CHAPTER XXXIX DANGERS OF THE SUMMER FORDS

Two more days were occupied in ascending the valley of the Alsek to its headwaters. The trail crossed many tributary streams, through which our pedestrians were obliged to wade, and twice it was necessary to cross the Alsek itself. Although the stream was here much narrower and shallower than at Dalton's Post, its current was still so turbulent that on each occasion the Bradfords took advantage of the pack train. Not infrequently they saw the bodies of horses and cattle which had either become hopelessly mired or had broken a leg among the rocks, and been shot and abandoned by their owners.

Beyond Rainy Hollow the summer trail was quite independent of the winter one, and led across a bleak summit now devoid of snow save the grimy remains of a few old drifts. Here they were startled by a sudden deep booming and thundering which seemed to proceed from nowhere in particular. The boys thought it an earthquake, but Uncle Will said he had no doubt the noise was similar to those they had heard in that vicinity in March, and was occasioned by a tremendous[322] avalanche or the disintegration of a glacier on the lofty peaks across the Klaheena.

On the highest point of the pass they met an inbound pack train belonging to the Thirty-six, in charge of one Paddock.

"Is this the Bradford party?" asked Paddock, as he came up. On being assured that it was, he continued, "I was on the lookout for you. I met Bud Beagle's outfit about an hour ago, and he said you was close behind. I've got some mail for you."

He fumbled in an inner pocket of his coat, which was tied to the pommel of his saddle, and presently extracted a little bundle of letters, which he handed to Mr. Bradford.

"Mebbe there ought to be more," he said with a trace of embarrassment, "but the fact is, we lost a hoss in the Klaheena River. He carried one o' the mail-bags, besides all our cooking outfit and consid'rable provisions."

"Lost the horse?" said Mr. Bradford. "How did that happen?"

"Well, you see, sir," explained Paddock, "that hoss got sep'rated from the others when we crossed the river, and he struck a deep hole. His load was jest heavy enough so he couldn't swim, and away he went. We follered along the bank for two good miles, but didn't find him."

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After eagerly reading their letters, they descended the steep mountain-side and soon found themselves at Pleasant Camp, where they discovered that the mounted police had built two snug log cabins with real shingled roofs, and a corral for horses; and a roving sutler had set up a store-tent where one could buy almost anything, though the articles most in evidence were bad cigars and "tanglefoot" whiskey.

This being the boundary station of the police, they recorded the names of the Bradfords and the packers, the number of horses in the train, and various other items. Since the establishment of the station all incoming travellers had been obliged to pay customs duties at this point.

There was one person at Pleasant Camp whose arrival a few days before had awakened no little curiosity. This was a young woman introduced to the Bradfords by the police sergeant as Miss MacIntosh. She appeared to possess a fun-loving, yet quiet and ladylike disposition, while her flashing black eyes revealed unusual determination and spirit. She was travelling independently, with saddle horse and pack horse, with the object of reaching Dawson City; but her progress had been so slow and the season was so far advanced that she had abandoned her original idea, and was now intent only on reaching Dalton's Post. Owing to the difficulties and dangers of the way, she had found it advisable[324] to travel in company with pack trains or the police, and intended to proceed with the next inbound party. She had many questions to ask about gold-mining and the Klondike, which gave Uncle Will the clue to the business upon which she was engaged.

"'I know the breed,' as Kipling says," declared Uncle Will. "I used to be a reporter myself, and I'll wager Miss MacIntosh is performing this feat in the interests of some newspaper. She's going to write all about it when she gets home."

"It's a foolhardy adventure, though," said Mr. Bradford. "I should have looked for more Scottish caution in the girl."

"On the contrary, Charles, I think she's to be admired for her pluck. She believes a self-respecting woman may go anywhere without fear, and if she travels with pack trains or the police, so as not to meet rascals like those robbers, I'm sure her confidence will be vindicated. Miners and soldiers and packers may be rough, but they all respect a lady."

The Bradfords began the descent of the Klaheena valley on the following morning, keeping to the hillsides on the left through forests far more varied than those of the interior. This part of the trail had been extensively improved by men in Dalton's employ, and in place of the narrow and uneven path over which they had picked their way, they now gloried in a smooth, hard trail almost wide enough for a wagon. Hills had been cut through, hollows filled in, small bridges thrown across several of the brooks, and corduroys of logs laid through every swamp.

Fording the Klaheena

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At length they came down to the gravel flats and beheld, some distance below, Bud Beagle and Phil sitting on a log and evidently awaiting their appearance. Two saddle horses stood near. They had reached the dreaded ford of the Klaheena.

"We thought you wouldn't care to wade this here river," said Bud, with a twinkle in his eye, as the four approached.

"Right, Bud," responded Uncle Will; "your thinking apparatus is in perfect order. I trust you got the pack train over safely."

"Well," said Bud, slipping his quid into the other cheek, "I don't see no drownded horses anywhere."

With this reassuring remark he mounted, and invited David to climb up behind him and clasp him tightly about the body,—a performance which required some agility, owing to the restiveness of the horse. Meanwhile Roly had scrambled upon the other prancing steed behind Phil, and off they started, Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will watching their progress intently. Several side channels not more than a foot in depth were crossed before the main river was reached, but presently the horses stood at the edge of the mighty flood.

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The stream was not more than two hundred feet wide, but it filled its gravelly banks to the very brim with an impetuous current so impregnated with glacial silt that it looked like a mixture of coffee and milk. It was impossible for the eye to penetrate much more than an inch beneath the surface, and as the horses stepped cautiously over the crumbling bank the boys had no idea how deep they would go.

The water proved to be shallow at first, rising only to the knees, but a moment later the bottom shelved abruptly down, the current surging higher and higher on the animals' sides till they began to yield before it, and it became necessary to head them up-stream a little. They stepped slowly and carefully, picking their footing, yet now and then stumbling on some unseen boulder. The nearness of the rushing water made the boys fairly dizzy. But just when it seemed as if they must be overwhelmed, the river grew shallower, and soon, with much scrambling, they mounted the bank.

"That wasn't so bad, after all," said Roly, as he slipped to the ground.

"No," said David, "it's easy enough on horseback, but no wonder Mr. Green performed gymnastics!" And the nervous tension being now relaxed, they laughed heartily at the recollection.

Bud and Phil turned back and brought over Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will.

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"The worst o' these fords," said Bud, as he landed his second passenger, "is that the river-beds are all the while changing. We may hit on a good place like this, one day, and the next time we try it we'll slump into a hole that'll raise the mischief. The bottom drops out in a single night."

In the next few miles the trail crossed the watershed separating the valley of the Klaheena from that of the Salmon River, and near the latter, camp was pitched for the night. On the march thither the horses were almost thrown into a panic by a bear which went crashing off into the bushes near the trail, but so precipitately that no one was able to take a shot.

The two fords of the Salmon River were essayed next morning. The first was for some distance of the same general character as that of the Klaheena, but it was necessary to ride with the stream a few hundred feet to round the base of a high cliff. Near these crags the water became so deep that it nearly covered the backs of the horses, but fortunately at that point the current slackened.

The second ford was reached soon afterward. This was not a crossing; the horses were forced to take to the river-bed because, for a quarter of a mile, no trail had yet been cut through the dense thickets of the shore. Here at last our travellers were destined to experience the treachery of an Alaskan river.

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At Uncle Will's suggestion they did not mount behind the riders as before, but climbed upon the backs of those pack horses which carried the lightest loads. These horses had no bridles, but as they always willingly followed the packers, no trouble was anticipated. All being ready, Bud, Phil, and Joyce rode into the stream with the whole bunch close behind.

At first the river divided into so many channels that none were deep, and the cavalcade proceeded merrily down the valley, now high and dry upon the gravel, now wading a muddy runlet. The packers came at length to the point where they were to turn back toward the shore. There remained but one stream to cross, but it was a very considerable one, formed by the reunion of several channels. Beyond it rose the steep, curving bank, on which the trail was corduroyed to the water's edge.

As the packers had experienced no difficulty here on their previous passage, they rode confidently into the water, heading for the trail. Before they were half-way across they found that the stream had deepened; and as they neared the shore, first Joyce's little white mare and then both the other horses were carried off their feet and compelled to swim, while the rapid current hurried them all down-stream.

"Stop!" shouted Bud to the Bradfords, as soon as he realized the danger. "Don't try it there!"

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But the warning came too late. The pack horses, with one impulse, had entered the water close behind their leaders, and among the rest those bearing the Bradfords, who had no effectual means of checking their steeds or guiding them. In two minutes every horse in the train had gone beyond his depth and was snorting and floundering in the current, or vainly trying to gain a foothold on the steep bank, while some of the more heavily laden ones, including those to which the Bradfords were clinging, borne down by their loads and the pressure of their neighbors, sank beneath the surface more than once. Several became entangled in submerged tree-roots, but cleared themselves. The whole mass of frightened, splashing, struggling animals was presently going down the stream as the steeds of the packers had done. In the midst of this confusion the Bradfords, drenched and helpless, could only hang desperately to ropes and packs, holding themselves ready, however, at a moment's notice, to abandon the horses and swim out independently.

In the mean time the packers by shouts and kicks had urged their animals close to the shore, where they succeeded in dismounting, and then pulled the exhausted beasts out of the water almost by main strength. This done, they turned their attention to the pack horses, grasping the heads of all which came near, and guiding them down to a point where the bank was lower. Some of them struggled out unaided, and all were at last[330] brought safely to the solid ground. But blankets, packs, and men were thoroughly soaked.

"Speakin' of the bottom droppin' out," said Bud, with a dry smile,—the only dry thing which remained to him,—"this was one o' them cases."