CHAPTER XXXI.
DOWN THE YUKON AND HOME.
Foster Portney knew that the regular terminus of travel on the Yukonsteamboats was Fort Cudahy, which was situated forty-eight miles belowDawson City. But owing to the rush to the new gold fields, which was nowstronger than ever, two small boats were making regular trips betweenthese two points.
When the party reached Dawson City, now the scene of great activity, itwas found they would have to wait a week before they could securepassage to Fort Cudahy, as the tickets for the two following trips wereall sold. This wait, when they were impatient to get home, was not anagreeable one, yet it gave them a chance to look around the settlementand become better acquainted with the various persons who were there.
"Dawson is bound to grow," said the doctor, who had hired a room at theso-called hotel and hung out his sign on the day he arrived. "See, thereare actually three streets already, two stores, three saloons, a barbershop, and a reading and pool room; and I understand that a fellow hasjust arrived who is going to open a clothing store, and another is onhis way with medicines for a drug store. We are bound to boom!"
"'We' is good!" said Earl, with a laugh. "I guess you had better strikeup a partnership with that druggist when he arrives."
"Not much, Earl! I'll put him in the way of getting the gold fever, andwhen he is ready to strike out, I'll buy his outfit and run the wholething myself. I'm bound to make money." And it looked as if the doctorwas right, for during their stay in Dawson City he had eleven calls forhis services, for which he charged the fee of five dollars per call,which was moderate for that place.
At last came the day to part, and with a hearty handshake from thedoctor the Portneys and Fred boarded the little side-wheeler _Alice_,and the long homeward trip was begun. The boat was crowded withreturning miners, and as nearly all of them had struck gold, it was ahappy congregation which spent the time in eating, drinking, smoking,playing cards, and "swapping yarns." "Swapping yarns" went oncontinually, and many were the wonderful stories told of great finds,perilous climbs, and escapes from starvation during the awful winter.
"I've made seventy thousand dollars, boys," said one elderly miner. "ButI never did so much starving in my life, an' ten hosses couldn't dragme back to put in another such winter--hear me!"
"I'm with ye," said another; "leas'wise, I think I am. But thar's notellin' wot I might do ef the gold fever struck me ag'in," he addedreflectively.
Fort Cudahy was a small settlement on the Yukon, at the mouth of ClintonCreek. Just above the creek was another settlement, called Forty Mile.Between the stores in the two settlements there was a fierce rivalry,and consequently prices here were more reasonable than at Dawson City.
The party was fortunate in obtaining immediate passage to Fort GetThere, on St. Michael's Island, which is situated sixty miles above theentrance to the Yukon. An offer was also made by the agent of thetransportation company to take charge of their gold from there right onthrough to San Francisco, but as the commission for doing this would befifteen per cent, this offer was declined.
"I think we can get it through," said Foster Portney. "At any rate, I amwilling to risk it." And the boys agreed with him.
The next stop of importance was Circle City, of which the boys had heardthrough Mr. Portney. In former days Circle City had been the bannermining town on the upper Yukon, but now its glory was departed, for overthree-quarters of its inhabitants had pulled up stakes and moved on tothe Klondike district.
From Circle City the river, already broad, widened out to such an extentthat it looked more like a lake than anything else. It was dotted withnumerous islands, and the pilot of the boat had his head full withkeeping track of the proper channel to pursue. The run was north to theruins of Fort Yukon, the highest point gained by the mighty river uponwhich they were sailing.
From Fort Yukon the run was mostly to the southwestward, past thesettlements of Shaman's, We Are, Nulato, and a dozen similar places,Indian villages, the home of fur traders, missionaries, and of fishers.At many of the places the main things to be seen were the totem polesstuck up in front of the Indian huts--poles of wood, curiously carvedwith hideous-looking images and undecipherable hieroglyphics.
At last St. Michael's Island was gained, and here they found themselvesagain in luck, for an ocean steamer was in waiting to take thepassengers from the river boat. The transfer was made before nightfall,and at dawn of the day following the steamer started on her long voyagedown Norton Sound, Bering Sea, and the Pacific Ocean to Seattle. But onestop was made, that at Dutch Harbor, on one of the Aleutian Islands, andthen one glorious afternoon early in the fall they steamed through theStraits of San Juan de Fuca and swept into the grand harbor at Seattle.
"The United States at last!" cried Randy. "Oh my, how good civilizationdoes look!"
"We don't know what we have at home until we miss it," said Fred, but insuch a low tone that nobody heard him.
They stopped in Seattle two days, and then took steamer direct for SanFrancisco. The trip down the coast was an uneventful one. They wereimpatient to finish it, and a glad cry rang everywhere through thevessel when land was sighted and they ran through the Golden Gate.
A crowd was at the wharf to receive the latest news from the goldfields. "How are the diggings up there?" "Is there any show for a fellowstaking a good claim?" "How much did you bring along?" "Is it true aboutprovisions being scarce?" These and a hundred other questions went therounds, as the fortunate ones came ashore. Foster Portney managed tokeep the boys together and get them through the jam, and quarter of anhour later found them on the way to the mint with their preciousburdens. Here they were given receipts for their nuggets and dust, andthen they turned away with a big load lifted off their minds, for theyknew that their fortunes were now safe.
And here properly ends the tale of the fortune hunters of the Yukon. HowFred Dobson returned home a penitent runaway, and how he was readilyforgiven and later on allowed to study for college, I will leave myreaders to imagine. As for Earl and Randy, there was nothing whichcalled for their return to Basco, and they remained with their uncle inSan Francisco until their gold was reduced to coin and they received acheck on the treasurer of the United States for its value. Then theypaid a visit to Colorado, remaining there until the following spring.During the winter a company was organized to work their claims bymachinery, and early spring found them again in the land of gold. Andthere we will leave them, wishing them all the success that their pluckand industry deserve.
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