To Alaska for Gold; Or, The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  AN UNLOOKED-FOR ARRIVAL.

  Although the boys missed Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss greatly, therewas much of satisfaction in the thought that their uncle had expressed;namely, that henceforth whatever was taken out of the three claims onMosquito Hollow gulch would belong to them and to nobody else.

  "Of course, we can't expect to do as much work as was done before," wasthe way Earl reasoned. "But we are just as liable as ever to make a bigstrike."

  During the following week the weather turned off somewhat cooler, andthis made work easier and more rapid. All three went at it with a will,and the six days brought in six hundred dollars in dust.

  "That's a hundred and fifty apiece for us, Earl," said Randy, afterfiguring up. "It beats lumbering down in Maine all hollow, doesn't it?"

  "I'll tell you better after we've gone through a winter up here, Randy.From all accounts the weather is something awful, and we've got to standit, for getting away is out of the question after the first ofSeptember."

  "Well, let's not anticipate trouble. I guess Uncle will see that we areas well provided for as possible," answered Randy, who could think ofnothing but the gold dust brought in daily.

  So far they had done all their washing with hand pans. Foster Portneyhad tried to obtain a cradle, or a "Long Tom," but had failed. Now heannounced his intention to go over to the saw-mill at Dawson and buy thenecessary boards for several sluice boxes. He left on Friday, stating hewould probably not return before Monday or Tuesday.

  The week had brought a number of newcomers to the vicinity, who hadstaked claims on other gulches within a radius of half a mile. Some ofthese late arrivals had come over the mountain pass, while the majorityhad taken the longer route up the Pacific Ocean and the Yukon. The Forkseemed to be a favorite camping ground, and there were times when asmany as a score of tents were pitched there.

  One of the newcomers was from Hunker Creek, and he brought news of thedoctor and the captain. The pair had staked two claims some distanceabove Discovery and were doing fairly well, although they had by nomeans struck it as rich as anticipated.

  It was on Saturday evening, when Randy and Earl were busy washing outsome of their underwear--for they of course had to play their ownwasherwoman--that news was brought to them that there was a youngfellow down at a camp below who had expressed a desire that Randy orEarl come to see him.

  "He ain't give no name, but he's a slim-built chap an' don't look likehe was cut out fer roughing it," said the messenger. "He's half sick,and he was grub-struck when me and my pard picked him up."

  "A slim-built chap--" began Randy, when Earl broke in: "It's FredDobson, the crazy fool!"

  "Fred!" cried Randy. He turned to the messenger and asked the miner togive him a better description of the boy; but this was not forthcoming,and he hurried off with the man, leaving Earl in charge of the tent.

  The camp below was quarter of a mile away, over a hill thick withblackberry bushes. But something like a trail had been tramped down fromthe Fork, and it did not take the two long to cover the distance. Theyhad just come over the hill in sight of several tents when Randy beheldsomebody get up from a seat on a fallen log and totter toward him.

  "Randy Portney!" It was Fred Dobson's voice, but so thin and hollowRandy scarcely recognized it. "Oh, how glad I am to see somebody Iknow!"

  "Fred! How in the world did you get up here!" burst out Randy. He tookthe hand of the squire's son, and led the way back to the seat. "Howthin and pale you look! I thought you had gone back to Basco!"

  Fred heaved a deep sigh. Then he looked Randy full in the face for amoment. His eyes were moist, and he tried in vain to keep back thetears. But it was impossible, and throwing his head on Randy's shoulder,he wept like a child.

  The tears touched Randy to the heart, and he caught the thin hands andpressed them warmly. "Never mind, Fred," he said. "Now you are up hereI'll do what I can for you. So let up and tell me your story."

  It was several minutes before Fred could do this. "I came up by the wayof the Chilkoot Pass," he said, when he felt able to speak. "I joined aparty I met in Juneau, a crowd of men from Chicago, and they promised tosee me through if I would do my share of work. But the work was too hardfor me, and they treated me like a dog, and at Baker's Creek they kickedme out of camp and compelled me to shift for myself."

  "How long ago was this?"

  "A week ago. Since that time I've been knocking around from pillar topost, looking for something I could do, so as to earn at least enough toeat. I did get one job in Dawson City washing dishes in the restaurant,but even there the food the boss wanted me to eat was more than I couldstand, as it was nothing but leavings."

  "And when did you hear of us?"

  "Yesterday. I struck a miner named Wodley and he gave me yourdirections. Oh, Randy, what a fool I was to come to Alaska! If only Ihad taken your advice and gone back to Basco!" And it was only by aneffort that Fred Dobson kept himself from crying anew. He feltmiserable, weak, and hungry, had had scarcely a kind word for weeks, andwas on the point of giving up in despair.

  "Do your parents know where you are?" asked Randy, after another pause.

  "Yes, I wrote to them just before leaving Juneau--I couldn't think ofgoing so far away without doing that."

  "Well, that was at least one sensible move, Fred." Randy thought for amoment. "Our camp is about half a mile from here, over that hill. Canyou walk that far?"

  "Oh, yes, Randy; I can walk a good way now I've found a friend." Fredarose as quickly as he could. "Are you and your friends all togetheryet?"

  "No; there are only my uncle, Earl, and myself now."

  The two were soon on the journey over the hill. Fred was still rathershaky, and Randy gave him his arm to help him at the difficult places.When they reached camp, Earl had all the washing out and everythingtidied up.

  "So it is you, Fred?" he said, as he held out his hand. "I thought youback in Basco by this time."

  "I only wish I was! I made the biggest mistake of my life when I ranaway, so there! and I don't care who knows it!" And Fred threw himselfon a bench in front of the tent.

  "If there is any of that bean soup left, you had better give Fred some,"said Randy, with a knowing glance which did not escape Earl. "And I'mgoing to fry some of the fish I caught over in the river last night."

  Half an hour later the wanderer was sitting down to as appetizing asupper as he had tasted since leaving the States. While he ate he toldhis story in detail, to which Randy and Earl listened with muchinterest. That Fred had had a hard time of it there could be no doubt;and that he had learned a lesson he would never forget was alsoapparent.

  "If there was only some way of getting home, I'd start to-morrow," hesaid. "But I'm up here now, and I've got to do for myself--somehow." Helooked wistfully at Earl and Randy. "Do you think I could make some kindof a deal with your uncle to keep me? I know I am not as strong andhardy as you, but I can do something, and I won't look for any pay."

  "I don't know what uncle will say," said Earl. "He has gone to Dawson,and won't be back before Monday or Tuesday. I guess you can stay heretill that time."

  "Yes; and if he won't take you in, I'll help you some," added Randy."We've been more fortunate than you."

  Fred was curious to know how they had made out, and Earl and Randy toldhim. He was amazed to think they had done so well; and his facebrightened a good deal when he remembered how Randy had said he wouldhelp him.

  Sunday was spent in camp. Fred, who was completely tired out, slept thegreater part of the day, although at meal times, weak as he was, heinsisted on washing the dishes and the pots and kettles, just to showthat he was in earnest about working. This made Earl and Randy smile tothemselves.

  "Think of Fred washing dishes like that at home," whispered Earl to hisbrother. "If only the squire could see him now, I guess he'd almostforgive him for running away!"

  On Monday the two brothers went to work as usual in the Hollow. Fredfollowed them over and was much int
erested in their labors. Once hetried shovelling up the sand and dirt, but Earl told him he had bettertake it easy and get back his strength; and then he walked back to thetent, to spend the balance of the day in mending his clothing, which wassadly in need of repairs. When the boys came back, he had supper readyfor them, and never had they had a meal in camp that was better cooked.

  "Cooking was the one thing I learned coming up here," Fred explained."There was a negro in the party who had been a chef in a Chicago hotel;and he was the one soul in the crowd that treated me half decently."

  "Perhaps uncle will retain you as cook," said Randy, mischievously, andthen he stopped short, for he did not wish to hurt Fred's feelings. Thesupper passed off pleasantly, and Fred announced that he felt a hundredtimes better than the day previous.

  It was around ten o'clock, and the sun had just set over the mountainsto the westward, leaving the Hollow in an uncertain, pale-blue light,which would last until sunrise at four, when a messenger on mule-backdashed along the trail from Gold Bottom. "Thar's a lynchin' goin' ondown to Smedley's!" he yelled, as he sped by. "They've caught a sneakthief by the name o' Guardley, an' they're goin' ter make him do erdance on nuthin'. Better be gittin' down thar, if ye want ter seejustice done!"