A Claim on Klondyke Part 16

Her father was much better than when I first saw him, but he was still ill and frail. He welcomed me warmly, clasping my big rough hand in his thin white ones, saying as he did so, "Welcome back. I never can thank you enough for all your goodness. You have saved my daughter's life, and I hope, too, I may recover and prove to you my grat.i.tude."

I cut this matter short, begging him to use what I had been so pleased to bring.

His daughter, being present, went over a list of the dainties, as she called them, and was quite cheerful, which gladdened Mr Bell, and they both spoke hopefully of the future.

It was not long before we two had a kettle boiling, food cooked, and were enjoying what she a.s.sured me was the best meal she had eaten in that region. Bacon and beans, the staples with miners, had never been satisfactory food to her father and herself.

Naturally it was a delight to me to be thus familiarly a.s.sociated with her. During my absence she had tidied the shanty, and had also donned a better dress--that is, a cleaner one--less worn and ragged. She had done something to her hair, and had tried to make her hands more presentable. Her beauty was, I suppose, enhanced by this, and to me it seemed that if she was not so thin, and had a little more colour on her cheeks, and could lose the sad look that seldom left her face, she would be perfect.

As for me, I had done nothing to improve my dress or looks. I did get some snow melted at my place, and rubbed and scrubbed my hands; but I could not say they were improved, though a portion of the grease and blackness was gone.

We sat with her father for a while. He was a smoker, but all his tobacco was gone: he tried to join me, but could not manage it, although he was decidedly better. We propped him up, and he talked with me, and then of course they wished to know how I came to be in that part, and how I came across them, and about England; asked if I knew the part they came from, and said a little about where my people lived. He appeared to know our name, having visited in the neighbourhood, so that we got on well. He was very feeble, spoke with difficulty, and his daughter May, as he always called her, helped him out, finished sentences for him, and described to me what she knew he wished to tell me. As for how I came to be in that neighbourhood, that was easily explained. I told of Meade's discovery the first time he came into the Yukon; how he had returned this last summer, and had brought me with him. I told how fortunate we had been in getting gold, and so forth, and generalised a good deal. I said nothing about Meade's death--I merely stated that he had left me, that I had been alone for months, had become heartily tired of it, and had determined to get to Dawson "somehow" with what I could haul out. I was making preparation for this when I heard the shots, which May afterwards told me she fired every few hours for a week, hoping to attract some one; but of late she had quite despaired. They were certain they should both die. Indeed, as I knew, when the joyful sound of my gunshots, and soon after the barking of the dog, roused hope in her, her father had swooned away, and but for my wonderful advent, and what I had in my bag, she believed he would not have rallied.

I told her my intention had been to remain at Dawson till spring, then return to our claim, finish up there with men to help, and go home in the autumn.

"So I suppose you'll be carrying this out directly?" May asked. I shall henceforth call her May, though really at that time I addressed her as Miss Bell.

"Oh, not now. No; there is no need. I've given up the idea since I've been so fortunate as to find you and your father. You see, I was only going to Dawson for the sake of some sort of company. I have been so terribly solitary; I have nothing to do there now. I shall not be so lonely if you'll allow me to come here sometimes."

"Why, surely," she laughed; "surely, we shall be happy enough to see you, as often as you can come. See what good you have done us; look at my dear father. I wish you could stay here altogether."

I thanked her, and wished I could; but added that as everything I possessed was in our dug-out, which I described, it would hardly be right to leave it entirely unprotected.

They a.s.sured me that I need have no anxiety on that score, that robberies were never committed in that country, and that even if any one came across my place it would be left untouched.

I could hardly credit this, but as they understood how Meade and I had come in, and had met so few people, they explained, and declared that I should be surprised at the good behaviour and honour amongst the miners, who, whatever other evils they did, had a strict regard for each other's property. "Why," said Mr Bell, "I've known thousands of pounds' worth of gold to lie unguarded, in view of all pa.s.sers-by, and it was never interfered with; that was in Alaska, on the American side, where we know the laws are not respected as they are in Canada; and here, under the British flag, we're as safe, oh, much safer, than in England, so far as thieving goes!"

When May and I left him to sleep, we sat by the fire conversing. It was then I told her that I had something like 260 lb. weight of gold, worth, I supposed, 10,000, buried in my dug-out; it would be a serious matter if it were stolen--to others besides myself.

She whispered to me that they had also in this shanty an immense quant.i.ty, more than I could imagine possible, adding, "When the others went away they left our share with us, and father and I have got a lot since. He was not so ill then, he could help me. After they went away he and I worked, as I tell you, and our ground is very rich. We picked out as much as I can lift, and there is a dump of pay-dirt, which is full of finer gold, to be washed in the spring. But, oh dear! if father is not better soon I shall despair."

I tried to encourage her. I said I felt sure that it was only want of proper food that had made him ill; now that there was plenty, he would soon be all right.

She shook her head, saying, "Ah! you don't know. It is not all famine; he was very bad whilst yet we had food enough. But I must not despair." She tried to speak cheerfully. "Three days ago we were hopeless, dying really; yet see how wonderfully, how mercifully we have been rescued and provided for. I will hope yet. Please G.o.d, father will recover, then all will be well!"

I said that was right. I begged her to look at the bright side of things, and I continued, "You spoke just now of helping your father to mine--do you mean that you have actually worked? Yes? Not underground, surely?"

Smiling, she told me she had not actually worked down a shaft at tunnelling or driving, but that she had done about everything else.

They had been working in a mound beside the creek, had traced the gold into it along bed-rock, much as Meade and I had. This mound had gold in it from the surface, under the n.i.g.g.e.r gra.s.s and moss; it was six to ten feet thick, and of course always frozen as hard as marble. They lit fires before it, then removed the dirt thus thawed. It was slow work, consisting princ.i.p.ally in cutting firewood and keeping the fires going. She had become quite expert with an axe, she a.s.sured me. They allowed these fires to burn half a day, then raked them away, and generally found the ground was thawed a couple of feet in.

Often, she went on to explain to me, they found within a few inches of the rock the gold as thick as plums in a Christmas pudding, and she declared she knew there was an immense fortune in their claim.

I quite believed all this, for it was like our own experience.

When I looked at her I was not surprised at her ability to do labouring work. She was one of those well-built girls that one sometimes sees, more often in Britain than anywhere, who, having from their childhood been used to outdoor life, are physically able and as strong as men.

I could realise that when May was in good health her powers would be fully up to gold-mining or any other work. Withal there did not appear to be the slightest sign of that masculine style which is so horrible to see in women: she was soft spoken, eminently feminine, and one could not doubt she was in all respects a lady.

She knew all about panning off and cradling, and even sluicing, and could do them all. I was of course curious to know how they came to be where I found them, and how long they had been in Canada, and so forth; but I was diffident, and I did not like to ask her. I fancied they had not been very long from home.

I had been several hours there. I did not wish to leave, but thinking I ought to, I went in to bid her father farewell, when they both begged me to stay a while, and I did linger longer, for I really was in no hurry.

We had much conversation, which was delightful to me after my long silence. I found they had no books; so when I told them of my possessions they were envious, and charmed when I promised, next time I came, to bring some with me. I believe it was this prospect which made them willing for me to go, as I pledged myself to return in a very few days.

I left them with a heavy heart, with very great regret.

May asked me again to leave Patch with them; but when I told her that she had her father to talk with, whilst I had only a dog for company, she declared she was ashamed of having made so cruel a request.

My journey home was not a pleasant one. It was very dark, the sky was clouded, there was some wind and drifting snow. It was not so cold, however--it rarely is when the sky is overcast. But for Patch's sagacity, we might easily have gone astray.

So long as I kept my mind fixed on Mary Bell, remembered that I was not now solitary, I did well; but when, tired, cold, and miserable, I arrived at the hut so drear, so gloomy, I felt dreadful, and for a while I could barely look about me undismayed.

However, being fatigued enough and hungry, and the big fire making me drowsy, Patch and I were soon fed and fast, asleep, and forgetting our troubles and joys.

The following days I pa.s.sed far from pleasantly. I sat moping by the fire, only rousing for food or fuel. I did not even think of working.

I could not go in to where I had left my poor friend's body to dig for gold--it was desecration, I thought; so I just sat eating, smoking, sleeping, and grumbling to myself, and longing for the time when I considered it would be right to go to the Bells' again.

Certainly this was very simple of me. I might have been sure they would have been pleased enough to see me; but, as I have said before, I was very diffident with ladies, and, I suppose, much more so since I had lived that isolated life.

However, I could not dismiss May's personality from my mind. I really did not try to--it was a delight to think about her. No matter what I did, or on what train of thought I was, everything led me to that young lady. Her face was always before me, it had such a hold on my imagination. Of course I had heard or read about love, the attraction between the s.e.xes, and so forth, yet I never applied this knowledge to myself. I felt, even after the little I had seen of my sweet young friend, that I could do anything for her, that I would fain secure her continued companions.h.i.+p; yet, somehow, it never occurred to me to say to myself, "Bertie, you're falling in love with her; have a care, my lad."

This is the manner in which I sat mooning by my fire.

I had long since hunted out all our literature and packed it. I went through the remainder of our eatables, finding a few things that my new friends had not received. What more could I do to pa.s.s the weary time?

I could not start for four days at any rate, as the weather became terrible--wind, snow, and continual darkness. Not a star or ray of light was visible when I went outside, as I very rarely did, for necessaries only. I can conceive nothing more dismal, nothing more frightful, than this four days' gale. It seemed to me the very forest would be uprooted; the hill shook, inside which I lived. Alone in that awful turmoil was torment. I feared that the whole aspect of the country would be changed, that I should never find my friends again; indeed I fancied it was more than probable that they and their frail habitation must have been swept away.

To live outdoors in such weather, to travel through it, I knew was impossible, and I wondered if any poor folk were journeying, and I pictured their sufferings. I little knew then that there were crowds of people hurrying into this very part--for I was ignorant that the news of these great discoveries of gold had already startled the world, and that all the pa.s.ses and trails were crowded with folk trying to get in--and most of them what we call "tenderfeet," men, ay, and women too, who had never known privations before, to whom the idea of sleeping out of their comfortable beds had been till recently an event undreamed of.

What they must be suffering I could imagine, and what many are suffering now, even during the winter of '98-99, who can tell? although already much improvement has been made.

On the fifth day behold an entirely different state of matters. The wind had dropped; the absolute quietness was painful. I peeped out: the cold was intense, and all nature was deep imbedded in fresh snow.

The full moon was s.h.i.+lling brilliantly in the south, and the northern heavens were sown thick with stars, and the sky was cloudless.

Believing that some days of quiet weather were a.s.sured, I made ready for a start.

Our load this time was quite light, and we went off gleefully. Patch quite knew where we were going, and made no scruple about his happiness.

Decidedly I was glad to be off, but I had some very grave anxieties. I was impatient to know if my friends had weathered the gale. Having cut a large supply of fuel and carried it in before I left the last time, I knew that May had no need to go outside, and so I thought if the shanty had held together I might find all well.

We soon skimmed up the creek--my dog and I--and camped again in the pine thicket for refreshment. Here I shot two black foxes. They had, I suppose, scented the meat we had with us, for happening to look behind me just before we stopped, I saw them in our track. At first I thought of slipping Patch after them; then I wondered if I left them unnoticed whether they would draw nearer, and come within gunshot; but I soon perceived that they were afraid, although they kept after us, so I gave up hope of getting them.

When we camped we left the laden sleigh out in the open, thirty yards away--I had forgotten the foxes. Patch was in the shelter with me eating; suddenly he stood up alert. Fortunately I took him by the collar instantly, and looking under the branches saw one of the black beauties on the load, tearing at the cover to get at the meat, whilst the other was rooting in the snow close by.

Commanding Patch by gesture to lie still, I raised my gun, and from the rifle-barrel drove a ball through the head of one, and as the other dashed away I bowled it over with buckshot, with which the second barrel was charged.

I felt proud of this performance, for I had been talking to May about black fox-skins, and had promised to get her some. It was good to be able to do it so quickly.

They were both very thin, mere skeletons, starving, which was why they had acted as they did; but their fur was very beautiful, and I tied them on the load with great content.