The Great Gold Rush Part 12

"Sure thing! Beans--yes; nothing like beans on the trail; besides, I don't mind eating your beans, seeing my own grub pile is most petered out. Just a little flour and baking-powder left; not much good to travel on."

The man fell to eating. His manner turned from hilarity to morosity. He bolted his food. Soon his companion on the blankets moved, and gasped, "Don't let that hog eat all the beans; I want some."

"Ha! I thought Bill wasn't dead: you're just a bluffer, ain't you, Bill?

Say! Bill, let's turn round and go back to Dawson. We can travel along with these fellows: they have lots of grub, and we can buy off them."

It was evident to John and his friends that--if the first stranger was the worse affected in physical condition--the second was mentally the more upset. The snow-blinded sufferer raised himself and took from Hugh the plate of beans and a second cup of tea. This man ate slowly, while his partner continued to talk.

"You see, me and Bill came from Dawson together; and when we got to Thirty Mile we found it open, and the blame sleigh was always sliding into the open water. I wanted Bill to chuck the sleigh and pack our grub and blankets; but Bill wouldn't. So I says, 'I'll pack my half, and you can haul your half,' and that's the way we've been coming. Bill had a h.e.l.l of a time with his sleigh sliding into the river; and then, coming up the lake, he never could keep it on the trail. No wonder he's bughouse!"[7]

[7] Crazy.

When the first arrival had finished his meal Hugh led him into the tent and bathed his eyes with fresh-made tea. In the tent the sufferer was free from the glare of the sun. Hugh hung a dark grey blanket from the ridge pole, so that if the sufferer opened his eyes he could fix his gaze upon it. Then he went out.

"How's Bill?" asked the erratic one.

"Better, I hope."

"Not bughouse yet?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, if he ain't bughouse, he is sure locoed on that wife of his."

Hugh made no reply, and the other continued,

"Ha! that's Bill Stanbridge; owns in on Eldorado with Slim Mulligan, who's in charge now, and will look after the clean-up. My name is Frank Miller; just blew in about the time Carmack made discovery, but went and used my rights on Boulder Creek. Boulder showed up better on surface than Bonanza or Eldorado, but there's nothing on bed-rock in Boulder."

As the man got his mind away from his partner, his conversation indicated less disorder of intellect. Hugh, quickly noticing the change, and with a view to further the good process, asked,

"How's Dawson?"

"Dawson! She's fine. Lots of grub. Old Healey gave the boys a speel last fall that they'd all starve if they stayed in the country, and then the speculators corralled all the grub and run up prices; but they're loosening now. You can get a pretty good meal of beans now for two dollars and a half--even at Miss Mulrooney's. Say! that girl is making money."

"How's Bonanza?"

"Good; but Eldorado is better. Bill's go ground, some of it going five hundred dollars to the pan for picked dirt. But this high grade pay! The Government is going to send their yellow-legs round to relieve the boys of ten per cent., and fellows with poor ground will have to pay as well as the fellows on Eldorado. That ain't fair!"

"It's fair to charge for the administration of the country and keeping law and order," said George.

"To h.e.l.l with law and order! You're a chechacho, or you wouldn't talk like that. Miners' meetings make pretty good law-courts; and now they have law and order, fellows begin to lock their doors. The country was a whole lot better before ever it saw an official."

"Yes; but the gang going in now will make things different," said Hugh.

"You're an old-timer?... Thought so when I first swallowed your beans.

Chechachoes don't know how to boil beans like that. You'll find a big change round Rabbit Creek when you blow in there. It's gamblers and saloon men most have the good claims. Of course Carmack had to put his wife's relations in next to him on discovery; and when the crowd got up from Forty Mile they staked on Boulder Gulch and Adams Gulch. Neither any good--but say! they've got Dawson a hot town." He laughed. "Games running night and day; all the fun you want, but no gun-play; the yellow-legs will put you on the wood-pile right away quick, if ever you make a break; and it ain't no fun to be sawing wood at forty below, with a yellow-legs and a Winchester standing over you--for the glory of the Queen of England!"

Frank Miller's mind was lapsing.

CHAPTER XII

A NEW PARTNER

Frank Corte stood at the door of his kitchen and, with a large smile, eyed the coming of the party. The new-comers were evidently going to build their boat at the foot of Le Berge; and already he had favourably sized them up.

There were many tents pitched around the cabin where Frank distributed the necessities of human sustenance; but Dude's instincts drew him to the kitchen, and down he and his canine followers flopped before the door.

"Well! well! fine dogs, nice day, strangers. Going to build boat here?

yes, thought so. Thirty Mile is open to the Hootalink, and the Lewis is getting holes in it. Early spring, sure!"

Frank's heart was hospitable; but the cost of grub was high: moreover, the grub he cooked was not his. He was debating how far his hospitality could go.

Frank Corte was a Hungarian by birth, and a citizen of the United States of America, which he proudly announced as opportunity offered. He was over six feet tall, with long arms, stooping shoulders, and an angular form. His physical strength was enormous: there was a wealth of native kindness in his heart. His chief diversion was argument, in which--thanks to his study of the Bible, and a small, besmeared pocket-edition of Webster's Dictionary--he was rather effective. He could argue with any one; or even on necessity address his convictions to the little red-haired female dog that was ever at his heels. Frank thought the world of f.a.n.n.y.

"Say! fellows, it's against orders to feed pilgrims, though I guess you ain't altogether tenderfeet; but if you wants to boil your tea and cook grub on my stove, you're welcome. Come right in and cook up."

"No, thanks," said Hugh, "though I guess I will leave the team here and mooch round and get a good camping-place. I guess we'll be here three weeks, and might as well set up our tent in a good place. We're not hungry."

"That's right; and you can't have a better camping-ground than right over against that bunch of spruce." Frank was interested in these strangers, and his desire for news stimulated his hospitality; so he continued, "Come right in and feed up, and look for your camping-ground after. Days are getting long now."

Hugh hesitated, and then accepted. Frank put on more wood, to which the tin stove quickly responded.

"How's Soapy?" he inquired.

"Fine," replied Hugh, "hold-ups galore. The people of Skagway have a murder nearly every morning for breakfast!"

"Say! what a time Soapy would have if they only let him operate around Dawson--wouldn't he make a killing! But them police! They don't have any more excitement beyond the games and dance-halls in Dawson than they do outside. That's no mining-camp for a country like this, and the crowd what's inside there now. I don't like to see too much killing, but a hold-up now and again is interesting!--besides, these rich claim-owners can stand it. A fellow was telling me that it was nothing to see the 'Big Moose'[8] coming into Dawson, last summer, with ten or twenty thousand dollars tied to his saddle, and him without a guard! Say! we're going to have a squaw-dance Friday night in the dining-room here, will you come? One of our fellows has an accordion, and we'll have fine music. Only four bits a dance. I'm going to try and get some hootch.

There's nothing like hootch to get the squaws on the move--if the yellow-legs don't get on to it. They soak you like the devil if they catch you at it, though. Say! how's Uncle Sam getting on licking them there Spaniards?--he'll do them up in about three weeks. I'd like to be outside to go to the Philippines. After he gets through with the Spaniards he's going to come in and take Canada,"--and here Frank stole side-glances at Hugh's companions; but his instincts of hospitality stayed him from this, his favourite joke.

[8] Indian name for the late Alexander McDonald.

"Say! where did you get those dogs? Fine team!"

"Three I got inside; the others in Skagway."

"I thought you was no chechacho. You come from Uncle Sam's country, don't you?"

"I come from all over: what's this outfit you're with?"

"Jack Haskins is building two scows to take down some freight he hauled in over the ice. He has me cooking for him, though I could get $250.00 in Dawson for the same job. He only pays me $150.00 per month; but I'll soon be in with the best of them. Say! if you fellows is going to build a boat, I'll ask Jack if you can't use one of his pits. He has two, and I guess you fellows can get the chance to use one of his pits for all the lumber you want--and that will save you building one. I'm glad you fellows have showed up--it will make more company--and I hope you'll come to our dance. You'll see the squaw-camp down the river a bit.

They're out from Dalton House, came out to Tagish, visiting some Siwashes there, and drifted down here, just to take in the sights! Are a bit shy, though some have picked up a little English."

"Here is another human study," thought John, as he and his friends moved over to the point suggested for their encampment. They found it satisfactory, so went back for the dogs.

"Say! if you fellows want anything in the way of dishes, or if you're real short of any grub, maybe I can let you have it on the sly," said Frank to the party as they returned, his hospitality getting ahead of his morals. But Hugh a.s.sured him the party was fixed up all right.