A Claim on Klondyke Part 3

After this we had a few days clear, calm, and sunny. Pools of water formed on land amongst the rocks and tangle, and the lake-ice was awash, yet Jim a.s.sured us that we need not expect the lake to open yet, and Fan added, "By'me by we get plenty freeze once more, and, mebbe, plenty snow!"

In this latter she was mistaken: she was right about the freeze, though. Thick ice formed every night, if night it could be called.

One day it blew a heavy gale: we kept under cover, wondering that our little tent was not carried bodily away.

The matter of a boat occupied our consideration. Jim had heard that two men, camped down on Tagish Lake, had a whip-saw, and were cutting lumber to sell to parties like us to build their boats with, but our only means of getting to them was by a raft. There was no timber fit for boat-building in our neighbourhood, therefore when weather permitted we chopped and rolled logs on to the ice, and lashed and pinned them together into a form we hoped would bear us safely. We built it on the ice so that when that broke up it would be afloat.

Jim and his wife helped: she was as active as a young deer, and as strong as either of us.

Two weeks pa.s.sed thus. Our raft was finished, and we were waiting patiently for the ice to disappear. We had spells of very hot weather, plenty of wind, but very little rain. The sun did not set till late; by two A.M. it was up again. The growth of vegetation was amazing--gra.s.s was green, and flowers had sprung into bloom, seemingly in a few hours. A few birds were seen, robins and jays.

One evening a flock of ducks whistled over the tent. Meade sprang up, gun in hand, but too late for a shot; but next day more pa.s.sed and we bagged several brace. It was evident that spring had arrived.

On May 15th Fan informed us that "Pretty soon now, my believe, ice go away." Jim had gone up a creek to try for fish; when he returned, with a string of suckers he had speared, he agreed with what Fan had said, adding that he believed next day we should "no more ice see."

It was so. When we turned out the following morning, instead of a field of rotting ice, which had all sunk we supposed, there was before our camp a lovely blue lake, sparkling and rippling in a gentle breeze, and Jim gleefully announced, "Now, bossee, you bet we go ahead aller same steamboat."

At once we loaded our raft, and we four drifted on it down the Windy Arm, Tagish Lake. It is but a narrow strip of water, this arm, more like a river. The hills on both sides are steep, the wind from the east rushes through, sometimes dangerously, but we were fortunate to have merely a fresh breeze behind us.

By towing from the sh.o.r.e sometimes, at others by poling, we contrived on the third day to reach the lake, and here we were lucky enough to find not only the men we had heard were cutting lumber there, but that they had just finished a boat which they could sell to us.

These men welcomed us very heartily: they told us we were the first party on the way since the previous autumn. They had run out of tobacco.

The boat they had to sell was not built for either speed or beauty, but we saw it was the very thing for us---it would carry us well with our heavy load to Dawson City. We agreed to their price, which was naturally high, and before we turned in that night we had stowed our goods on board her, and were ready to begin our journey in earnest. We had received a good bit of information about it from these men, who had been often up and down the Yukon. We left them a little happier for our visit, for we had supplied them with a few stores, and notably with tobacco.

We sailed off cheerfully next morning down Lake Tagish. At the mouth of Windy Arm are islands and high mountains,--one superb dome-shaped giant stands alone.

We trolled that day, and caught one large fish like a salmon,--it probably was a land-locked one. Its flesh was white and absolutely tasteless, but Jim and Fan considered it was prime. We made a lovely camp that night on an island near sh.o.r.e.

It took us till the following afternoon to get down this lake. We saw no human beings, but along the sluggish river which joins it to Lake Marsh we pa.s.sed Tagish House, and there was a group of Indians at which Jim and Fan were terribly alarmed, declaring that if they were seen they would be killed by them, for it appears that war between the Tagishes and the Sticks, which our two were, is perpetual.

Accordingly we gave these Indians a wide berth. Tagish House is but a rough log affair. Yet it is famous, for it is not only the place the tribe meets at annually for its council and festival, but it is the only permanent building in all that country.

Pa.s.sing down for half-a-dozen miles, we entered Lake Marsh, which occupies a broad valley with high mountains on the east. It is about two miles wide. Traversing it, we got all the wildfowl and the fish we could consume. We lived sumptuously. The journey took us two days.

Fan and Jim were always bright and cheery, and ready to lend a hand; they were good companions, and were uncommonly good specimens of Indians. One particularly good thing about them was that Fan had been taught the use of soap at Metlakahtla, and she had taught her husband; so they were, wonder of wonders, clean Indians!

The foot of Marsh Lake we found to be low and swampy; the sleughs appeared to be full of ducks and musk-rats--also of _mosquitos_!

We certainly expected these last. We had suffered from them in Manitoba and in other parts of Canada; we supposed we knew what we had to contend with, but we did not.

Fortunately we had brought some mosquito netting, which we rigged up in our tent, so that, inside, we had a trifle of peace; but when travelling or moving outside, it was impossible to protect ourselves, and we experienced untold misery. Our Indians suffered quite as much as we did, and complained as loudly. They lit fires inside their tepee, filling it with pungent smoke, through which they slept contented; but we could not stand that.

I may here say that from this time on, with very rare exceptions, we were simply tortured by mosquitos. We pa.s.sed through many hardships, had innumerable physical difficulties to contend with during that summer and winter, but they are all forgotten, or regarded as mere trifles, and one phase of misery is vividly recorded on my memory: it is the ceaseless torment of those infernal gnats. They are the cause of the worst suffering that people must submit to in that country: winter's cold, summer's heat, even hunger, are not to be compared to this awful pest.

For instance, you are tramping with a load upon your back, your hands are full carrying tools or packages, the sun is blistering hot, the perspiration is pouring off you in streams, yet all the time the ubiquitous mosquitos are engaging your closest attention; your eyes, your ears, your nostrils, all your most sensitive spots, are their favourite feeding-grounds. You are helpless, you suffer agony, and you often feel that life itself is next thing to a curse. We have seen hardy, rough men shed tears of impotent anger at these innumerable, invisible, relentless enemies. Dogs and men, cattle and wild beasts, deer especially, and even bears, are their victims.

Frequently we were so swollen about our necks that we could hardly turn our heads, and our wrists were so enlarged that our wristbands were useless. We tried tobacco juice, turpentine, lamp-oil, but nothing gave us relief. Truly the mosquitos of the Yukon hold the record as tormentors.

Lake Marsh is twenty miles long. It then narrows, and for nearly thirty miles we followed the course of the river, which is the Lewes.

The current is about three miles an hour, and we were blessed with a gentle breeze astern, so got on famously. We pa.s.sed through miles and miles of cut sandbanks, which were completely honeycombed by a species of martin, which were then busy nesting. The air was alive with millions of these little birds, and we gloried in the knowledge that they were feeding exclusively on our deadly foes.

Here we met with a few large salmon. They come all the long way up from Behring Sea to sp.a.w.n. In August, Jim said, the river is crowded with them, and the bears come down from the hills to feed on them.

Dozens, he a.s.sured us, might be seen any day along that river. We saw but one; we shot at and missed it.

Up to this time, it will be noticed, we had experienced only fine weather,--indeed, so far, our only real suffering had been from the mosquitos; but one evening, the sun being high, though it was ten P.M., the sky was suddenly enveloped in dense clouds, against which steamlike scud drifted with great rapidity; and by the action of the martins and waterfowl, and by the sudden cessation of the rapacity of the mosquitos, which had been earlier in the day more persistent than usual, we knew that some change was at hand.

Jim said that wind was coming, so we camped, put our tents up with extra care, and drew our boat into what we thought was a safe harbour by the river side.

Not long after--we could see up stream for at least a mile--we perceived that a huge wave was bearing down to us. It was like a bore.

We stared aghast!

Our boat and nearly all we had was in imminent danger. I made a rush, intending to leap on board, push it out into the river, then turn its head to the great surge that was rolling down, and so, I hoped, save it from wreck; but Meade held me back, shouting above the dreadful roar of wind and water that I should not go--that the risk was far too great.

As we stood thus, he restraining me, I struggling to go, Jim pa.s.sed us, stripped: he leapt into the boat, pushed her off, then with one grand sweep of the steering oar he turned her head up stream just as the wave reached her. She lifted with the heave of it, veered this way and that, the heavy water curled up, and we stood there trembling, feeling sure that she would be swamped. But Jim held on manfully, kept her well up, and although she was carried down stream at terrible speed, yet we saw that the brave Indian, standing like a bronze statue at the stern, had conquered.

It was soon lost to sight in the gloom, for the spray which the mighty wind raised was driving down river as if it were drifting snow.

So far, the boat, we trusted, had escaped, but what would ultimately become of her and Jim, we wondered.

We turned to Fan, asking what she thought about it. She was crouched under the lee of a log, smiling peacefully!

"No you bother," she shouted, "Jim all light; outfit all light too.

By'me by, pretty soon, no mo' wind, Jim tie up er boat, come back'n we pack all tings down to boat--or, mebbee, Jim bring boat back here. You see me?--well, all light!" and she smiled again quite happily.

How we blessed our stars that we had hired this Indian and his charming klootchman. We thought her a perfect heroine that night, whilst I believe she considered us very childish for being so very much alarmed.

Almost as quickly as this heavy squall had arisen it ceased, the sun streamed out, and the silence was oppressive, yet very welcome. But what should we do about Jim?

We consulted Fan, who calmly replied, "Nosing, nossir, make muck-a-muck, what you call supper, then turn in, my tink Jim come along all lightee by'me by, soon."

At which we made up the fire, and did as she advised.

We were aroused towards morning by Jim calling to his wife from the other side the river. He told us that the boat was safely moored a mile below, that he had tried to bring her to camp but could not, therefore we must pack all to her. He swam across and joined us, after which we had our first real essay at "packing," and we concluded that it was not our forte. We found our boat and her cargo safe and sound below, which was no small blessing. It took two days to pack all down to her. Then on we went again, the stream carrying us along between smooth gra.s.sy hills and sandy knolls. Soon the current became stronger, and we heard a distinct roar ahead, and on the bank we saw a board stuck up by some friendly voyageur, on which was scrawled in big letters--"_Danger, Stop_," which at once we did.

We had arrived at Myles Canon, the grand canon of the Lewes--the Miners' Grave.

Eager to examine what we had now to encounter, Meade and I landed and went ahead to prospect. Where we had stopped the river was two hundred yards wide at least: it was roaring ahead in the middle, rushing vehemently on its way.

We mounted the basalt cliff above where we were camped, and came in full view of the canon. We knew the length of it and the width, we had heard so much about it, and believed we knew just what to expect, yet the reality appalled us. How could we get through? It looked impossible: still, knowing that it had been done, and if we were to reach our destination we must negotiate it, we sat on an outstanding point and wondered.

The walls of the gorge, which averages one hundred feet in width, are about the same height; they are worn into fantastic shapes, very little vegetation clings to them, but along the top there is timber, and one can march through it with ease.

The river, forced through this narrow canon, is heaped up in the middle much higher than at the sides: it is one ma.s.s of foam, and it flashes along at lightning speed, roaring and raging. It is about three-quarters of a mile from fairly smooth water up stream to quietness below.

As we sat on the summit of the cliff, critically examining the scene, we presently perceived two tents at what looked to be the lower end of the gorge, and there was the smoke of a camp-fire.

With Jim and Fan, who had joined us, we consulted; it resulted in Meade and Jim going ahead to visit these campers and obtaining information.

From them they learned that they had got through safely. There were half-a-dozen men, old Yukoners, friendly and communicative, who had wintered by Lake Marsh, where they had got a little gold. They offered to help us. Some of them returned and packed each a load over the portage, and then as they saw that neither of us was experienced at shooting rapids, one of them very kindly volunteered to go through with Fan and Jim in our boat.