CHAPTER XIV FROM THE STIK VILLAGE TO LAKE DASAR-DEE-ASH

The Bradfords passed through the Stik village early the next day, after leaving letters with the storekeeper to be sent back when opportunity offered. This Indian settlement consisted of about a dozen houses, some built of rough logs, others of hewn boards. A few possessed the luxury of glass windows. Over the door of one of the more pretentious was nailed a board on which was painted the name of the chief, John Kah Sha. The Indians, many of whom appeared abjectly dirty and ignorant, gazed stolidly for the most part at the travellers, but a few nodded and smiled as they passed, and called away the swarm of curs which yelped or fawned at their heels.

Beyond the village the trail turned north and left the river valley, ascending eight hundred feet by a sharp ridge to the top of a great table-land. The snow had melted from the ridge, and it was necessary to unpack the sleds and carry up the goods piece-meal,—an operation which required many trips and the severest labor, and occupied the entire day.

[121]

In the nick of time Lucky appeared with his younger brother, and having begged to be allowed to accompany the party,—a request which Uncle Will granted at once,—he fell to work with such energy and good-will that the boys were inclined to think the storekeeper had erred in calling him lazy. Coffee Jack, too, struggled with flour sacks nearly as heavy as himself, and won golden opinions from everybody. The truth is, an Indian is every whit as ready as a white man to show gratitude for kindness.

Reaching the brow of the hill breathless and warm after the first ascent, the Bradfords threw their loads upon the ground and paused to rest and look back. A wonderful panorama was outspread before them. Green spruce forests were sprinkled over the snowy surface of the Alsek valley and its bordering plateaus. Below them lay the Indian village, while to the east in a clearing rose a column of blue smoke from the chimney of the trading-post. They could trace the river for many miles in its great curve to the south, where on the far horizon glittered the mighty summits of the St. Elias Range. To the southeast, perhaps ten miles away, loomed a grand cluster of unnamed mountains, and another to the southwest, while, to perfectly balance the picture, similar isolated mountain groups appeared over the tree-tops in the northeast and northwest.

It was here that a trim, long-tailed bird was first observed,[122] whose plumage was mostly black, and whose note was loud rather than musical. Uncle Will said it was a magpie, a bird which, in captivity, can be taught like the parrot to imitate the human voice. Another bird, of a gray color, made its appearance at dinner-time, and showed a great fondness for bacon rinds, coming close up to the party to snatch the coveted morsels. This was the butcher-bird or shrike, very common in all the northwestern country, and an arrant thief when there is meat in sight.

Sledding was resumed next morning. The enlistment of Lucky and Coffee Jack had swelled their number to seven, and without increasing the loads to be carried added to the working force, so that in spite of the softness of the snow good progress was made. Lucky had brought an old sled, cast aside by some prospector; but as it was too weak to carry a full load, Uncle Will relegated it to Coffee Jack with one hundred pounds, while Lucky drew the sleds of the others by turns.

The boys soon had occasion to observe the shrewdness of their young Indian friend. The gee-pole of Coffee Jack's sled broke on a steep down-grade, and he was obliged to halt for repairs. The Indians invariably take much pride in their powers as swift, strong packers and sledders, especially when in the company of white men, and Coffee Jack was now at his wits' end to maintain[123] his position and keep the young pale-faces behind him. He rose to the emergency, however.

"You got hatchet?" he asked innocently, as David approached. "Sled broke."

"Yes," said David, handing over that article and sitting down good-naturedly on his sled while the Indian boy went to cut a new pole. He supposed that as soon as Coffee Jack had secured the pole and driven it into place, he would return the hatchet, without waiting to re-fasten the drag-rope and lashings, which it had been necessary to loosen.

This, however, was just what Coffee Jack did not propose to do. Seeing, as he had hoped would be the case, that David had stopped to wait for the hatchet, and Roly had stopped rather than make so long a détour out of the trail through the deep snow, he pretended to need the hatchet after the pole was in place, giving a rap here and a tap there, and all the while adroitly fastening the ropes in place again.

But Yankees have a reputation for shrewdness as well as Indians, and David and Roly were quick to perceive Coffee Jack's trick. While the Indian boy's back was turned, the two exchanged signals; then David quietly turned out of the trail, passed Coffee Jack's sled, though only with considerable difficulty, and came into the trail again, closely followed by Roly.

Perceiving that his plans were discovered and frustrated,[124] and realizing that he had met his match, Coffee Jack laughed and surrendered the hatchet.

During the next few days, while they were ascending the comparatively narrow valley of Klukshu River, a small stream emptying into the Alsek above Dalton's Post, winter made his last dying effort. It was now the middle of April, and the sun was so high that the snow softened greatly at midday. It had become impossible to make satisfactory progress except by rising at two o'clock in the morning and starting as soon as there was light. For three successive nights the mercury sank to zero, and the air was so keen and frosty that their fingers were nearly frozen when, in the early dawn-light, they removed their mittens to loosen the knots of the tent-ropes; yet by noon it was invariably so warm that the snow was melting and the sleds stuck fast.

The Klukshu River was not so thoroughly ice-bound as the Alsek, and, already swollen with the melting snows, it had broken its fetters in many places, so that it was impossible to follow the stream itself. Twice, however, the trail crossed it,—first from west to east by a jam of tree-trunks and débris, and then back again by a narrow span of ice which cracked ominously and threatened to go down-stream, even as they passed over it.

Here they met Grant Baldwin, Al King's partner,—a young man not much older than David, who was[125] travelling alone to the coast with a sled drawn by two dogs.

At length, after many a tussle with hills and willow thickets and stumps and roots and ruts, all of which seemed in league to oppose them, the Bradfords reached the lower end of Klukshu Lake, a long but narrow body of water at the eastern side of a broad valley. Except a small spot near the outlet, it was covered with ice and snow. Four miles to the west among others rose a peak so perfectly conical as to serve for an excellent landmark, while to the northwest and ten miles away they could see the extensive mountain system in which lay Al King's claim.

Uncle Will at once examined the cache which he had left in the deserted Indian shack. Finding it intact and in good condition, he determined to keep it there for the present, and the whole party pushed on up the lake, which proved to be about four miles long, curving to the east at its upper end. Here a long hill was surmounted in the same manner as at the Stik village, after which a trail through the woods brought them over a divide to a larger lake called Dasar-dee-ash, whose outlet, in contrast to that of Klukshu, flowed from the northern end. This lake was solidly frozen as far as the eye could see, its surface being a succession of snowy windrows separated by streaks of ice. The grand mountain chain which they had seen in the distance rose from its western[126] edge, while the opposite shore sloped gently back in wooded hills. Mr. Bradford estimated that the lake was fifteen miles long, and about twelve broad at its widest part.

That evening the Bradfords in council decided that the three Indians should bring up Uncle Will's cache on the morrow, they, in the mean time, making a flying visit to Shorty Creek for the purpose of staking claims. To be sure, the Kah Sha River and all its tributary creeks, Shorty included, would be buried deep under snow and ice, and claims would have to be chosen at random, but even this was better than ignoring a district where gold was known to be. Later, when they had visited their principal goal, some thirty miles distant, they could return, hunt for Lucky's big nugget, and see what kind of claims they had drawn from the Shorty Creek grab-bag.