At last, one evening, when they strolled across the lawn as dusk was falling, she determinedly6 led up to the subject, regardless of the smile with which he evaded7 her first questions.
“I don’t know why you should be so bent8 on hearing about the mine,” he said. “On the whole, I’d rather forget the thing, because good luck never followed the gold that was taken from Snowy Creek9. There seemed to be a curse upon it.”
They sat down on a bench beneath a tall, ragged10 pine, and Osborne lighted a cigar.
“Well,” he began, “some time after the Klondyke rush started, when gold had been found freely on American as well as Canadian soil, I went up to Alaska to re-locate the mine. Clay had gone north before this, but not as a miner—he said it was cheaper to let somebody else dig the gold for him. He had a share in a wooden steamboat, started a transport service to several mining camps, and financed prospectors11 who made lucky finds. Everything he touched prospered13, and the man was popular where the canvas towns sprang up; so I was not surprised when I found him unenthusiastic about my project. However, after much persuasion14, he agreed to come, and we set off with two hired packers and supplies enough to give us a good chance of success.
“Summer was late that year, and we hauled the hand-sledges two hundred miles over the snow; but I needn’t tell you about our journey. We made it with some trouble, and one afternoon came down to the creek, wet and worn out, plowing15 through belts of melting snow and soft muskegs made by the sudden thaw16. I had hide moccasins which were generally soaked and they had given out under the fastenings of the snowshoes. My foot, which had been frost-bitten on the march when I first found the mine, was cut deep, and it cost me a pretty grim effort to hold out for the last few miles. I made it because I couldn’t let another night come before I learned my luck. All I had was in the venture, and if it failed I must go back to camp destitute17.”
“One can understand that you were anxious.”
“It was hard to keep cool, but weariness and pain steadied me. I believe I showed no excitement, but I envied the others’ calm. I can picture them now: Clay, shuffling18 along in his old skin-coat and torn gum-boots; the two packers, grumbling19 at the slush and bent a little by their loads. All round us a desolate20 wilderness21 ran back to the skyline; gray soil and rocks streaked22 with melting snow, out of which patches of withered23 scrub stuck forlornly. Well, we struck the creek, by compass, near where I intended, for soon afterward24 I picked up one landmark25 and Clay another.”
“Clay? But he hadn’t been there before!”
“You’re keen,” Osborne observed. “We had often talked over my plans, and he must have known nearly as much about the place as I did. Then one couldn’t mistake a prominent strip of rising ground, though it was some distance off when Clay saw it.”
“But the mine?”
“We made the spot in the evening, and I got there first, though it hurt me badly to put down my foot, and I’ve sometimes thought Clay held back to let me pass. Then I had to get a stern grip on my self-control, and for a few moments I stood there with my hands clenched26, unable to speak. Where I had left a small hole there was a large one, and a great pile of tailings was thrown up in the bed of the creek. It was obvious that we had come too late.”
“How dreadful!” Ruth exclaimed. “After all you had gone through, it must have been almost too hard to bear. What did you do?”
“I can’t remember. Clay was the first to speak and I can recall his level voice as he said, ‘It looks as if somebody has been here before us, partner!’”
“But how inadequate27 and commonplace! Didn’t he do anything?”
“He sat down on his pack and lighted a cigar; but he was always cool in time of strain. All I remember of my own doings was that some time afterward I fired a stick of dynamite28 at the bottom of the hole and dug out the bits and half-thawn dirt until it was dark. I knew it was wasted labor29, because whoever had found the pocket wouldn’t have stopped until he had cleaned it up. Then I threw down my tools and lay among the stones, limp and shivering, while Clay began to talk.”
“But who had found the mine?” Ruth interrupted.
“I never learned. But Clay dealt with the situation sensibly. After all, he said, it was only a pocket; a small alluvial30 deposit. The stream which had brought the gold there had, no doubt, left some more in the slacker eddies31, and it might be worth while to look for the mother-lode, where the metal came from. We had food enough to last while we prospected32 the neighborhood. The next morning we set about it, and, following up the creek, we found gold here and there; but our provisions threatened to run out before we came to the watershed33.”
“Were any of the pockets as rich as the stolen one?” Ruth asked.
“No,” her father answered with a hint of reserve. “Still, we found some gold and got back safely to the coast. For a while I helped Clay, and then he told me he must go south before the ice closed in. We sailed in the vessel34 that he and some of his friends had bought, and when we rowed off to her one misty35 day through a heavy surf I did not look forward to a comfortable trip. She was an old wooden steamer that had been whaling, with tall bulwarks36 and cut-down masts, and the topsail yards she still carried gave her a top-heavy look. The small, dirty saloon and part of the ’tween-decks were crowded with successful miners and others who were at least fortunate in having money enough to take them out of the country before winter set in. None of them, I think, wished to see the North again, and nobody who knew it could blame them. Those who had gold had earned it by desperate labor and grim endurance; those who had none were going back broken men—frost-bitten, crippled by accidents, and ravaged37 by disease.
“We had some trouble in getting to sea. Several of the crew had deserted38, and the rest were half-mutinous because they had been forcibly kept on board. They struck me as a slipshod, unsailorly lot. To make things worse, it was blowing fresh on-shore, and she lay, straining at her cables and dipping her bows, in the long roll, in an open roadstead. They broke a messenger chain that drove the rickety windlass in getting the stream anchor up, and the miners had to help with tackles before they could bring the kedge to the bows. Then she crawled slowly out to sea under half steam, and, although there was not much prospect12 of it, I hoped she would make a quick passage. The young first mate and one of the engineers seemed capable men, but there was nothing to recommend the rest, and the skipper was slack and too convivial39 in his habits. He was a little, slouching man, with an unsteady look.”
“How did such an old ship get passengers, and why didn’t they engage a better crew?” Ruth wanted to know.
“Passengers were not particular during the gold rush, and good seamen40 were scarce on the Pacific slope. All who were worth anything had gone off to the diggings.”
“Oh! Where was the gold she carried kept?”
“In a strong-room under the floor of the stern cabin; that is, the gold that was formally shipped by her, because I believe some of the miners carried as much as possible on their persons and stowed the rest under their bunks41. Anyway, you saw men keeping watch while the bedroom stewards42 were at work, and I imagine it would have been dangerous to mistake one’s berth43 at night. I generally struck a match to make sure of my number. However, for the most part, the passengers seemed an honest lot, and I had more confidence in them than I had in the crew.
“Our troubles began on the first day out, for she burst a pipe in the engine room; but there was no excitement when she stopped and a cloud of steam rushed out of the skylights. Men who had faced the Alaskan winter in the wilds and poled their boats through the rapids when the ice broke up were not easily alarmed.
“‘The blamed old boiler’s surely blowing. Guess that means another day or two on the road,’ one remarked, and the fellow he spoke44 to coolly lighted his pipe.
“‘Well,’ he said, ‘they’ve got some sails up there. She’ll make it all right if you give her time.’
“She lay a good many hours in the trough of the sea, rolling so wildly that nobody could keep his feet, while a miner and the second engineer strapped45 the pipe with copper46 wire and brazed the
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