Klondike Nuggets, and How Two Boys Secured Them
Copyright© 2026 by Edward S. Ellis
Chapter 4: The Avalanche
It was late in the day that the little steamer arrived at Dyea, which was found to be a village with one log store, a number of movable tents, and without any wharf, the beach being so flat that at high water the tide reaches a half mile or more inland. To guard against losing any of their supplies, Tim McCabe told his friends that it would be necessary to unload them themselves.
“From this p’int,” said he, “we must hoe our own row; under hiven we must depind on oursilves. Hardman, lind a hand there, and step lively.”
To the astonishment of the youths, the man took hold and wrought with right good will. Jeff looked at Tim queerly as he pointed out the different articles, he himself, as may be said, overlooking the job; but the conclusion was that the Irishman had promised him a small amount for his help. When, however, the task was finished Tim came to the group, and while Hardman, with shamefaced expression, remained in the background, he said with that simplicity which any one would find hard to resist:
“You see poor Hardman is in bad luck; he hain’t any outfit, and wants to go to the gold fields, but will have to git some one to stake him. Obsarving the same, I made bowld to remark that it would give me frind Jiff the highest plisure to do it for him, not forgetting to obsarve that I knew his company would be agreeable to the byes, and he will be of great hilp to the same.”
“Well, I’m blessed!” exclaimed the old miner, removing his hat and mopping his forehead with his big red handkerchief. Then he turned half way round and looked steadily at the fellow, who was standing with his head down.
“Poor dog! let him come along, but if he makes any trouble, I’ll hold you responsible, Tim.”
“And I’ll be happy to take charge of the same ‘sponsibility, and if he don’t toe the mark, it’s mesilf that will make him. Do you hear that, Ike?” he roared, turning fiercely toward the fellow, who started, and meekly replied that he heard, though it was impossible for anything to reach him except the last thunderous demand.
“It isn’t for us to say anything,” remarked Roswell aside to his chum, “but that means trouble for us all.”
“It surely does; we must be on our guard against him.”
The outfits were piled on a sandspit about a mile below the trading posts of Healy and Wilson. In the foreground were the ranch and store owned by them, and beyond towered the coast mountains, their tops gleaming in the sunshine with enormous masses of snow, while hundreds of miles still beyond stretched the immense Yukon country, toward which the eyes of the civilized world are turned at the present time.
One of the strange facts connected with Alaska and the adjoining region is that in May the sun rises at 3 o’clock and sets at 9, while in June it rises at 1.30 and sets at 10.30. Thus the summer day is twenty hours long, and it has a diffuse twilight. The change from winter to summer is rapid, winter setting in in September, and in the Klondike region zero weather lasts from November to May, though at times the weather moderates early in March, but does not become settled until May. The Yukon generally freezes shut in the latter part of October, and breaks up about the middle of May, when the western route to the gold fields by the river becomes practicable.
The hour was so late when our friends had finished carrying their outfit beyond reach of the high tide, which rises twenty feet at Dyea, that they lodged and took their meals at the ranch trading post. By arrangement, an early breakfast was eaten the next morning, and the goods were loaded upon the two Yukon sleds with which they were provided. These were seven feet long, sixteen inches wide, and were shod with steel. Other gold-seekers were stopping, like themselves, at the ranch, but they lagged so much that when the men and boys headed northward they were alone.
Jeff Graham and Ike Hardman passed the rope attached to one of the sleds over their shoulders, the elder in advance, and led off. Tim took the lead, with the boys behind him, with the second sled, following the trail left by their friends. The deep snow was packed so hard that no use was made of the snow-shoes which Jeff had provided.
From Dyea the trail led for five miles over the ice, when they reached the mouth of the cañon. This is two miles long with an average width of fifty feet. The sleds were dragged over the strong ice, but later in the season, when it breaks up, travellers are obliged to follow the trail to the east of the cañon.
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