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To Win or to Die: A Tale of the Klondike Gold Craze, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. From The Frying-Pan Into The Wet Fire |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. FROM THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE WET FIRE "We could not have better weather, Bel," said Dallas, as they finished the next morning's breakfast. "Summer is coming." "Rather a snowy summer," was the reply; "but never mind the cold: let's try wherever we halt to see if there is any gold; those fellows are getting out their tins." A few minutes later all were gold-washing on the shore, their Cornish friend having cast loose a shovel, and given every person a charge of sand and stones from one of the shallows, taking his shovelfuls from places a dozen yards or so apart. Then the washing began in the bright sunshine, with the same results--a few tiny specks of colour, as the men termed their glittering scales of gold-dust. "That's your sort, gentlemen," cried the Cornishman, washing out his pan, after tossing the contents away; "plenty of gold, and if you worked hard you might get about half enough to starve on. Why, we could ha' done better at home, down in Wales. You can get a hundred pounds' worth of gold there if you spend a hundred and fifty in labour." "Yes; but even this dust shows that we are getting into the gold region," said Dallas. "That's right, my son, so come along and let's get there. I s'pose we're going right?" "We must be," said Dallas. "I have studied the maps well, and we passed the watershed--" "Eh? We haven't passed no watershed. Not so much as a tent." Dallas had to explain that they had crossed the mountains which shed the water in different directions. "Oh, that's it, is it, my son? I thought you meant something built up." "So he did," said Abel, smiling, "by nature. When we were on the other side of the mountains the streams ran towards the south." "That's right, master." "Now you see the direction in which the water runs is towards the north. Here in the map is the great Yukon River, running right across from east to west, and these lakes form the little rivers which must run into the Yukon." "And that's the great gold river, my sons." "Yes; but we shall find what we want in the rivers and creeks that run down from the mountains to form the Yukon." "That's all right, my son; so if we keep to these waters we must come to the right place at last." "I hope so." "So do I, my son; so, as they said at the 'Merican railway stations, 'All aboard, and let's get as far down to-day as we can.'" They stepped on to the raft, cast off the rope, and each man picked up one of the twelve-foot pine-sapling poles they had provided for their navigation down the rapids, of which they had been warned at starting; and the big Cornishman planted himself in front. "Anybody else like to come here?" he said. There was a chorus of "No's," and he nodded and smiled. "Thought I was best here to fend the raft off the rocks when she begins to race. I say, we're going to have it lower down. Hear it?" All nodded assent. "If we are capsized, my sons," continued the big fellow drily, "one of you had better swim up to me and take me on his back. What do you say, little un?" he added to Abel. "It'll be your turn to help me." "I'll stand by you," cried Abel; "never fear." "I know that, my lad. I say, the stream begins to show now as the place gets narrower. Looks as if it'll be nearly closed in. Well, we must risk it. There's no walking as I see on either side." "Ahoy!" came from the right bank, where the lake was fast becoming a river. "Ahoy to you, and good morning, whoever you are," cried the Cornishman. Some unintelligible words followed, he who uttered them being plainly to be seen now on a ledge some fifty feet above the surface of the water. But his signs were easy to be understood. "Wants us to give him a lift," said Dallas. "Can we stop?" "Oh, yes, and it would only be civil," said the Cornishman. "Just room for one first-class passenger. All right; lend a hand here. I can touch bottom. 'Bout seven foot." Poles were thrust down, and the raft was urged across the flowing water till the eddy on the far side was reached, and then, with the fierce roar coming out of a narrow gap in the rocks a few hundred yards lower, the raft was easily thrust into a little cove below the man on the shelf. "Going down the rapids?" he shouted. "We are, my lad," cried their captain. "Why?" "Will you give a poor fellow a lift down? I can't get any farther for the rocks." "Far as the gold country?" "Oh, no: I don't ask that. Only to where I can tramp again." "Well, we've just room for a little un," said the Cornishman. "Much luggage?" "Only this pack," was the reply. "Jump in, then," said the leader, with a grim smile. "P'r'aps, though, you'd better come lower." The man nodded, slung his pack over his shoulder, and then, turning, began to descend the almost perpendicular face of the rocks, twice over narrowly escaping a bad fall. But at last he reached the foot, waded out a little, and then stepped on board. "Thankye," he said; "you are good Christians. I've been here a fortnight, and couldn't get any farther. I shouldn't have been alive now if I hadn't got a fish or two." "You are tramping to the gold region all alone, then?" "Yes, and I've nearly tramped all the way from Chicago." The Cornishman turned and stared. "I got a lift sometimes on the cattle and freight trains, though, when I could creep on unseen." "The gold has a magnetic attraction for you, then?" said Abel. "I suppose so, but it's my last chance. This is a solitary way, though, isn't it? I've hardly seen a soul. I saw your fire, though, last night, across yonder." "Did you see anybody go by on a raft three or four days ago?" cried Dallas eagerly. "I did. Party of three, and hailed them." "What were they like?" cried Abel. "Roughs; shacks; loafers. One of them had a big red beard." Dallas started, and glanced at Abel. "A brute!" cried the stranger fiercely. "I asked them to give me a lift, as I was going to starve here if they didn't, and I warned them that I had heard it wanted a strong party to take a craft through the rapids. 'All right, stranger,' he said, pushing the craft a little nearer. 'Mind lending me your knife to trim this rough pole with? I've lost mine.'" It was Abel now who glanced at Dallas. "'Catch,' I said, pitching mine, in its sheath." "Well?" said the Cornishman, fumbling in his belt. "Well," continued the man, with a sombre look in his eyes, "he caught it, and began to smooth his pole, letting the raft drift away; and though I begged and prayed of them to stop for me, they only laughed, and let her get right into the current. It was life or death to me, as I thought then," continued the stranger, "and I climbed along that shelf and followed, shouting and telling them I was starving, and begging them to throw me my knife back if they wouldn't take me aboard; but they only laughed, and told me to go and hang myself. But I followed on as fast as I could, right along to the opening yonder where it's so narrow that I could speak to them close to; and though I knew they couldn't stop the raft there, I thought they'd throw me my knife." "And did they?" said the Cornishman. "No. I was there just before them, and I shouted; but you can't hear yourself speak there, the roar echoes so from the rocks. The next minute they'd been swept by me so near I could almost have jumped on board; and there I stood, holding on and reaching out so that I could see them tear down through the rushing water. They'd took fright, dropped their poles, and were down on their knees holding on, with the raft twisting slowly round." "Capsized?" cried Dallas. "Drowned?" cried Abel. "I could not see," continued the stranger. "I watched them till they went into a sort of fog with a rainbow over it, and then I felt ready to jump in and try to swim, or get drowned, for without my knife I felt that all was over." "Not drowned, then?" said Dallas. "No, my son; them as is born to be hanged'll never be drowned," said the big Cornishman grimly. "Look ye here, old chap, you'd better take this toothpick; it's the one that the boss of that party who stole our raft lost." "Ah!" cried the stranger; "they stole your raft?" "They did, my son, and it seems to me things aren't at all square, for these here fellows are ready to do anything--from committing murder down to stealing a knife. Why, they've even cheated death, or else they'd be lying comfortably buried in the snow." "Ha!" ejaculated Dallas, as he stood grasping his pole, and the raft began to glide along. "Yes, it is 'Hah!' my son," said the Cornishman; "but I shouldn't wonder if we came across a tree some day bearing fruit at the end of a hempen stalk. I say, though, my son, is the river below there so dangerous as you say?" "Yes; it is a horrible fall, as far as I could see." "Then hadn't you better stop ashore?" "And starve?" said the man bitterly. "You're ready to risk it, then?" said Dallas. "I'd risk anything rather than stop alone in this horrible solitude," said the stranger excitedly. "All right, then, my son. There's a spare pole. Set your pack down; take hold, and come on." The stranger did as he was told, and took the place pointed out. "If it's as noisy as he says," continued the Cornishman, "there'll be no shouting orders--it'll all be signs. So what you see me do you've got to follow. Spit in your hands, all of you, and hold tight with your feet. Stick to it, and we'll get through. We must; there's no other way." No one spoke in reply, but their companion's cheery way of meeting the perils ahead sent a thrill of confidence through the party, as they stood on the triangular raft, noting that the current was gradually growing swifter as the rocky walls on either side closed in from being hundreds of yards apart to as many feet, and the distance lessening rapidly more and more. It was horrible, but grand, and as the pace increased, a curious sensation of intoxicating excitement attacked the party, whose senses seemed to be quickened so that they could note the wondrous colours of the rocks, the vivid green of the ferns and herbs which clustered in the rifts and cracks, and the glorious clearness of the water. So excited was the great fellow at the head of the raft that he raised his pole, turned to look at his companions, and then pointed onward, while moment by moment the great walls of rock seemed to close in upon them as if to crush all flat. Up to now their progress had been a swift glide, but as they approached the narrow opening, which seemed not much more than wide enough to let them pass, the raft began to undulate and proceed by leaps, each longer than the last, while the water rippled over the side. Then all at once the front portion--the apex of the elongated triangle-- rose as if at a leap, dipped again, and they were off with a terrific rush in a narrow channel of rock, up whose sides the water rose as if to escape the turmoil. Wave rose above wave, struggling to get onward; there was the roar of many waters growing more deafening, and the raft was tossed about like a straw, its occupants being forced to kneel and try to fend her off from the sides. And now, to add to the horror, turmoil, and confusion, they plunged at a tremendous speed into a bank of churned up mist, dense as the darkest cloud, rushing onward in bounds and leaps which made the raft quiver, till all at once Dallas, who was near their captain, suddenly caught sight of a mass of rocks apparently rising out of the channel right in their way. The next moment there was a terrific shock, a rush of water, black darkness, and everything seemed to be at an end. _ |
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