THE HEAD AND SHOULDERS OF A MAN INTENTLY STUDYING THEM
CHAPTER I.
THE GOLD-HUNTERS.
Jeff Graham was an Argonaut who crossed the plains in 1849, while he was yet in his teens, and settling in California, made it his permanent home. When he left Independence, Mo., with the train, his parents and one sister were his companions, but all of them were buried on the prairie, and their loss robbed him of the desire ever to return to the East. Hostile Indians, storm, cold, heat, privation, and suffering were the causes of their taking off, as they have been of hundreds who undertook the long journey to the Pacific coast in quest of gold.
Jeff spent several years in the diggings, and after varying fortune, made a strike, which yielded him sufficient to make him comfortable for the rest of his days. He never married, and the income from his investments was all and, indeed, more than he needed to secure him against want.
He was now past threescore, grizzled, somewhat stoop-shouldered, but robust, rugged, strong, and, in his way, happy. His dress varied slightly with the changes of the seasons, consisting of an old slouch hat, a red shirt, coarse trousers tucked in the tops of his heavy boots, and a black neckerchief with dangling ends. He had never been addicted to drink, and his only indulgence was his brierwood pipe, which was his almost inseparable companion. His trousers were secured at the waist by a strong leathern belt, and when he wore a coat in cold weather he generally had a revolver at his hip, but the weapon had not been discharged in years.
There were two members of that overland train whom Jeff never forgot. They were young children, Roswell and Edith Palmer, who lost both of their parents within five years after reaching the coast. Jeff proved the friend in need, and no father could have been kinder to the orphans, who were ten and twelve years younger than he.
Roswell Palmer was now married, with a son named for himself, while his sister, Mrs. Mansley, had been a widow a long time, and she, too, had an only son, Frank, who was a few months older than his cousin. The boys had received a good common-school education, but their parents were too poor to send them to college. Jeff would have offered to help but for his prejudice against all colleges. The small wages which the lads received as clerks in a leading dry-goods house were needed by their parents, and the youths, active, lusty, and ambitious, had settled down to the career of merchants, with the hoped-for reward a long, long way in the future.
One evening late in March, 1897, Jeff opened the door of Mr. Palmer's modest home, near the northern suburb of San Francisco, and with his pipe between his lips, sat down in the chair to which he was always welcome. In truth, the chair was considered his, and no one would have thought of occupying it when he was present. As he slowly puffed his pipe he swayed gently backward and forward, his slouch hat on the floor beside him, and his long, straggling hair dangling about his shoulders, while his heavy beard came almost to his eyes.
It was so late that the wife had long since cleared away the dishes from the table, and sat at one side of the room sewing by the lamp. The husband was reading a paper, but laid it aside when Jeff entered, always glad to talk with their quaint visitor, to whom he and his family were bound by warm ties of gratitude.
Jeff smoked a minute or two in silence, after greeting his friends, and the humping of his massive shoulders showed that he was laughing, though he gave forth no sound.
"What pleases you, Jeff?" asked Mr. Palmer, smiling in sympathy, while the wife looked at their caller in mild surprise.
"I've heerd it said that a burned child dreads the fire, but I don't b'lieve it. After he's burnt he goes back agin and gits burnt over. Why is it, after them explorers that are trying to find the North Pole no sooner git home and thawed out than they're crazy to go back agin! Look at Peary. You'd think he had enough, but he's at it once more, and will keep at it after he finds the pole—that is, if he ever does find it. Nansen, too, he'll be like a fish out of water till he's climbing the icebergs agin."
And once more the huge shoulders bobbed up and down. His friends knew this was meant to serve as an introduction to something else that was on Jeff's mind, and they smilingly waited for it to come.
"It's over forty years since I roughed it in the diggings, starving, fighting Injins, and getting tough," continued the old minor musingly. "After I struck it purty fair I quit; but I never told you how many times the longing has come over me so strong that it was all I could do to stick at home and not make a fool of myself."
"But that was in your younger days," replied his friend; "you have had nothing of the kind for a good while."
Jeff took his pipe from the network of beard that enclosed his lips, and turned his bright, gray eyes upon the husband and wife who were looking curiously at him. They knew by the movement of the beard at the corners of the invisible mouth that he was smiling.
"There's the joke. It's come over me so strong inside the last week, that I've made up my mind to start out on a hunt for gold. What do you think of that, eh?"
And restoring his pipe to his lips, he leaned back and rocked his chair with more vigor than before, while he looked fixedly into the faces of his friends.
JEFF.
"Jeff, you can't be in earnest; you are past threescore—"
"Sixty-four last month," he interrupted; "let's git it right."
"And you are in no need of money; besides it is a hard matter to find any place in California where it is worth your while—"
"But it ain't Californy," he broke in again; "it's the Klondike country. No use of talking," he added with warmth, "there's richer deposits in Alaska and that part of the world than was ever found hereabouts. I've got a friend, Tim McCabe, at Juneau; he's been through the Klondike country, and writes me there's no mistake about it; he wants me to join him. I'm going to do it, and your boy Roswell and his cousin Frank are to go with me. Oh, it's all settled," said Jeff airily; "the only question is how soon you can git him ready. A day oughter be enough."
The husband and wife looked at each other in astonishment. They had not dreamed of anything like this; but if the truth were told, Mr. Palmer had been so wrought up by the wonderful stories that were continually coming from Alaska and British Columbia, that he was seriously thinking of joining the northward-bound procession.
Startling as was the announcement of Jeff Graham, a discussion of the scheme brought out more than one fact to recommend it. The youths were in perfect health, strong and athletic. Jeff volunteered to provide all the funds needed, and his early experience in mining and his love for the boys made him an invaluable guide and companion despite his years. He had turned over in his mind every phase of the question, and met each objection the affectionate mother brought forward, alarmed as she was at the thought of having her boy go so many miles from under her care.
"It will be necessary to talk with Roswell about it," said the father, after the conversation had lasted a considerable while.
"No, it won't; I've talked with him, and he's as crazy as me to go."
"But what will Frank's mother say?"
"She's said what she's got to say; had a talk with her last night, and it's all fixed. I've sent word to Tim that I'll be at Juneau by next steamer, and have two of the likeliest younkers with me on the coast; then we'll head for the Upper Yukon, and bime-by hire a ship to bring back all the gold we'll scoop in."
"It seems to me that we have nothing to do in the premises, Jeff."
"Nothing 'cept to git the youngster ready."
CHAPTER II.
AT JUNEAU.
Now it is a serious undertaking for any one to make a journey to the gold regions at the headwaters of the Yukon, as every one will admit who has been there. All know of the starvation which threatened the people of Dawson City during the winter of 1897-98, when the whole country was stirred with sympathy, and our Government made use of reindeer to take food to the suffering miners.
No dangers of that kind confronted Roswell Palmer and Frank Mansley, but their parents could not contemplate the undertaking without anxiety. The mothers held more than one consultation, and there was a time when both were inclined to object to the boys going at all. The dread of that desolate, icy region in the far Northwest grew upon them, until it is safe to say that if the departure had been postponed for only a few days Mrs. Mansley and Mrs. Palmer would never have given their consent. But Mr. Palmer laughed at their fears, and assured them there was no cause for alarm. He spoke so cheeringly that they caught his hopefulness, but neither noticed the lump he swallowed, nor with what difficulty he kept back the tears when the hour for parting came. He was fully as anxious as they, but he knew how to dissemble, and would not have confessed his real emotions for the world.
After all, it was Jeff Graham who deserved the credit for the willingness of the parents to see their sons venture upon the long and dangerous journey. To him the trip was much the same as a visit to Los Angeles or the Yosemite Valley. His self-confidence never faltered. He was sure it would be only a pleasant outing, with the certainty of a big reward at the end of it. The sly fellow dwelt on the pale complexion and debilitated appearance of the lads. He even said that a cough which he heard Frank try to suppress (in swallowing some fruit, a bit of it went the "wrong way"—it was nothing more) indicated the insidious approach of consumption. Jeff was the only one who was able to see any paleness in the countenance of the young athletes, or suspect them of being otherwise than fine specimens of youthful health and vigor; but since he was as solemn as a judge when making his declaration, the father and mother of the one and the mother of the other could not feel quite certain there were not grounds for his fears.
And so it being settled that the boys were to go to the Klondike gold fields under the care of the grim old Argonaut, it only remained to complete the preparations in the short time at their disposal.
Had the mothers been free to carry out their wishes, their sons would have been loaded down with baggage upon leaving San Francisco. There are so many things which seem indispensable, when an affectionate mother is considering the comfort of her only son, that she is sure to overwhelm him. At first the mothers insisted upon each being furnished with a large trunk, which would have to be crowded to bursting to contain what was needed, but Jeff put his foot down.
"Nothin' of the kind. Didn't I tell you that we'll git all that's needed at Juneau or Dyea or some point on the road? You've forgot that."
"But, Jeff, there are some articles which they must take with them."
The old miner lit his pipe, sat down in the rocking-chair at the Palmer home, where the mothers had met while the boys and Mr. Palmer were down-town making a few forgotten purchases. The old fellow chuckled a little and then became serious.
"In the fust place, not a trunk!" and he shook his head decisively.
"Do you expect them to take what they want in their pockets?"
"Umph! it would be the sensiblest thing they could do, but we can't be bothered with any trunks, that would be sure to be lost in the first shuffle. Each of us will have a good, big, strong carpet-bag, and nothing more. You can cram them as full as you choose, but what you can't git in has got to be left at home."
There could be no mistake as to Jeff's earnestness, and neither mother attempted to gainsay his words.
"Now," said he, "jest lay out on the floor what you have in your mind that the youngsters need, and I'll tell you what they do need."
"You mustn't forget," observed Mrs. Palmer, as she started to comply, "that the boys are now down-town buying some things which they positively cannot get along without."
"As, for instance, what?"
"Well, tooth-brushes, soap, combs, courtplaster, handkerchiefs, buttons, thread, quinine, and pain-killer."
"Is that all?" asked Jeff so quizzically that both ladies laughed.
"You have forgotten," added Mrs. Mansley, "the shirts, underclothing, socks, and shoes."
"They are here," replied Mrs. Palmer, stepping briskly into the next room and returning with her arms full.
"I've got to lay down the law," observed Jeff, just as Mr. Palmer and the two boys came in, glowing with excitement. "Here are the young men, and they look as if they had bought out half the town. Dump everything on the floor, and let's sort 'em out."
When the pile was complete the miner gravely remarked:
"Nothing less than a freight-car will answer for all that stuff, and I don't b'lieve we can charter one through to Dawson. In the first place, I s'pose the tooth-brushes will have to go, though I never found any use for such things, and I can crack a bull hickory-nut with my teeth. The same may be obsarved of the soap and combs, while a roll of court plaster don't take up much room. We'll be likely to need thread, buttons, and some patches for our clothes, though I've got a supply in my carpetbag. The quinine and pain-killer they may take if you can find a corner to squeeze 'em in. As to the underclothing, extra shirts, it depends whether there is room for 'em; but the boys mustn't think of taking their dress suits along, 'cause I'm not going to. There ain't any room for violins, pianos, or music-boxes, and the only clothing and shoes that can go with this party is what we wear on our bodies and feet."
"Suppose the shoes wear out?" asked Mrs. Mansley in dismay.
"Then we'll go barefoot. Now, see here, we shan't be away more than three months. A pair of well-made shoes will last longer than that, and the same is true about our clothes, though we have the means of mending them, if modesty calls for it, which ain't likely to be the case in the diggings. Caps, coats, vests, trousers, and shoes are to sarve from the day we start till we come back. If one of the boys casts a shoe and loses it, we'll find some way of getting him another. What's this?" suddenly asked Jeff, picking up a small volume from the floor and opening it.
He looked at the fly-leaf, on which was written: "To my dear boy Roswell, from his affectionate mother. Read a portion every day, and be guided in your thoughts, words, and deeds by its blessed precepts. Then it shall always be well with thee."
There were two of the small Bibles, the other being similarly inscribed with the name of Frank Mansley. The boys and their parents were standing around the seated miner, and no one spoke. He looked at each precious volume in turn, and then reverently laid them among the pile of indispensables.
"That's the mother of it," he said, as if speaking with himself; "it's a good many years since my poor old mother done the same thing for me when I started for Californy, and I've got the book among my things yet, though I don't read it as often as I should. Them go if we have to leave everything else behind."
When the task was completed, every one acknowledged the excellent judgment displayed by Jeff Graham. The three were arrayed in strong, thick, warm clothing, and, in addition, each carried a heavy overcoat on his arm. In the valises were crowded underclothing, shirts, handkerchiefs, and the articles that have been already specified. It was wonderful how skilfully the mothers did the packing. When it looked as if every inch of space was filled, they found a crevice into which another bottle of standard medicine, an extra bit of soap, more thread and needles and conveniences of which no other person would think were forced without adding to the difficulty of locking the valises.
Nothing remaining to be done, on the following day the boys kissed their tearful mothers good-by, and warmly shook hands with Mr. Palmer, who brokenly murmured, "God bless you! be good boys!" as he saw them off on the steamer bound for Seattle, and thence to Juneau, where they safely arrived one day early in April, 1897.
In making such a voyage, many people are necessarily thrown together in more or less close companionship, with the result of forming numerous acquaintances and sometimes lasting friendships. Following the advice of Jeff, the cousins had little to say about their plans, though they became interested in more than one passenger, and often speculated between themselves as to the likelihood of certain ones meeting success or failure in the gold regions.
There were three sturdy lumbermen all the way from Maine. A curious fact about them was that, although they were not related at all, the name of each was Brown. They were light-hearted and the life of the large party. One Brown had a good tenor voice, and often sang popular ballads with taste and great acceptability. Another played the violin with considerable skill, and sometimes indulged in jig tunes, to which his friends, and occasionally others, danced an accompaniment.
"They'll succeed," was the verdict of Roswell, "for they are strong, healthy, and will toil like beavers."
"And what of the two men smoking their pipes just beyond the fiddler?" asked Frank.
"I had a talk with them the other day; one has been a miner in Australia, and the other spent two years in the diamond mines of Kimberley, South Africa. Meeting for the first time in San Francisco, they formed a partnership; they, too, are rugged and must understand their business."
"No doubt of it. Do you remember that stoop-shouldered old man whose room is next to ours?"
"The one who has such dreadful coughing spells in the night?"
"Yes; he is far gone with consumption, and yet he won't believe there's anything the matter with him. He is worse than when he came on board: but he says it is only a slight cold which will soon pass off, and he is just as hopeful as you or I of taking a lot of nuggets home with him."
"He never will see the other side of Chilkoot Pass."
"I doubt whether he will ever see this side."
Thus the boys speculated, sometimes amused and sometimes saddened by what they saw. There was a big San Francisco policeman, who said he had cracked heads so long that he thought he knew how to crack some golden nuggets; a correspondent of a prominent New York newspaper, whose situation was enviable, since his salary and expenses were guaranteed, and he was free to gather gold when the opportunity offered; a voluble insurance agent, who made a nuisance of himself by his solicitations, in season and out; a massive football-player, who had no companion, and did not wish any, since he was sure he could buck the line, make a touchdown, and kick a goal; a gray-haired head of a family, who, having lost his all, had set out to gather another fortune along the Klondike. He walked briskly, threw back his shoulders, and tried hard to appear young and vigorous, but the chances were strongly against him. There were a number of bright clerks; a clergyman, pleasant and genial with all; gamblers, with pallid faces and hair and mustaches dyed an intense black, who expected to win the gold for which others dug; young and middle-aged men, some with their brave wives, serene and calmly prepared to bear their full share of privation and toil; and adventurers, ready to go anywhere for the sake of adventure itself. In truth, it was a motley assemblage, which to the boys was like a continually shifting panorama of hope, ambition, honesty, dishonor, pluck, and human enterprise and daring, that was ever present throughout the thousand miles of salt water that stretches from Seattle to Juneau.
Juneau, the metropolis of Alaska, was founded in 1880, and named in honor of Joseph Juneau, the discoverer of gold on Douglas Island, two miles distant. There is located the Treadwell quartz-mill, the largest in the world. The city nestles at the base of a precipitous mountain, thirty-three hundred feet high, has several thousand inhabitants, with its wooden houses regularly laid out, good wharves, water works, electric lights, banks, hotels, newspapers, schools, and churches.
"Here's where we get our outfit," said Jeff, as they hurried over the plank to the landing. "But where can Tim be?"