless I should
+connect at Lake Bennett with some one who would carry my outfit back
+to Skagway on credit. I ate my stale cakes and drank lake water, and
+thus fooled the little Jap steward out of two dollars. It was a sad
+business, but unavoidable.
+
+The lake being smooth, the trip consumed but thirteen hours, and we
+arrived at Bennett Lake late at night. Hoisting my bed and luggage to
+my shoulder, I went up on the side-hill like a stray dog, and made my
+bed down on the sand beside a cart, near a shack. The wind, cold and
+damp, swept over the mountains with a roar. I was afraid the owners
+of the cart might discover me there, and order me to seek a bed
+elsewhere. Dogs sniffed around me during the night, but on the whole
+I slept very well. I could feel the sand blowing over me in the wild
+gusts of wind which relented not in all my stay at Bennett City.
+
+I spent literally the last cent I had on a scanty breakfast, and
+then, in company with Doctor G. (a fellow prospector), started on my
+return to the coast over the far-famed Chilcoot Pass.
+
+At 9 A.M. we took the little ferry for the head of Lindernan Lake.
+The doctor paid my fare. The boat, a wabbly craft, was crowded with
+returning Klondikers, many of whom were full of importance and talk
+of their wealth; while others, sick and worn, with a wistful gleam in
+their eyes, seemed eager to get back to civilization and medical
+care. There were some women, also, who had made a fortune in
+dance-houses and were now bound for New York and Paris, where dresses
+could be had in the latest styles and in any quantities.
+
+My travelling mate, the doctor, was a tall and vigorous man from
+Winnipeg, accustomed to a plainsman's life, hardy and resolute. He
+said, "We ought to make Dyea to-day." I said in reply, "Very well, we
+can try."
+
+It was ten o'clock when we left the little boat and hit the trail,
+which was thirty miles long, and passed over the summit three
+thousand six hundred feet above the sea. The doctor's pace was
+tremendous, and we soon left every one else behind.
+
+I carried my big coat and camera, which hindered me not a little. For
+the first part of the journey the doctor preceded me, his broad
+shoulders keeping off the powerful wind and driving mist, which grew
+thicker as we rose among the ragged cliffs beside a roaring stream.
+
+That walk was a grim experience. Until two o'clock we climbed
+resolutely along a rough, rocky, and wooded trail, with the heavy
+mist driving into our faces. The road led up a rugged canyon and over
+a fairly good wagon road until somewhere about twelve o'clock. Then
+the foot trail deflected to the left, and climbed sharply over
+slippery ledges, along banks of ancient snows in which carcasses of
+horses lay embedded, and across many rushing little streams. The way
+grew grimmer each step. At last we came to Crater Lake, and from that
+point on it was a singular and sinister land of grassless crags
+swathed in mist. Nothing could be seen at this point but a desolate,
+flat expanse of barren sands over which gray-green streams wandered
+in confusion, coming from darkness and vanishing in obscurity.
+Strange shapes showed in the gray dusk of the Crater. It was like a
+landscape in hell. It seemed to be the end of the earth, where no
+life had ever been or could long exist.
+
+Across this flat to its farther wall we took our way, facing the
+roaring wind now heavy with clouds of rain. At last we stood in the
+mighty notch of the summit, through which the wind rushed as though
+hurrying to some far-off, deep-hidden vacuum in the world. The peaks
+of the mountains were lost in clouds out of which water fell in
+vicious slashes.
+
+The mist set the imagination free. The pinnacles around us were like
+those which top the Valley of Desolation. We seemed each moment about
+to plunge into ladderless abysses. Nothing ever imagined by Poe or
+Dore could be more singular, more sinister, than these summits in
+such a light, in such a storm. It might serve as the scene for an
+exiled devil. The picture of Beelzebub perched on one of those gray,
+dimly seen crags, his form outlined in the mist, would shake the
+heart. I thought of "Peer Gynt" wandering in the high home of the
+Trolls. Crags beetled beyond crags, and nothing could be heard but
+the wild waters roaring in the obscure depths beneath our feet. There
+was no sky, no level place, no growing thing, no bird or beast,--only
+crates of bones to show where some heartless master had pushed a
+faithful horse up these terrible heights to his death.
+
+And here--just here in a world of crags and mist--I heard a shout of
+laughter, and then bursting upon my sight, strong-limbed, erect, and
+full-bosomed, appeared a girl. Her face was like a rain-wet rose--a
+splendid, unexpected flower set in this dim and gray and desolate
+place. Fearlessly she fronted me to ask the way, a laugh upon her
+lips, her big gray eyes confident of man's chivalry, modest and
+sincere. I had been so long among rude men and their coarse consorts
+that this fair woman lit the mist as if with sudden sunshine--just a
+moment and was gone. There were others with her, but they passed
+unnoticed. There in the gloom, like a stately pink rose, I set the
+Girl of the Mist.
+
+Sheep Camp was the end of the worst portion of the trail. I had now
+crossed both the famed passes, much improved of course. They are no
+longer dangerous (a woman in good health can cross them easily), but
+they are grim and grievous ways. They reek of cruelty and every
+association that is coarse and hard. They possess a peculiar value to
+me in that they throw into fadeless splendor the wealth, the calm,
+the golden sunlight which lay upon the proud beauty of Atlin Lake.
+
+The last hours of the trip formed a supreme test of endurance. At
+Sheep Camp, a wet and desolate shanty town, eight miles from Dyea, we
+came upon stages just starting over our road. But as they were all
+open carriages, and we were both wet with perspiration and rain, and
+hungry and tired, we refused to book passage.
+
+"To ride eight miles in an open wagon would mean a case of pneumonia
+to me," I said.
+
+"Quite right," said the doctor, and we pulled out down the road at a
+smart clip.
+
+The rain had ceased, but the air was raw and the sky gray, and I was
+very tired, and those eight miles stretched out like a rubber string.
+Night fell before we had passed over half the road, which lay for the
+most part down the flat along the Chilcoot River. In fact, we crossed
+this stream again and again. In places there were bridges, but most
+of the crossings were fords where it was necessary to wade through
+the icy water above our shoe tops. Our legs, numb and weary, threw
+off this chill with greater pain each time. As the night fell we
+could only see the footpath by the dim shine of its surface patted
+smooth by the moccasined feet of the Indian packers. At last I walked
+with a sort of mechanical action which was dependent on my
+subconscious will. There was nothing else to do but to go through.
+The doctor was a better walker than I. His long legs had more reach
+as well as greater endurance. Nevertheless he admitted being about as
+tired as ever in his life.
+
+At last, when it seemed as though I could not wade any more of those
+icy streams and continue to walk, we came in sight of the electric
+lights on the wharfs of Dyea, sparkling like jewels against the gray
+night. Their radiant promise helped over the last mile miraculously.
+We were wet to the knees and covered with mud as we entered upon the
+straggling street of the decaying town. We stopped in at the first
+restaurant to get something hot to eat, but found ourselves almost
+too tired to enjoy even pea soup. But it warmed us up a little, and
+keeping on down the street we came at last to a hotel of very
+comfortable accommodations. We ordered a fire built to dry our
+clothing, and staggered up the stairs.
+
+That ended the goldseekers' trail for me. Henceforward I intended to
+ride--nevertheless I was pleased to think I could still walk thirty
+miles in eleven hours through a rain storm, and over a summit three
+thousand six hundred feet in height. The city had not entirely eaten
+the heart out of my body.
+
+We arose from a dreamless sleep, somewhat sore, but in amazingly good
+trim considering our condition the night before, and made our way
+into our muddy clothing with grim resolution. After breakfast we took
+a small steamer which ran to Skagway, where we spent the day
+arranging to take the steamer to the south. We felt quite at home in
+Skagway now, and Chicago seemed not very far away. Having made
+connection with my bankers I stretched out in my twenty-five cent
+bunk with the assurance of a gold king.
+
+Here the long trail took a turn. I had been among the miners and
+hunters for four months. I had been one of them. I had lived the
+essentials of their lives, and had been able to catch from them some
+hint of their outlook on life. They were a disappointment to me in
+some ways. They seemed like mechanisms. They moved as if drawn by
+some great magnet whose centre was Dawson City. They appeared to
+drift on and in toward that human maelstrom going irresolutely to
+their ruin. They did not seem to me strong men--on the contrary, they
+seemed weak men--or men strong with one insane purpose. They set
+their faces toward the golden north, and went on and on through every
+obstacle like men dreaming, like somnambulists--bending their backs
+to the most crushing burdens, their faces distorted with effort. "On
+to Dawson!" "To the Klondike!" That was all they knew.
+
+I overtook them in the Fraser River Valley, I found them in Hazleton.
+They were setting sail at Bennett, tugging oars on the Hotalinqua,
+and hundreds of them were landing every day at Dawson, there to stand
+with lax jaws waiting for something to turn up--lost among thousands
+of their kind swarming in with the same insane purpose.
+
+Skagway was to me a sad place. On either side rose green mountains
+covered with crawling glaciers. Between these stern walls, a cold and
+violent wind roared ceaselessly from the sea gates through which the
+ships drive hurriedly. All these grim presences depressed me. I
+longed for release from them. I waited with impatience the coming of
+the steamer which was to rescue me from the merciless beach.
+
+At last it came, and its hoarse boom thrilled the heart of many a
+homesick man like myself. We had not much to put aboard, and when I
+climbed the gang-plank it was with a feeling of fortunate escape.
+
+
+
+
+A GIRL ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+    A flutter of skirts in the dapple of leaves on the trees,
+    The sound of a small, happy voice on the breeze,
+    The print of a slim little foot on the trail,
+    And the miners rejoice as they hammer with picks in
+    the vale.
+
+    For fairer than gold is the face of a maid,
+    And sovereign as stars the light of her eyes;
+    For women alone were the long trenches laid;
+    For women alone they defy the stern skies.
+
+    These toilers are grimy, and hairy, and dun
+    With the wear of the wind, the scorch of the sun;
+    But their picks fall slack, their foul tongues are mute--
+    As the maiden goes by these earthworms salute!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+HOMEWARD BOUND
+
+
+The steamer was crowded with men who had also made the turn at the
+end of the trail. There were groups of prospectors (disappointed and
+sour) from Copper River, where neither copper nor gold had been
+found. There were miners sick and broken who had failed on the
+Tanana, and others, emaciated and eager-eyed, from Dawson City going
+out with a part of the proceeds of the year's work to see their wives
+and children. There were a few who considered themselves great
+capitalists, and were on their way to spend the winter in luxury in
+the Eastern cities, and there were grub stakers who had squandered
+their employers' money in drink and gaming.
+
+None of them interested me very greatly. I was worn out with the
+filth and greed and foolishness of many of these men. They were
+commonplace citizens, turned into stampeders without experience or
+skill.
+
+One of the most successful men on the boat had been a truckman in the
+streets of Tacoma, and was now the silly possessor of a one-third
+interest in some great mines on the Klondike River. He told every one
+of his great deeds, and what he was worth. He let us know how big
+his house was, and how much he paid for his piano. He was not a bad
+man, he was merely a cheap man, and was followed about by a gang of
+heelers to whom drink was luxury and vice an entertainment. These
+parasites slapped the teamster on the shoulder and listened to every
+empty phrase he uttered, as though his gold had made of him something
+sacred and omniscient.
+
+I had no interest in him till being persuaded to play the fiddle he
+sat in the "social room," and sawed away on "Honest John," "The
+Devil's Dream," "Haste to the Wedding," and "The Fisher's Hornpipe."
+He lost all sense of being a millionnaire, and returned to his
+simple, unsophisticated self. The others cheered him because he had
+gold. I cheered him because he was a good old "corduroy fiddler."
+
+Again we passed between the lofty blue-black and bronze-green walls
+of Lynn Canal. The sea was cold, placid, and gray. The mist cut the
+mountains at the shoulder. Vast glaciers came sweeping down from the
+dread mystery of the upper heights. Lower still lines of running
+water white as silver came leaping down from cliff to cliff--slender,
+broken of line, nearly perpendicular--to fall at last into the gray
+hell of the sea.
+
+It was a sullen land which menaced as with lowering brows and
+clenched fists. A landscape without delicacy of detail or warmth or
+variety of color--a land demanding young, cheerful men. It was no
+place for the old or for women.
+
+As we neared Wrangell the next afternoon I tackled the purser about
+carrying my horse. He had no room, so I left the boat in order to
+wait for another with better accommodations for Ladrone.
+
+Almost the first man I met on the wharf was Donald.
+
+"How's the horse?" I queried.
+
+"Gude!--fat and sassy. There's no a fence in a' the town can hold
+him. He jumped into Colonel Crittendon's garden patch, and there's a
+dollar to pay for the cauliflower he ate, and he broke down a fence
+by the church, ye've to fix that up--but he's in gude trim himsel'."
+
+"Tell 'm to send in their bills," I replied with vast relief. "Has he
+been much trouble to you?"
+
+"Verra leetle except to drive into the lot at night. I had but to go
+down where he was feeding and soon as he heard me comin' he made for
+the lot--he knew quite as well as I did what was wanted of him. He's
+a canny old boy."
+
+As I walked out to find the horse I discovered his paths everywhere.
+He had made himself entirely at home. He owned the village and was
+able to walk any sidewalk in town. Everybody knew his habits. He
+drank in a certain place, and walked a certain round of daily
+feeding. The children all cried out at me: "Goin' to find the horsie?
+He's over by the church." A darky woman smiled from the door of a
+cabin and said, "You ole hoss lookin' mighty fine dese days."
+
+When I came to him I was delighted and amused. He had taken on some
+fat and a great deal of dirt. He had also acquired an aldermanic
+paunch which quite destroyed his natural symmetry of body, but he
+was well and strong and lively. He seemed to recognize me, and as I
+put the rope about his neck and fell to in the effort to make him
+clean once more, he seemed glad of my presence.
+
+That day began my attempt to get away. I carted out my feed and
+saddles, and when all was ready I sat on the pier and watched the
+burnished water of the bay for the dim speck which a steamer makes in
+rounding the distant island. At last the cry arose, "A steamer from
+the north!" I hurried for Ladrone, and as I passed with the horse the
+citizens smiled incredulously and asked, "Goin' to take the horse
+with you, eh?"
+
+The boys and girls came out to say good-by to the horse on whose back
+they had ridden. Ladrone followed me most trustfully, looking
+straight ahead, his feet clumping loudly on the boards of the walk.
+Hitching him on the wharf I lugged and heaved and got everything in
+readiness.
+
+In vain! The steamer had no place for my horse and I was forced to
+walk him back and turn him loose once more upon the grass. I renewed
+my watching. The next steamer did not touch at the same wharf.
+Therefore I carted all my goods, feed, hay, and general plunder,
+around to the other wharf. As I toiled to and fro the citizens began
+to smile very broadly. I worked like a hired man in harvest. At last,
+horse, feed, and baggage were once more ready. When the next boat
+came in I timidly approached the purser.
+
+No, he had no place for me but would take my horse! Once more I led
+Ladrone back to pasture and the citizens laughed most unconcealedly.
+They laid bets on my next attempt. In McKinnon's store I was greeted
+as a permanent citizen of Fort Wrangell. I began to grow nervous on
+my own account. Was I to remain forever in Wrangell? The bay was most
+beautiful, but the town was wretched. It became each day more
+unendurable to me. I searched the waters of the bay thereafter, with
+gaze that grew really anxious. I sat for hours late at night holding
+my horse and glaring out into the night in the hope to see the lights
+of a steamer appear round the high hills of the coast.
+
+At last the _Forallen_, a great barnyard of a ship, came in. I met
+the captain. I paid my fare. I got my contract and ticket, and
+leading Ladrone into the hoisting box I stepped aside.
+
+The old boy was quiet while I stood near, but when the whistle
+sounded and the sling rose in air leaving me below, his big eyes
+flashed with fear and dismay. He struggled furiously for a moment and
+then was quiet. A moment later he dropped into the hold and was safe.
+He thought himself in a barn once more, and when I came hurrying down
+the stairway he whinnied. He seized the hay I put before him and
+thereafter was quite at home.
+
+The steamer had a score of mules and work horses on board, but they
+occupied stalls on the upper deck, leaving Ladrone aristocratically
+alone in his big, well-ventilated barn, and there three times each
+day I went to feed and water him. I rubbed him with hay till his coat
+began to glimmer in the light and planned what I could do to help
+him through a storm. Fortunately the ocean was perfectly smooth even
+across the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound, where the open sea
+enters and the big swells are sometimes felt. Ladrone never knew he
+was moving at all.
+
+The mate of the boat took unusual interest in the horse because of
+his deeds and my care of him.
+
+Meanwhile I was hearing from time to time of my fellow-sufferers on
+the Long Trail. It was reported in Wrangell that some of the
+unfortunates were still on the snowy divide between the Skeena and
+the Stikeen. That terrible trail will not soon be forgotten by any
+one who traversed it.
+
+On the fifth day we entered Seattle and once more the sling-box
+opened its doors for Ladrone. This time he struggled not at all. He
+seemed to say: "I know this thing. I tried it once and it didn't hurt
+me--I'm not afraid."
+
+Now this horse belongs to the wild country. He was born on the
+bunch-grass hills of British Columbia and he had never seen a
+street-car in his life. Engines he knew something about, but not
+much. Steamboats and ferries he knew a great deal about; but all the
+strange monsters and diabolical noises of a city street were new to
+him, and it was with some apprehension that I took his rein to lead
+him down to the freight depot and his car.
+
+Again this wonderful horse amazed me. He pointed his alert and
+quivering ears at me and followed with never so much as a single
+start or shying bound. He seemed to reason that as I had led him
+through many dangers safely I could still be trusted. Around us huge
+trucks rattled, electric cars clanged, railway engines whizzed and
+screamed, but Ladrone never so much as tightened the rein; and when
+in the dark of the chute (which led to the door of the car) he put
+his soft nose against me to make sure I was still with him, my heart
+grew so tender that I would not have left him behind for a thousand
+dollars.
+
+I put him in a roomy box-car and bedded him knee-deep in clean yellow
+straw. I padded the hitching pole with his blanket, moistened his
+hay, and put some bran before him. Then I nailed him in and took my
+leave of him with some nervous dread, for the worst part of his
+journey was before him. He must cross three great mountain ranges and
+ride eight days, over more than two thousand miles of railway. I
+could not well go with him, but I planned to overhaul him at Spokane
+and see how he was coming on.
+
+I did not sleep much that night. I recalled how the great forest
+trees were blazing last year when I rode over this same track. I
+thought of the sparks flying from the engine, and how easy it would
+be for a single cinder to fall in the door and set all that dry straw
+ablaze. I was tired and my mind conjured up such dire images as men
+dream of after indigestible dinners.
+
+
+
+
+
+O THE FIERCE DELIGHT
+
+
+    O the fierce delight, the passion
+      That comes from the wild,
+    Where the rains and the snows go over,
+      And man is a child.
+
+    Go, set your face to the open,
+      And lay your breast to the blast,
+    When the pines are rocking and groaning,
+      And the rent clouds tumble past.
+
+    Go swim the streams of the mountains,
+      Where the gray-white waters are mad,
+    Go set your foot on the summit,
+      And shout and be glad!
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+LADRONE TRAVELS IN STATE
+
+
+With a little leisure to walk about and talk with the citizens of
+Seattle, I became aware of a great change since the year before. The
+boom of the goldseeker was over. The talk was more upon the Spanish
+war; the business of outfitting was no longer paramount; the reckless
+hurrah, the splendid exultation, were gone. Men were sailing to the
+north, but they embarked, methodically, in business fashion.
+
+It is safe to say that the north will never again witness such a
+furious rush of men as that which took place between August, '97, and
+June, '98. Gold is still there, and it will continue to be sought,
+but the attention of the people is directed elsewhere. In Seattle, as
+all along the line, the talk a year ago had been almost entirely on
+gold hunting. Every storekeeper advertised Klondike goods, but these
+signs were now rusty and faded. The fever was over, the reign of the
+humdrum was restored.
+
+Taking the train next day, I passed Ladrone in the night somewhere,
+and as I looked from my window at the great fires blazing in the
+forest, my fear of his burning came upon me again. At Spokane I
+waited with great anxiety for him to arrive. At last the train drew
+in and I hurried to his car. The door was closed, and as I nervously
+forced it open he whinnied with that glad chuckling a gentle horse
+uses toward his master. He had plenty of hay, but was hot and
+thirsty, and I hurried at risk of life and limb to bring him cool
+water. His eyes seemed to shine with delight as he saw me coming with
+the big bucket of cool drink. Leaving him a tub of water, I bade him
+good-by once more and started him for Helena, five hundred miles
+away.
+
+At Missoula, the following evening, I rushed into the ticket office
+and shouted, "Where is '54'?"
+
+The clerk knew me and smilingly extended his hand.
+
+"How de do? She has just pulled out. The horse is all OK. We gave him
+fresh water and feed."
+
+I thanked him and returned to my train.
+
+Reaching Livingston in the early morning I was forced to wait nearly
+all day for the train. This was no hardship, however, for it enabled
+me to return once more to the plain. All the old familiar presences
+were there. The splendid sweep of brown, smooth hills, the glory of
+clear sky, the crisp exhilarating air, appealed to me with great
+power after my long stay in the cold, green mountains of the north.
+
+I walked out a few miles from the town over the grass brittle and
+hot, from which the clapping grasshoppers rose in swarms, and
+dropping down on the point of a mesa I relived again in drowse the
+joys of other days. It was plain to me that goldseeking in the Rocky
+Mountains was marvellously simple and easy compared to even the best
+sections of the Northwest, and the long journey of the Forty-niners
+was not only incredibly more splendid and dramatic, but had the
+allurement of a land of eternal summer beyond the final great range.
+The long trail I had just passed was not only grim and monotonous,
+but led toward an ever increasing ferocity of cold and darkness to
+the arctic circle and the silence of death.
+
+When the train came crawling down the pink and purple slopes of the
+hills at sunset that night, I was ready for my horse. Bridle in hand
+I raced after the big car while it was being drawn up into the
+freight yards. As I galloped I held excited controversy with the head
+brakeman. I asked that the car be sent to the platform. He objected.
+I insisted and the car was thrown in. I entered, and while Ladrone
+whinnied glad welcome I knocked out some bars, bridled him, and said,
+"Come, boy, now for a gambol." He followed me without the slightest
+hesitation out on the platform and down the steep slope to the
+ground. There I mounted him without waiting for saddle and away we
+flew.
+
+He was gay as a bird. His neck arched and his eyes and ears were
+quick as squirrels. We galloped down to the Yellowstone River and
+once more he thrust his dusty nozzle deep into the clear mountain
+water. Then away he raced until our fifteen minutes were up. I was
+glad to quit. He was too active for me to enjoy riding without a
+saddle. Right up to the door of the car he trotted, seeming to
+understand that his journey was not yet finished. He entered
+unhesitatingly and took his place. I battened down the bars, nailed
+the doors into place, filled his tub with cold water, mixed him a
+bran mash, and once more he rolled away. I sent him on this time,
+however, with perfect confidence. He was actually getting fat on his
+prison fare, and was too wise to allow himself to be bruised by the
+jolting of the cars.
+
+The bystanders seeing a horse travelling in such splendid loneliness
+asked, "Runnin' horse?" and I (to cover my folly) replied evasively,
+"He can run a little for good money." This satisfied every one that
+he was a sprinter and quite explained his private car.
+
+At Bismarck I found myself once more ahead of "54" and waited all day
+for the horse to appear. As the time of the train drew near I
+borrowed a huge water pail and tugged a supply of water out beside
+the track and there sat for three hours, expecting the train each
+moment. At last it came, but Ladrone was not there. His car was
+missing. I rushed into the office of the operator: "Where's the horse
+in '13,238'?" I asked.
+
+"I don't know," answered the agent, in the tone of one who didn't
+care.
+
+Visions of Ladrone side-tracked somewhere and perishing for want of
+air and water filled my mind. I waxed warm.
+
+"That horse must be found at once," I said. The clerks and operators
+wearily looked out of the window. The idea of any one being so
+concerned about a horse was to them insanity or worse. I insisted. I
+banged my fist on the table. At last one of the young men yawned
+languidly, looked at me with dim eyes, and as one brain-cell
+coalesced with another seemed to mature an idea. He said:--
+
+"Rheinhart had a horse this morning on his extra."
+
+"Did he--maybe that's the one." They discussed this probability with
+lazy indifference. At last they condescended to include me in their
+conversation.
+
+I insisted on their telegraphing till they found that horse, and with
+an air of distress and saint-like patience the agent wrote out a
+telegram and sent it. Thereafter he could not see me; nevertheless I
+persisted. I returned to the office each quarter of an hour to ask if
+an answer had come to the telegram. At last it came. Ladrone was
+ahead and would arrive in St. Paul nearly twelve hours before me. I
+then telegraphed the officers of the road to see that he did not
+suffer and composed myself as well as I could for the long wait.
+
+At St. Paul I hurried to the freight office and found the horse had
+been put in a stable. I sought the stable, and there, among the big
+dray horses, looking small and trim as a racer, was the lost horse,
+eating merrily on some good Minnesota timothy. He was just as much at
+ease there as in the car or the boat or on the marshes of the Skeena
+valley, but he was still a half-day's ride from his final home.
+
+I bustled about filling up another car. Again for the last time I
+sweated and tugged getting feed, water, and bedding. Again the
+railway hands marvelled and looked askance. Again some one said,
+"Does it pay to bring a horse like that so far?"
+
+"Pay!" I shouted, thoroughly disgusted, "does it pay to feed a dog
+for ten years? Does it pay to ride a bicycle? Does it pay to bring up
+a child? Pay--no; it does not pay. I'm amusing myself. You drink beer
+because you like to, you use tobacco--I squander my money on a
+horse." I said a good deal more than the case demanded, being hot and
+dusty and tired and--I had broken loose. The clerk escaped through a
+side door.
+
+Once more I closed the bars on the gray and saw him wheeled out into
+the grinding, jolting tangle of cars where the engines cried out like
+some untamable flesh-eating monsters. The light was falling, the
+smoke thickening, and it was easy to imagine a tragic fate for the
+patient and lonely horse.
+
+Delay in getting the car made me lose my train and I was obliged to
+take a late train which did not stop at my home. I was still paying
+for my horse out of my own bone and sinew. At last the luscious green
+hills, the thick grasses, the tall corn-shocks and the portly
+hay-stacks of my native valley came in view and they never looked so
+abundant, so generous, so entirely sufficing to man and beast as now
+in returning from a land of cold green forests, sparse grass, and icy
+streams.
+
+At ten o'clock another huge freight train rolled in, Ladrone's car
+was side-tracked and sent to the chute. For the last time he felt the
+jolt of the car. In a few minutes I had his car opened and a plank
+laid.
+
+"Come, boy!" I called. "This is home."
+
+He followed me as before, so readily, so trustingly, my heart
+responded to his affection. I swung to the saddle. With neck arched
+high and with a proud and lofty stride he left the door of his prison
+behind him. His fame had spread through the village. On every corner
+stood the citizens to see him pass.
+
+As I opened the door to the barn I said to him:--
+
+"Enter! Your days of thirst, of hunger, of cruel exposure to rain and
+snow are over. Here is food that shall not fail," and he seemed to
+understand.
+
+It might seem absurd if I were to give expression to the relief and
+deep pleasure it gave me to put that horse into that familiar stall.
+He had been with me more than four thousand miles. He had carried me
+through hundreds of icy streams and over snow fields. He had
+responded to every word and obeyed every command. He had suffered
+from cold and hunger and poison. He had walked logs and wallowed
+through quicksands. He had helped me up enormous mountains and I had
+guided him down dangerous declivities. His faithful heart had never
+failed even in days of direst need, and now he shall live amid plenty
+and have no care so long as he lives. It does not pay,--that is
+sure,--but after all what does pay?
+
+
+
+
+THE LURE OF THE DESERT
+
+
+    I lie in my blanket, alone, alone!
+    Hearing the voice of the roaring rain,
+    And my heart is moved by the wind's low moan
+    To wander the wastes of the wind-worn plain,
+    Searching for something--I cannot tell--
+    The face of a woman, the love of a child--
+    Or only the rain-wet prairie swell
+    Or the savage woodland wide and wild.
+
+    I must go away--I know not where!
+    Lured by voices that cry and cry,
+    Drawn by fingers that clutch my hair,
+    Called to the mountains bleak and high,
+    Led to the mesas hot and bare.
+    O God! How my heart's blood wakes and thrills
+    To the cry of the wind, the lure of the hills.
+    I'll follow you, follow you far;
+    Ye voices of winds, and rain and sky,
+    To the peaks that shatter the evening star.
+    Wealth, honor, wife, child--all
+    I have in the city's keep,
+    I loose and forget when ye call and call
+    And the desert winds around me sweep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE GOLDSEEKERS REACH THE GOLDEN RIVER
+
+
+The goldseekers are still seeking. I withdrew, but they went on. In
+the warmth and security of my study, surrounded by the peace and
+comfort of my native Coolly, I thought of them as they went toiling
+over the trail, still toward the north. It was easy for me to imagine
+their daily life. The Manchester boys and Burton, my partner, left
+Glenora with ten horses and more than two thousand pounds of
+supplies.
+
+Twice each day this immense load had to be handled; sometimes in
+order to rest and graze the ponies, every sack and box had to be
+taken down and lifted up to their lashings again four times each day.
+This meant toil. It meant also constant worry and care while the
+train was in motion. Three times each day a campfire was built and
+coffee and beans prepared.
+
+However, the weather continued fair, my partner wrote me, and they
+arrived at Teslin Lake in September, after being a month on the road,
+and there set about building a boat to carry them down the river.
+
+Here the horses were sold, and I know it must have been a sad moment
+for Burton to say good-by to his faithful brutes. But there was no
+help for it. There was no more thought of going to the head-waters
+of the Pelly and no more use for the horses. Indeed, the gold-hunters
+abandoned all thought of the Nisutlin and the Hotalinqua. They were
+fairly in the grasp of the tremendous current which seemed to get
+ever swifter as it approached the mouth of the Klondike River. They
+were mad to reach the pool wherein all the rest of the world was
+fishing. Nothing less would satisfy them.
+
+At last they cast loose from the shore and started down the river,
+straight into the north. Each hour, each mile, became a menace. Day
+by day they drifted while the spitting snows fell hissing into the
+cold water, and ice formed around the keel of the boat at night. They
+passed men camped and panning dirt, but continued resolute, halting
+only "to pass the good word."
+
+It grew cold with appalling rapidity and the sun fell away to the
+south with desolating speed. The skies darkened and lowered as the
+days shortened. All signs of life except those of other argonauts
+disappeared. The river filled with drifting ice, and each night
+landing became more difficult.
+
+At last the winter came. The river closed up like an iron trap, and
+before they knew it they were caught in the jam of ice and fighting
+for their lives. They landed on a wooded island after a desperate
+struggle and went into camp with the thermometer thirty below zero.
+But what of that? They were now in the gold belt. After six months of
+incessant toil, of hope deferred, they were at last on the spot
+toward which they had struggled.
+
+All around them was the overflow from the Klondike. Their desire to
+go farther was checked. They had reached the counter current--the
+back-water--and were satisfied.
+
+Leaving to others the task of building a permanent camp, my sturdy
+partner, a couple of days later, started prospecting in company with
+two others whom he had selected to represent the other outfit. The
+thermometer was fifty-six degrees below zero, and yet for seven days,
+with less than six hours' sleep, without a tent, those devoted idiots
+hunted the sands of a near-by creek for gold, and really staked
+claims.
+
+On the way back one of the men grew sleepy and would have lain down
+to die except for the vigorous treatment of Burton, who mauled him
+and dragged him about and rubbed him with snow until his blood began
+to circulate once more. In attempting to walk on the river, which was
+again in motion, Burton fell through, wetting one leg above the knee.
+It was still more than thirty degrees below zero, but what of that?
+He merely kept going.
+
+They reached the bank opposite the camp late on the seventh day, but
+were unable to cross the moving ice. For the eighth night they
+"danced around the fire as usual," not daring to sleep for fear of
+freezing. They literally frosted on one side while scorching at the
+fire on the other, turning like so many roasting pigs before the
+blaze. The river solidified during the night and they crossed to the
+camp to eat and sleep in safety.
+
+A couple of weeks later they determined to move down the river to a
+new stampede in Thistle Creek. Once more these indomitable souls
+left their warm cabin, took up their beds and nearly two thousand
+pounds of outfit and toiled down the river still farther into the
+terrible north. The chronicle of this trip by Burton is of
+mathematical brevity: "On 20th concluded to move. Took four days.
+Very cold. Ther. down to 45 below. Froze one toe. Got claim--now
+building cabin. Expect to begin singeing in a few days."
+
+The toil, the suffering, the monotonous food, the lack of fire, he
+did not dwell upon, but singeing, that is to say burning down through
+the eternally frozen ground, was to begin at once. To singe a hole
+into the soil ten or fifteen feet deep in the midst of the sunless
+seventy of the arctic circle is no light task, but these men will do
+it; if hardihood and honest toil are of any avail they will all share
+in the precious sand whose shine has lured them through all the dark
+days of the long trail, calling with such power that nothing could
+stay them or turn them aside.
+
+If they fail, well--
+
+    This out of all will remain,
+    They have lived and have tossed.
+    So much of the game will be gain,
+    Though the gold of the dice has been lost.
+
+
+
+
+HERE THE TRAIL ENDS
+
+
+    Here the trail ends--Here by a river
+    So swifter, and darker, and colder
+    Than any we crossed on our long, long way.
+    Steady, Dan, steady. Ho, there, my dapple,
+    You first from the saddle shall slip and be free.
+    Now go, you are clear from command of a master;
+    Go wade in the grasses, go munch at the grain.
+    I love you, my faithful, but all is now over;
+    Ended the comradeship held 'twixt us twain.
+    I go to the river and the wide lands beyond it,
+    You go to the pasture, and death claims us all.
+    _For here the trail ends!_
+
+    _Here the trail ends!_
+    Draw near with the broncos.
+    Slip the hitch, loose the cinches,
+    Slide the saw-bucks away from each worn, weary back.
+    We are done with the axe, the camp, and the kettle;
+    Strike hand to each cayuse and send him away.
+    Let them go where the roses and grasses are growing,
+    To the meadows that slope to the warm western sea.
+    No more shall they serve us; no more shall they suffer
+    The sting of the lash, the heat of the day.
+    Soon they will go to a winterless haven,
+    To the haven of beasts where none may enslave.
+    _For here the trail ends_.
+
+    _Here the trail ends._
+    Never again shall the far-shining mountains allure us,
+    No more shall the icy mad torrents appall.
+    Fold up the sling ropes, coil down the cinches,
+    Cache the saddles, and put the brown bridles away.
+    Not one of the roses of Navajo silver,
+    Not even a spur shall we save from the rust.
+    Put away the worn tent-cloth, let the red people have it;
+    We are done with all shelter, we are done with the gun.
+    Not so much as a pine branch, not even a willow
+    Shall swing in the air 'twixt us and our God.
+    Naked and lone we cross the wide ferry,
+    Bare to the cold, the dark and the rain.
+    _For here the trail ends._
+
+    _Here the trail ends._ Here by the landing
+    I wait the last boat, the slow silent one.
+    We each go alone--no man with another,
+    Each into the gloom of the swift black flood--
+    Boys, it is hard, but here we must scatter;
+    The gray boatman waits, and I--I go first.
+    All is dark over there where the dim boat is rocking--
+    But that is no matter! No man need to fear;
+    For clearly we're told the powers that lead us
+    Shall govern the game to the end of the day.
+    _Good-by--here the trail ends!_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+WORKS BY
+
+GILBERT PARKER
+
+16mo. Cloth. Each, $1.25.
+
+  PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE.
+      WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC.
+          AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH.
+              A ROMANY OF THE SNOWS.
+                  A LOVER'S DIARY.
+
+
+"He has the instinct of the thing: his narrative has distinction, his
+characters and incidents have the picturesque quality, and he has the
+sense for the scale of character-drawing demanded by romance, hitting
+the happy mean between lay figures and over-analyzed 'souls.'"
+
+--_St. James Gazette._
+
+
+"Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and
+genius in Mr. Parker's style."
+
+--_Daily Telegraph,_ London.
+
+
+  PUBLISHED BY
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY,
+  66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+_A NEW EDITION_
+
+ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY
+
+BY
+
+HAMLIN GARLAND
+
+Cloth, 12mo. $1.50
+
+
+_WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS_
+
+"I cherish with a grateful sense of the high pleasure they have given
+me Mr. Garland's splendid achievements in objective fiction."
+
+
+_THE CRITIC_
+
+"Its realism is hearty, vivid, flesh and blood realism, which makes
+the book readable even to those who disapprove most conscientiously
+of many things in it."
+
+
+_THE NEW AGE_
+
+"It is, beyond all manner of doubt, one of the most powerful novels
+of recent years. It has created a sensation."
+
+
+_KANSAS CITY JOURNAL_
+
+"After the fashion of all rare vintages Mr. Garland seems to improve
+with age. No more evidence of this is needed than a perusal of his
+'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly.' One might sum up the many excellences of
+the entire story by saying that it is not unworthy of any American
+writer."
+
+
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+  66 FIFTH AVENUE
+  NEW YORK
+
+
+
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