CHAPTER XXV MORAN'S CAMP

It required a week of hard work to transport the contents of the cache at the lake by frequent trips to the claims ten miles away. The tents were pitched on the grassy top of the bank from which Uncle Will had panned the gold in April. In the Kah Sha gorge there yet remained a few old drifts of snow which dwindled day by day, but under the influence of the almost incessant sunlight, vegetation was everywhere springing fresh and green.

There were now seven members of the Thirty-six—no longer mysterious—encamped in the gorge hardly a mile above its entrance, under the leadership of Moran, a gray-haired veteran of the Civil War, who was the only practical miner among them. The rest, like the majority of men who entered Alaska and the Northwest in the great rush of 1898, were drawn from other walks of life. One had been a railroad brakeman, another a railroad clerk, a third an ice-man, a fourth a travelling salesman, a fifth a farmer, and the sixth a steamboat man. The occupations represented were still more numerous when Pennock's men arrived[211] several days behind the Bradfords, Pennock himself having gone out to the coast. One of these had been a grocer, another a foreman employed by a gas company, and another a journalist.

Still further accessions were made from time to time, as men were sent back from the camps beyond Pennock's, till Moran's Camp became a bustling and populous place. A log cabin was built for a kitchen, dining-room, and storehouse, and half a dozen tents were set up for sleeping quarters. This little settlement was situated in a wild and rugged spot, bounded in front and at the sides by the roaring, foaming torrent of the Kah Sha River. Directly at the rear rose foot-hills, and beyond them a high mountain, while from the water's edge across the stream frowned an enormous perpendicular cliff of dark rock three hundred feet high, from which not infrequently a mass of crumbling débris came crashing down. The sun now rose over the mountain to the east at about nine o'clock and set behind this cliff at four, after which the gorge was always chill and damp.

The Thirty-six had located their claims along the river and on Alder Creek. They had found numerous colors of gold in the gravel of the hillside which they had levelled for the cabin, and operations for taking out the gold were actively begun. As soon as the cabin was finished, the men turned to whip-sawing boards from spruce logs, nailing the boards together in[212] the form of sluice-boxes, and digging prospect-holes here and there along the streams to find the most promising spot.

They were still hampered by an insufficiency of food, but as the captain had sent word that he had bought supplies from several discouraged prospectors at Dalton's Post, a party of six was detailed to go to the Post with an Indian guide and bring back as much as they could carry. They returned six days later, footsore and lame, with loads of from fifty to eighty pounds. There was no late news of the war at Dalton's, they said. The Alsek was very high and running at least ten miles an hour. Ike Martin, the storekeeper, had onions already sprouted in his little garden-patch, and he had sown some barley. One of the men told with much relish how he had found enough dandelions for a "mess o' greens."

This meagre batch of news was eagerly seized upon, the least item possessing no little interest to men so long shut away from all the world beyond their own camps. The Bradfords, having heard it all as they passed the cabin, imparted every scrap faithfully to Moore and King and the latter's partner Baldwin, who had recently returned, and so every one in the district soon had the latest information from the Post.

Early in June the gorge became almost impassable by reason of the rising waters. The snow in the mountains[213] was melting rapidly, and every brooklet grew into a flood. To ford the main river was no longer possible, for the heaviest man would have been swept off his feet in an instant. All but three of the dozen trees which had been felled across it at various points were carried away like straws.

One of those which remained was an enormous spruce about ninety feet long, spanning the stream directly against Moran's Camp. This tree had been raised at the farther and lighter end, so that it barely touched the water in mid-stream, and was braced with rocks and logs. At its heavier end it lay firmly against its own stump. Every precaution had been taken to insure its safety, for at no point was a bridge more necessary. Furthermore, it would be no easy matter to find and drag to the spot another tree so tall. Owing to its great length, this rude bridge swayed dizzily in the centre, hence a rope was stretched tightly above it as a hand-rail.

It was with no small dismay that the campers, late one afternoon, saw a giant tree-trunk as solid as a battering-ram come thumping down the swollen river. It crunched along over the rocky bed of the stream and showed no sign of stopping until within a hundred and fifty feet of the bridge, where it lodged rather insecurely against a shallow. As it was the habit of this glacial river to rise during the afternoon and evening with the[214] accumulation of the day's meltings and fall more or less through the morning, it was tolerably certain that if the big log stuck through the night it would come no farther. The Thirty-six watched and waited, and speculated upon the threatened disaster.

About the middle of the evening, when it was still broad daylight and the mountain summits were yet flushed with the lingering sunbeams, the log betrayed symptoms of restlessness. It began to roll a little in the violent current, which steadily rose around it. Then one end swung out, and at last the great mass was free, launched full tilt against the very centre of the bridge, which at that point dipped slightly into the water.

Was there room for it between the bridge and the river-bottom? Could the long tree-trunk withstand the shock? Were the braces firm on the opposite shore? These were the questions Moran and his companions asked themselves, for there could be no doubt that the bridge would be struck. It was an exciting moment as that great bulk came on, its tons of sodden wood backed by the impetuous forces of the torrent.

There was a tremendous thump as the opposing masses met. The bridge log trembled from end to end and all but gave way; but it stood the strain. The battering-ram had met its match, and seemed to appreciate the fact as, with a sort of bow to its sturdy antagonist, it ducked beneath, and after much scraping and bumping[215] swung clear and headed down the stream, while the bridge-builders drew a deep breath of relief and turned away to their tents.

The Bradfords had by this time finished the transportation of their goods from the lake, and fortunately, for there was no passing through the gorge. When the water was at its normal height there was a passage on one side or the other, and the stream had to be frequently crossed by ford or log; but now that the river in many places filled all the space between its rocky walls, the traveller must needs scale treacherous slopes of loose gravel where a slip would carry him over the cliffs and into a river whose waters were icy and whose bed was not composed of feathers. Sometimes he must toil to the very top of the precipices to avoid the more dangerous spots. So for some days the party on Alder Creek lived in seclusion, seeing no one but King, Moore, and Baldwin, whose tents were well above the worst portions of the river. They busied themselves by constructing a saw-pit where lumber could be turned out for sluice-boxes and a rocker, not deeming it practicable to build a cabin where available trees were so few.