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32X

"DEBRETT! CHARLIE, OLD MAN, DON'T YOU KNOW ME? " — Seo p. 297.

'ii-'tHK)!'''l«W!WT:''^i

^Mmssmnam

OFF TO Kl.ONDYKE

a CtJWB^^f's El SIJ TO IMK (jOU) FlEl.DS

- <40Hl>0K STABLES, M.D., CM.

"•rtfJC t'Kl'WB '>r IHB K.»¥«K <'AK;VVAN." "FROM

'*9^

jilhim^nArio^s Hv cnAKLEs wutmveh

?97.

OFF TO KLONDIKE

A Cowboy's Rush to the Gold Fields

GORDON STABLES, M.D., CM.

(surgeon royal navy)
author 03' "a fight for frf.edom," "the peaut, divers,'

"the cruise OF THE ROVER CARAVAi;," " FROM
PLOUaaSHARB TO PULPIT," ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES WHYMPER

NEW YORK : 46 East 14th Street

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY

BOSTON; 100 Purchase Street

CoPYRionT, 1898,
By T. Y. CROWELL & CO.

Notfaool!) IPkbb

J. S. Cushing & Co. - Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mais. U.S.A.

STo M'S. Bear Sfgtct
MARY

1 DEDICATE THIS BOOK

WITH FONDEST LOVE AND THOUGHTS OF

*AULD LANG SYNE'

THE AUTHOB

CONTENTS

CIIAPTGK '.

I. AimOAD ON THE Moonr,ANi>8 .

II. A Wild Rack — Tuk Cvk on the Moou

III. In Touch with Natuhe ....

IV. Lauhie and Leeiue made Pkisoners .
V. The Haunted House ....

VI. The Convict's Teuuible Stouy .

VII. The Confession

VIII. To the Land ok the West .

IX. Wilson Webb in Cowboy Land .

X. A GuEEN Englishman ....

XI. A Buck-jumping Experience .

XII. It was a Teruible Fight while it lasted

XIII. The Great Spring "Round-up" .

XIV. On the War-path

XV. The Battle — Lynched at the Stake

XVI. " Tweed, too, was dead "...

XVII. Hurrah ! for the Land of Gold

XVIII. The Voyage of the Hopeful

XIX. Steaming up the Great Yukon .

XX. "Jackie has struck the Pay Dirt" .

XXI. " A New Sort of Sauce ? — Gold ! " .

PAOK

1
11

108

117

129

140

149

158

163

176

187

200

212

CIIAPTBR

XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.
XXVII.

xxvm.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

CONTENTS

PAOB

A Spoutsman's Paradise .... 223
Over the Seas, and over the Land . 230
On the Great Lake-chain .... 244
At Home in Klondyke — A Bear Ad-
venture 250

The Day will boon he on the Turn . 208
Christmas in Klondyke — A Tkrrirle

Journey . . ' 280

Sickness and SoRiiow — The Maniac

Doctor ......•• 290

The Cloud has lifted . . . • 300

Can this be Death? 307

The Welcome Home 316

OFF TO KLONDYKE;

OB,

A COWBOY'S RUSH TC TIJE GOLD FIELDS

,;»;o<-

CHAPTER I

ABROAD ON TFIE M00ULAND3

" Now stir the fire and close th« shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wlieel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steaming column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in." — Cowper.

Many of those bramble berries were already ripe,
and rich and black; but some were as red as the
cheeks of Leebie Lea, and others as brown as the
sunburned face of her little gipsy-looking brother
Laurie.

When I say that, although Leebie was comfortably
shod, and wore a . eatly be-ribboned straw hat over
her long yellow hair, Laurie was barefooted and bare-
ankled, it will easily be believed that they did not
belong to the aristocracy of this noble land of ours.

Nor were they what are called " poor children," as
will presently be seen.

ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS

The sun had just gone clown, and look in whatever
direction they might, not a house or hut was to be
seen on this vast moorland or plain. To all appear-
ance the children were many and many a long mile
from home, wherever that might be. This did not
seem to tronble them in the least ; for Leebie, as she
continued to gather the blackberries, sang sweetly to
herself in happy cliildish treble.

But Laurie had turned his back to the great bramble
bush and his face to the west. That face was beam-
ing, and his dark blue eyes were sparkling with a
light that seemed lent from tlie gorgeous sunset sky.
Surely there was something of the poet and natural-
ist about the lad, for the tears were trembling on his
long eyelashes.

" Oh, Leebie ! " he cried at last, "why don't you look
upwards ? "

The girl paused now, and did glance towards the
west, and an exclamation of wonder and admiration
escaped her.

" Oh, Laurie, how pretty ! " she cried. " Wlio
painted that sky, I wonder ! "

"Why, God, of course, Leebie. Doesn't he paint
everything that is beautiful — the wild flowers, the
trees, and the red heather, and the wings of that bird
yonder that is singing in the thorn ? "

" Yes," assented Leebie, nodding gravely. " of course
it is God, but I was nearly forgetting."

And here was an autumn sunset such as is seldom
seen in this country. High above, the great sky-dome

ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS

itself was clear and cloudless and of a pale blue colour,
with just one strip of shining crimson. But it was
down towards the horizon where the chief beauty lay.
For the clouds here were splendidly striated and
streaked, the layers deep orange in colour, purple,
grey, and vermilion, with betwixt the orange and the
red, canals of pale green empty sky. Then close to
the horizon was a bank of misty grey.

One glance at the children standing there with
faces upturned and hands shading their eyes from
the dazzling, heavenly light, would have told you
that while Leebie was really a beautiful and intelU-
gent-looking child of about ten, Laurie, perhaps
three years her senior, was a truly manly and hand-
some English boy.

Oh, they are no rarity in this dear country of ours.
I could find you many in my own village here, and it
is just such boys as Laurie that, when they grow up
to be men, fight our battles among the wild and
far-off hills of India, or in African jungles, and per-
form deeds of valour which make the blood tingle
within our veins, as we read of them at our quie^-
fireside in England.

But Leebie and Laurie are not the only living
creatures in this lonesome, hobgoblin moorland. No,
for yonder there comes trotting towards them, on
four legs apiece and cheek by jowl, two very interest-
ing persons indeed.

Let me introduce them,

I. Sir Duncau Curriel

ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS

II. Towsie !

While their little master and mistress have been
filling that basket with ripe blaokljerries, tlie two
dogs have been far away across the plaiiis, liuntin;^-
on their own account. No, not altogether on their
own account, either, for behold ! Towsie, an old-
fashioned, English sheep-dog is carrying a large,
wild rabbit, and Sir Duncan, a daft, wee, wiry, Aber-
deen terrier, though lie carries no rabbit, looks full of
importance. He is trying to tell Laurie that, although
he graciously permits Towsie to bear the bunny along,
had it not been for him, Laurie would not now be
looking forward to so nice a supper.

Very full, indeed, of self-importance Avas this same
Sir Duncan. Indeed, T always think t at the smaller
a dog — or a man either — is, the mere he thinks of
himself ; the more conceited he is.

At first glance nobody could have said that Sir
Duncan was a deal to look at. Grey in colour was
he, with smartly [)ricked ears, which gave him the
appearance of being always on the qui vive ; a smartly
carried tail, which he seemed very proud of, but
rather short in legs, in body, and in hair. This last
was very close and .almost as tliick and hard .as pin
wire. A thunder-shower could not have soaked Sir
Duncan to the skin, nor could earth or dust ever
penetr.ate that hirsute mantle of his. Sir Duncan's
toilet was exceedingly simple. He just gave himself
a shake, or on rare occasions two, and lo ! there he
was, ready for anything. Sir Duncan Currie was

••»ti'*00'-'

SIR

OUNCAN CURRIB AN

TCWSlE.

ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS

brave to the core. There was nothing he would not
have attacked, from a weasel, or polecat, to a wild,
horned bull, and when he went on the war-path, he
went to win. His teeth had all the whiteness of
alabaster, but were as strong as Highland dirks.
Sharp and quick was Sir Duncan and easy to take
offence, but it could not be said that he was bad in
temper. He possessed a loving wee heart of his own,
and when he looked at his master or mistress it shone
out through a pair of the darkest and brownest of
eyes that any one ever beheld.

I believe, moreover, that he was proud of his con-
stant companion, Towsie.

And this affection Towsie, a bob-tailed, wall-eyed,
old-fashioned English sheep-dog, fully reciprocated,
though he was older and more sedate than little
Currie, as he was usually called for short. As
Burns says, —

" Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither
An' unco pack and thick thegither;
Wi' social nose whiles snuffed and snowkit ^
Whiles mice and moudiewarts they liowkit,"
Whiles scoured awa in lang excui'sion,
An' worried ither in diversion."

Nevertheless Currie possessed a very strong sense
of the ridiculous, and there were times when out
on the moorland or plains, that all at once, after
a glance or two at Towsie, his shape — so different
from his own — struck him as so irresistibly comical

1 Scented.

2 Dug up.

ABROAD ON TIIK MOOULANDS

that, wiili his tectli sliowing, all agriu with laughing,
he was fain to allay his feelings by rushing round
and round his companion, in wide and wider circles,
till, fairly exhausted, he would tumble on tlie grass.

" Oil, Towsie, Towsie ! " he seemed to say, " you'll
be the death of me, some day. When I look at you,
I feel fit to choke witli merriment. Never an ear
to be seen ; heather instead of hair ; one brown eye
blinking out of your shaggy face, and one the colour
of an old china plate, — and oh, Towse, not even the
stump of a tail ! How ever your mother let you out
like that: I could never tell ! "

Then, as if afraid he had offended honest Towsie,
he would trot up and kiss him.

" Never mind me, Towsie," he would say, " I must
have a bit o' fun sometimes. I'm that way built,
you know."

Well, Sir Duncan Currie could catch every creat-
ure of ordinary size that ran. Mice and rats he
worried as quickly as one could wink. One bite
was enough for a weasel or martin, and two for a
polecat. He would drag a badger from his lair,
and even fight a fox. But away in the woods, he
would -sit at the foot of a great oak tree, and bark
with vexation, at a squirrel liigh up among the green
swaying boughs quietly eating an acorn ; for climb-
ing trees was far beyond even Sir Duncan's power.
But often and often he stalked and caught birds
on the ground ; and more than once he had come
proudly back to his master and laid a plump and

ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS

lovely partridge at his feet. This only in early
autumn, for during the nesting season Laurie kept
both his dogs close to heel.

I think that the greatest soitow in Currie's heart
sprang from the fact that he could not catch a species
of snipe, common enough near the pools where the
wild ducks had their nests.

For clever and all though he was, this doggie
couldn't fly, but he would sit on one end with his
black dot of a nose in the air, watching that snipe till
it was no longer visible, and wish he only had wings.
Because this particular species of snipe seemed to
call his name. This was only the bird's cry, but it
really was very tantalising.

" Currie, Currie, Currie, Currie ! "
"Oh," Sir Duncan appeared to say, "7 would
Currie you, if I could only just catch you!"

Well, on this particular evening, Tovsie laid the
rabbit very gently down at his master's feet, and
received how both children a deal of praise and
cuddling.

With her arms around the honest dog's neck as
she knelt beside him, — bareheaded now, for her hat
had fallen off, — Leebie and he made a pi'etty pict-
ure.

As for Sir Duncan Currie he had quite taken pos-
session of his master, and seemed determiyyad that
Towsie should not have a single caress.
« « « « «

But by this time the beauty had begun to fade

ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS

away from the cloiulscape ; that strip of cirrhus that
erst was so brightly crimson had already changed to
bronze, and tlie bars that lay along the lower part of
the sky were now purple and grey.

Laurie took a piece of twine from his pocket —
what country boy ever goes abroad without this —
and, tying the rabbit's fore and hind feet together,
slung it over his shoulder.

" Come on, Leebie," he cried. " Why, it will be
almost dark before we get home ! "

" Wowff ! wowfC ! wowff ! " barked Sir Duncan,
running on excitedly in front, for hunting had made
him hungry. But Towsie simply licked his master's
hand with his warm tongue.

"I'll guide you safely home," he seemed to say,
" should it be as dark as my coat."

It was quite half an hour, however, before they
got clear of the plain and on to the road. And by
this time it was dusk and a star or two were blinking
and winking in the east.

When the road led them into and through a wood
of oak trees, to which the brown leaves were still
closely clinging, it was so dark that but for a long
line of sky above, they could not have been able to
see their way at all.

But Laurie was a cheerful boy, and now his voice
was raised in song.

Only a simple English ditty that his father had
taught him, but it sufficed to make the long road
appear shorter.

AnUOAD ON THE MOORLANDS 9

In some measure Laurie was like the miller of Dee,
for he sang pretty well all day long.

" There was a jolly miller once
Lived on the river Dee ;
He worked and sung from morn till night,
No lark more bright than he.

"And this the burthen of his song
Forever used to be,
' I care for nobody, no, not I,
K nobody cares for me.' "

But in the present instance these words would have
been far indeed from appropriate. For Laurie had
some one to care for him.

Behold, they are clear of the woods at last, and
about a hundred yards farther on, the bright light
from a cottage window is streaming across a well-
cultivated garden and across the road beyond.

And the children's mother is leaning over the gate.
She has been awaiting their arrival anxiously enough.
Both Towsie and Currie sprang forward with a joy-
ful bound, and Leebie and Laurie speedily followed
their leaders.

" Come in, my dears, come in," said the mother.
" You must both be cold and hungry, and your father
and I were getting quite nervous about you."

" No need, mother, no need. We've had such a
splendid time of it. And look at the beautiful rabbit
that Towsie brought me, and the lovely basketful of
blackberries Leeb and I have picked ! "

They were in- the house by this time, and in the

ARUOAl) ON THE MOORLANDS

room where father sat quietly reading the morning
paper ; for Mr. Lea was a farmer in a small way, and
had but little time to read anything until the shades
of evening fell and work was over for the day. But
he was very glad to see the youngsters, and Leebie
was soon on his knee — her favourite seat — telling
him of all their adventures on the plains.

Well, Mi's. Lea now hurried away to superintend
the skinning and stewing of that rabbit, and with
mashed potatoes it made, indeed, a delightful supper,
flanked by fragrant tea. Sir Duncan Currie sat on
the hearth-rug looking at the cheerful fire of turf,
wood, and coal, and beside him sat a huge, red tabby-
cat, the two being on terms pf great intimacy and
friendship.

Towsie sat under the table, but no sooner was
supper over than both dogs came out, expectant of
their share. Nor were they disappointed.

Before retiring for the night the farmer took down

" The big, ha' Bible, once his father's pride,"

and the prayer-book as well, and conducted short but
earnest devotions.

Happy, indeed, is the evening of a day that endeth
thus.

CHAPTER II

that endeth

A WILD RACE — THE CAVE ON THE MOOR

"I've wandered east, I've wandered west,
Through many a weary way,
But never, never can forget

The love of life's young day."

— William Motherwell.

Mr. Lea's farm was not a large one, nor was he
ever likely to make a fortune on it. Indeed, as far
as the world goes, he was really poor. True, he had
not many children. Indeed, we have already become
acquainted with all he had ; but the farm had to be
tilled, and so there were men and horses to keep and
pay for, and the honest fellow was alv^ayo pleased if,
about Christmas time, when he reckoned up his books
on the debit and credit side, he found that ends not
only met, but lapped a little way over.

But he was not rich enough to send Leebie and
Laurie to a far-off boarding-school, even if he had
cared to part with them. And of course to send
them to the village board school was out of the ques-
tion. So they had a somewhat clever governess, who
came shortly after breakfast, and taught them all the
forenoon.

Then the children got the afternoon and evening

A WILD RACE

to themselves, and in fine weather spent most of
their time on the uphand moor or plain.

It was neither a moor nor a plain to them, however,
hut a houndless prairie ; and no Indians in the far
west of America ever ran more wild and free than
they did liere.

But the dogs were not their only companions, ex-
cellent though these were. No, for they had Bob
and Neddy besides.

I may say at once that although Bob, a d 11 little
Shethind pony, belonged entirely to tliem, u d was a
very great pet, and a spoiled one too, Neddy the
donkey was an inhabitant of the prairie. He dwelt
there nearly all the year through, and no one seemed
to own him or even know to whom he belonged.
But he had attached himself very much to Leebie
and Laurie Lea, he was a great friend of Bob's, and
on the most intimate terms with the dogs.

Unlike donkeys that are dragged up under man's
cruel dominion, Neddy was as fleet as the wind that
bent the reeds and grass on the prairie. Yet none
the more averse was he to be ridden by Laurie. And
the performance was a bareback one with just a rope
instead of a bridle. It is true that the boy had a
morsel of a whip, but he never touclied Neddy there-
with. It was merely meant to crack as he gave vent
to a wild whoop, and went careering over the plain.

The day after the blackberrying expedition was to
be a holiday. Miss May was going from home, so
the two children would have all the long day to

A WFTJ) RACE

themselves to do just as they pleased. Laurie, how-
over, was by no means an idle boy, and stayed at
lionie for two hours after bi'eakfast, to assist his
father in some of the lighter duties of the farm.

Hut liob was brought out at last and saddled and
bridled for Leebie to ride. The little rough-haired,
long-tailed raseal knew lie was going to have some
real fine fun, and was full of life and go. He shock
his great mane and neighed with delight, while the
dogs, who were never so well pleased as vvlien the
Slietland formed one of the expedicion, jumped up
and kissed him, then barked in joy and wantonness,
as they rushed round and round him on the road.

Right in front of the saddle was a mysterious-look-
ing roll or parcel. But there really was no mystery
about it. For it contained dinner for all hands in-
cluding the dogs, of course.

It was a splendid morning when they started. Away
to the west were glorious banks of rolling clouds, like
icebergs draped with snow ; the sky above them, a
deep ethereal blue. But southeast by ejist, the clouds
were grey, thouigh fringed at the top with an irregu-
lar line of silver, and through the very centre of this
bank, in a space of lurid brown, sailed the sun. No one
could say he shone, so sadly shorn of his beams was he.

Although, wlion once fairly mounted, Leebie had a
preliminary gallop, — she and her wild little steed,
dogs and all, being speedily swallowed up by the
forest, — they soon returned, and the real fun did not
commence until the lad climbed the hill and reached

-.-til i—UU .- ' -! ■ . '

i i.

A WILD RACE

the boundary of the plain. And here was Neddy
himself waiting for them. As soon as he saw the
first head, and that was Leebie's, he lifted up that
wonderful voice of his, and gave vent to a series of
" Haw-hee's " that really seemed to make the welkin
ling.

The " Haw " was on a low bass key, the " Hee "
was a high tenor, shrieked and long drawn out.

Never mind, it sounded like '* Lau-We ! Laurie ! "
and really was a paean of joy and welcome, or meant
to be.

And now Neddy must fling his heels in the air, and
after receiving a kiss from the dogs, rush forward to
rub noses with Bob. After this Laurie put his bridle
on and mounted him bareback, of coarse ; for the
boy had that fast and secure grip of the knees, which
enabled him to ride any horse without a saddle.

" Hurrah ! " cried Laurie. " Hurrah ! Leebie ! Hur-
rah ! Now for a ride over the boundless prairie.
Follow me. Whoop ! "

That wild " whoop! " of Laurie's would have done
credit to a Chik-Chek Indian.

Laurie deserted the road entirely now, and Leebie
followed suit. It is true, the plain was somewhat
lumpy and, owing to the number of large stones
about, not altogether safe ; but the youngsters did not
mind that, and if the riders did not care, certainly
the steeds dlv^n't. Laurie wf.s evidently going to
make a bee-line straight for a cave about a mile
distant.

A WILD RACE

Leebie bent down and patted Bob, and then Bob
knew it was to be a race between him and Neddy,
and that he must overtake him before he reached the
cave, or fall dead in his tracks.

He neighed a wild defiance, then started off at a
rate that defies description. But Neddy was a long
way ahead from the first, and for a time it seemed
that he was actually increasing it.

Leebie now grew excited, and every minute the
Shetland was warming more and more to his work.

Over and over again she patted his shoulder. " Go
on, good Bobbie ! go on ! " she cried. " Come, Bobbie,
come, we mustn't be beaten ! "

Bobbie didn't mean to be, if he could help it; for
the pony had the grit in him, as Yankees say. Well,
they tell me a donkey's gallop is short and sweet.
Then Neddy's must have been an exception ; for
though the pony now gained on him hand over hand,
the two wild steeds were hardly a hundred yards
from tlie mouth of the cave before they were neck
and neck.

Now came the tug of war. Whether Laurie had
been saving Neddy's strength for the finish or not, I
cannot say, but he suddenly gave him his head and
all tlie encouragement in his power.

" Whoop ! whoop ! whoop ! " he shouted.

Crack, crack, crack, went the whip. Surely no such
race as this was ever run before, and no such Derby s
ever seen.

Neck and neck, head and head, till almost the fin-

A WILD RACE

ish. Then with a wild exultant cry Leebie sent for-
ward her little horse, till he seemed to fly, and won —
by half a length.

Even the dogs had been left far in the rear, but
as Laurie and Leebie stood there laughing right
merrily, as they patted and petted Neddy and Bob,
their canine friends came panting towards them.

And now Leebie's saddle and bridle, and Laurie's
rope were taken off and the steeds were set free.
" Mind," said Laurie, " you mustn't go very far
away, and you must return whenever I whistle."

The cave, which they had now reached, was a
strange one. A huge hillock of rock and stones and
turf formed its roof, and among these furze was
growing, while the entrance was entirely hidden by
bushes.

But inside it was roomy and capacious enough, and,
independent of a rude sort of chimney which gave
exit to the smoke, there was an orifice on the west
side, that admitted liglit enough for every useful pur-
pose.

It was evident that this cave was a favourite resort
with Laurie and his sister ; for they had gone so far
as to furnish it with a rough wooden table and seats,
to say r hing of a large soft couch of lieather and
brackens, on which a tired man might well rest and
sleep.

And here was wood in abundance, to say nothing
of dry, hard peats. So Laurie set himself at once to
light a fire, and sT/on its pleasant blaze, reflected from

A WILD RACE

the dark, rocky walls on every side, made the place
look very cosy indeed, and very homelike, too.

It was a favourite resort with the boy and his sister,
even in early spring before the woodlands were clad
in tender green, while the weird spruce firs, and
shaggy pines looked black in contrast with the bare
grey branches of oak or sycamore, and while, with
the exception of the dusky green leaves of the honey-
suckle, scarce was a bud or burgeon to be seen on
the hedgerows. The air at this time had hardly yet
lost its wintry sting, it is true, but the wind that
blew across the plain or prairie, though cold, wr^s
pure and fresh ; so life and joy were in every breath
they breathed.

But even then there was many a beautiful thing
to be seen and admired, and young though even
Leebie was, she was a creature of the wilds and
loved nature in every form. She might have said
with Milton in " Lycidas " : —

" Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers,
Bring the rathe primrose, that, forsaken, dies;
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,
The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head.
And every flower that sad embroidery wears."

Well Leebie loved the early spring flowers, but

A WILD RACE

though she loved little creeping or flying things as
well, she could not help pitying these because they
had been born and sent out into the world too soon,
and before the sun's rays had gathered strength
enough to warm their tiny bodies.

Look at that lonesome wee lady bird, for instance,
in jacket of bright vermilion spotted with black. Not
one of its kindred is it likely to meet anywhere in
these wilds. It climbs a stalk of withered grass,
spreads wide its cloak, and attempts to fly. But the
wind chills its tender wings and soon down it drops,
and presently the rose-linnet spies it, and the lady-
bird is no longer left in misery.

Or look at yonder little blue butterfly. "Was it
born this spring, Leebie wonders, or did it lie hiding
in some cosy crevice all the winter through, till the
spring sunshine lured it forth? It, also, is search-
ing in vain for one of its kindred to play with and
to love. Alas ! there is none ; but a yellow-billed
blackbird has seen it and seized it. Just for a
moment or two the blue wings ornament the cheeks
of the bonny, bonny bird, then that early butterfly
is swallowed and knows no more.

But both Laurie and his sister know something.
They know where that yellow-bill has his nest in the
furze, which already is green, and where also the
rose-linnet has his ; and how they are built, and how
they are lined, and how many pretty eggs each.
Both birds cease to sing as the children approach
the bushes where their homes are, but more mellow

A WILD RACE

and lively than before are their joy-notes when they
pass on, after one or two admiring glances.

There are many more nests to be visited in early
spring, many sweet and hardy wee wild flowers to be
admired, and much more bird melody to be listened
to with delight. >.

The opening summer, however, was the favourite
season of all with Laurie and Leebie, when dainty
May had already clad the trees in tenderest olives
and sweetest greens, when the yellow, rich furze that
hugged the moor scented all the air around, and the
sward by the roadsides was a galaxy of bee-haunted
beauty, — a beauty lent to it by the go wan, the

" Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,"

that Burns sang so sweetly of, the rich and tempting
white of the clover, the deep orange but crimson-
shaded bird's-foot trefoil, starry ox-eye daisies, and
lovely blue of the modest speedwell.

Thus May would lead them, step by step, into the
joy of June, when, although the niglitingale ceased
to sing, the woods, the copses, and the wild, wide
moor itself, resounded with the happy voices of a
thousand feathered songsters. Happy, did I say?
Yea, verily, so happy that their melodies had at
times an almost hysterical bubble in them, as if
tears of joy were half choking them.

" O God, it was a holy time ;
His breath was o'er the land."

Would that we could all study His works more,

A WILD IIACE

from the greatest even to the least. Grand indeed
is the tiger that prowls silently through the jungles
of India, and noble and majestic in his terrible
strength the ice bear that stalks over the frozen
and snow-clad seas of the Arctic; but in many of
the tiniest insects that creep on the stalks of the
green July heatlier or heath, there is a beauty that
nothing else on earth can equal, far less surpass.

He does not really live who loves not nature ;
or who ne'er can see beauty and romance in a
yellow primrose, and ne'er can feel

" The witchery of a soft blue sky."

le
n

CHAPTER III

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

" Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings." — Bryant.

Just as one who adrtiires the picture of some
famous artist is really honouring the maker thereof,
so do we truly honour and worship God when we
stand in silent awe and admiration before his won-
drous works, be they treescapes or seascapes, the
marvels of the ever-changing sky, or the living
creatures he cares for and loves.

"You will find," says Bolingbroke, "that it is
the modest, not the presumptuous, inquirer who
makes a real and safe progress in the discovery of
divine truths. One must follow nature and nature's
God — that is, he must follow God in his works and

in his word."

Well, I have no desire to set my young hero,
Laurie Lea, up for a saint. He was just a bold
English boy, and I trust there are very many more
like him. Somewhat different in type, however,
from the majority of British lads, who are content
to go through their "teens" and merge into man-
hood with their eyes shut, so far as nature is con-
cerned.

mmmmm m

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

Laurie was nothing unless a naturalist, and though
his friend, Ernest Elliot, whom I shall presently
introduce, used to listen to all lie said with a good
deal of pleasure, he himself preferred a fishing-rod or
a ride across country to almost any other pleasure
that life could afford.

Still, I cannot help saying that the young man who
lives in the country, and does not take up natural
history as a pursuit to some extent, is to be pitied.
He is wilfully blind with his mental eyes, and denies
himself one of the greatest pleasures in existence.
But here is the great mistake people who desire to
study nature make, — they commence with classifi-
cation too soon, and so sicken themselves with long
compound Latin or Greek names. Encourage
young folks to study the natural history of their own
gardens, or even to tell the life-story of a single tree
from year's end to year's end; they will get more
insight into nature while doing so than if they read
a hundred dry-as-dust works of the most eminent
naturalists. Classification will come in handy after-
wards. Put a real naturalist down for six months in
a potato patch, and he will write you a beautiful and
interesting book thereon, with very little classifica-
tion in it. Imprison him in a cellar and give him a
candlelight, and in three months' time he will hand
you a most readable book on the life he finds therein.
I have met learned souls who were content to dis-
miss a bird by telling you its Latin name and classi-
fication. The sparrow, they would say, is the " Passer

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

domesticus," and belongs to the Nat. Fam. " Fringil-
lidse." And these men call themselves naturalists.
If you dined with me, reader, I could undertake to
talk about nothing save sparrows all the evening, and
I do believe you would be sorry when bedtime came.
And Laurie was just the same, and, mind you this,
his character and history are sketched from the life ;
for every hero of mine has had his prototype.

Well, I cannot here repeat all that Laurie used
to tell his young friend Ernest and his sister
Leebie, who, I may inform you, boys, though you
must not let it go any farther, was Ernest's little
sweetheart.

But Laurie was very fond of his, or rather his
father's, sparrows, and made them a study, and could
tell many a story concerning their nature and habits
not to be found in books.

Several of the poplar trees around his father's farm
were covered, as to their stem, with ivy. This was a
great roosting-place for flocks of these birds ; so was
the ivy over and at each side of the hall door. At
sunset of an evening the babel, din, and squabbling
for good places were incessant for fully half an hour ;
then all was peace till daybreak. In the wistaria
and ivy were innumerable nests. These made shel-
ters at night during winter for his pets. Up one
gable of the stable grew a Gloire de Dijon rose tree.
In this tree, during winter, the sparro\/s often built
tiny shelter nests, or rather the females buill them
to keep their lords and masters snug and cosy. The

IN TOUCH WITH nature

same sparrow sat night after night on the same rose
twigs, under that verantlali. Often a sparrow had
two wives — more fool he, of course. One, who
occupied a particular twig close to that lawn window,
used to call his two wives every night, and send them
to bed before he went himself. This bird used to
have a big straw hung over him. if Laurie took it
down, or it was blown awny, another used to be hung
up. The wives of this bigamist sparrow sometimes
fought cruelly. The overmuch-married sparrow
just looked on, and let them. " What can a poor
fellow do?" he would say. "But," he added, "I'll
know better another year ! " So, you see, experience
teaches sparrows as well as fools. Sparrows are fond
of building under the eaves of thatched houses, in
waterspouts, in chimneys, and in holes in old orchard
trees. An old nest was often relined, and served
again and again. They frequently ousted the swal-
lows from their nests, but Laurie had never known
the latter to clay them up.

In Laurie's father's orchard grew a great, gnarled
old russet apple tree. With a very short fishing-rod
he could touch a knot, at the union of two branches,
which was hollow and had a tiny entrance hole. The
knot was barely nine inches in diameter, and suitable,
one would have thought, only for the nest of a wry-
neck or wren ; but, nevertheless, a pair of sparrows
had lived there and reared families for several years,
— unmolested, too, except from the occasional visit of
an insolent starling on an egg-hunting expedition.

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

who, liowever, had always confined his audacity to
peeping down into the nest witli one eye and passing
a few perhaps not overcomplimentary remarks. But
once the tree and the hoHow knot were occupied by
the hen-sparrow and a young cock-sparrow, lier son.
Tlie son was bigger than the mother, but had not yet
completed his spring moult, though the black bib
was advancing downwards from the chin. Rut the
curious part of the business was this ; the young cock
never left the tree or went many twigs away from
the nest. He simply sat there pluming his feathers,
his mother coming about every ten minutes with
something for him to eat. "Breet, breet, breet,"
she cried, which means "open you bill." Then she
rammed the bread, or beetle, or larva right down his
throat. As the young sparrow was somewhat hol-
low-eyed, he might have been sickly, but an in-
stance of such maternal devotion, I think, deserves
to be recorded.

Farmer Lea himself was a thinking man. Many
farmei-s are. Nor did he keep his thoughts to him-
self, but oftentimes communicated his ideas to his
wife, and others around him, while smoking his pipe
at the cosy fireside of an evening.

It was evident that Laurie took after him ; for Lea
was himself a lover of nature, as may be seen from
the following remarks he made to a neighbour who
had dropped in one night to speak about the crops
and the prospects of a good harvest.

"There is no more delightful study, Tom," he

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

said, "for young or old than nature, and no more
delightful book to read. Some are born naturalists
just as othei-s are born musicians ; but even musical
taste and that for natural history can be acquired by
the young. It is animal nature that appeals most to
youth, and they should be encouraged to study that
first ; not by catching and killing things, but watch-
ing the work and habits of life of the spiders, ants,
earwigs, beetles, centipedes, etc. If a father wants
to encourage his boy or girl in the pui-suit of the
most charming science in the world, let him place
down on a quiet part of the lawn a flat, thick plank
about nine inches wide and three feet long. When
it has lain for weeks so that it has half sunk into the
ground and the grass is gone from under, it is time
to lift it gently. Lo ! what a study you will find
beneath. Perhaps a score of different natural fami-
lies may be found living peacefully there. The boy
or girl may lift it day afi 3r day, and study the ways
and manners of thf^ creatures beneath. A child
should receive a reward for every little essay he
writes about the plank-dwellers. Moreover, thereby
there is at least one moral taught concerning the
virtue of peace, for all these creatures live in amity.
If it isn't the lion lying down with the lamb, it is
the huge, yellow-brown centipede cheek by jowl with
a beautiful white-striped burying beetle, or allowing
even a little regiment of ants to crawl unmolested
over him. Of course the study of natural history
has no end. It is supposed that of beetles alone

IN TOUCH WITH NAT! UE

there are about twenty million species in the world.
I can't tell how long ago it may be since this world
cooled down sufficiently, to permit of the creation of
animal life. I believe about two hundred millions
of years. However, creation is going on still, and
new species of lower animal life being evoluted every
day. Why, one can even help the process of evolu-
tion in lower life, and so creation will continue till
this earth becomes a cold, airless moon to the sun, and
the sun an inhabited world, revolving round some
huge sun now trillions of miles away. Food for
thought in this, I think 1 "

Well, then, Laurie was a student of the nature
that is found under stones, — of beetles and all kinds
of insects, — and often when Ernest and he were fish-
ing he would stop to lift the decayed branch of a
tree, that had been lying for long weeks on the bank,
and preach his fiiend a real pretty sermon on the
beautiful creepie-creepies that were found beneath.
Ernest and Laurie always, after having a good few
hours' fishing, started Leebie off to the cave with
some of the catch to prepare supper, and indeed the
little maid — thanks to her mother's tuition — was
quite an adept at cooking. Then the boys would
undress and leap into the stream, accompanied by
the dogs, of course, to enjoy a good swim. A long
one, too ; for his father told Laurie that swimming
was a fine thing to bring up the muscles ot the chest,
and even of the limbs, and that the bathing, more-
over, kept open the pores of the skin.

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

Ernest opened his eyes veiy wide indeed, when
told that even insects that we consider almost loath-
some are most particular as to personal cleanliness.

And so they are, reader. Who has not watched
the carefulness and frequency with which the house-
hold fly removes the. dust from off his cheeks and
down his legs, and how constantly he gives his wings
a polish. Other insects do the same. In drowsily
hot days in summer, even butterflies wade into ponds
to ccol their limbs and bodies, and we may be well
sure that the gloss and glitter on the backs or elytra
of our garden beetles is not kept up without a good
deal of trouble and polishing, not necessarily done
by their short legs. I watched, with much interest,
the other evening an earwig on the outsida of a pane
of glass. The lamplight shone full upon him, and
for half an hour he scrubbed himself all over. Going
onf. fo p party, perhaps.

But Laurie's studies were not all by the river's
bank, in the woods, or on the moorland. No, for his
father's farm and gardens were well treed, and the
old-fashioned house had eaves, under which the mar-
tins built. The doings of some of these birds pi •'zled
our young hero not a little.

At a risk of wearying those of my readers who love
not nature, I must mention a curious affair that hajv
pened this very autumn in which I introduce my
young folks. Laurie, then, on looking out of his
bedroom window one morning, was surprised to find
that two martins had begun to build under the eaves.

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

It is true the sun shone very brightly, and that there
was every prospect of summer continuing. But it
would be far into October before the young, if any
should be produced, could be ready to fly. Were
these martins mad, or like many newly married
couples, only just a trifle foolish ? The building got
on very slowly. There seemed a hitch somewhere.
They built a portion of one nest, then commenced
another six inches from the first. The foundations
of both nests were about four inches square, project-
ing like small balconies. But at six o'clock in the
morning of the 31st of August, a very curious thin^
happened. A cluster of martins came to inspect the
nests. There could not have been less than thirty of
them, all old birds. The excitement was intense
as they flew twittering to and fro. Half a dozen
at least clang to the wall close to the nests, while
others, one after another, sat on them, as if trying
their stability and comfort. It really seemed just
then that those birds were holding a kind of court-
martial upon the young couple, and remonstrating
with them on the extreme folly of commencing house-
keeping at a season so advanced, winter itself but a
measurable distance ahead, and the telegraph wires
already black with swallows preparing for the great
exodus south and away to warmer climes. But the
mystery was explained at last. For as soon as the
inspection was ended, the flock of martins disappeared
assppedily as it had come, and nothing more occurred,
nor did a bird go near the nest until six o'clock on

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

.|.i
1^^?

the evening of September 1, when precisely the
same sort of thing occurred, lasting only a very few-
minutes, however. Next morning, on looking out,
behold, upon one of the little clay shelves sat a poor
little young swallow. Sick or ill it evidently was,
and sadly out of moult, but just strong enough to try
to preen its feathers. And every night for a wholt
week there came an old swallow with this ailing
young one, and both would seat themselves on a shelf
of clay. Then in a short time the motiier would fly
away, and in the morning, on looking out, my little
bird was there. But it seemed to get stronger every
day, and then it went away and came no more.
There is no bird more fond or careful of its young
than the swallow or martin, but the facts stated show
a wisdom in these charming birds that is little short
of human.

It will do no harm to mention here, what happened
to those hospital shelves on which the martins nui-sed
the sick one. The story is instructive and shows
that even birds study economy.

Well, when next spring the martins came back,
they turned the shelves into nests, making the holes,
singularly enough, in the west side. But the insolent
sparrows came and bored holes in the east side, cleared
the martins out, and began lining tlie nest for their
own use. And now the fun began; for those martins
returned with half a dozen others, an'' after r. fierce
fight gained possession of the nests once moio, aud all
was well. But there was no cLaying up.

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

. ?>

SOMETHING ABOUT WASPS

Only a few notes on these interesting creatures, and
they have a bearing on natural history of the pleasant
order. It was the good old Dr. Watts, T think, who
remarked in one of those poems of his, which I had
to learn by heart when a little boy, by way of encour-
aging me to make the most of life, — which I didn't, —

" How doth the little busy bee

Improve each shining hour, s

Anu gather honey all the day
From every opening flower ? "

If the dear old doctor were with me in my caravan
(The Wanderer) at this moment, he would be able
to answer the question himself.

The little busy bee is singing right merrily at this
moment in my house upon wheels. He has come for
the day, if he meets with no accident, and has
brought most of his hive mates. They purpose hav-
ing a good time of it. Well, wasps are interesting
creatures, especially when they have curled up in
death. Wasps are by no means difficult to slay if
you take the right plan with them. While the little
imp is dancing right merrily up and down the win-
dow pane, he will readily succumb to a poke of your
forefinger. But beware you don'f give him time to
turn his tail on you, else red-hot needles won't be in
it with what you'll have to grin and bear, A bright
and clever wee lancer is the giddy, gaudy wasp. I
think he is at liis best on a lovely morning in early

tmmM

If fyWWWliHi

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

autumn, when you have fruit in your caravan. 1
speak from experience of him, and from close inti-
macy with him. I have studied him more than once
this sumre'', with tears of agony in m}' eyes. Not a
fortnight .| was stung inside the mouth while
asleep. I ust to believe that I always slept with
my mouth shut. I'm not quite of the same opinion
now. But what did the little imp of brimstone want
inside my lip anyhow ? Perhaps he mistook it for a
ripe tomato. Howbeit, I awoke with a start, think-
ing the ship was on fire and no water handy. Of
course, I couldn't find the carbonate of ammonia,
hence my subsequent sorrow. For days I had a lip
as large as any old mare's. I am glad to say I soon
recovered health and condition, and am now as good
looking as ever. But with wasps on the war-path, an
accident may happen at any time. Wasps are fond
of sweets and fruit, which they carry away in arm-
fuls. They also relish boiled liver, and may be seen
dining with my St. Bernard dog Lassie any day.
Lassie doesn't love them, and at present spends half
her spare time snapping at them. When I warn her
of the danger, she looks up wonderingly and inquir-
ingly. Why should I preserve the lives of wasps?
she is thinking, and 1 feel sorry I cannot explain to
her that she hasn't caught my meaning quite. Dogs
and wasps are invariably at daggers drawn, but it is
the wasp chat carries the dagger. Daresay wasps
were made for some purpose, but I haven't found out
yet just what this purpose is. There is one instinct

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

they possess in common with cats and carrier pigeons ;
namely, the lioming. I wish they would make more
use of it. There is even one good thing to be said
of them, however; they keep early hours. A blue-
bottle will it up all night if you do, but a wasp re-
tires. Only if you have killed a wasp, don't give it
to a baby to play with, unless it is your neighbour's.
The wasp stings post mortem. And that's the worst
of all.

Writing about wasps may seem silly to some. But
on such a day as this, in such a quiet pitch, — a field
of short red clover, on the bonny banks o' Dee, —
with the soft, delicious sunshine everywhere, and a
breeze to cool and brace ; with the grand old hills be-
yond, hills that literally carry the splendid pine tree
woods up into the clouds with them, who could or
would write on mattera dry as dust? See, yonder,
across my field the butterflies, crimson and white, go
floating and flying, hardly caring whither the west
wind wafts them. Heedlessly though each one of
them may seem to fly, is he not really obeying the
dictates of a kind philosophy, the possession of whicli
you and I might well envy him ? He appears to have
reached the Nirvana of the Buddhists, and the calm,
happy composure of that state — the utter content-
ment. That butterfly may enjoy the sunlight and
the breeze, the snowy whiteness of the driving clouds,
the blueness of the sky, both may give him pleasure
as he sips his nectar from the choicest wild flowers,
or neds half asleep on the perfumed thistle. It

■mi

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE

would be telling many of us who toil and moil
through life, and worry far too much, if, now and
then, we could adopt the philosophy of tliat gaudily
painted flutterer, and give ourselves to butterfly-
mindedness. To-day, in this sweet meadow, all
among the bees, so to speak, I do not feel inclined
for work and study of a heavy kind, and isn't this
just nature calling out for a little rest — a little lazy-
ing ? Depend upon it, a little lazying, boys, now and
then, never did a hard-working man or woman aught
else save good. But on the other hand, as life is all
made up of changes, we must put our shoulder to the
wheel when duty calls. Let us feel happy in being
able to do so, happy in our strength ; and when tired,
and the holiday still on ahead, we can remember
the fact that tough, honest work will never kill ;
idleness, if indulged in too much, claims its victims
every day.

CHAPTER IV

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONEBS

Ah, happy hills ! Ah, pleasing shades!

Ah, fields beloved in vain 1
Where once tny careless childhood strayed,

A stranger yet to pain.

Goblin Cave, which Laurie and Leebie had made
their prairie home, was so named because the coun-
try folks believed it to be haunted by creatures
belonging to a far worse world than ours. It had
been, originally", a smugglers' den, if not, indeed, a
haunt of robbers, to which they might retire, in. the
good old times, to count out and share their ill-
gotten gains after despoiling the house of some
wealthy squire not a hundred miles away. But
until the children took to it, the cave had been
deserted for many and many a long year.

It was old Tom Herbert who first gave it a bad
name. Tom was taking a near cut across the moor
one Saturday night, after spending hours witli boon
companions in a village some miles distant. There
is a probability that the old fellow had imbibed more
than was really good for him. He was positive
enough, however, that as he neared the cave he
heard the sound of mirth and merriment, and that

LAURIE AND LEEBTE MADE rillSONEllS

a strange, little, deformed old man, with a face like
a withered potato and a light in his skinny hand,
met him, and bowed till his bulbous nose almost
touched the heath.

" My dear Tom Herbert," the goblin said, speak-
ing with a strong Irish accent, "and is it indade
your beautiful self that I'm after seeing right fore-
ninst me ? "

"It's nobody else," said Tom, "and worse luck,
too."

" Ach ! but, Tom, my darlint, it's into the cave
you'll be coming to rest ye."

" No, no, no," cried Tom ; " my wife would — "

"And wet your whistle, Tom. Sure it's cowld
and dark that the night is, and when you've wet
your whistle, Tom, troth I'll light ye safely o'er
the moor meself."

Well, Tom Herbert was always willing to wet his
whistle, and so he followed the goblin into the cave.
This was brilliantly lighted up, and scores of the
strangest and most uncouth looking beings he had
ever seen were sitting, lolling, or squatting round
the rocky walls. Some were even standing on their
heads ; some had horns ; all had tails ; and all were
frightfully ugly. But they grinned, and grimaced,
and jibbered, and leered, and laughed till poor Tom
began to think he had got into very bad company
indeed. He was somewhat comforted, however,
when Goblin No. 1 placed a huge bottle and glass
before him aiid bade him drink and be merry.

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

Tom needed no second bidding. The wine was
delicious though fiery, but the curious thing was
this: the more Tom drank, the thirstier he grew.
And now, as the fun was getting fast and furious,
Tom staggered to his feet, and happy indeed was
he when he found himself once more on the moor,
with Goblin No. 1 walking in front with a pale
blue, bobbing light.

Now there were on the moor, and are still, many
deep, brown, stagnant pools, and poor Tom had not
proceeded a hundred yards, before souse into one of
these he fell, head first.

The banks all around were slippery, black, and
peaty, and he could not get out; so he just swam
round and round among the swarms of huge, alliga-
tor-shaped tritons and awful, ci-awling, slimy things
in which the pool abounded.

He shrieked for help.

None came, however; but at least fifty horrible
goblins from the cave, each with a bobbing light,
had joined hands and were dancing and jibbering
round the pool.

It was a terrible sight, and a terrible predicament
to be in.

" Help ! Help ! Save me ! Save me ! " poor Tom
Herbert shrieked louder than ever. Then, strangely
enough, he awoke in bed.

Still, there were his clothes which his wife had
hung around the fire, and these proved that Tom
had really been in the brown pool on the moor.

LAURIK AND LKKBIK MADE rUISONEUS

1' '.

I;
li

His neighbours all believed his fearsome story, too,
and after this, any one who had occasion to cross
tliat moor after nightfall gave the cave a very wide
berth indeed.

But lights were frequently seen near it, so it is no
wonder the place got so bad a name.

* « • « « • '

As soon as the youngsters, on the day of the grand
horse and donkev race, had dismissed their steeds and
entered the cave, Laurie and the two dogs threw
themselves on the couch of bracken, while Leebie
busied herself laying a fire.

I have already said there was a chimney in the
cave; only a hole, but the draught Was good, and it
was under this that Leebie laid the fire, ready to
light when the time came. The hearth had a rude
kind of crane above it, with a chain and a hook
depending therefrom, and on the latter either pot
or pan could be hung.

The furniture in this strange dwelling was simple
enough. Besides the couch of bracken, there were
several stools, and these the boy had made himself.
There was also a rude sort of a cupboard with plenty
of dishes and cooking utensils, as well as stores of
sugar, tea, and coffee. Then there was a very nice
table. What more could any half-wild children
want, I wonder?

There were, of course, no pictures on the rough,
rocky walls, and articles of virtu were conspicuous
simply by their non-existence. Nevertheless, there

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

was plenty of fishing-tackle, and no less than three
fishing-baskets.

And a gun !

Tliis gun, or fowling-piece, was greatly revered by
Laurie. The plain, or moorland, was a kind of no-
man's-land, and the boy could shoot rabbits over it
at any time.

The gun had been given him by an uncle, but once
it had led him into trouble.

As this trouble, however, had resulted in his
becoming acquainted with Ernest Elliot, he never
regretted it.

I shall tell you how it happened.

The east side of the moor or plain ended in a
beautiful wood of oak and sycamore, intermingled
with many a dark-plumed pine tree. There was far
less undergrowth here than one usually finds in
English woods and forests, so that walking beneath
the trees was comparatively easy.

This wood was not on a level, but clothed the
sides of a dingle or dell, adown the centre • C which
roared or ran a splendid stream, almost big enough
to be called a river.

In the season there was no doubt plenty of gaiue
to be found in the wood, but as there were many
warnings pasted up on boards informing whomsoever
it might concern that trespassers would be "prose-
cuted with the utmost rigour of the law," the chil-
dren gave the wood, and the stream also, a wide
berth.

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

r- i i

S 4

But one beautiful day, in early summer, about four
months before the date on which our tale commences,
Laurie and Leebie, intent on their studies of the
beautiful in nature, had wandered right away to the
otlier end of the moor. Sir Duncan and Towsie
were with them of course, but the pony and his
friend Neddy were browsing near the cave.

The children had been very happy during their
ramble, pausing often to gaze skywards and listen
to bird-music in the clouds, for their prairie was ic
reality a land of larks.

But when they came near to the woodland, the
character of the bird-music suddenly changed. It
,vas a wild medley now, but a very beautiful one.
The song of the thrush, the melodious fluting of
the blackbird, the bold lilting of the madcap chaf-
finch, and the sweet voices of linnets and warblers,
to say nothing of the low purring of the turtle-dove
and mournful croodle of the wood-pigeon.

"Oh, isn't it lovely, Laurie!" cried Leebie, clap-
ping her hands with joy. "Do come into the wood
just a little way and sit down."

" No, Leebie, no. We — "

How his sentence would have ended, I cannot tell ;
foi just at that moment, the daft wee terrier sud-
denly came to the conclusion that he scented a rab-
bit down yonder somewhere. He appealed to Towsie,
and Towsie seemed to wink with his wall eye. Then
off they both darted, and were speedily out of sight.

Not out of hearing, however, and from their

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PlllSONERS

anxious, sharp, ringing barks, Laurie rightly judged
that they were in cliase.

Some one else was of the same opinion, and that
was Squire Elliot's corduroyed keeper.

Laurie stood not on ceremony now, but rushed
into tlie wood trying to recall the dogs.

It was fully half an hour before the latter returned,
Towsie carrying a rabbit, Cunle trotting by his side
and looking very proud indeed.

And behind them, at some uistance, appeared the
keeper, to the infinite terror of poor Leebie. He was
an ugly, rough-looking, pock-marked man, with an
evil eye in his head. No, he had not two, for years
ago one had been shot out by a poacher.

Why Laurie had brought his gun with him that
day, he himself could never tell. It was certainly
with no intention of spilling the blood of even a pole-
cat.

" Well, lad, I've caught thee nicely," shouted the
keeper. "Noo, I'll tell thee wot I'm goin' to do.
I'm goin' to shoot that dog ! "

With a little scream, Leebie ran forward and threw
her arms about Towsie's neck. She knelt on the
ground and Currie cuddled up beside her.

Hardly accountable for his action, Laurie lowered
his gun and pointed it at the fellow's head. It was a
bold act, but a very foolish one.

" Dare to shoot a dog of mine," he cried, " and I'll
shoot out your other ugly eye."

The keeper was cowed evidently.

■;akwrvw^fm\ifMS'mhm!^mmmmttaisaa

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

" Aw — aw — I didn't mean to shoot the dawg," lie
said, "but ye've been a-trespassin' and a-poachin'.
Ye'U all have to come along to t' squire's 'ouse."

" That we shall right willingly."

Towsie permitted Laurie to take the rabbit, but
when he handed it to the keeper the dog sprang at
once on the fellow and speedily repossessed himself
of the bunny. So the boy slung it over his shoulder,
and the march commenced.

Far down the stream stood the Grange, and Leebie
was quite tired before they reached the beautiful
mansion.

The keeper would have gone round to the back with
his prison6i"s, but the squire himself and a tall manly
bry about Laurie's age — Ernest, in fact — were on
the rose lawn.

A red-faced, jolly-looking man was the squire.

" What, ho ! there. Brown," he shouted ; " whom
have you got ? Bring them this way."

"Daring poachers, sir," said Brown, touching his
hat.

The squire was evidently impressed with the inno-
cent young beauty of Leebie. He patted her bonnie
liair and told her not to be afraid.

" If we are going to be thrown into a dungeon,"
said Laurie, " I'd like to give my dogs a drink of
water first."

Squire Elliot laughed such a hearty ringing laugh,
that Laurie was obliged to join in.

" Go and bring water for these dogs, Brown," cried

fJi

; i

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

led

the squire. " And look quick about it. Come in,
children," he added, taking Leebie's hand, "and tell
me all about it."

They entered the drawing-room tlirough the French
window, but the kindly squire would not let Laurie
commence his story, until he and his sister and even
the dogs had partaken of refreshments. Then Laurie
did toll him and Ernest all; all about the moor and
their cave, their studies and sports, and their dear
father and mother and the farm at home.

The squire, and his wife also, were very much
amused and interested, and it ended thus : they were
invited to tea for next day, Laurie's fishing-basket
was filled with bananas, — fruit that neither he nor
his sister had ever seen before, — and Ernest himself
was sent to convoy them safe through the woods.

He went all the way to their wondrous cave with
them, and marvelled much at their liousehold arrange-
ments.

A very frank open-faced lad was Ernest, with blue
eyes and fair short-cut hair. TTis manners and speech
were just as frank as was his face, and he did not
hesitate for a moment to tell Leebie how clever he
thought her, and how pretty !

"Oh," returned the child- woman, blushing a little,
but with pleasure, not shyness. " I'm not nearly so
pretty as you. Then you talk so nijuly ! "

" Well, we had better be sweethearts, I suppose."

"Oh, I don't know what that is, you know; but
you'll come and see us, won't you ? "

^gjfl^f'lifffJ^^ififf^ltSi^lfSmttn

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

■ii ■

" Yes, often, often ! "

"And I'm sure the dogs will like you?"

"Yes."

" And Bobbie and Neddy, too ? "

"I hope so."

" Have you any sisters and brothers ? "

" Ye-es. Three of each."

" But they can't be so nice as you ? "

" Oh, much, much nicer, because they are all big,
Miss Lea."

"You might just call me Leebie. Everybody
does."

"Yes, if you call me Ernie. Everybody does."

This compact was soon made.

But Ernest Elliot was really a romantic sort of a
boy, and always building castles in the air, founded
on what he meant to do when he grew a man.

He was the younger son. Moreover, he had an
uncle who was an officer in Her Majesty's Royal
Navy, and who used to tell him the most thrilling
stories of adventure, and of life in far-off hinds ; so
Ernest had quite made up his mind to travel some-
where abroad when bigger and stronger.

He toid Laurie and Leebie this, and both said that
they should dearly love to share liis adventures.

"But that,'" sighed Laurie, "can never, never be! "

How little do we know what Fate may have in
store for us !

Well, the acquaintanceship made that day soon
became cemented into a friendship that was almost

1^^^^^^^

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

brotherly, and nearly every day on which Laurie and
Leebie went to the boundless prairie, Ernie met them,
and fine fun they had, I do assure you, boys. Fish-
ing, I think, is the most calmative and delightful
sport any one can engage in. Of course one cannot
help being a little sorry for the fish hauled out, and
for this reason I never leave either a trout or salmon
to pine and die by degrees. I kill it at once.

Well, on this very autumn day the children were
awaiting Ernest's arrival.

But a whole hour passed away ; then two.

Laurie had been reading or talking to his sister
most of this time, but now he closed the book wearily.

Leebie was weary too.

" Heigh-ho ! " she sighed, " I do wonder if he will
come at all to-day."

" I feel certain he won't. And now I have sume-
thing to propose. "

" Yes, Laurie."

" Well, we shall take our fishing-tackle, mount our
fiery steeds, and ride off to the river to catch our din-
ner, then ride home and cook it."

This programme was carried out to the very
letter.

And the fish Avere hungry that day. And so, too,
was Laurie ; therefore he did not stay to make a very
big basket, and in two hours from the time they
started they were back once more at the cave and
Bobbie and Neddy were again turned loose.

What a delightful aroma pervaded the cave, as

liiiilril

I'g.';.»3iigs™

( :

LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS

'r¥ h

Leebio fried those fish. She knew how much salt
to sprinkle over them, and the exact quantity of
pepper.

Laurie had thrown himself on the couch again,
with a dog at each side of him, and being just
pleasantly tired, it is no wonder he fell asleep. So
soundly did he slumber, indeed, that his sister had
to shake him over and over again before he opened
his bewildered eyes.

And both children and dogs did more than justice
to the dinner ; for the beautiful crimson-spotted trout
were done to a turn, the bread and butter were deli-
cious, and Leebie had gone so far as to roast potatoes
in the hot ashes. And really, those potatoes seemed
to have burst their sides, laughing at the way they
had been treated.

But as they sat there talking and eating, with
Currie and Towsie between them, little did they
know that they would soon have an adventure —
a strange, if not, indeed, a terrifying one. It is well
we do not ai vays know what is before us.

CHAPTER V

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

" Close by a wild hobgoblin moor
And near a lonesome wood
Whero black bats flit and owlets scream,
The dreary hamlet stood." — Anon.

The short November day had vyorn to a close, and
the sun had set behind wooded hills in the far south-
west, leaving a bank of fiery-looking clouds that
boded a dark, and probably a stormy night.

Indeed, the sky was already overcast, and a low
wind was beginning to moan across the moorland.

Nothing, however, could terrify these children of
tho wilds, for they knew their way home, and even
if they should go astray, was Towsie not by their
side ? Yes, and his instinct before now had proved
far more useful than even their reason.

** Reason raise o'er instinct if you can ;
In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man."

But now Laurie and Leebie started for their distant
home, riding, as usual, on Bobbie and Ned, with the
two dogs wheeling around them in wide circles, and
barking with delight. — ,

47 ■■

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

They were quite at the other end of the moor
hefore Laurie made a disagreeable discovery.

*' Oh, Leebie," he cried, " how very foolish of me !
Why, I've forgotten to bring my fishing-basket and
those lovely trout we saved for mother. Will you
stay here till I ride back?"

" No, I should be afraid ; I'll go, too."

Well, it was almost quite dark before they got
once more started, on their return.

" I'll tell you what we shall do to-night, Leebie,"
said Laurie.

"Yes?"

"We shall take the short cut."

" By the haunted house ? "

" I don't like it, Laurie," she added, " but of course
I won't be afraid, with you and Towsie and Currie
and Bob beside me."

W^hat they called " the haunted house " was a two-
storied cottage with dark, blinking windows, that
stood near to a gloomy-looking little wood, or copse,
with no other place near. An old miser used to live
here all by himself with merely the companionship
of a white pony that, like himself, was little more
than skin and bone. Ke tilled a bit of a croft which,
since his demise, had gone all to ruin, and was over-
grown now with nettles and thirties.

The old man had died as he had lived, — all, all
alone; and it was nearly a fortnight afterwards
that he was found, lying frozen hard — for it was
midwinter — beside his hearth. And, sad to relate.

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

the white pony had perished of cold and hunger in
its stall. The poor animal had even eaten part of
the woodwork near it.

No one would take the house and croft after that,
so it had been permitted to fall into decay.

It locked very gloomy to-night as the children
approached it, and indeed I know nothing much
more dismal to behold than an empty house in a
place like this. The windows were cui'tainless and
black. Like ugly leering eyes they were, and the
very cottage itself seemed to nod, as the wind moaned
through the tall trees behind it.

People did say that on many a d^vrk night the old
miser used to be seen, lantern in hand ind nightcap
on head, roaming around the house or out on the
moor leading that skeleton white pony by the fore-
lock.

But neither of the children believed this. Some-
thing — they could not tell what — appeared to lure
them closer to the house, to-night, and they stopped
to gaze in through one of the windows, as if in a
spirit of fascination.

Suddenly, to their terror and amazement, a door
in the room opened, and a tall figure, holding a candle,
entered, and approached the fireplace. They could
not see his face very well, but they noticed that his
clothes were curiously fashioned, and light in colour.
Moreover, they were covered all over with dark mark-
ings resembling arrow-heads.

But now Towsie gave vent to a sort of startled

^^tmmmmmp

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

! ti

1
- i V

bark, and suddenly the light went out, and they saw
no more.

Neddy had been set free, but Bob with Leebie on
his back now started off in fine style for home. He,
too, had been frightened.

And Laurie trotted alongside, all the way to their
own door.

Glad, indeed, were they when they got inside, for
here was a cosy fire. Daddy was in his arm-chair,
smoking and reading, the big cat was nodding half
asleep on a footstool, and supper was ready. They
told their strange story.

They had seen the ghost !

But Farmer Lea only laughed.

" That was no ghost, my children," he said, " but
some poor escaped convict in hiding, and no doubt
we shall soon hear of his capture."

But the adventure did not end quite here.

For after school hours next day, Laurie and Leebie
once more set out for the moor.

The day was fine after the storm, and the sky was
clear and blue.

They were anxious to see Ernest, but they took
the longest road. They had seen more than enough
of the haunted house.

It was well on in the afternoon before they neared
the cave, and lo ! yonder was Ernest Elliot himself
coming to meet them, riding at the gallop on Neddy.

Neddy and he seemed both in fine form, and the
former must needs stop so suddenly short that Ernest

"t 11

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

fell off, but quickly gathered himself up, laughing.
Neddy was laughing too. That was what he had
stopped for; and when Neddy laughed as he did
now, with a " Haw-hee ! haw-hee ! " the sound was
reechoed back from the very clouds — apparently.

" Couldn't get away yesterday, Leebie," said Ernest.
" Uncle came home from sea ! "

"And, oh, Ernie," cried Leebie, "we had such a
terrible fright going home ! "

" Yes," added Laurie, " a real wild adventure ! "

"Well, don't tell me now. It will be so much
nicer to hear it after tea and supper."

Ernie had been at the cave a whole hour. He had
laid and lit the fire ; by this fire stood a very long-
legged stew-pan, and the kettle was singing as it
dangled from the crane.

It was a lovely supper, and all did justice to it,
including the dogs, of course.

Then they heaped more wood and peats on the
fire, and sat cosily round it.

" And father says it was an escaped convict," said
Laurie, as he concluded the relation of his strange
adventure.

" Poor fellow ! " said Ernest, sympathisingly. " I
wonder what he has done, and how he escaped. Do
you know, Laurie, I hope he will get clear away."

Then Ernie began to tell his friends all about his
sailor uncle, and his wild adventures.

So the time flew very quickly on indeed.

But this young fellow had a violin on which he

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

It |i

:(■

could play iiidiiYerently well. He had brought it to
the cave for Laurie and Leebie's delectation, both
being very fond of sweet music, and it was kept in
the cupboard.

It was quite dusk when he began to play, but the
llrelight threw a ruddy glare across the cave, and
everything else was forgotten as the children listened
to the sweet sad strains of the violin.

Suddenly both dogs sprang up from tlie hearth
and rushed barking towards the mouth of the cave ;
and on looking up all were startled, and Leebie sadly
terrified, to see standing there the very figure they
had seen in the haunted house.

" Don't be alarmed, children," the man hastened to
say ; " I am far too weak and ill to do any one any
harm, even if I had the will. Which, Heaven knows,
I have not."

No one answered, and he continued, —

" Just for a moment, I saw last night a face at the
window of the old house I have been hidden in for
weeks. It was that sweet girl's."

"You are an escaped convict," said Ernest; "we
ought to give you up."

" Stay, young sir ; stay till you have heard my story.
It is true, I have escaped, but oh, children ! I am an
innocent and badly treated man. The house in which
I have been hiding is no longer safe for me. The
warders are on my track, and a place like that is
the first they would examine. May I beg shelter for
the night, and a morsel of food?"

the
and
jiied

((

THE. VERY FIGURE THEY HAD SEEN IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

wmit

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

" If you say you are innocent," said Ernest Elliot,
" we will try to believe you, and you really have not
the looks of a malefactor."

" Oh no," cried Leebie.

Nor had he. Despite his short cropped hair and
beard, both black, his looks were prepossessing.
Young he was, and with singularly dark blue eyes,
that at present were unspeakably sad. /

"Come closer to the fire, and sit down," said
Laurie; "you must be cold."

The convict did as he was told, seating himself on
an old tree root.

Towsie approached him quietly and licked his hand,
and even Currie did not now resent the intrusion.

The friendliness of the dogs raised him very much
in the estimation of the boys; for well they knew,
just as you and I know, reader, that a dog is a better
judge of character than even a man.

The children were very glad, indeed, that there was
enough food in the cave to make the man a comfort-
able supper, after which he appeared far more cheer-
ful.

" And now," said Ernest, " we would hear your
story. Though it is dark inside the cave, it will be
light enough for a whole hour yet on the moor. We
shall see to get home."

" But may I rest me here to-night, boys ? "

"Most certainly."

" And you will not give me away ? "

" If by that you mean inform on you," said Ernie,

mmm

jil

/ 1

i ■

1 '

i. i

■ : 1

■ ''

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

"both I and my friends here promise most faithfully
to try to save you, rather than to give you away."

" Oh, thanks ! a thousand thanks ! " cried the poor
convict. " Undoubtedly the warders will be at the
old house to-morrow, and I have purposely left evi-
dence that I liave been there. Tliey will then, I
think, go on. If not, and if they seize me liere,
surely the bitterness of Fate can have nothing worse
in store for me.

" But come, children, I sadden you, I fear. Give
me your violin for a minute, lad. I used to play,
two year's ago, before my incarceration. Perhaps my
tingers have not yet lost all their cunning."

Indeed they had not, and our young heroes sat
enthralled as the convict played. That violin seemed
possessed of spirit-life in his hands ; it was a being
from a better world. But alas ! even his quick and
merry pieces had an air of such sadness about them,
that Ernest's eyes were filled with tears.

"What would I not give," cried the boy, as the
convict handed him back the fiddle, " to be able to
pla}-- like you ! But now, sir, tell us your story."

He spoke even with deference ; for convict though
this man was, he was likewise a master.

" I will, boys, I will, and innocent though you are,
you may learn a lesson therefrom. Yet goodness
forbid that I should even seem to preach. I shall
but state facts in the simplest way I can."

; CHAPTER VI

THE convict's TERRIBLE STORY

" He Cometh unto you with a tale which can hold children
from play, and old men fror.i the chimney corner." — Sik
Philip Sidney.

"For two years back then," he began, "while

slaving in the stone quarries of P , I have been

known but by a number. I have had no name. Yet
it does not seem so very long ago since I was one of
the happiest and best respected young fellows in tlie

city of C . And the name that the law has

filched from me was Wilson Webb. Boys, if I
escape, I mean with God's help to restore that name.
I might take another, but I am innocent, and never
shall. I shall try to work my passage to a foreign
land, but I will still be Wilson Webb.

" I cannot remember either my father or mother.
In fact, the former died before my birth, and, broken-
hearted, my mother did not live a year after. But
it is, perhaps, as well they did not survive to see
their son in the dock, and condemned to penal servi-
tude.

" My father had many good friends ; one of these
adopted and reared me. I believe both he and his
wife were very fond of me. But alas ! both died of

IIMtll!«il8i.lltigil!BWffi!M^^^^^

imMiiHiinn

THE CONVICT'S TEIIRIBLE STORY

lil

fever within a fortnight of each other, and I was
once more thrown penniless, or nearly so, on the
world.

" But my education had been good, and T was
shortly taken into the office of a wealthy city mer-
chant, who had known my mother.

"There were two other clerks besides myself, and
the white-haired old gentleman was very kind to us
all and trusted us implicitly. Young though I was,
I have often been sent to the bank to cash cheques
many hundreds of pounds in value. So, too, was
Robson.

"Robson and I, you must know, lived in the same
apartments, just one cosy bedroom and a sitting-room;
but our old landlady was exceedingly good to us, so
that I was as happy as a summer's day is long.

"Peters, the other clerk, and I were very great
friends. Indeed, I think we loved each other more
than many brothers do. But he was a year or two
younger, and lived with his parents. He had a very
beautiful sister, and I was a frequent visitor at the
house of an evening, always taking my violin witii
me.

" You, boys, are too young to Lnow anything about
love, but I loved my friend's sister more, I used to
think, than life itself. It Avas with my fiddle I wooed
her, lads, and often and often as I played have I seen
the tears streaming down her sweet face. Heigh-ho !
I wonder where Madeleine is now !

" But now let me tell you a little more about Rob-

^ 1
%} 1

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

son. For a year or so while living; together, he seemed
all that any one could wish. But after this he took to
staying out later at night than I liked, and I knew
that much of his time was spent at a hotel bar, a good
deal frequented by so-called sporting characters.

" I must add, however, that I never saw Robson the
worse for accursed drink. But his talk was all too
frequently of the turf. He would often tell me that
he had 'spotted a winner,' or that he had received 'a
straight tip,' and there were rare occasions when he
seemed as full of joy and gladness as if some one had
just left him a fortune.

" Right w^ell do I remember his coming home one
evening more joyful than usual.

" ' Wilson,' he said, ' I wonder you don't have a bet
on now and then. There now, we are pals, and so I
don't mind putting you up to a good thing at any
time.'

" 'I don't seem to care for such things,' I said; 'for
old hands have told me that what you win one day,
you lose another, and more besides.'

"'Nonsense, Wilson, nonsense. Now just look
here. I'm going to make your eyes twinkle with envy
and surprise.'

" Then he hauled forth handful after handful of
gold, and threw it carelessly down on the table.

" ' Count it, Webb, count it, and if you want a bit,
you can have it.'

" I counted the money, which amounted to no less
than sixty pounds.

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

:•;

1 l\

5 .-i

" I confess that I did feel a. little envious. ' What
good,' I could not help thinking, ' was there in slaving
away at the drudgery of an office desk if money could
be so easily made by spotting a winner, as Robson
called it?'

" I had more than half a mind to try to spot a win-
ner myself.

" Robson stood there witli his hands in his pockets,
his head a little to one side, and a smile on his sinister
face — he was very far indeed from being prepossessing
— ga^zing down at the bright yellow pile.

" ' Look here, Webb,' he said, ' I'm going to ask for
a fortnight's leave, and I know the old man will grant
it. I shall run up to town, and before I come back
that sixty pounds will be six hundred pounds at least.
Then I'll cut the office and turn a book-maker. Now
can I put a " sou " on for you ? '

" Then I foolishly enough gave him the last piece
of gold I had in the world.

" My horse lost, and I tempted the turf no more.

" Yet I did expect Robson to come back with
plenty of money.

"Alas! he not only returned penniless, but minus
even his watch.

" ' Down on my luck. Horrid ! ' he said, throwing
himself into the easy-cbair, with his legs extended in
front of him, and his hat resting on the bridge of his
nose.

"'Never mind, Webb, better times will come.
You'll see.'

" 1

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

" But tilings seemed to go from bad to worse with
my companion, and I noticed more than once that,
when he returned late, he was evidently not sober.
Yet he was always fresh enough in the morning,
and our kind old employer knew nothing about his
doings.

" Christmas time came round, and I myself was out
nearly every evening, my violin being in great repute.
But I knew that Robson stayed more in the house
now, and I hoped for his reformation.

"But early in the new year came the awful de-
nouement.

^' I had been out on a business message at the other
end of the city, and, when returning, met Robson
near to the bank.

" ' Ah ! Webb,' he cried ; ' glad I met you. I've to
meet a fellow in this hotel, but won't be long. Just
toddle into the bank, will you, and cash this cheque
for the firm ? All gold if you can carry it, except
twenty in five-pound notes.'

" I willingly obeyed.

" The cheque was for X 420.

" Robson was in the street, about fifty yards from
the bank, and I handed him the bag, and then hurried
home to dinner.

" But I cannot describe to you the horror and the
terror I felt on being awakened one morning about a
fortnight after, and finding two burly policemen and
a man in plain clothes standing by the foot of the
bed.

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

(;

' You're our prisoner,' said the latter. ' Dress
yourself quietly, and come along.'

" ' But what does it mean ? ' I cried, as soon as I
could speak. ' Of what am I accused ? '

" ' Know no more than you do,' said the detective.
' Mebbe not so much, young fellow. Anyhow, I've
got to act upon my warrant; so look smart.'

"When arraigned later on upon a charge of f orgery,
my anguish and perturbation of mind must have been
mistaken for guilt. Anyhow, I was remanded, bail
being refused, and after a time, oh, such a weary,
weary time I I was brought up for trial.

" The cheque that Robson had given me to cash
had been a forged one. I told all the truth, and
nothing but the truth.

" I was not believed.

" ' Had I forged that cheque,' I cried in agony,
' surely, I would not have taken it myself to the bark.'

" ' Silence, young man,' said the judge, sternly.

" Even Robson ajipeared as a witness against me,
swearing he had found morsels of paper by the fire-
place of a morning, with our employer's signature
thereon. Also that I was often up late in the yitting-
room, writing he knew not what.

But the most terrible evidence against me — evi-
dence that was deemed conclusive — was the fact that
in my desk was found not only a sheet of paper writ-
ten all over with imitations of the firm's signature,
but two of the bank-notes the cashier had paid me
when he gave me the gold.

=?':€

'■■',■■

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

" I knew little more till I found myself in the cell.
All was like some awful nightmare.

" Five years' penal servitude ; that was my sentence.

Robson never came near me, but poor, kind-hearted
Peters did, and I told him all my story. There was
just one ray of pleasure shining through my dark-
ness, when I found that Peters believed and pitied
me from his inmost soul.

"I need not tell you all the misery I endured
from my first months of solitary confinement until
I found myself a nameless, numbered wretch work-
ing in a gang at P .

" I resolved to escape some time. That is, I
should make the attempt, and if I was shot dead
in my endeavour, I should be out of all my misery.

"But two years passed awsij and I never had a
chance — till one day.

"My conduct had always been represented as
exemplary, and I believe I was about the last man
any one could have suspected of harbouring designs
of escape.

" My attempt was a most daring one.

" We were working at the foot of an apparently
inaccessible cliff, but from my boyhood I had been
an athlete and a splendid climber.

" Well, on this particular day, when I broke and
made a dash for the cliff, the fog was so dense that
men were invisible five yards away.

"The entrance to the quarry was extra well
guarded, but not the cliff-top.

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

I [

t i

I 1

lill :

fi !*

"For a considerable time I was not missed, and
my companions in servitude would have been the
last to inform.

" But, oh ! that terrible, terrible cliff ! I had
kicked off my shoes and clung to it as I slowly
ascended with bleeding fingers and feet. It was
steep and high, and many times I missed footing,
holding on only by the hands, expecting every
second to fall and be dashed to pieces. I was just
beginning to despair, and had resolved to drop and
end it all, when a bush of broom, waving in the
breeze, flicked across my face.

"I grasped it — and was free.

"Free so far, that is.

" Every moment was precious, yet would I not fly
until I had knelt down there on the green cliff-top
and thanked God, while the tears streamed over my
cheeks, that so far he had aided my deliverance.

" I heard bells ringing now and guns fired, and
knew that soon all the country-side would be
apprised of the convict's escape.

" Brt the fog was my best friend ; and for a
whole week I journeyed on and on, sleeping in the
woods all day, travelling only at night, and living
entirely on raw turnips or even mangolds.

" Well, boys, here I am ; and I have hopes I may
yet escape entirely. But these awful clothes and
my stubbly beard may prove my ruin."

Ernest sat in silence for some time. He was
thinking.

THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

had

"We do, indeed, pity you," he said at last.
" Remain here to-night, and to-morrow morning
you shall be rid of both beard and clothes."

Ernest Elliot was as good as his word ; and when,
next forenoon, Laurie and Leebie came to the cave,
they were much surprised to find, sitting by the fire
reading, a comparatively well dressed young man,
clean-shaven and respectable-looking.

But the situation had not been without a touch
of humour, which only showed how clever Ernest
was.

It is a fact then that deserters have been known
to exchange clothes with a scarecrow in a potato
field, and so begging their way home in rags. Well,
Ernest not only brought the convict a decent suit of
clothing long before it was light, but he took away
the convict's clothes, carried them to a fieid not far
away, and exchanged them for the dress of the
scarecrow therein.

He brought back the old ragged habiliments and
burned them in the cave, assuring Wilson Webb
that the scarecrow made a very pretty convict
indeed.

But there was a method in Ernest's madness or
folly; for the warders had followed the convict
directly north, getting a clew here and there to
direct them, and the potato field lay to the north
of the haunted house.

It all turned out, therefore, just as Ernest wished
it to.

:: I

I a

P' !

!>■

THE CONVICT'S TETIUIBLK STORY

For the pursuers, while Webb hiy perdu in the
cave, appeared on the moor, wliere the boys and
Leebie were playing with Bobbie, Ned, and the
dogs.

They were questioned, of course, and right frankly
did Laurie tell the story of their having seen the
convict in the old house ; and off went the minions
of the law.

Not finding their man, they pursued their course
still to the north, and they had not proceeded more
than a mile before they came in sight of the convict
scarecrow. •

They laughed with very joy now. .

" We'll have him," cried one, rubbing his hands.
" We've only to find out how the scarecrow was
dressed, and send its description to every police office
within a hundred miles."

And this they did.

But all in vain; so after a whole week of further

searching, they returned to P , disheartened and

disappointed men.

Wilson Webb stayed safely for ten days in the
cave, going out for exercise only at night. During
this time, by his kindly, pleasant voice, by the stories
he told, and the sweet music he elicited from Ernest's
violin, Wilson Webb quite endeared himself to the
children, and Leebie was in tears when at last he
bade her and Laurie good-bye with the intention of
starting very early next morning.

Now Ernest Elliot was a young fellow that did

TIIK CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY

6§

the
and
the

nothing by halves ; Webb had over a hundred miles
yet to walk to tlie city of C .

This would take him over a week. So the ques-
tion arose liovv should he subsist all that time. Tf
Ernest had p(>ssessed money, Webb would have had
it. But he did not.

"' Happy thought ! " he cried all at once. " You
shall borrow my violin."

"Can you really trust me with it?"

"Tliat I can and will," said the brave boy.

"Well, I shall take it, and I shall send or bring
it back ; and never while I live shall I forget to
pray Heaven to bless you for all your goodness to

»>

Before daylight next morning the ex-convict
Webb was ten good miles from the cave on the
moor, sind that very forenoon, in a little rustic vil-
lage, a crowd stood around him to listen to tlie
magic sounds he elicited from Ernest's violin, and
he soon had enough money to keep him for one day
at least.

And so, from village to village, day by day, he jour-
neyed on. Not directly north now, however ; for he
had determined not to approach his own city, where
so many might know him, until his hair had once
more grown long.

The story of his wanderings as an itinerant
fiddler would fill a volume ; for he was often taken
off the street into private houses, where partiels
were being given. This paid well, and his perform-

S3II

(£

THE CONVICT'S TKHKIRLK STOUY

ance on his pet instrument was everywhere greatly
admired.

Towards Christmas he was within fifteen miles of

C , and now he had to be doubly cautious, and

therefore he only appeared on the streets of villages
after dark.

i 1

CHAPTER VII

THE CONFESSION

"Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou coniest in such a questionable shape,
That I will speak to thee." — Shakespeare.

" My guilt is all before thee spread.
Thou awful spirit of the dead." — Anon.

Wilson Webb's friend Peters was passing quietly

along a rather dark street in C one night when a

hand was placed on his shoulder, and, looking quickly-
round, behold ! there stood beside him a tallish man,
in a slouch hat and with a heavy, dark beard.

He carried under his arm, in a green baize bag, a
fiddle.

" Peters, dear boy, you will not know me, but I am
Webb, the ex-convict — "

There was right hearty handshaking now, after
which Peters said: —

" Come with me to my private room, where we can
talk unmolested. We can gain admittance by a side
door."

" One single question first, Peters. Is Madeleine
alive and well?"

"She is, my dear fellow, and she has not forgot-

mtatwiummtitimwimisiatBi

itaamaB.ajMinJrMi

iiiBiSS*

i ;

THE CONFESSION

ten you. We have all along believed in your inno-
cence, and what is more, in the guilt of the unhappy
creature Robson."

As soon as they entered the private room, Wilson
Webb laid aside his false beard.

"Why," cried Peters, shaking him once more by
the hand, "you are not a bit altered."

" And yet," said Webb, " the sufferings I have
endured would have turned many a man into a rar-
ing maniac."

" Well, I trust they are over now. But you appear
to me like one come back from the dead."

" I have come from worse than death."

"But are you aware, Wilson, that in yesterday's
paper it is reported that you were captured in a
wood two days ago, after a fierce resistance, and so
severely wounded that you died in two hours' time?"

" I have not read it, but the authorities have evi-
dently done this to cloak their incapacity to secure
the escaped convict."

"Wdl, Webb, I see my way to make something
out of this, if you will be guided by me."

" I shall do whatever you advise me. And now,
tell me, is Robson still in your firm?"

"1^0, no, no; he has left over a year. His gam-
bling propensities led him to drink. He is now liv-
ing in mean lodgings, no one knows how, only that
he sells tips, and is seldom ever sober."

" Does he believe me dead ? "

" Yes, and that is what I am com' ij:' to. I visit^ed

THE CONFESSION

him yesterday with some jellies mother gave me, and
found him ill in bed, and almost delirious.

" Wilson Webb," 'L>r continued, " I have a plan.
But first I must consult the doctor; for the fright I
should like to give Robson miglit kill <he wretch
outright, and this is no part of my intention."

Dr. Scrivener, though a youngish man, was an
ardent student of psychology, and Avhen Peters told
him in confidence all his friend Webb's sad story
from the beginning till now, and what he intended
to do, he entered into his plans with heart and soul.

For the bold young doctor saw an article in the
British Medical Journal looming in the near future,
with perhaps honour and glory and a practice in Lon-
don to follow.

In a day or two, then, after Wilson Webb's first
visit to Peters' rooms. Scrivener and he made their
way to the drunkard's den.

There lay Robson with a face that was ghastly
white, with dark, dilated eyes that had in them the
look of a hunted wild beast, with his thin hands
clutching at the coverlet, and perspiring at every
pore.

He knew the doctor and Peters, however, and tried
to sit up in bed to give them a welcome, but fell back
on the pillows helpless.

" What a terrible night I have had ! " he cried.
"No sleep, no sleep, or if I closed my eyes for a
moment it was but to awaken next moment shriek-
ing from a fearful dream. And the room and tlio

•^'AmtKigg^^

"TT"

THE CONFESSION

I'M

V-i

in:

very bed were crowded with creeping, crawling, slimy
things, that gazed at me piteously, pityingly. Tell
me, doctor, tell me, shall I get over this, or must I
die?"

" I shall be better able to tell you to-night," said
Dr. Scrivener, with his finger on the man's pulse.
"We have brought you some magazines and news-
papers. You had better try to read. It will hel|) to
steady your nerves by keeping your mind always in
the same groove."

" Here," said Peters, " is the account of ti^e death
of your old friend, the forger. I will read it."

" No ! no I no ! " shrieked Robson.

But Peters read it, nevertheless.

It was a fearfully graphic sketch.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Robson, "and I killed
him — I killed him ! I mean," he said, " that I should
not have appearer". That is all. That is all."

" Well," said Scrivener, " I will call to-night."

When they did call, they left Wilson Webb just
outside the door, and fifter they had talked a little
with the sick man, whom they found calmer, Webb
came slowly stalking in, leaned his elbow on the
mantelpiece, and turned his daik sad eyes towards
Robson.

"Look! look!" shrieked the latter. "'Tis he.
'Tis he. Take him away ! Oh, take him off ! There
is blood upon his brow."

" Come, come, my good fellow. I must give you
opium and send you to sleep if you carry on like

asmmmmmmm

IKnnWKVSBHKWKIKWi

THE CONFESSION

this. There is no one here save Mr. Peters and
myself."

But Ilobson had raised himself on the bed. now.

" Speak, Webb ! . Speak ! " he cried. " What brings
your spirit here ? "

"I come to haunt you. Nevermore shall I leave
you, night nor day. You have encompassed my
ruin, and you know it. Only a confession from
you, that shall clear me before my friends and rela-
tives, is the price of my absence."

" Do you hear him? Do you hear him?"

Robson was appealing to the doctor.

" We hear nothing, we see nothing. Come, come,
you must lie down and try to compose yourself.
We are going now, but will soon return, and I shall
give you an opiate then."

" Take him with you ! " the wretched man shrieked.
"Take him, oh, take him!"

They went quietly out, but stopped just outside,
where they could hear all.

" I confess. I confess, Wilson ; this is my dying
confession, and, oh, may Heaven forgive me ! Yes, it
was 1 who forged the cheque. I am your mur-
derer."

Poor Webb bowed his head. He had placed both
hands over his face, and the tears were gushing
through his fingers.

He sank into a chair.

" I will go soon," he said, " and I promise not to
harm you."

THE CONFESSION

V- I

BSi

Robson now seemed to fall into a kind of trance,
from which he did not awake until a magi&Ur.tc came
with Dr. Scrivener and Peters and proceeded at once
to take his deposition. The confession was written
down by a clerk. It was made in simple yet graphic
language, yet the depth of the man's guilt horrified
all who heard it.

But the man was calmer after all was over. The
doctor pricked his arm now, inserting under the skin
a few drops of fluid, and in a minute's time the
wretch was sound asleep.

When Scrivener c;ime next morning, the nurse told
'ijm the patient had passed a good night. He was
sensible, but very weak.

He adhered to his confession, however, and in t,
few days' time he was able to be removed to prison.

Before the judge, and in a crowded court, poor
Wilson himself being there, he repeated all he had
already confessed and even gave additional details,
and when asked if he considered that there were any
extenuating circumstances in his case, he replied in
a firm voice : —

"No, no; none. Gambling has been my ruin;
that is all. I ask my old friend's pardon and his
prayers. But I desire nothing better than to be de-
clared guilty, and to work out whatever punishment
or sentence the law shall inflict. Wliile doing so, I
shall be calmer in mind than 1 have been for many
a long sad yeaj ."

' H

THE CONFESSION

And so the gambler, the forger and drnnkard,
passes out of our story, and 1 know not that he will
appear again at j i' ; for soon our scenes and advent-
ures must change, and we want no black spot to
blur the picture of young and happy lives.

Well, the old firm reinstated Wilson Webb, but
gave him higher wages than previously, and in a few
months he was his own happy self once more. But
he added to his salary by playing as a violinist at
many a concert. He did not forget to return young
Ernest E'liot's violin, for he had hired a good one,
and was soon rich enough to purchase it.

But when Madeleine confessed one night that she
more than cared for him, Wilson's cup of bliss was full.

This is not a love story, or I should tell the reader
more. I may just say, however, that Wilson deter-
mined to make riches or, at al) events, enough of the
world's "gear" to enable him to marry.

This he could never do at home, and so his thoughts
soon turned to lands beyond the sea.

There was nothing on eaith he would not do or
endure in the hope of being able to provide a home
for Madeleine ; and a year or two, he told her, would
soon pass by.

Of course, womanlike, she could but weep, and her
tears were her only reply to his proposal.

Yes, Wilson Webb would emigrate. He was still
in the summer of his youth. -'Time had not cropped
the roses from his cheeks, though sorrow long had
washed them."

THE CONFESSION

He somehow felt sure that he would succeed. A
chance, he told himself, was all he needed. Ah,
well! perhaiDS. Anyhow, it is true what Bulwer
Lytton, novelist, has told us ; namely, that

li I \
1 1

" In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
For a bright manhood, there is no such word

As Fail."

I
I

CHAPTER VIII

TO THE LAND OP THE WEST '■

« To the West ! to the West! to the land of the freel
Where mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea ;
Where the young may exalt and the aged may rest,
Away, far away, to the land of the West ! "

When Wilson Webb landed at New York, after
a somewliat long but really restful voyage, it was
with no very fixed notion as to what he should do.
But this plucky young fellow was very far indeed
from being one of those easy-going, slow-minded
people who can live quietly and contentedly for
any length of time in the expectation of something
turning up. Such men as these are not the salt of
the earth ; on the contrary, they are a positive clog
to the earth and, figuratively speaking, do their best
to prevent it from going round.

No, Wilson Webb determined to make something
turn up. He had not a very great deal of money, it
is true, but he had the next best thing to wealth ;
namely, a light and hopeful heart. And he had,
moreover, excellent credentials.

Being strong and healthy, and hardly yet twenty-
five years of age, time was not of very great moment
to him. That was one reason why he had come out

!•

TO THE LAND OF TIIR WEST

\\\ i

to the West ii) a somewhat slow ship, rather than
with an ocean greyhound. The other was, that it
was cheaper. The vessel was laden with emigrants
forward, most of whom came on board at Queenstown,
from Cork and the country round about. Poor,
half-starved-looking Irish folks ; the men carrying
bundles, thinly clad, with holes in their clothes where
never a hole should be ; some with briniless hats,
black pipes, and shillalahs ; the women carrying
nothing, but with white pinched faces, and little bits
of shawls around their heads.

Wilson had felt sad and sorry for them. Luckily
for himself, he had secured a berth on deck — abaft the
quarter-deck in a petty officer.'s cabin ; for, ex-convict
though he was, and inured to the doubtful amenities
of prison life, he had never before seen such abject
misery and wretchedness as that which for the first
few days after putting to sea, existed down below in
the steerage.

Wilson had made a friend of the young surgeon,
and he took him to see things. The men's sleeping-
berths were off the steerage, and each was simply two
large shelves with a narrow passage between. On
these sheUes, which were but a little raised above the
deck, with a rag or blanket each, the men lay side by
side, packed like herrings. Out in the main steerage
itself, the deck was covered with men and women in
every stage of mat de mer^ and so terrible was the
aroma that Wilson was glad, indeed, when he found
himself on deck again.

TO THE LAND OF THE WEST

Tlie vessel, however, was well found as to victuals,
l)ut sick or not sick, every poor soul was bundled on
deck every morning, and the hose turned into the
steerage for a general wash and scrub down.

But things soon mended, and then even the steer-
age folks were not so badly off. At all events, they
had, like Wilson himself, hope in their hearts. Were
they not leaving poverty and misrule beliind them in
dear "ould Oirland"? Were not they and their
little ones bound for the new land,

" Where children are blessings, and he who hath most
Hath aid to his fortune and riches to boast " ?

The steerage passengers, as soon as they got over
the horrors of mal de mer^ were excellent customers
to the beef-tub. Moreover, they kept on deck pretty
well all day long, which showed their excellent sense.

On fine evenings, Wilson Webb would tune his
fiddle and, going forward, seat himself somewhere
about the fo'c's'le, and the poor Irish people crowded
round him.

When he plnyed " The Last Rose of Summer " or
" Tlie Wearing of the Green," his listeners made no
attem})t to hide their tears ; indeed, it was no uncom-
mon thing to see some grey-haired woman throw her-
self into her daughter's arms and sob aloud. And
,even the men themselves were but little less affected.
For they were leaving behind them all they lield dear

in life.

" Farewell, for I must leave thee,
My own, my native shore.

'■'

• i

,1 ■

i ■

■w

■I m

78 TO TllK LAND OF THE WEST

And dooni'd in foreign lands t' dwell,

!May never see thee more.
For laws, onr tyrant laws, have said

That seas must roll between
Old Erm and her faithful sons,

Who love to wear the green."

Ah! but Wilson Webb knew how to change all
this, to rekindle hope in every breast and cause those
poor, patriotic people to smile through their tears ;
so he would dash into a merry, blood-stirring jig.

What a scene that was, now ! What a tribute to
the power of music !

*' Hooch ! Hooch ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " Hats
were waved, shillalahs twirled, while old and young,
even the children, joined that mad and mazy dance,
till all were ready to drop with fatigue. Then the
music ceased, and all was quiet once more.

But one beautiful evening so excited were they,
that they must seize the fiddler and march three
times round the deck with him, carrying him shoulder-
high.

Well, Wilson Webb told himself he was going to
feel quite at home in America ; he had a bold front,
was willing to work and defy any difficulties he was
likely to encounter.

New York is really a go-ahead place. The business
population there do not go to sleep on their legs, as
they seem to on Fleet Street and the Strand. New
Yorkers do everything quickly ; they walk smartly,
they eat quickly, drink quickly, and think quickly.
And Wilson Webb would speedily have caught this

ii :

TO THE LAND OF THE WEST

electric fever of life, even if he had not had it
before.

He managed to get into good but cheap lodgings
on the very day he landed, and that same afternoon
he sallied forth to make a circuit of some of the first-
class business houses.

Wilson was ambitious.

Ambition, within due bounds, is a glorious thing,
and I like to see it in the young. True, they may
never altogether secure their object, but the attempt
to do so will carry them higher, anyhow, tlian they
would otherwise have been had they contented them-
selves with crawling instead of ilying.

If yon aim an arrow at the moon, you won't hit it.
True, but your arrow will go higher far than if it had
been {timed at a bush of broom.

Well, every city merchant talked kindly enough
to Wilson, but they Avere sorry that at present, etc.,
— just the well-worn old formula.

So he had no luck for several days.

He didn't lose heart, however.

He did as Captain Webb did, — when swimming
across the channel, he just kept pegging away.

Now some may tell you, reader, that the Americans
want to keep all America to themselves, and that they
have no wish to encourage the Britisher, or to give
him work. This is nonsense. If a New York mer-
cliant believes it would be to his advantage to engage
the services of a deserving young fellow, lie will cer-
tainly not stop to inquire into his nationality.

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(716) 872-4503

TO THE LAND OF THE WEST

I I i

And so in a splendid office which lie entered one
forenoon, Wilson found a white-haired old gentleman
who frankly told him he liked his-: looks and would
gladly give him a trial.

" If you prove worthy," he said, " I shall advance
you a step in a week or two."

" A thousand thanks, sir ! But now before actually
engaging me, I should like you to know a little more
of my story. I am an ex-convict sir."

" You an ex-convict ! Fou ! "

The old man looked at him incredulously, and
then burst into a hearty laugh.

"C-^uld I see you in private, sir, for just a few
minutes ? "

" Yes, certainly ; come into my little den here."

Before they left that little den, Wilson Webb had
told all his sad story. The merchant was deeply
interested.

He shook the young man by the hand.

" How you must have suil'cred ! " he said ; " but I
must tell you straight, that your conduct has quite won
my heart, and you must look upon me as a friend."

Wilson Webb left the beautiful office walking
upon air. That was how he felt, at all events.

He entered upon his duties the very next day.

At the end of a week he had another interview
with Mr. Slatten.

" I'm going to put you to another desk," he said ;
" it will be a more responsible post, but it will also be
far more remunerative."

TO THE LAND OF THE WEST

e
d

56
I'O

So, to his great joy, Wilson was promoted.

He did his duty too.

But his lodgings, though poor, were comfortable,
and the old landlady kind ; so he stuck to them, his
object being to save as much money as he possibly
could, then send for Madeleine.

* •' «' # *

One day in early spring Laurie and Leebie had
gone early to the cave on the moor, because as soon
as Ernest arrived they meant to spend quite a long
time at the water's side.

Neddy had, for some reason or another which he
would not reveal, taken quite a fancy to the squire's
young son, and as soon as his own young folks were
settled at the cave, he used to amble off to the distant
wood to meet Ernest. He was always accompanied
by little Sir Duncan Currie, and very important and
serious the wee dog looked ; but whether he went to
look after Neddy or only for companionship, it would
be impossible to say.

Well, on this particular morning Ernest came rid-
ing towards the cave at the gallop, the wee terrier
barking for joy. It was evident there was news of
some sort to tell.

" A great, big, long letter from Wilson Webb," said
Ernest, dismounting. " And there is one for you
inside it, Leebie, and one for you too, Laurie."

So these youngsten did not go to tlie river that
day as soon as they had purposed, because those let-
ters were all to be read, not once, but several times.

TO THE LAND OF THE WEST

They were so instructive, and so jolly and joyful.
Then Luebie had to read Laurie's, and Ernest's also,
and the boys read hers ; in fact, everybody read
everybody else's, and there was much talk about
them afterwards.

" How I ifhould like to go to America ! " said
Ernest.

" And I," said Laurie.

" And I too," said Leebie.

Ernest Elliot was silent for a short time.

Ernest was thinking, lie was not given to much
of that sort of thing, it is true. But at present he
was gazing at the crackling logs on the hearth, with
dreamy eyes, and evidently in a fit of abstraction.

"Suppose," he said abruptly, at last, "we don't
go fishing this forenoon, only just to catch a few for
dinner. Suppose we leave fishing, on a large scale,
till afternoon. "

" And what shall we do with ourselves till dinner
time ? " said Laurie.

" Oh, you are to come with me. I want to show
you my estate."

" Your estate ? "

"Yes," said Ernest, laughing. "I have told you
before that I was the youngest son. Well, my
brothers all pop in before me and would have every-
thing, the great hall and all, if poor father were to
die. But he won't for many, many years to come.
Well, I know he loves me quite as much as George
or Dempsey or Harold ; so I was not surprised when

TO THE LAND OF Till!: WEST

;iv

lie took nie with him yesterday on a far ride to the
outside boundaries of the estate.

" ' Do you see that farm,' he said, pointing
to old Wigmore's house, 'and the half-tilled land
around it?'

" ' Yas,' I replied wonderingly.

" ' Well,' said father, ' it is only about a hundred
acres, but it is all yours. For that is not entailed.'

" I almost cried with joy, and rode nearer to him
that I might press his hand.

" ' But,' he added, ' you must go to sea first, or go
somewhere or other to fight and battle with the world,
and make some money ; for I have none to give you.
Then you can return and settle down here, and shoot
and fish and hunt and do just as you please.' And
now, Laurie, let us be off' and have a look at my
estate."

Well, Leebie and Ernest rode on Bobbie and Ned,
but Laurie much preferred to run with the dogs.

They arrived at last, after crossing several streams,
in a beautiful rolling bit of country, and got high up
on a hill-top.

"The farm standing yonder," said Ernest, "is
indeed a tumble-down old place, but when I make
money, I'll build a beautiful house on the rising
banks of the little lake yonder; and there I shall
keep a boat. I will till the arable land. I shall
have a nice park, but the woods and the trees and
hills shall all be untouched and sacred. Won't that
be lovely, Leebie ? " he added.

TO THE LAND OF THE WEST

I :!

I i

" Oh," she cried, in raptures, " I think I see it
all ! "

Mere boy though he was, — barely sixteen, — Ernest
was romantic, and he thought he saw something else
in his future that was greatly to add to his joy. But
he kept this to himself.

" Heigho ! " he sighed, " I have got to make money
first."

"And so must I," said Laurie." "I wonder how
we are to do it. "

" In the West, Laurie — in the West, old man. For
father distinctly told me that this country was only
for the wealthy, but for the workingman, unless he
is a rogue, it is really played out."

Then they all sat down on the hill and read Wil-
son Webb's letters over again once more ; after that
they wandered away to the bank of the stream to
fish for their dinner.

CHAPTER IX

.1 ;^l

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

♦' Your spiritless stay-at-home shakes his head as he tells you

That ambition lures and leads one straight to the grave.

IJah I Wealth is a prize that is well worth the winning,

And we all know that Fortune still favours the brave."

— Anon.

Whether Slatten be a Scots name or not, I really
do not know ; but of one thing I am certain enough,
— Slatten himself was a Scotsman. A self-made man
too, and therefore just the individual who was likely
to appreciate talent, or cleverness and the determina-
tion to do well, in others.

He lived in a very beautiful house near to Central
Park, and was reported to be wealthy. He was
upright, however, and had always refused to be one
of " a corner," as it is called.

If he was Scotch, so were his wife and his seven
daughters I Yes, he had seven, and never a son.
Being Scotch, they were, of course, .ill musical, and
when, somehow or other, it leaked out — everything
does leak out in America — that Wilson Webb was a
violinist, Slatten invited him frequently to the house
and Mrs. Slatten made quite a pet of him.

The youngest daughter was nineteen, and really a

i !

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.3 ^

WlLSUiN WEUli IN COWBOY LAND

pretty girl. The eldest must liave been six and
thirty, thougli slie "made up" well.

Not one of them was married, but from the many
dinner and garden parties given, it was evident
enougli that their parents would have been glad to
place them.

Wilson Webb soon got to like Miss Julia Slatten.
There really was something winning about her, and
something that at times reminded him of Madeleine.
Was he likely to forget his English love ? No, no ;
this 1 dare not believe. But I do believe that liad he
made up to Julia, his suit would have been favourably
received, and lie might ]>ave calculated on becoming
a partner in the lirm of Slatten, Limited.

Yes, everything leaks out in New York, and Wil-
son needn't have been surprised when, one evening
a smart-looking young man with a note-book called
at his humble lodgings and announced himself as one
of the chief reporters of the Weekly Hopper. " Just
dropped in," he said affably, " to extract a few notes
from you for our far-famed weekly."

" You certainly do me high honour," returned Wil-
son ; "but on what subject, pray?"

" Oh, you are an ex-convict, I hear. I want you
to tell me something about life in British prisons.
They will be of intense interest to our readei-s, and
help to raise our circulation considerably."

" And, of course, you will pay handsomely for these
notes, that are bound to raise your circulation ? "

" Ah ! Waal, now, we don't usually do that sort

W1I.S0N WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

of thing, but, in your case, if four or live dollai*s are
of any use, we — "

He never finished the sentence, because Wilson
was holding the door open for him.

" I am pleased to wish you a very good-night,"
he said.

The reporter pleaded.

Wilson WC.S obdurate.

But next evening, the young fellow had a visit
from a man of a very different stamp; a quiet,
Avhite-haired gentleman, with pleasant manners and
soldierly aspect.

After introducing himself, he said quietly : —

" You had a visit last evening from young Puffer,
of the Hopper^ who tried to draw you. Just like
the Hopper s confounded cheek, and I'm just real
glad you gave him the cold shoulder.

"But," he added, "the subject of convict life in
England would be an excellent draw. If you con-
sent to give a course of interesting and exciting lect-
ures here, I will run you. I will pay all expenses,
and give you good remuneration, certain, and a big
share in the gate-money."

Wilson's eyes sparkled with delight. He never
had lectured, it is true. But his appearance was
fetching and his voice was good. So a bargain was
soon struck ; and that very night he began to write
his lectures.

So full was he of his subject, and so thickly did
old memories of the sufferings he had endured crowd

•''I

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

in upon liini as he wrote, that he was surprised at
the speed his pen attained.

Mr. Leader took the lectures away when finished,
and liad them type-written.

Then he got Wilson to read them privately to
him, or one of them, and gave him many useful
hints on delivery and deportment ; and Wilson was
a willing and a very apt pupil.

CONVICT LIFE IN ENGLAND.

AN EX-CONVICT.

It made a very fetching placard indeed, and, as
Americans dearly love everything that is new and
interesting, the tickets were all sold in a day or two.

The lecture series was a great success, and all the
newspapers gave a good review of them, praising
the ex-convict who had endured so much, though
innocent, and hitting England, or rather Britain, I
should say, as hard as they knew how to, for her
cruelty and her unjust laws. Only the Hopper
came out with a scathing article, and had the
audacity to say, they douhted not, if justice were
meted out to him, Wilson Webb would be serving

out the rest of his time at P instead of trying

to star it in the great metropolis of the United
States.

Mr. Leader himself read this article to Webb as
they dined together at the Westminster Hotel.

The young man laughed.

a .:

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

" We don't take any notice of such journalistic
sputterings in England," he said.

"Ah! but, my boy, you ynust here. And if you
do as I tell you, I see my way to make capital out
of it."

" Shall I have to shoot the editor, then ? "

"No; but you must lash yourself to your little
guns, in case the editor tries to have a shot at you."

" Shall I have to mop up the floor with him, then,
and stand him on his head in the corner?"

"No; that is Texas style, and might do even
here, but I'd prefer you to do something thoroughly
English, and therefore original, and so I propose a
dog whip."

* * « « *

The editor of the Hopper was alone in his office
when Wilson Webb entered.

The interview was short but painful, particularly
so for the editor.

"Did you write that scurrilous article, sir?"

The editor confessed, but tried to open his desk
in order to reach his guns.

Wilson struck down the lid with his strong fist,
actually shattering it, for he was an athlete. Then
he sprang nimbly at his man, threw him down, stool
and all, and proceeded to administer chastisement
such as he had never administered to a man before,
far less a dog.

Leader was just outside, and had taken good care
to inform the people what was going on ; and when

; *

III

i!~

WILSON WKHH IN (^OWHOY LAND

they heard tlic editor's screams, they hooted and
jeered, and cheered as well, especially when Wilson
himself stepped quietly out, and stopped a few
seconds to light a cigarette.

There was no policeman anywhere near. Mr.
Leader was a good general.

But every newspaper had a bit about the affair
next day. The conduct of tliis brave Englishman
was highly extolled, and the rest of the series of
lectures was more successful tlian even the fii*st.

But Mr. Leader was not going io give him up
just yet, and determined to run him in the cities of
the South.

" I'm really very sorry to part with you," said
kind-hearted Mr. Slatten, "but it will be for your
good ; and I shall live in hopes that when you have
finished lecturing, you will come back to us."

Poor Julia was in tears when Wilson left her.
Would she never, never see him more? Well, who
could answer that?

I think it was in Philadelphia, Baltimore, and
Washincfton that Wilson's lectures were most ap-
preciated- and by the course he managed to save
nearly a thousand pounds.

" I think," said Leader, one morning at breakfast,
"we had better finish off at San Francisco."

" Well," said Wilson, " I shall be pleased to, but
first and foremost, I should like to see a little cowboy
life in, say. New Mexico. And 1 will tell you why :
American shows ftnd lectures on wild western life,

WILSON WKUn IN COWllOY LAND

illuHtmtecl witli tlic Ijuitorn, are popular in England.
Well, having mastered my subject, I purpose going
back to my own tight little island, having made a bit
of money, and marrying the dearest, sweetest giri on
earth."

" Hravo, lad I You're a true-born T^riton, and
your intention speaks well for the goodnes^.s of your
heart, though it ain't what we Aniericans would call
business."

"I'la^y explain."

" Well, poor little Julia Slatten is deeply in love
with you, and by marrying her you woukl soon be a
partner in the big firm. The subject is worth con-
sideration."

" My dear T^eader," said Wilson, .almost solemnly,
" were I to debate the subject with myself, even for
a minute, I should be untrue to ni}'^ God, untrue
to myself, and untrue to the girl I left behind me.
Pray say no more."

Leader looked at him wonderingly, but said
nothing.

^^ 1^ ^^ ^^ ^^

It was shortly after this, that Leader and Wilson
Webb parted. They had been very great friends,
because each respected even the idiosyncrasies as
well as the opinions of the . ther. And I do think
that a man's or a boy's opinions are his private prop-
erty, and no one else has any business to trespass
thereon, any more than he has to enter his garden
and trample down his flowers.

;

' i

ft;

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

Leader went north. Wilson Webb went west in
search of adventures, and we must follow him.

He took with him a beautiful and instantaneous
photographic apparatus ; not large, but most true
and efficient. He wanted to get pictures for the lan-
tern, and determined that they should be true to the
life.

Besides the camera, Wilson took with him a good
light rifle and a pair of excellent six-shooters, but
no fowling-piece. " Your cowboy," Leader told him,
" despised what he called a ' scatterer,' and most of
them are excellent shots."

All the money he did not actually require, Wilson
put in a safe bank. He dressed himself simply as an
Englishman, in shooting-jacket and cap, with strong
boots; but the summer was already drawing to a
close, so he did not forget to furnish himself with
clothing that would stand all the storms and rigours
of the Rocky Mountains, and defy even a blizzard
itself,

Wilson Webb was nothing unless romantic. As a
mere lad he had often read about the cowboys ami
the cowboy country, and one of his chief delights

while residing in the city of C , long before evil

days had fallen upon him, was to borrow or hire a
good horse — he called the nag a broncho — and go
for a long ride across the bare open country or
wolds. He thus became a most expert and daring
rider. Moreover, he was a good shot either with rifle
or revolver, and when only sixteen had come in

i:,i

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

second at a volunteer review. Young "Wilson, on
more occasions than one, had attempted to lasso
farmers' shorthorns. But his practice was certainly
nothing to be proud of. Once, and once only, he
succeeded in hitching on to a strong and agile cow.

That cow did not let him forget it. She tore
away at a terrific rate, and finally not only pulled
him out of his seat, saddle and all, but dragged him
some considerable distance across country. The
broncho followed. He evidently thought it was all
a part of the performance. But when Wilson re-
turned to C , he was very sore indeed, and a

shilling hardly covered his expenses for sticking-
plaster alone.

Well, at four and twenty he was just as fond of
adventure as he had been at fourteen, and he cal-
culated he would meet with one or two in the little
town he finally brought up at.

I may say at once, however, that he did not find
the cowboys the irreclaimable, wild, and reckless
men he had read about.

A few were madcaps, it is true, but many were far
more nol;le and hones u and straightforward, than
Ills own countrymen who belonged to the working
classes.

Wilson had travelled most of the journey in the
really old-fashioned way : namely, by waggon. He
passed by many a ranch and stayed for the night at
many a small town. But all were too civilised for
his notions.

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

I °

i I

J i
I

i i

i !

So westward, and westward ever, he went, until
at long last he cast anchor at a queer little town
with a queer little name ; to wit, " TFe're-all-here." ^
Why it should have been called so, I have not the
remotest notion. It was a town of log or turf shan-
ties and houses; badly lighted, if, indeed, it could
be said to be lighted at all.

The principal buildings in it were the gaol, the
sheriff's house, the office of the Independent^ the
doctor's hut, and the drinking saloon.

Wilson arrived about midday, while the sun shone
down on this Rocky Mountain slope with a heat that
seemed enough to melt lead.

He was riding a really good horse, and the waggon
was coming slowly up behind. He wore a red Gari-
baldi shirt and knickerbockers, his head covered with
a broad-brimmed felt sombrero, lined with green
leaves.

Probably he ought to have called on the sheriff
first, but he didn't know there was any such func-
tionary here. So he asked for the name and office
uf the newspaper, and from the group of wiry-
looKing, picturesque men, one stepped forth and
stood by his saddle.

" We air the editor," he said, extending his hand,
"and if yer mean^ to stay among us for a time, we'll
do our best to put ye up to the ropes. See ? "

" I do, and many thanks. I'll dismount, and lead
my horse out of the sun."

1 Thi; natives always put the emphasis on the " TFe."

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

■.J

"As nice a broncho as ever we saw. What say
ye, boys ? "

There was a murmur of assent, and a brown-
faced youth stepped up and offered to see to the
nag.

Wilson willingly gave him up.

" Boys," continued the editor of the Independent^
" here we have before us a raal stranger. From his
talk he is a British, and mebbe a bit of a tender-
foot. Most Britishers are. Never mind; we have
a duty before us, and that is to show this green
Englishman all the hospitality we can, and all the
fun. Now, stranger, shake hands, and come to the
saloon. I guess yer neck'U steam when ye pour
something down it."

Well, not only did the editor accompany Wilson
to the saloon, but at least a dozen cowboys. He
was not one who cared to drink, but he could
not turn his back upon such well-meaning hospi-
tality. So he swallowed the whisky placed be-
fore him^ although it went down like fixed
bayonets.

After this he requested the pleasure of standing
the cowboys' drinks, round.

They consulted just for a few moments ; then one
tall, handsome fellow laid a great, hard hand on
Wilson's shoulder.

" No, sirree," he said ; " for three days, at least,
you'll never attempt to show silver in ' Tft;'re-all-
here.' If ye do, you'll offend us. There ! "

( I

i
if

WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND

"I don't want to do that, I can assure you."
After this the talk became general, and Wilson
was learning something new every minute.

That same afternoon he got settled in a very
decent " 'dobe " house, and thought himself exceed-
ingly lucky.

L n

CHAPTER X

A GREEN ENGLISHMAN

"Let us never judge too harshly,

Mind, — this life is but a dream.
And all experience tells us

Folks are seldom what they seem.
There's many a sweet, sweet kernel

Within a rough nut's shell ;
And the roughest face a kindly heart may hide,

For aught that we can tell." — Anon.

When the editor of the Weekly Western Indepenr
dent entered Wilson's shanty that evening, the young
adventurer was very glad to see him, and shook
hands right heartily. Then he rolled his fiddle in
a soft, silk handkerchief, and placed it in its case.
He loved that Strad. of his, far more than he could
have loved a baby, and took greater care of it, too.

"Take the easy-chair, Mr. Whetstone, and try
those cigars," said Wilson.

Well, if one had not been told that it was an easy-
chair, one might have been inclined to doubt it.

The chair was merely a small flour-barrel turned
upside down, so that one sat on the bottom of it.
But it had a semilunar back fitted to it, and it was
upon this that its claim to its title rested.
H 97

; ]

i V

A GKEEN ENGLISHMAN

i .
. ■)

':\\
I '

Whetstone sat down and stretched his legs easily
out in front of him ; then he lit a cigar.

He was very simply, if not picturesquely, dressed.
In fact, he wore notliing very much to speak of ; a
flannel shirt with its sleeves rolled up over the
elbows, a pair of flannel pants rolled up to the
knees. Both garments might have been white origi-
nally. A pair of canvas shoes graced his feet, and a
soft broadbrim his head. But in a belt around his
waist, were stuck his guns and a bowie. He had
once had a pistol pocket, but that was worn out.

The expression on the man's face, however, was
far from unkindly, though his jaws were lantern and
his brows heavy.

Wilson handed him a fan for refrigeratory purposes,
and to keep the "skeeters" as much at bay as
possible.

But this enterprising editor carried a note-book.

" I mean, sir," he said, " to come out with a flamer
on Saturday. A col. and a half, sir, and it is all to
be devoted to Wilson Webb, the stranger who has
come to spy out the nakedness of our land."

"Fiddlesticks!" said Webb, "I don't see much
nakedness about it. I've come here to study your
cowboys, and cowboy life in general, and to find
some fun and some adventures.

" And," he added, " w^>en I get back to Merry
England, as it is sarcastically called, I mean to give
lectures on cowboys, and this same city of ''WerG-
all-here ' shall be the centre."

A GREEN ENGLISHMAN

" And in course ye'U lecture and fiddle a piece to
us poor benighted sons of the Sierras ? "

" If it can amuse you, I will with pleasure."

"Shake," said Whetstone, holding out his broad
brown hand. " I say, young fellow, your heart ain't
far out o' plumb.

" And now," he added, " I guess we'll have to put
in an appearance at the saloon. Just to show we
know how to be friendly. The Doc. will be there.
The Doc. is a good fellow, and I guess no one ever
saw him any the worse for whisky. We'll niebbe
meet ten or a dozen of the boys, besides more that'll
be playin' poker on the barrel-heads. Do you play
draw-poker ? "

" No," said Wilson ; " I play the fiddle."

" That's about right. Well, if Nate Buster comes
any of his games with you, we ourself will back you
up."

" Who is Nate Buster, may I ask ? "

"Nate's right name is Bloomsbury — a daurned
sight too good for him, so we call him Buster.
Nate's been on the roar for over a week, but he
hasn't killed anybody yet. More's the wonder. But
mind ye this, sir. Buster is a rare good fellow when
he has got anything more'n fifteen inches o' old rye
in his stomach. Only, as I said, he's on the roar and
may want to tickle a stranger. So I advise you to
have your shootin'-irons handy, in case ye need to
kill him. And mind, don't be shy or skeery about
it. Nobody'd miss Nate very much, and the Doc.

i 1

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100

A GREEN ENGLISHMAN

and we ourself would see ye all straight wi' the
sheriff.

" And now we'll saunter."

After lighting fresh cigars, they did saunter.

The saloon was hrilliantly lighted. The landlord,
a short, stout man with an immense beard, was busy
enough dispensing " the pizen," assisted by his wife
and pretty little daughter, while the boys, none of
wliom we;'e more lieavily dressed than tlie editor him-
self, were lolling around in every attitude of ease, if
not grace.

" Nominate," said Whetstone.

" Whisky," said Wilson, though far rather would
he have had a glass of cold water.

A red-faced, but pleasant-looking, man entered just
at that moment. He was dressed in spotless white
flannels, with rings, and a huge gold chain.

" Ah ! Doc," cried the editor, " very pleased ! Here
is a young fellow all the way from the Breetish islands.
What'll you drink?"

"Just water to-night."
. " Water ! "

" Ay. Going to a nasty case."

He leaned over the bar and patted Lizzie on the
cheek. She was evidently a favourite of the doctor's.

"You'll come to see me, won't you?" he said to
Wilson.

" That I will, with great pleasure."

" Well, good-night, all. See you later on, perhaps."
And off he went.

■

A GREEN ENGLISHMAN

The boys, glasses in hand, now crowded round
Wilson, and his friend, the editor. They did not get
much news in this far-off town, and wanted to hear
Wilson yarn a bit.

A whole hour passed away pleasantly enough.
The boys certainly had dubbed Wilson a "poor
drinker," but he did not mind that a bit. He had
made a resolution not to drink and not to play poker,
and he told all hands that as plainly as he could
speak it.

But suddenly a kind of awed hush fell over the
party and a voice could be heard singing in the dis-
tance, and coming ever nearer. It was a maudlin old

song.

" Whisky is the life of me,

Whisky I whisky I
Whisky killed my brother Bill,
Whisky killed old daddy too,

But whisky is the life o' me, •

Whisky for ray Johnnie ;

Hurrah I Whoop 1

That "whoop" was a yell, and with it Nate Buster
brought up in the doorway of the saloon.

"Boys, Nate's on the roar! Whoop! Boys,
Nate's goin' to shoot ! Stand by for hats and heads !
Hurrah!"

He had a six-shooter in each hand, and though
really not a bad-looking fellow, he appeared very
reckless. .

" Who says Nate's hand ain't steady ? See that
bottle o' old rye on the shelf?"

102

A r.UEEN ENOLISIIMAN

I •

! !

111

pt''

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■M

Bang! He fired, and the bottle was decapitated.

" Put her on the phmk, hindh)rd. Nate can pay."

Then his eye fell upon Wilson Webb, who was
leaning on the counter, glass in hand, and looking
very cool and unconcerned.

Nate now changed his tone in a moment.

" What ! " lie cried, in the wheedling voice of some
old woman. "Who have we here? Some tender-
foot? A green Englishman? Eh? Some mother's
darling, fresh out from England, home, and beauty ?
And how's his little toes, then?"

" If you want to know, you shall," said Wilson,
calmly; "for, if you don't keep quiet, I'll kick you
out."

Knowing that a terrible row was brewing, every
one drew off, and Wilson and Nate stood facing each
other.

" This to Nate ! And from a Breetisher too.
Look, you stranger, I was thinkin' o' killin' ye, but
I'll give you a chance. You shall dance to amuse
the boys, and, if you refuse, I'll blow the whole top
o' your head off. Dance ! "

It is an ugly situation, when one has to look down
the barrel of a six-shooter in the hands of a maniac
like Nate.

" Dance ! I'll count six, and fire at seven.

*• One, two, three. Dance, four — "

He never got any farther. Swift .as lightning,
Wilson threw his whisky straight in Nate's face,
and the bullet fired found a billet in the ceiling.

A GREEN ENGLISHMAN

103

Next moment the revolvers were wrenched from the
drunkard's grasp, and a well-aimed blow between
the eyes laid him sprawling on the floor.

" Bravo, Britisher ! Bravo, Britain ! " shouted the
boys. But Nate sprang to liis feet, and charged like
a bull.

" I won't hit you any more,'* cried Wilson, " but
out you go. I'll give you Cumberland."

Nate was but like a schoolboy in that young man's
powerful clutch.

He threw him on the floor first, and held him down
for fully a minute.

" That's Donald Dinnie style," he said. " Now for
the grand fling." He lifted him up as he spoke. The
editor himself opened the door, and Nate was tossed
far out into the darkness.

There he lay groaning for fully five minutes, and
then gathering himself up, crawled quietly home to
his shanty. He had received enough at the hands of
the green Englishman to last him a long time.

" And now, boys," cried Wilson, as all gathered,
laughing, round the bar once more, " though, thanks
be to Heaven, I never made a bet in my life, I'm
willing now to wager one of my legs that I can
do what Nate Buster couldn't. I'll make you all
dance."

" Done ! Done ! We'll have the leg, stranger ! "

Wilson simply said, '' Excuse me for a minute."

Then he slipped out, and in a very short time had
returned with his fiddle-case.

I04

A GREEN ENOUSIIMAN

lie tuned up and began to |)lay — very slow and
pathetic airs at first ; yet the fact that as lie played
the eyes of nearly every cowboy there filled with
tears, proved, I think, that they had hearts as soft
as women's within their breasts, rough and uncouth
though they were.

But Wilson soon changed his tunes. He stood
right up on the top of a barrel, to be well out of the
way wlien the fun began. And begin it did.

Not even in Scotland itself was madder, merrier
dancing ever seen, and it was kept up for hours, too.

But Wilson himself got tired at last, and was just
about to loosen a peg, when in glided the doctor again.

" Yes, my case is over. And well over. The old
lady has gone to a better world. But lo ! I've been
losing all the fun. Here, Lizzie, sweetheart, you and
I mits^iave a waltz."

He lifted the laughing lassie right over the counter
as he spoke. Wilson jjlayed a dreamland waltz, and
no one in the room enjoyed himself more than did
the Doc. and his sweet little partner.

In another hour, all was darkness and silence in
that saloon and throughout all the deserted streets
of " Trti're-all-here " itself.

There were no lights to be seen anywhere, and in
all probability those honest, bold cowboys had gone
to bed ; for they had to rise right early every morning.

But Wilson still sat at his open window. It was
a very bright and beautiful night, and his eyes were
turned towards the snow-capped mountain range far

A r.URKN KN(JLISTIMAN

105

in the west, above wliieli the moon shone in an
unch)ude(l sky, with here and tliere a tiny star.

It was very silent, thongh every now and then out
yonder on the phihis, twixt his house and the hills,
he could hear short, yapping barks and even plaintive
cries ; but whether these proceeded from bird or from
beast, Wilson could not tell.

Nor did he care much.

He sat up to think. He told himself so, at all
events. I believe I am right in saying he was a
restless kind of a being, this Wilson Webb. There
are many such men in the world, and although their
lives are not so happy as they would be if they only
had more repose about them, still people like these
are the salt of the earth, and I doubt if the world
would wag long without them.

" Heigho ! " Said Wilson to himself ; but it was not
by any means an unhappy sigh. " I've been pretty
lucky as yet. No, I haven't made a fortune, but
X800 in a bank is a precious good nucleus, and I
mean to make it multiply. Well, I'm all alone herq
in this city with the funny name. But those cow-
boys don't seem to be half bad fellows. I hope I
didn't hurt that poor idiot Nate. I'll go and see him
to-morrow morning.

" I wonder what my friend Peters is doing at this
moment. I wonder more what dear Madeleine is
doing. Let me see : it will be early morning in
England, and those strange boys, Ernest and Laurie,
with their sweet wee sister Leeb, will be preparing

io6

A GREEN ENGLISHMAN

to ride off to the moor. But for them I should not
be here now. God send that I may yet be able to
re'vard them. Ah ! I really have something to live
for, — the boys and Madeleine.

" Well, after all, what would life be without work ?
A dream, a dream ; an idle, useless, empty dream !
I'll off to bed and perhaps I shall dream of a future,
that shall be ten times happier than all the past, as
well it may."

^^ ^* ^^ 9^ ^* ^n

He threw the end of his cigar out of the window,
but he did not close the casement. There was noth-
ing much to be dreaded here. Wild beasts, wolves,
and bears there might be, far away out yonder in the
woods and dingles, at the foot of that terrible moun-
tain range, but they kept well aloof from all human
habitations. So he had nothing to fear and nothing
to annoy, save the mosquitoes. By this time, how-
ever, he was inured to tlieir venom, so he fell asleep
with their songs ringing in his ears.

Wilson was up betimes, and the old dame who
" saw to him " brought him a good breakfast. True,
the steak was tough, but he was young and hungry,
so he did justice to it.

" Now," he said to himself, " I'll go and see that
never-do-well."

He was directed to Nate's sbanty. It was as well
known as Nate himself. " -

Wilson expected to find him ill in bed.

Not so ; for Nate himself opened the door and in-

A r.RKEN ENGLISHMAN

107

vited liim in. Nate was sober and quiet; clothed
and in liis right mind.

" You gave me fits last night, old man, and I really
deserved it. Sliake hands. Come in. I haven't been
much in bed. In grief, you see."

"In grief, Nate?"

"Yaas, stranger, in grief."

He pointed towards a cosy corner, near to the
hearth, on v/hich a fire of wood was burning. Here,
on a bed of soft hay, with his head on a pillow of
the same, lay a beautiful Scottish collie.

His brown eyes looked positively luiman, and as
Nate knelt beside liim, with tears in his eyes, the
faitliful dog extended his hot, red tongue and licked
his master's hand.

"Tweed is the only real friend I have in the
world," said the cowboy, " and if anything happened
to him, J shouldn't care to live. I've been up all
night with him, though I ain't far from ill myself,
and I think he's a trifle better."

• He smoothed the bonnie dog's brow, and Wilson
was certain a tear fell tliereon.

" Ah ! stranger," hg said, " the hardest bit to bear
is this. I've so often necflected Tweed when on the
roar ! Oli, the accursed drink ! But nevermore. No,
nevermore ; and if you'll only live Tweed, we'll both
be as happy as the birds that sing."

Wilson had sadly misjudged poor Nate, then ; for
surely a man who could so sympathise with a sick
and suffering dog must havi! some good in his heart.
What think you, reader?

\ 1/ .

ill.

CHAPTER XI

A BUCK-JUMPING EXPERIENCE

" A horse ! A horse ! My kingdom for a horse ! "

!' '

'Tis true, 'tis pity ; and pity 'tis, 'tis true, that not
only in our own country, but in other lands as well,
the very best hearted men, and those of the brightest
intellect, all too often become slaves of the most fear-
ful Fiend that stalks this earth by day or night, and
that is Drink.

'Tis true, moreover, and more's the pity that it
is true, that I.aving once fallen, very few ever get
up again. They sink lower and lower in the mire,
until ii closes over their heads, and their eyes are
shut in the darkness of death.

But grief for his noble, faithful dog, seemed really
to have worked wonders as far as Nate was con-
cerned. He was, to all appearance, a new man.
Tweed and he were never separate now, and Nate
never forgot to feed him or give him the best water
to be procured.

He did not abandon his visits to the saloon. He
was no coward, and came there of an evening just as
before. But that poisonous whisky which he used to
sing about had no longer any charms for him.

1 08

A BUCK-DUMPING EXPERIENCE

109

The landlord welcomed him just the same, how-
ever ; for he spent liis money freely enough on others,
if not on himself.

Wilson Webb had not heen many weeks in " We^re-
all-here " before becoming a general favourite. That
fiddle of his was in much repute. Moreover, his
lectures were a great success ; not financially, of
course. He lectured gratuitously, his only reward
being the thought that he was giving pleasure to
these brave, though half-wild, cowboys; their rapt
attention was his best reward, and their hearty bursts
of applause and laughter were to him the greatest
reward, and far better than many silver dollars.

But much of Wilson's time was spent, by day,
either in shooting, or riding on the plains, assisting
the cowboys with their work.

Farther to the east civilisation had already put in
an appearance, and each man's herd of cattle was
fenced in with wire, barbed or otherwise. But here
the cattle still roamed free over the prairie, and the
owners could only tell their own property by the
brands.

It was the young calves that had to suffer the
torture of bi'anding with the red-hot iron, and cruelty
of a revolting character it really seemed to Wilson
Webb, who was probably far too tender-hearted to
make up as a typical cowboy.

Nevertheless, he did his best, and if he did not
quite succeed, it was not for lack of trying or dint of
hard work.

iii

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A BUCK-.TUMriNG EXPERIENCE

ii i

Buffalo Bill and his company liave made us all
familiar with the rig-out of the cowboy, and Wilson
took a lesson from those around him and dressed
just as they did, although for a long time he and his
strange boots were at daggers drawn. Nor did he
altogether relish at first the broad felt hat, but he
soon found that in galloping over the plains it was
just the right thing in the right place.

Wilson's broncho continued to carry him splen-
didly, and under the kindly tuition of the cowboys
he soon learned all the outs and ins of ranch life,
even to the roping of the wilder cattle, or throwing
the lasso.

Rightly or wrongly, I have always considered this
the very acme of the cowboy's art.

Well away out eastwards in his journey towards
the Rocky Mountains, Wilson had passed many
ranches, the very civilisation of which did not please
him, although he and his waggoners were well
received and kindly treated. But these ranchers had
their flocks wired in. Tiiey grew grass or hay too,
and even grain for their bronchos. Tliere wasn't
enougli romance here to satisfy the young man, so
"Westward ho!" liad ever been his song, and ad-
venturous soul that he was, I do not thiidc he ever
regretted coming to the strange life of " TFt^'re-all-
here."

Autumn was coming on now. It was nearing that
season which the Scots so beautifully express in those
words, " Tlie fa' o' the year."

A liUCK-JUMl'ING EXrEKlENCE

III

1 !|

The "^own was neither in the north nor south
countries, properly speaking, but midway between.
But on the plains towards the east it was rough
enough in all conscience, and picturesque as well,
without being actually romantic.

It was towards the everlasting hills and mountains
that the romance and beauty, too, abode forever and
for aye.

Out there it is sweet and delightful indeed, to
watch the coming of the spring.

The ancients used to depict the goddess of spring
as a beautiful lady with clinging, trailing garments of
many bright colours, gliding across the land and scat-
tering from her lap flowers of every shape and hue.

So might we imagine her in the month of April in
these far-off hills and in the dells.

Softer winds are blowing now. Balmy they well
may be called; for dreary winter finds no longer a
place on the foot-hills, but must climb higher and
higher up the bluff sierras. But the melting snows
flood all the springs, and the snow that only a month
or two ago was falling fast, is now changed into
sleet or rain.

The rain raineth not every day, however; for there
are very many hours of gladsome sunshine, — sun-
shine that maketh joyful the heart of many a bird
and beast. There are buds now, downy buds, on the
silvery bough ; there are dusky green leaves on many
a bush and flowering tree.

Flocks of mallards fly overhead, bound for the far

I
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112

A BUCK-JUMPING EXPERIENCE

; ,

north. Willow grouse are everywhere. Many a wild
bird 'gins to twitter and to sing, and the woods are
carpeted with anemones snow-white and pink, and
with the tender blossoms of sorrel.

And the green on the river banks grows broader
and broader, and spreads out all over the land. It is,
indeed, a hopeful time.

The ranch cattle feel it and know it. For the
misery and wretchedness of winter is past, and the
cow can gladsomely now lead her innocent wee dot
of a calf afield. Yet not without danger; for the
goddess of spring, who has been scattering bud and
burgeon of wild flowers everywhere, has awakened
not only harmless wee squirrels and wise-looking
mountain rats, but wolves as well, and many an
innocent little calf falls a bleeding victim to their
ferocity, bravely though the mother may try to de-
fend them. Yes, and oftentimes die in defending
them. Her carcass then becomes a prey to the wily
fox, to the yelping coyote, and swooping eagle.

But spring has awakened a far more formidable ani-
mal, — the grizzly bear. But from the cave in which
he has been slumbering, snowed up all the winter,
gaunt, bony, and fierce crawls he now. He yawns as
he gazes sleepily around him. Yawns and stretches
himself. Yet so hungry is he that he will gladly
devour even the rattlesnake, which basks yonder on
the sun-heated rock. Ah! but he is in luck, for a
deer comes by, all unconscious that death, in the
shape of t;hat fearsome grizzly, is anywhere so near.

A BUCK-JUMi'ING EXPERIENCE

113

(

Next moment, the agile creature is seized by the
neck or shoulder ; the bear is growling and splutter-
ing now, and the blood, in little jets and fountains, is
" scirping " in all directions.

But autumn comes.

The leaves on the trees are crisp and sear ; brown,
crimson, or yellow. There is a cooler, clearer, and
more bracing atmosphere now. Rain falls ; the grass,
burned almost into hay by the fierce lieat of the sum-
mer's sun, gets greener. Antelopes and deer browse
here, there, and everywhere. There are bears on the
mountains ; there are mallards on every creek and
stream ; there are ravens hovering over carcasses
of defunct cattle, and they croak and rustle their
hard wings as they tear and swallow the putrid
flesh.

Flocks of geese now go southward, and many
species of wild birds, the song of which was so
sweet and beautiful, follow their example.

The puma, too, or mountain lion, loves the sun-
shine of warmer climates, though he likes it not too
hot. He seeks the solitudes of southern forests in
autumn, and, hiding in darkling pines, is a nightmare
to many a wandering deer.

Wilson Webb, takes his place now, like an old hand,
among the cowboys who seek the plains to " cut out,"
or assist in a round-up. He has even learned the cow-
boy's wild shriek or yell, as he goes madly dashing
eastwards. It is all so very exciting.

We have no English sport to be compared with it.

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114

A BUCK^JUMPING EXl'KHIKNCE

if ^

Talk about fox-hunting, why, it is tame in compari-
son.

And what English fox-hunter, I wonder, would
care to ride a buck-jumper? Yet the successful
management of even these unruly steeds, had been
part and parcel of Wilson's cowboy education

111 their cave on the moorland in far-olT England
our younger heroes read with delight a letter de-
scribing Wilson's first experience with a buck-jumper,
and after she had heard it read, Leebie's bonnie eyes
sparkled.

" Oh," cried the brave little maid, " I'm sure I
should like to try a buck-jiun[)er myself!"

" I got on right enough, dear boys," ran the epis-
tle. "I had patted the beast before I mounted, and
whispered something in his ear. I had often noticed
the cowboys doing this, but didn't know what they
said.

" What I said, boys, was this : ' You dear, delight-
ful old buck-jumper, I love you lots more than I can
tell you. But we'll get on ever so nmch better if
you don't buck-jump with me. There's a darling.'

" Well, lads, my buck-jumper simply threw back
his ears, and showed a good deal more of the whites
of his eyes than I cared to see.

" On I vaulted, and away we went. ' Oh,' I said to
myself, ' it is going to be easy sailing, after all,' and
I patted my steed on the neck, as we raced pleasantly
over the plain.

" But the darling suddenly changed his mind, and

A BUCK-JUMPING EXrEUIENCE

115

stopped so suddenly that I found myself on his neck,
in front of tlie saddle, anyhow.

" ' You've got to go off,' he seemed to say ; ' and
the quicker you are about it, the better I shall be
pleased.'

"I got into the saddle immediately again, stuck
the rowels into his side, and being very angiy,
brought my whip down on his neck and ears, as
hard as I knew how to.

" He tossed his head vengefully, from side to side,
and screamed like an equine demon.

" His next motion showed considerable skill, though
I hardly know how it was effected. One thing, how-
ever, was patent enough to me, and that was the
result; but he seemed to bring his fore and hind feet
close together, and arched his back, then straight-
ened suddenly out again, like half a hundredweight
of whalebone.

" There was a pale half-moon in the sky, the leav-
ings of last night, so to speak, and I flew up towards
it; so high, indeed, that I was just thinking of grasp-
ing one of its horns, when down I came again, flop,
into the saddle.

" It did, indeed, hurt.

"But I was no sooner down than I was up once
more, and no sooner up than I was down, and each
descent Avas more painful than the last.

" Then the brute, seeing he could not unship me
in this way, tried new tactics. He went whirling
round and round and round, and finally, when he

1 i'

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ii6

A BUCK-.TUMriNG EXPERIENCE

seemed to know that my brain Avas all upside down,
with one wild, triumphant scream he tossed his hind
legs high in the air, and over his head I flew.

" I alighted on my broad back, lads, with my head
to the golden west and my legs pointing to tlie
moon, and my steed, who had now quite recovered
his complacency, went trotting after the boys, the
most contented and good-natured beast I had ever
seen during my long and checkered career.

" I am sitting on a cushion of soft hay, as I write
these lines, and I do not think there is much chance
of my riding even my own broncho for days to come."

CHAPTER XII

IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT WHILE IT LASTED

" Hark ! That tlirilling awful sound ;
It is the lion's roar." — Anon.

Autumn, with its mournful days and moaning
winds, passed away, and oftentimes the sky was
dark and overcast, and showers of sleet-like clouds
of Scottish mist went whirling along the mountain
sides.

Tliough the puma has gone south and south, and
all the migratory song-birds have fled or flown away;
though the rattlesnakes bask no longer on grey rocks
or clay, and the bears have gone to sleep in caves
high up the hills, the deer have become far tamer,
and are found not far from the foot-hills and in herds,
browsing on whatever Providence has spared them.
There are plenty of mallards still to be shot, how-
ever, and so Wilson Webb gets good sport — sport
that helps to eke out provisions, too. And those birds
will remain here as long as there is open water.

High up the stream where the current was strong,
forming many a rapid and cataract, and farther down,
perhaps, ceasing to flow entirely and forming a beau-
tiful, brown, fish-haunted pool, the great otter loved

117

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ii8

IT WAS A TEllUIBM': FIGHT

to live and dwell when summer days were fine, and
eke in autunui, too; but now he, too, came down tlie
river.

Tlien fell tlie first snow, and one morninf; when
Wilson opened the door of his shanty, tlie world was
robed in white. Tlie Hakes had ceased to fall for a
time, however, and the sun was shining on the daz-
zling plain — shining from rifts of sweetest blue ; yet
far in the east, from which the wind came moaning
and mourning, black-blue clouds were lumped along
the horizon. And had he been a better plainsman
than he yet was, these would have t(jld him that a
storm was brewing.

Wilson had already had breakfast. But he now
put on his cartridge belt, flung a kind of blanket
poncho round him, shouldered his rifle, and started
off towards the foot-hills. He was promising himself
a shot at something. He hoped, indeed, to come up
with some of the grey wolves that ue knew, from the
mournful, wailing howls which lio had heard all night
long, were scouring the plains in search of food.

He could not find their tracks, however. These
had, no doubt, been covered up by the falling snow.
So he wandered on and on, still hill-wards, until he
had put fully three miles betwixt him and the town.

Suddenly he stopped.

Here were footprints, not far from the bank of the
stream, which, although he had never seen on snow
before, he knew must belong to the puma, or Ameri-
can lion — Felis concolor. -

IT WAS A TKKHinLK VUiUT

119

Tlie footmarks were very big and round, so that it
was evident enougli that the beast must be a Largo
one — probably five feet in length.

Wilson's pulse began to beat more quickly now; he
felt something of

" The atern joy that warriors feel
In foemeii worthy of their steel."

He knew, oi* he thought he knew, the natural his-
tory of the American lion well. The plainsmen, or
cowboys, professed to have but little fear of it. This
terrible cat, they had told him, would attack calves
or sheep, slay them, and suck their blood, but in-
variably fled from man. This may be true enough as
regards the beast in summer time ; but a half-starved
puma in winter is a different kind of animal. He
may have had nothing to eat for a day or two, and to
drink the blood of a human being, and devour a por-
tion of his flesh would mean life to him.

Anyhow, Wilson Webb looked to his rifle, and de-
termined to follow up the tracks.

Sometimes these led him quite away from the
river; at other times they took a circuit and brought
him back thereto. It was evident the lion was on
the hunt for something to satisfy his hunger. But
now Wilson approached a thick willow wood, and
here the trees were high.

The light shone here and there in bright, confusing
patches, but on he went — more slowly now.

Suddenly right ahead of him and high up he heard

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IT WAS A TEllRIBLE FIGHT

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a coughing bark or roar. It was part of both, and it
was evident enough that the huge beast with the
yellow, fierce eyes had made up his mind to give him
battle.

It was bad for Wilson that the sun was in his eyes,
making it almost impossible to fire with precision.

He determined, therefore, to make half a circuit,
and so alter things to his advantage.

Whether or not the puma now imagined that the
man was about to beat a retreat, I cannot say; but
w ith a very startling yell that considerably shook the
young man's nerves, he sprang from the tree and
advanced, creeping, crouching, fearsome.

Wilson fired at once. That he wounded the
puma the cry of rage and pain told him plainly
enough, but hardly had he succeeded in drawing
his bowie-knife before the beast was at him, on him.

He fell ; he below, the lion above, its hot breath
blowing in his face, its warm blood spurting all over
him. For Wilson had struck out again and again
with desperation, and every blow, luckily for him,
told.

The brute had seized his poncho, and this probably
saved the hunter's throat or face.

It was a terrible fight while it lasted, but soon, to
his joy, the puma slackened his hold and slid down
by his side — dead, on the brown blood-sprinkled
snow.

It took Wilson some considerable time to recover his
breath and his sang-froid. Indeed, so hot was he that

IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT

121

he was fain to stretch himself on the snow, not far
from the dead lion.

He lay thus for a considerable time ; then making
perfectly sure that the beast was dead, he quietly
proceeded to skin it.

He was quite an adept at this sort of thing, and
very soon the carcass was denuded of its jacket.

"I wish," he said half aloud, "that I had not
made so many holes in it. I have almost spoiled the
skin."

So busily and intently engaged at his work was he,
that not until he had finished did he observe that
the clouds had banked up, and hidden the sun and
that the air was filled with falling snow. "

This was not the worst ; the wind had risen and
came moaning from the east in fitful gusts and the
temperature had fallen considerably.

He must make all haste to get back homewards.
He was determine'^ however, not to lose the splendid
skin. Such a trophy was well worth preserving.
So he made it up in a roll, which he was just about
to fasten to his girdle when he heard a blood-curdling,
wailing howl, that, brave as he was, caused his heart
to almost stand still.

Right well did he know what it was. The wild
grey wolves had scented blood, and were bearing
down upon him in a pack. There was not a moment
to lose. So, still holding on to tnat roll of skin and
to his rifle, he seized a branch and quickly drew him-
self up into a gjod-sized tree.

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122

IT WAS A TEltlUBLE FTOIIT

For a time, at all events, he was safe. Tlie wolves
would scatter and go onward, lie told liiniself, as
soon as they had ilnislied the carcass of the puma.

There were thirty of them, at least, tall and fierce
and grey, and the way they snarled and fought over
the flesh told Wilson Webb tliat terrible, indeed,
would be his doom, if, by any accident, he should
fall into their clutches.

But tliey had finished at last, and now surrounded
the tree, lifting up their voices in hideous shrieks and
wailings.

They could not climb, it is true ; but they had
sense enough to spring, and they knew, too, that if
tliey took a diort race to it, tlie leap would be higher.

More than once, then, a huge monster sprang so
high that he had all but seized tlie brave liunter by
the foot. This was a species of danger he could not
have foreseen.

Wliy not climb higher up into tlie tree? one may
ask. 8iin[)ly because the branches would scarcely
have borne his weight, or the}' might liave bent to it,
letting him fall into tlie very midst of the howling
p£ick, when short, indeed, would have been his sluift.

lie hung the skin liiglier aliove liim, however, and
reloading liis rifle, took aim and fired. Tlie wolf he
struck fell, utteriug the most piercing yells, and his
companions not only speedily put him out of his
misery, but tore him limb fiiuii limb.

Wilson found now tliat he had but few cirtrid':<^-.
in his belt, and determined to save them.

THEY SURROUNDED THE TREE.

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IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT

123

But how bitterly cold it had suddenly become I
How thick the snow ! how wild the wind ! He had
heard of the blizzards that often swept over these
plains and foot-hills, even in early winter, and un-
doubtedly this was ore of them.

Could anything save him from the death that
seemed so imminent? He must soon be numbed,
thoroughly numbed, and then he should fall from
the tree, half-frozen, into the very centre of that pack
of waiting wolves. Even they seemed to feel the
terrible cold, and now huddled close together or lay
on top of each other in a heap.

* « * « «

A whole hour must have gone past, but still the
storm raged on.

He had somehow become regardless, by this time,
as to what his fate might be. At times he caught
himself nodding, and twice he saved himself from fall-
ing only by an extreme effort of will power.

Half asleep, half dreaming as he was, a happy
thought, which was almost an inspiration, now
crossed his mind. Luckily he had brought with
him a rope, or lariat, and so, with half-frozen
fingers, he proceeded to make himself fast to the
stem of the tree, as many a poor sailor does, at sea,
to the rigging of his tempest-tossed barque.

He felt comparatively safe after this.

But the intense cold had taken terrible hold of his
heart and brain.

Presently, he seemed to be in the tree no longer.

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IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT

He was far away in Merry England. He was on
the moor, on the chiklren's prairie land, and they
were near him, all merry, happy, and gay.

It was, indeed, a beautiful dream !

But, ah, me ! such dreams do often usher in cold
death itself.

Wilson's head had dropped forward on his chest,
his cheeks were covered with ice, his hair was
matted with frozen snow.

And, oil ! the wind, the wind ! How bitterly, how
mercilessly, it blew ! ;

His feet were already, to all intents and purposes,
dead, and death was creeping nearer and nearer to
the heart itself ; but long before it should reach it,
all would be over.

- « ' . ♦■ ■ ' ^ HI ■ « *

About ten o'clock on that same day, Nate Buster
had occasion to call at Wilson's shanty, and Tweed
went with him. The blizzard was just then begin-
ning to blow and roar like wild beasts in the far
distance.

When the young man's landlady told Nate that
he had left two hours before, v/ith his rifle across
his shoulder, and had taken his way towards the
foot-hills, for a few moments Buster seemed com-
pletely taken aback.

" Oh, my poor English friend ! " he cried. " We
will never, never see him more."

But it was a time for action, and if anything
could be done, Nate was just the man to attempt it.

IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT

125

He quickly now flew from house to house to tell
the sad tidings, and in fifteen minutes' time, ten bold
liorsemen were speeding westwards as quickly as
the blinding drift and snow would permit.

But there was soon nothing to direct them, and
hope itself seemed to sink in every heart. But see,
what is that on ahead, feathering through the snow?
Why, it is honest Tweed, and he can be but dimly
seen, so thickly is he coated with snow.

The men can only talk in signs, but the doctor
and Nate are both pointing towards the dog. He
is taking the wrong direction, apparently, but yet
they determine to follow him.

On and on and on.

And now, from far ahead of them, comes the wail-
ing, sobbing sound of a pack of wolves. Tweed
answers it with defiant barks, and hope settles down
once more in every breast. But suddenly all sounds
cease. Even the dog seems puzzled now, and for
a whole half-hour runs hither and thither aimlessly.

The men are just thinking of giving up the search.
So terrible is now the blizzard, that they begin to
doubt whether their snorting, gasping horses will be
able to carry them home again.

But, see! Tweed is once more on the trail, and bark-
ing anxiously, joyfully. On they speed again, and
very soon they reach the wood, and are close to the
pack of half-frozen wolves.

A volley is fired into their very midst, and so
closely are they huddled together, that many are

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IT WAS A TKHHIBLE FIOIIT

killed and many more crawl off wounded, to perisli
afterwards in the snow.

But where is Wilson? Can the wolves have de-
voured him?

No, for Tweed, with his nose in the air, is barking
joyfully up at the tree.

Nate himself and the doctor — both are young
and active — are soon up. The lariat is loosened,
and Wilson Webb's half-frozen body lowered to the
ground. *■ .

But some attempt to bring him round must be
made before the start, else they would reach the
city of shanties carrying a corpse.

So a kind of shelter from the cutting blast is
speedily formed, and the men take turns in rub-
bing and chafing the seemingly dead man's limbs
and body. And soon they have the intense satis-
faction of hearing him moan as if in pain.

Presently he opens his eyes and smiles faintly.

" Saved ! " cries Nate. " God in heaven high be
praised ! "

" Saved I yes, saved ! " cries the doctor.

Then he puts a flask to Wilson's lips, and bids
him sip and swallow.

And soon he is so far revived that with a little
support he can sit up.

He gazes around him for a few moments be-
wilderedly, but he seems to know both Nate and
the doctor. He nods and smiles and tries to speak.
But his lips are still half frozen and powerltss.

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IT WAS A TKRRIBLE FIGHT

127

" The poo-Iioo's sh-sli-sliin ! " he mutters more than
once.

The doctor shakes his head.

" The poor fellow is raving ! " he says.

But Wilson evidently refuses to admit that he is
not sensible enough.

" Waving ! " he says. '' No, no, no. No fall. The
poo-hoo's sh-shin. Must 'ave poo-hoo's shin."

It is Tweed himself who solves tlie riddle, with
that marvellous instinct which only dogs possess.

With a sharp, impatient bark he jumps up, and
going a few yards away, commences scraping and
snuffing in the snow.

In a few moments he has dug up and dragged
forth a hideous red and fleshless skull. It is that
of the puma.

Tweed carries it towards poor Wilson, and lays it
ceremoniously by his side.

" I have it ! I have it ! " cries Nate now. " Our
English friend has killed and skinned the [)uma,
and is trying to tell us to bring along the
skin.

" The poo-hoo's shin," he added, "means the puma's
skin."

Wilson nodded and smiled.

"Away, good dog, and fetch!" cries Nate, and
speedily the skin is found.

But that march homeward was, indeed, a terrible
struggle and test of the strength and endurance of
these hardy cowboys and their horses.

128

IT WAS A TEKRIULE FlCJUT

They reached the town at last, and Wilson, still
more dead than alive, was put to bed, and only the
most careful nursing for three days and three nights,
during which time Nate hardly ever left the room,
sufficed to bring him round at last.

n\t> ' " i

CHAPTER XIII

THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP

»>

" See, Winter comes to rule the varied year." — Thomson.

Snow and ice ! Ice and snow everywhere I

The stream has narrowed and narrowed till it is
now but a dark and winding thread, meandering
between its banks of dazzling white. The birds —
mallards — remain but a little longer now; for they
have wings that can bear them south and away to a
land where there is open water, — a land where,
though rain may fall heavily, the glorious sun shines
many times and oft, his warm beams not shorn by the
frost. Happy birds !

But here it does not always snow. For there are
days of exceeding brightness when the sun, like a
silver shield, sails along in a sky of cloudles uie
and is reflected from plains of dazzling white ; and
nights when the moon is so clear one can see to read
by its light. Night and silence, save for the mourn-
ful cry of the grey wolves that in small packs may
even be seen at times scouring the plains in search
of food !

But it is the cattle and horses that Wilson Webb
pities most now. True enough, they have been pro-
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TIIK GREAT Sl'UING "UOUND-Ul"'

■ f

vided by nature with a winter eoat of long, thick
hair, but even this hardly sulliues to withstand the
wintry blast, and they shiver as they are huddled
together in groups or try by scra[)ing to reach tlie
benevolent bunch-giass. It is the want of proper
sustenance that is worst of all to bear. Had they
plenty of forage, plenty to eat, the blood would not
be so thin and poor and they would be deliant of the
heaviest storms that could blow.

Last autumn the best and fattest of the flocks
were, of course, driven away to the Eastern markets;
so these poor beasts are the poorest, and many cows
succumb to the weather and lie dead in the midst of
their fellows. Here is a feast for the howling wolves
and for the black and croaking raven, that loves to
stain his rough grey beak with blood or carrion.

But Wilson is not surprised to find that the wind,
which goes wildly sweeping across the hills, drives
before it the powdery snow, often filling up the
ravines witli drifts and often burying beasts alive.
But this very wind, in other ways, helps to keep the
poor brutes in life ; for they can find grass on the hills
it has swept bare.

Should a slight thaw come, — and this often happens,
— succeeded by a harder frost than ever, the cattle
may become encrusted or caked with ice. They
often lose all heart then, care not to feed, become
paralysed, and just lie down to die.

Wilson Webb was young and very strong, and he
gladly assisted the boys now in their long, wild rides

THE UUEAT SrUINCi "liUUNI)-Ur"

131

across the ranges to do what they could for tlio
cattle.

More than once they were caught in terrible bliz-
zards, and glad, indeed, and thankful were they when
they managed to escape with life. Tiiey were not
all invariably so lucky. One or two poor fellows even,
with their horses, had sunk to rise no more. And were
no more seen, indeed, having mistaken the route and
wandered far, far away in the wrong direction. No
more seen, I mean, until the spring "round-up,"
when their bodies would be discovered, — poor Luke
or poor Joe, — mayhap at the side of some little bank
where, in vain, they had sought for shelter, or at the
bottom of some rocky caiion over which they had
been hurled, when the blinding, choking, remorseless
blizzard was at its very worst.

Did Wilson suffer ? No, he was strong and wiry,
and really loved adventure for its own sake. He was
waxing hardier and hardier too, and fitting himself,
though he did not know it then, to undergo the hard-
ships and rigours of a country far wilder and rougher
than even this.

Wilson might have been called a "tenderfoot"
when he first ?-rrived in the country of the cowboy.
He was very far, indeed, from being a tenderfoot
now.

Just look at him this afternoon, and that may be
almost any stormy afternoon, as he alights from his
broncho at the saloon door after a long wild ride.
Boys come out to meet him, and though drowsy still.

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132

THE GREAT SPKING "ROUND-UP"

he tries to smile, but his moustache is caked with ice
and his lips feel frozen. There is ice on his eyelids,
and ice on his cheeks — a very mask of it.

But he hands his horse to a boy, doffs his hat and
shakes it, and after another boy has swept him down
with a willow broom, he enters.

Hot enough in here, in all conscience, and he soon
thaws. The landlord places before him a huge mug
of fragrant coffee. Lizzie brings him biscuits, and
soon he is his own old self once more.

Lizzie brings him something else a few minutes
after this.

Tlie child is a favourite of his as well as of the good
doctor, and really she lias many very engaging ways
about her.

She fetches his fiddle-case. He looks at it and
looks at her. Then he looks at his left hand and
blows upon his fingers.

" Well, dear, if I must, then I suppose I must," he
says.

There are many boys here. They have been play-
ing poker, lounging around and smoking, but they
prepare to listen, and Wilson's music really enthralls
them.

They beg of him to play this, that, or t'other, their
favourite airs; that is, tunes that bring back to them
scenes long since passed and gone, songs that their
mothers or sisters used to sing in the days when they
were very young, very romantic, and somewhat wild.
Days when they thought there must be no life so

THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP"

133

free and joyous as that of mounted cowboy, with his
broad hat, his lariat, his strange boots and " chaps,"
his knife and liis guns.

Yes, for among the boys that h)unge here by the
counter, their eyes fixed upon the performer, there is
more than one gentleman's son, young men from the
East who even now might be enjoying all the pleas-
ures and comforts of luxury and refinement in their
happy homes so far away.

No wonder that one or two of them, as Wilson
plays, lift their hands to their faces to dash away
the tear they would feel ashamed their comrades
should see.

That violin of his brought Wilson Webb a fair
share of popularity., and I believe I am not going too
far when I say he had not an enemy in the whole
town. But there was another reason for this ; he
never gambled nor played poker. Had he not seen
enough of the gambling fiend in the old country to
last him a lifetime ?

Well, once more winter wore aw *y, and prepara-
tions were now commenced for the great "round-up,"
tliat takes place every spring.

This was for the branding of the calves, and
intensely exciting work it proved.

Woi'k for men, real men ; work at which your cow-
ardly queen's hound followers of England would fail
in half a day.

But in spring takes place what is called the calf
round-up, and this not until the calves are big

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134

THE GREAT SPRING " ROUND-Ul' "

and strong enough to stand the branding. In the
free-grass round-up, the cowboy is said to be seen
at his very best ; for in this, all the wild cattle have
to be collected, headed away and away till they are
brought together in one immense herd, and then
comes the counting of them, the separating, and the
identification and claiming, each owner having his
own brand.

The skill, the ingenuity, and courage that are dis-
played in this round-up is nothing short of marvellous.

There are many spring oi' calf round-ups in a
free-grass country, often a dozen and more, and the
owners have to go shares in the expenses. Ea h
district has, of course, its head man, or boss, whose
duties are by no means light, nor free from respon-
sibility.

Well, this particular spring promised to be very
fine.

" We never have seen liner grass," said the Inde-
2}endent^ " nor friskier, happier nags, and we are will-
ing to bet our best and latest printing machine to a
new hat, that the summer is going to be a line one."

These words were printed in the bold editor's sec-
ond edition, and he thouglit fit to give one or two
warnings at the same time^ He put these in words
that it would have been difficult to misunderstand.
" There are one or two softies, " the article ran, " who
haven't yet paid tlieir last subscription. Ore of these
is Bill Wickens; another is that mutton-headed galoot,
Joe Farnley. We mean to lay for the pair of them,

THE GREAT SrRINCx "ROUND-UP"

135

and when we have shot an ear off each, they will pay
up, and save the other one. Last fall there were
some rustlers about on the range. These cattle-
thieves did a good thing by their drive, and took
away more fat beasts than our fellows could spare.
We give them fair warning that if they come again
in August, we shall prepare for them some special
graves, and we shan't bury them too deep, either ; for
as a wild winter generally follows a fine season, it is
only fair that the grey wolves and the ravens sliould
have a square meal. Rustlers, beware ! We happen
to know that these lines will be seen by the cattle-
lifters, for our Independent finds its way into evei-y
part of the known world, and thf British queen of
England would not sit down to Ijcr Sunday's break-
fast — which is more nutritious than that f>f a week-
day — v^ere the Independent not placed beside her
plate. Now, God speed you, merry, merry cowboys
all, and hurrah ! for the spring round-up."

As Wilson had never before been at any such great
meeting, he found quite a deal to wonder at, and liis
letters home to Leebie and the boys filled them with
delight and envy-

Of course, he took his camera with him. In fact,
he never went far without it, and had already made
quite a collection of interesting views of everything
connected with life on the ranch, on the range, or in
the city of " Fe're-all-here " itself. .

" You'll have some real hard iiding,"Nate told him
one beautiful evening early in May.

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THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP"

" Yes," said the Doc, " and if you're going to go in
for the sport in good earnest, you will need five extra
horses."

" Five extra horses ! "

" Yes ; we'll all have that, and more.

"And," continued Nate, " mebbe, as we've got to
meet boys from all quarters, although you may take
your gu.is, you'd best keep your temper."

" Yes, sirree," said the Doc. " Nate's about right ;
and if they call you British and a tenderfoot, just
laugh. They'll withdraw the insinuations after
they've seen ye ride a bit."

Well, the start was made at last, and that very even-
ing they camped out on the plain. It happened to be
a moonlight night, and veiy clear and bright was the
sky. Very pretty, too, looked the tents and the
flickering mess-fires ; waggons here, and waggons
there, and little herds of horses. But what struck
Wilson most was the methodical and business-like
way, in wliich every matter of detail was arranged
and carried out. Phis particular outfit might have
consisted of somewhat under forty men, including
the chief cow-puncher, captain or boss, and his lieu-
tenant, who knew to a nicety the tricks and manners
of every man Jack there, and what they were lit for.
On the whole, the band was like a little army on the
war-path.

Early-to bed was the order of the day, or rather of
the evening. And soon there was little to be heard
around the camp, except the sea-like moans of the

THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP

137

dreary wind, or tlie mournful cry of owl or yelp of
coyote hovering near the camp.

Wilson slept so soundly that when awakened at
length by the shout of the lieutenant ordering all
hands to roll out, he could scarcely believe the day
had, indeed, begun.

But he was hungry and he was as fresh as the wild
flowers. Good signs both.

There was a stream at no great distance, and with
Nate's collie Tweed bounding by his side, he mounted
his broncho and rode off to have a swim.

How delightfully cool and refreshing was that
bath, and I feel sure the nag enjoyed it quite as much
as his master or the dog, either.

Breakfast !

Saddling !

Striking of tents and horsing of waggons ! Up
and away !

Every little corps or band has its orders ; every one
knows his duty, the portion of the plain to scour, the
cattle to head, and the final place of meeting.

Much art, if, indeed, I might not call it science, is
displayed in herding the wild and scattered cattle to
the meeting-place. It is hard and tiring work, too,
especially on that first day, before the cowboys have
been hardened or set as it were to their work.

What a babel it is! With the shouting of the
cowboys whirling here and whirling there, sweeping
and floating round and round in every attitude of
grace and wild beauty imaginable; the neighing of

138

THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP"

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the little horse herds ; the lowing and moaning of the
frightened cattle, and their still more frightened
calves !

And what dust and heat over all the apparently
chaotic scene !

But it is not chaos, and soon the work of cutting
out commences ; for each mother with her calf has to
be separated from the general herd, the latter to be
branded with the hot irons, with the brand of the
mother.

The work is terribly hard, and Wilson Webb, who
has his own duties to perform and is, in fact, now a
cowboy to all intents and purposes, finds that he must
mount another horse every time he goes into the herd.

And these horses or ponies really appear to be as
wise as their masters.

A tally must be kept of every cow and calf thus
driven clear of the general herd.

Then comes the curving in the air of the long rope
or lasso. It swirls around the cowboy's head, like a
living, v/rithing thing, but with lightning speed ; it
now spins through the air, and a calf is roped and
thrown.

Next comes the branding ; necessary, of course, but
p?inful and cruel on the whole. The poor moaning
mother can hardly be kept away.

" Oh, be gentle ! Be gentle, boys ! " sh*) seems to
cry, and when at last her dazed offsprinjr .*:.taggers to
her side, her display of affection, as f>he gently licks
the tender part, is really more than human.

THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP"

139

Well, when the first day's work w^as over, Wilson
— and there were many more like him — felt little
inclination to do anything else except eat and sleep.

He was tired and made no attempt to hide it ; but
it was a wholesome, happy tiredness. •

His was a dreamless, solid slumber that night, and
every night during the whole round-up.

But he had gained strength every day, and after
the return of the cowboys, he got out his fiddle, which
was always left in the charge of little Lizzie, and the
lads had such a dance as was seldom to be witnessed,
even in the city of " TTe're-all-here."

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CHAPTER XIV

ON THE WAR-PATH

"Over the prairie, wild, bleak and wide ;
The foe is ahead — and we ride, and we ride,
Our steeds flecked with foam — but, see ! they're in sight I
Steady 1 men, steady ! — and now for the fight."

The fiercely hpt summer passed on and away, and
then preparations were made for the beef round-up.
Yet hot though the summer had been, it was not,
strange to say, a dry one. So the grass had been abun-
dant ; and the cattle, on inspection, were found to be
in fine condition, and quite fit to be driven off to
Northern or Eastern markets or railway stations.

Whether the Independent liad or had not so large
a circulation as bold Mr. Whetstone was pleased to
claim for it, I am not prepared to say. And to his
assertion that Her Majesty the Queen would refuse
her Sunday-morning meal, did not this somewliat liigh-
flavoured and greasy sheet flank her plate of liver
and bacon, 1 think the editor was drawing the long
bow. Anyhow, his warning to the rustlers, or cattle
thieves, proved all in vain ; for one evening, as Wil-
son and the Doc. were enjoying a pipe on the verandah
of the saloon, little Lizzie, as usual, on the medico's

140

ON THE WAR-PATH

141

knee, the trampling hoofs of a galloping horse could
be heard coming nearer and nearer, and presently
Nate himself pulled his dust-stained, perspiring nag
right on his haunches beside them.

" Doctor," he cried, " and you, Webb ! Up, men !
up ! and help me to rouse the camp and city. The
rustlers have been onto us. The dog-gone thieves and
scoundrels have cut out and got away, with a whole
drove of our beefiest and best."

Here was news, indeed; and the whole of the city
of " TFisj're-all-here " was speedily aroused and pre-
paring for action.

" This is to be a fight to the death, boys," said
Whetstone ; " though dying in any ordinar' way is a
dang'd sight too good for those durned rustlers.
Well, ye can't say that we ourself, in the cols, of the
Independent didn't give you warning. I takes the
command in person, therefore, of this 'ere expedition,
and I appoints Nate Buster, Wilson Webb, and the
brave Doc. here my chief officers. Take your tools.
Doc, for we mean business, and you'll liave bullets
to extract on our side, as well as men to kill on the
other."

The cowboys raised a cheer, and the very horses
held their heads on high, as if they knew they were
going on the war-path, and in imagination sniffed the
battle from afar.

The cowboys were now drawn up in line for in-
spection ; for nothing must be forgotten. Stores of
ammunition must be taken, as well as stores of food.

Ah,

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ON THE WAll-1'ATH

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Then the men were ordered to dismount, and while
the bronchos were feeding, they had their final meal
and their final drink. ,»

Then good-byes were said to those to be left behind,
and the order was given to " mount and ride."

This was to be an adventure out of the oonimon.
Wilson Webb felt sure enough of that, though he
could not have foreseen how grimly it was going to
end.

The days were still very long, and, moreover, there
would be a round moon shining all night long, in a
cloudless, greenish-yellow sky.

After thev had ridden about ten miles, the sun
having gone down behind the grand old sierras in
a dazzling orange haze, they dismounted by the banks
of a stream, where the horses could drink and graze
for half an hour.

Then the stream was forded, and on they rode
once more. But Nate, who was riding on a little
way ahead, his object being to fall in with the trail
of the rustlers, had humanely lifted Tweed, and held
him on the saddle in front of him, else the poor fellow
would have been exhausted.

Although, before encamping for a few hours' rest,
they did come upon the trail, which was so distinct
that a baby could have followed it, the rustlers had
at least two days' start of them, and so it would take
some time to come up with tliem — if ever they did.

Supper was speedily cooked and served. Yes, and
eaten with that hearty appetite which the cowboy

ON THE WAR-1'ATII

'43

• abroad on the plains never wants. Then down they
lay, and, rolling themselves in ponchos or rugs, were
soon fast asleep.

Although given to boastiiig a little at times, there
was not a much smarter man anywhere about than
Whetstone. He dearly loved activity, and his men
had not slept over four hours when he was in their
midst once more.

" Roll out, boys ! roll out ! Up and away ! We'll
give these rustlers beans before another sunset."

They watered their horses at a pond not far on
along the trail. In or near this pool were the car-
casses of no less than two fine horned cattle torn
and disembowelled by the coyotes. The poor beasts
seemed to have dropped dead even as they stooped
to drink.

" Well," said Nate, " this proves, anyhow, that the
dog-goned rustlers are putting a foot in it. They are
goin' fast enough to Imst any ordinar' cattle ! "
< " We'll soon bust them," said Whetstone, grimly.

" As for me," said the doctor, " I'm just spoilin' for
a fight."

On and on for seven long miles, and just as the
sun was illumining the clouds far away in the east,
they halted near a wood to breakfast. Never, surely,
had a morning meal been more hardly earned. Never,
certainly, was one done more ample justice to.

But Whetstone permitted the whole of his little
army to have an hour and a half's rest.

" We might come up with the blessed cattle-thieves

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144

t)N THE WAIl-rATlI

at any moment men, and tired men don't have a show
in a hand-to-hand fight.

" Look to your guns now, lads," he said, before
they started. And every one obeyed.

" Nate, the ground is getting hilly and woody. I
don't like to risk going too close to those clumps of
trees .all at once. Just be the scout, will you ? "

" Gladly," said Nate, and, still holding the dog in
front of him, on he rode.

But no enemy appeared that day.

Nate climbed a highish hill next morning, and,
to his inexpressible joy, could see far ahead of him,
and near to a small farm, or ranch, a band of rustlers
hurrying on a herd of cattle in front of them.

Whether he had been seen or not, he could not
tell ; but all was excitement in Whetstone's little
army of fifteen good men and true, when they saw
Nate tearing back towards them, riding as only a true
trained cowboy can, and waving his hat in the air.

" Coo-ee I Coo-ee ! " he was shouting.

Every man would have ridden at the gallop there
and then, but Whetstone was too good a general to
permit any such rashness.

He called a halt, and listened to Nate's report
with more seriousness than was usually displayed
by him.

"And you think they must be nearly twenty
strong ? "

" I guess they're pretty near."
■ "Well, boys," said Whetstone, "my own heart's

ON THE WAU-rATII

ju8t ii-boilin' over, and IVl like to rusli 'em; but
we've got to make sure, and wc can't be sure and
Burtain athout bein' cautious."

They went on more slowly now, Nate going ahead
again to scout.

He had disappeared round a clump of trees, when
suddenly the sharp report of a rifle rang out on the
still air, followed by another; and then the scout
was seen riding back in all haste.

" We're discovered ! " he cried.

" Ay, that we are. I've winged the rustlers' scout,
but he was able to ride away."

"Yes, and if we're discivered," said Whetstone,
musingly, "they'll fight afore they go farther."

" That's so."

"And bein' so, Nate, it strikes me we'd better
hold a council o' war."

This was immediately done.

Several of the party, esi^ecially the warlike doctor,
proposed going on at once, and delivering an attack
in force.

" Because," he explained, " they'll entrench that
ranch. Sure to. These rustlers are all cowards ;
but safe behind an embankment, you'll find they
can fire finely, and fight till all is blue."

Wilson Webb was somewhat of the same opinion,
but Nate and Whetstone had different ideas, and
their plans were carried when put to the vote.

There was to be no hurry, but plenty of caution,
and victory — Whetstone said — was certain.

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ON THE WAR-PATH

Well, there was still a long day before the men
of " TT^^'re-all-here," so the main trail was deserted,
.'ind before two o'clock they had made quite a detour,
and were prepared to descend upon the ranch from
the opposite side.

It was evident enough that the rustlers had given
up all hopes of keeping the stolen cattle, and would
now bend all their efforts to saving their own
cowardly skins. The cattle were allowed to roam
free, therefore, and were browsing and resting
quietly after their long, fatiguing drive.

The north and e^st sides of the ranch were not only
hilly, but covered with brush and trees, thus afford-
ing excellent cover for the attacking party.

Moreover, the rustlers had made one mistake to
begin with, and had spent the whole forenoon in
fortifying the south and west aspects of the ranch.

It was not the first time these cattle-thieves had
made a raid upon the range belonging to the men of
" TF(?'re-all-here," and so they knew they had but
small mercy to expect.

They should, figuratively speaking, be fighting with
halters round their necks, and desperate, indeed, would
be their resistance.

"If we could only get them out into the open,"
said Nate to his chief, "small and quick work we'd
make on 'em. Anyhow," he added, " we can cut out
their horses."

Tliey were just outside and to the north of the
ranch buildings.

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ON THE WAR-PATH

147

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And they were securely hobbled.

Well, there is nothing like daring; so Nate's pro-
posal was speedily acted on and a rush made. A
withering volley was fired as they dashed on, and the
defenders, deserting their half-built trenches, took
shelter in the log-house itself, firing through the
windows.

A badly aimed volley or two, that was all. and it
was returned in force by a rattling, well-delivered
fire that nothing could withstand.

Meanwhile some of the boys were busy setting the
enemy's horses free and driving them away to the
woods.

" Come out, you durned rustlers ! " roared Whet-
stone ; " and if you'll fight like men, we'll try to give
ye fits. But if you feel ye ain't got the grit in you,
lay down your arms and I promise that never a hair
in your scalps'll be raised till ye interview the sheriff
of 'TTe're-all-here.' "

Another volley from a window was the only
reply.

A bullet tore through the editor's best hat, and
one of his men fell wounded. In the strong arms of
one of his comrades he was borne to the bush, and the
doctor followed to bind up his wounds.

Now, when Whetstone had proposed great caution
in dealing with the rustlers, he had believed they
would have thrown up a trench of some sort on all
sides. But now, that they had not, he determined
to alter his tactics somewhat. He could either lay

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148

ON THE WAR-PATH

siege to the ranch and starve its garrison into subjec-
tion, or he could burn them out.

He chose the hitter phin after further consultation
with his officers and men.

Luckily for Whetstone's operations, there were no
windows anywhere save in front.

He set his fellows, therefore, to cut down brush-
wood and roll it down the declivity to the back of
the house, whence it could easily be carried to the
front and piled up against the windows.

The good fellows worked briskly and manfully,
and before sunset had made their pile.

But now rest and food were imperative, and it
was filially agreed that the main attack should not
be made till early morning, when tlie boys would be
fresh and hearty.

Sentries were set, however, and so, not knowing
what a day or an hour might bring forth, the cow-
boys, aft'U' feeding and tending to their horses, lay
down and, rolling themselves in their blankets, were
soon fast asleep.

■iMiRivESJwnnTOiimvimcMMRn^^

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CHAPTER XV

THE BATTLE — LYNCHiiD AT THE STAKE
" Revenge is a kind of civil justice." — Bacon.

Nothing occurred to disturb the rest of those
brave and weary men, and it still wanted three
hours of the dawn when Whetstone awoke them.
There was no wild shouting of " roll out ! roll out ! "
The worthy editor simply stepped quietly round, and
placed a hand on the shoulder of each.

And, thus awakened, all were soon aware that the
time for action had arrived.

The cam}>-fire was still burning, however; and
before starting to work in grim earnest, coffee was
made and bread was served out. The cowboys felt
like giants refreshed.

Then they were led down to the ranch, where the
piles of brushwood lay.

When they saw the very first portion of the pile
tossed up against the north window, the defenders
began to fear and tremble.

" Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Duusinane."

But here was Birnam wood coming, and that, too,
with a vengeance, — the vengeance of robbed and

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THE BATTLE

wronged men, whom there was no law to protect
except the might that, in cases like this, stands for
right.

Several volleys were fired from the now blocked
windows, Init, as they did no harm, they were not
even replied to.

The cowboys' fire would come soon enough.

At last the huge piles were completed. The door,
however, was left free.

But fire was not applied until broad daylight.

There was but little wind, but little though it
was, it blew against the front of the house. So
luck was all on the side of the besiegers.

Now came the tug of war, and it was evident to
all that the " tulzie " would be a terrible one. The
besieged were three times called upon to surrender,
and the only answer was a volley of firearms and a
volley of taunts and horrid imi)recations.

"Fire the brush, now," shouted Wlietstone, "and
smoke the rats out, o' thar tarnation holes ! "

Nate himself at one window, and the bold Doc.
at the other, fired their pistols into a bunch of dry
grass close to the bottom of tlie piles. Tlie flames
leapt upwards in a few little tongues of yellow ; the
wind cauglit these, and next minute the whole was
aliglio.

Whetstone now drew off his men a distance of
twenty yards, and from this spot they could con-
centrate their tire upon the door and places near
to it.

H«K«\i

THE BATTLE

151

Though rough and hardened as regards the tak-
ing of human life, the editor had a little pity in his
heart ; for he once more, and finally, asked the army
to capitulate to save useless bloodshed. "Never! "

That was the scornful reply, and it was the last
they iiad a chance of making.

There was the cracking of glass now, and the
terrible I'oaring of the fire ; for the doomed ranch had
caught and would soon be but a heap of ruins.

But now the door is thrown suddenly open and a
withering volley is fired before the rush is made.
Several of Whetstone's men have fallen, but the
reply is a fearful one, and that doorway is almost
immediately piled uj) with dead and with the
writhing bodies of the wounded.

The rest of the besieged men now make a break
for the wood. There lies their only chance of safety.

But many are tumbled like rabbits in a pine
wood, before the}'- reach the friendly shelter, and
rushing on after tliem, the cowboys succeed in
making no less than live prisoners. And one of
these is the boss rustler, or captain himself.

BeiuGf certain that nothing alive can now be inside
that red-hot, fiery ranch. Whetstone gives orders for
the prisoners to be securely made fast to trees, and
for the wounded of the enemy to be hauled away
from tlie doorway, where there was a likelihood of
their being roasted alive.

Then he turns his attention to his own poor fel-
lows, among whom the doctor is now busy enough.

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THE BATTLE

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But two are already stone-dead, one is dying, and
three more are wounded.

Among these latter is Nate Buster himself. A
bullet has passed right through his shoulder, severing
an important artery, which, however, the doctor has
managed to ligature, and thus his life is saved, for
the time.

But see who comes yonder. Why, a mere lad,
bareheaded, bare-legged, and wearing only a shirt
and pants.

He is weeping bitterly.

" Who are you, my boy ? " said Whetstone, placing
a kindly hand upon his head.

" Oh, sir, I'm little Johnnie Grant. There was
only me and fadder and mudder that lived in the
ranch."

" Doctor, doctor," cried Whetstone, " in the
bustle of battle we have quite forgotten the inmates
of the house. They must have been burned alive."

" No," said Johnnie, " not burned alive. Poor ole
fadder and mudder was burn'd dead.

" Es, sirree, the rustler boss shot 'em bof las'
night. Oh, my pore ole fadder! Oh, oh !"

Whetstone was an angry man now.

" Come with me, lad, to the trees, and point out to
me the durned snake that slew your parents."

This tlie boy did.

" That's lie, sir," he said, pointing to a broad-
shouldered, daring-looking man of about thirty.

The boy had dried his eyes, but at sight of this

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THE BATTLE

153

fiend in human form, he drew back in terror ; then
his tears fell faster than ever.

The boss rustler spat defiance at Whetstone, as he
drew near.

" You mean, despicable, dog-goned coward ! " cried
the editor. "Not content witli being a thief, you
must stain your hands in the blood of a defenceless
old man and woman ! Have you a single word to say
for yom-self?"

" No, and I wouldn't to you, if I had. You'll lynch
me, I know. But do your dangedest, I've only one
life to lose, and it's yours. I've but one favour to ask
of ye. Let the rope you hang me with be a strong
one. I don't want to trouble you trussing me up
twice."

" Hang ye ! " cried Whetstone. " Hang a blood-
stained, red-fanged wolf like you ! You shall receive
no such courtesy at our hands. Listen, at one hour
before sunrise to-morrow morning, you shall be burned
at the stake, and may Heaven have mercy on your
guilty soul."

It was evident the sentence was unexpected.
The wretch was seen to tremble and strain at liis
ropes, as if he fain would have burst them and
rushed on to some death far less terrible.

Whetstone said nothing to the other prisoners,
but, turning on his heel, he walked away.

The charred remains of the old man and his wife
were found that evening, and received decent burial.
So did the bodies of the dead cowboys. Those of the

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154

THE BATTLE

enemy were to be left to feed the grey wolves, the
ravens, or the coyotes.

But their wounded received as much attention
from the kindly Doc. as did his own.

Tliere grew a tall, strong pine tree at some dis-
tance from the wood, and around this Whetstone, a
short time after sunset, gave orders that the rustler
boss should be made fast.

And this was done, T am sorry to have to relate,
with barbed wire fencing, a coil of which had been
found in an outhouse. Then a huge pile of brush-
wood was built around the unhappy man, and. thus he
was condemned to pass the night, in a state of mental
and bodily agony that cannot be described.

This might have been cowboy justice, but it is
terrible, indeed, to think of. Just before moonrise
Whetstone, considerably mollified, now told the
doctor he might, if he chose, send the murderer to
sleep.

"Not eternally, Doc. Take care, for the law must
run its course, and the blood of Grant and his wife
calls to Heaven for vengeance I "

The Doc. tooiv iialf a bottle of old rye, poured into
it a few drops of a brown tincture, and approaching
the tree, held it to the man's lips.

" Drink," he said. " You have much to suffer, soon."

" A thousand thanks ! " murmured the prisoner.

Then he drank, and speedily his chin rested on his
breast. He was sound asleep.

Slowly the day began to dawn. Wilson Webb had

THE BATTLE

155

never left poor Nate's side. Nate had nursed him
once ; it was his turn now.

Surely dogs know something about coming death ;
for Tweed, poor fellow, was never absent from the
very moment his master fell. He seemed wise enough
to know th.at the doctor was doing all he could for his
patient; for he watched his every movement, and
licked his red hands, and fawned upon him when he
had finished.

But he could not be prevailed upon to touch food,
although he lapped water readily enough.

The day was dawning, and it was very still. Not
a breath of wind rustled through the giass or moaned
among the trees. But there had been a slight air of
frost, and the bushes were white with rime.

Who dare say that the murderer did not richly
deserve his fate? Nevertheless, it was, indeed, a
terrible one. Nor do I mean to sully my pages with
complete details of the tragedy.

The potion that the doctor had administered the
evening before, kept the wretched man asleep till
within about two hours of his execution. Then he
awoke, while the stars were still shining; awoke cold,
shivering, and in pain — for he dared not move, lest
those barbed wires should cut into his skin.

He tried to be brave, but his courage seemed utterl}'^
to have failed him.

Just once during those long hours, the longest ever
he had passed in life, did he speak. It was to his
guards.

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THE BATTUC

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" Men," he said, " what is the time ? "

They told liim.

He groaned, but continued as follows: "I have an
old mother in Colorado. The prisoners you have
secured will give you the address. I was her favour-
ite boy. Yes, blood-stained wretch though I now
am, I had and have a mother's love. My dying wish
is that you write to her, but tell her not how I died.
Say only I took my death like a man, and that my
last thoughts were about her."

Before the terrible fire was lit, he was offered
another drink. lie shook his head and refused it.

Then he must, I think, have gone suddenly mad ;
for he began to sing Northern songs of the great
struggle 'twixt Federals and Confederates, and even
when tongues of flame were leaping like fiery snakes
up around him, and encircling his limbs, he continued
to sing.

The scene was awful, beyond the power of pen or
pencil to depict.

Just one terrible yell of pain did lie utter as the
fire grew hotter and mounted still higher.

Wilson Webb had fled.

The sight was more than he could look upon.

But just a minute or two after he had gone, while
the doomed man, with black, swollen face, and starting
eyes, was writhing in mortal agony, the crack of a rifle
was heard, followed instantaneously by a sound like
that which we hear when a bullet hits a far-off target.
A spot of blood appeared on the murderer's brow.

THE BATTLE

157

Then down dropped the head and chin — he had
gone to his account !

When the Doc. and Whetstone looked toward the
trench, they could perceive a round, white ball of
smoke melting away to leeward in the cool, morning
air.

But the lire was kept, up until the body was but a
blackened scroll, and till bone after bone dropj)ed
from the fiery tree.

Then the tree itself bent and bent, till it suddenly
fell with a crash, and all was o'er.

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CHAPTEll XVI

"TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD "

" Fidelity that neither bribe nor threat
Can move or warp, and gratitude for small
And trivial favours, lusting as life
And glistening even in the dying eye."

— The Dog.

A WHOLE month had passed away.

The beef round-up was over, and the far-off mar-
kets had swallowed up the beeves, to the no small
profit of the hardy owners.

But neither Wilson Webb nor poor Nate Buster
had taken any part in that round-up ; for Nate was far
too ill, and his friend had stayed at home to nurse
him.

He was the only patient the good Doc. had, and
nursing, he told Wilson, was all he needed.

" And will he ever get well. Doc. ? "

This question was not asked in the presence of the
languid and prostrate Nate. Wilson knew better
than to make any such mistake.

The doctor had shaken his head sadly enough.

" I'm going away to the round-up," he said ; " but
I shall see Nate alive — never again.

" You must know, Wilson, that Nate's long career

158

"TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD"

159

ir-
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ber
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jer

of intemperance has weakened his heart and thinned
his blood. I only wonder he has lived so long as he
has."

Wilson Webb had come to regard this once wild
and reckless fellow, with feelings of almost brotherly
affection.

And honest Tweed's regard for his dyi'ig master
knew no bounds. ^ It was truly wonderful, lie had
taken to eating again, it is true, but his anxiety to
be back by his master's side used to make him hurry
through his meal, and often leave the greater part of
it in the dish. The dear dog used to begrudge him-
self even a few minutes' exercise out of dooi-s. Wil-
son would take him out twice a day, but Tweed went
hurrying on, and if any other of his species came up,
as in the happy days of yore, to make fiiends with
him, he would pass them almost without recognition,
or he would look at them sadly, and seem to say : —

" I am in grief, great grief. Poor master is dying,
and I will never, never get another kind friend like
him."

As soon as the walk was at an end, and Wilson
Webb turned to go back, Tweed started off at a rac-
ing speed, and was home long before him, up on to
his master's bed, safe in his master's arms.

Some who read these lines may think that instances
of affection in the dog, like that which I am so feebly
depicting, are rare. They are not, indeed.

I say this, and I who say it know it, that if there
1 Sketched from the life.

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be 11 God ill heaven, and that God has given to man
an animal to be his true and loving companion and
faithful unto death, that animal is the dog ; and one
has only to understand him and to love him to be
beloved again with a wealth of affection such as
exists ill the heart of no other creature here below.

My eyes are overflowing with tears as I write, and
the lines before me are all a-blur, but they are tears
that I am not one little bit ashamed of !

* sfc ^ "V 7ft

Poor Nate Buster was a good patient, a very quiet
and fjentle one. I think he knew as well as Wilson
did that the end was just a measurable distance away.
Yet he never complained, and was thankful for every
little favour that was done him.

The weather was still warm, and it was his chief
delight during the day to be assisted out to the
verandah of the house where he resided. Here was
a broad bencli, where cushions were placed, and on
which he liked to lie.

It faced the west — faced the everlastinir hills.
Their serrated summits were already covered with
snow, and yet, as he told Wilson, they looked so calm
and peaceful ; Mien, when lit up with the crimson
and blue of sunset, with the ever-changing clouds
above, they seemed to waft his thoughts away and
away to tliat brighter and better land to which he
felt and knew he was moving. " Some day," he said
to Wilson — "some day I will tell you my story ; for
I have a mother and a sister both, and wild tbo'igh J.

"TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD"

l6l

have been, I have never forgotten either. Some day
— some day ! "

Ah ! but that some day never came. On the still,
briglit evenings, as the snv was slowly sinking behind
the snowy sierras, Wilson used to play to him beauti-
ful selections and pathetic from the masters. He
would place the mute on the violin bridge, so that
the music was lower, softer, and sweeter.

One night after he had finished playing a beautiful
impromptu, a kind of lullaby, he happened to glance
at Nate.

He seemed peacefully asleep, with one arm over
Tweed's shoulders, his brown, thin fingers buried
in his mane. And the same red glow that crimsoned
clouds and liills lit up his face.

" He sleeps," said Wilson, softly, " and poor Tweed
is sleeping also ; I will not distuib them ! " so on tip-
toe he stole away.

Something occurred to take the young man away
for fully an hour, but he then hurried back to liis
patient. He had not moved.

Here T pause, reader, because you can guess what
is coming, and I am not the man to try to sketch
romantic death-bed scenes. I have seen far too
many of them during my checkered career.

That sleep of Nate's was liis last long one. Well,
perhaps some may think it strange, / do not, but
Tweed, too, was dead.

They buried Nate Buster in a little valley beside
a spring ; a valley which, save in winter, was nearly

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162

"TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD"

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always green ; a valley in which the willows greAV
bonnie, waving silvery buds in the breeze long, long
before summer cr.me.

And Tweed was buried by liis side.

Little Lizzie, the landlord's daughter, always
placed flowers on those graves, whenever slie could
find them, for Nate and Tweed had been her friends.

Says Pope in his " Essay on Man " : —

"Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ;
His soul, proud Science never taught to stray,
Far as the solar walk or milky way,
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky.
His faithful dog shall bear him company."

And why should he not? I ask.

CHAPTER XVJI

hurrah! for the land of gold

" Hope, like tlie gleaming taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way
And still, as darker grows the night,
Enuts a brighter ra3^" — Goldsmith.

Wilson Webb stayed on among the cowboys all
throughout the next winter.

This sort of life had a strange fascination for the
young man ; and he loved the snow time almost as
much as he loved the summer. He was constantly
wandering about with his gun on his shoulder and
his camera by his side, and lie got plenty of sport
among the wolves, coyotes, and winter wild fowl.
But more than once he had narrowly escaped with
his life from being caught iu whirling, choking snow-
blizzards.

He was studying snow scenes anyhow for his
forthcoming lectures, and many of the pictui'es he
obtained were most effective, delicate, and beautiful.

Nor were these winter wanderings of his free from
wild adventure. Once, for instance, he was attacked
by three hungry grey wolves. After shooting one
dead witli his revolver, he got his back against a rock
and fought the other two witli his bowie-knife.

1 63

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164

IIUKUAll! FOR THE LAND OK C.OU)

1 ii

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Tie got tlie three skins, tlieii made all haste home-
wards. And he had left the blood-stained snow none
too soon, for when only about a hundred yards away
he heard the howling of the main pack.

They had come to bury their brothers by devour-
ing them, and had not Wilson got away in time, he,
too, would have been buried in the same simple
fashion.

Just oie bear adventure T must mention because
there was a comical element in it, although most
certainly Wilson saw no fun about it, at the time.

While up high among t^^e foot-hills one beautiful
day, th'3 sky to the eastward became suddenly black
and overcast, and a blizzard of more than usual
violence swept over the plains. The city of "• TFtt'ie-
all-here," which but an hour ago he had been ad-
miring, so picturesque did it appear, asleep in the
sunlight, was suddenly engulfed in clouds of wliirl-
ing drift.

Now to be caught in such a fearful storm meant
suft'dcation and d(!ath, and right well did Wilson
know this, (ilad enough was lie, therefore, when
he found himself close to the entrance of a rocky
cave.

He crept in at once. It was very dark and far
from comfortable, but — any port in a storm.

The cold was soon so intense, that he was glad to
gather the folds of his blanket around him and crouch
in a corner.

But here was a mystery. He found himself sitting

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NOW WAb Hlb llME, HE THOUGHT, TO MAKE A BOLT FOR TREEDOM.

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HURRAH ! FOR rill-: LAND OF GOLD

i6s

on sometliing soft — and wonderful to relate, that
something was warni.

The truth is he was in a gi'izzly's cave, and quietly
sitting on the proprietor.

The proprietor, however, wa& very sound asleep,
and there was but little chance of his awakening.
But poor terror-stricken Wilson was kept moving
up and down, like a ship in the doldrums, on the
heaving sides of the monster.

For a time he felt like one in a dreadful nightmare,
and could not have changed his position to sav^ his
life.

So he just breathed a prayer, and sat still. Pie
could never have told any one how long he did sit
there.

" A thousand years ! " he told the doctor, though
this was probably a slight exaggeration.

But all the time the wind without roared and
howled, as only blizzard winds among the Rockies can.

Gradually, however, it died, and died away, and
soon after not only was it calm, but be could see a
streak of sunshine straggling in at the mouth of tlie
cave.

Now was his time, he thought, to make a bolt for
freedom. Well, though the bear had kept his body
warm, all below the knees seemed paralysed. Would
they carry him ? If they did not, he would fall and
the noise would waken Bruin. Oh, horrible thought!
lie fancied he heard the crunching of his bones, in the
jaws of the awful beast.

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IIUURAIl! FOR TIIK LAND OF GOLD

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Well, fear lends us wings ; and presently, when,
though still asleep, that great grizzly bear stretched
out his paws and uttered a sound, partly groan and
partly yawn, that appeared to shake the cave, Wil-
son sprang to his feet and made a wild dash for the
mouth of <^he cave, paralysed legs and all.

Out he ilow, and down he Hew. Down the hill
running, leaping, vaulting. Nor did he slacken speed
until he placed a good long mile 'twixt himself and
the cave of that sleeping beauty. " I've never had
such a terrible adventure in my life before," he told
the boys at the bar that night, " and don't want
to be in a bear's bedroom never, never, iiever any
more."

He looked very serious, but this only made the
boys laugh all the louder, and little Lizzie herself
joined the cliorus.

j/, >jf, ^Ll ^LL JiL

" Well, lads," he told them a few months after
this, as he put away his fiddle, *•' the place that now
knows me must soon know me no more. I'm gfing
home to get married to the dearest, sweetest lass on
earth."

" Hurrah ! And every good luck attend ye ! "

" We'll miss you, Wilson," said the editor, " and
we'll miss your fiddle ; mind that, sirree."

" Well, boys," said Wilson, " I must say this : I'll
often think of you all and the two years' wild, but
pleasant, life I've led among you."

"• Shake, Wilson, shake ! " cried more than one good-

HURKi^ TI ! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD

167

hearted fellow; "you are true blue, Breetisher though
you be."

" Shake, Wilson, shake ! I endorses the sentiment."

The Doc. walked home witli Wilson that night, and
Wilson gave him the easy-chair and one of his very
last cigai-s.

The Doc. lit up, then he nodded over at his friend.

"I'm off too."

"What, yoit.^"

" I am. You thought I was settled here for life.
But I'm not. I'm only five and thirty, and I want to
make a bit o' money because there's a little girl in
'Frisco, and we both want to get hitched.

" Well," he added, " I'm selling m}^ practice. Fact
is, it is sold, I had this advertisement in the Neivs-
Letter for a month and that kind 0' fetched my
successor."

He handed the newspaper across the table, and
Wilson read as follows : —

" Splendid IMedical Practice for sale ! In a rapidly rising

city in M C'ounty. Close to the foot-hills. Liberal fees

from the cowboys. Only a young man need apply. Must have
the grit in liim. Must ride well and shoot well, be pleasant-
tempered and temperate, and able to take his own part and his
place also in a ' round-up.' Splendid sport ! Bears, grey
wolves, pumas, coyotes, wild fowl, and fish, with now and then
a rustler or a red Indian. Two thousanil dollars clinches the
bargain. Present Doc. leaving only 'cause he wants to get
hitched."

"So you're going to San Francisco?"
" That I am, and so are you."

L I

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IIUUIIAII! FOR Till-: LAND OF GOLD

li '.ft',

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''3Ie'r' said Wilson.

" Yes. You're coming right along to give your
lectures there, and see me hitched."

" Well, 'pon lionour, I don't mind, but I really
should go home. My poor girl is longing to see
me.

" Hush ! You are not going back for another year,
at least. You have told me that your sweetheart is
hardly out of her teens, and that you haven't too
much money. But, lad, I'm going to make you rich,
and — get rich myself at the same time."

"Inasmuch as to how? Give us the 'whys' and
the ' wherefores,' Doc."

" Ever hear of the gold-fields of Klondyke ? "

" Just a rumour ; all nonsense, I daresay."

" And /daresay it isn't.

" Now, you've got sand in you. You're go-ahead
and plucky and just about as hardy as they turn 'em
out nowadays, and so I say let your cry and mine
both be : Hurrah for Klondyke ! "

"I'll dream about it," said Wilson, smiling. "I'm
not rich, and I must confess tliat for Madeleine's sake
I'd dearly like to be."

And so they parted for the night. Dr. Debrett was
a man of method, but a man of bright action as well,
and when he made up his mind to do anything he
deemed worth doing he wasn't the individual to let
the grass grow up between his toes.

Wilson Webb's lectures were quite as great a
success at San Francisco as they were anywhere

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TIIIHHAII! FOR THE LAND OF OOU)

l6g

else, but he had now taken the gold fever, and to
Alaska he must go.

He wrote long letters home. Letters to Peters
and his sister ; over these poor Madeleine cried a
little, but she kissed them over and over again, before
she put them carefully away in her little desk. "It
is all for your sake, darling," one portion of Wilson's
letter ran, " that I wish to make my pile of gold. If
all accounts be true, it will nr>t take very long, and
then — Oh, you know what will follow, and how
quickly I shall hui'ry home to love and thee ! "

Letters to Laurie and Leebie Lea, and a long letter
to Ernest Elliot. These letters quite fired the blood
of those young fellows. They were sixteen years of
age now, remember.

" I say, Laurie," said Ernie, " if I had cash, I'd start
off for Klondyke the day after to-morrow."

" And so would I ! " cried Laurie.

" Oh, Ernie ! " exclaimed romantic little Leebie,
who was quite as beautiful as ever, — more so, in
fact, in Ernest's eyes. " Oh, Ernie, I would go to-
night!"

And the two dogs went careering round and round
the cave, barking till the rocks rang.

But we must leave these folks for a time, and
follow the fortunes of Dr. Debrett and his bride.

She would not be left behind. Other women, she
said, had gone out to Klondyke, and why not she ?
And so she had her way, as the wilful generally do,
especially if the wilful one is a woman.

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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She was a dark-eyed little girl, — well, woman
now, of course, — very jjiquant and pretty, and with
any amount of life in her. In fact, she was just
suited to be tiie companion of a dashing, dare-all man
like the Doc.

It took two weeks to get everything ready for the
voyage towards the pole.

They were to sail in the end of May in one of a
certain company's steamers. The Hopeful, as she
was called, was by no means a very large boat, and
was of American build fore and aft, on deck and down
below.

She really seemed to have too much top-hamper to
please a British sailor, who never feels quite safe un-
less the principal weight is all below.

But the Hopeful was comfortable, for all that, and
very well found, too, and the doctor and Wilson
acted well and wisely by paying for provisions enough
to last them for a whole year after they should step
on sliore in tlie land of gold.

Well, on board tlie Hopeful there was no great
crowd of passengers, l^erhaps she was a triHe too
small to suit a Yankee's ideas of comfort. Neverthe-
less, among tlie saloon passengers were some very
pleasant people indeed, .:,o that from the very first
Mrs. Di'. Debrett did not feel much from home.
One, curiously enough, was a wliite-haired old gentle-
man of nearly seventy, and his wife, a kindly-faced
woman who took a great interest in the Doc. and liis

IIURHAII! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD

171

wife. Both were hale and Iieaity, and the lady did
not make np, nor try to hide her age a single bit.

"Ah, my dear," she told Mrs. Debrett one morning
at breakfast, "you and your husband are just enter-
ing on your voyage of life, but me and my old man'll
soon be getting into harbour.

" You may wonder, sir," she continued, addressing
the Doc., " what brings an old couple like us here.
Well, I'll tell you, and it's mebbe not much credit to
us. It is just pride, sir, and nothing else. We come
from Chicago, and there we once were rich, but
hubbie, he got into a boom ; the boom turned out to
be a bubble ; the Inibble burst, and we lost pretty
near all. Well, hubbie is still as strong as a horse,
arid lias a lieart like a lion. He is as likely as not to
live for twenty years yet. Hut he couldn't stand
people in Chicago that were once, as far as the world
goes, low down on the ladder of life, turning up their
noses at us 'cause we had come down a bit.

"So one morning, 'Margaret,' says he, 'I'm off
to Klondyke. Will ye go?'

" ' Haven't I always gone everywhere with you,
John ? ' says I. So off we started just a year and a
half ago."

" What ! " cried the Doc, " have 3'^ou been out
before?"

" That have we, and made a pile too ; and we're
going back, as you see, to make another."

"And does your husband dig?"

"That he does. But young John — and that is

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172

HURRAH ! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD

i 1>

our son and onr only chick or cliild — does mostly all
the hard work. Don't yon, young John?"

Young John sat right opposite, giving all his
attention to a rump-steak.

A sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow, mild-mannered
withal, but just one's beau-ideal of what a Klondyke
miner ought to be.

" Of course I do," he replied ; " but what was it
I did do, mother?"

"And how do you like Klondyke?" asked Wilson.

" Oh, very well," said young John, " bar the dod-
rotting skeeters."

"Should have thought it was too cold for them
up there," said Wilson Webb.

" Cold, sir ! Well, mebbe when they go to sleep
they have a bottle o' hot water at their feet. I don't
know ; only our American skeeters ain't fit to hold
a candle to them. They'll come down to meet us at
the mouth o' the river, and welcome us all the way
up; and if we land on some of the islands there
about sunset, you've got to cut your way right
through them, with the paddle of the punt. An-
other chop, steward."

The ship's course was about at north-northwest, and
the weather was not only fine, but really beautiful.
Father Neptune was kindly disjiosed towards every
one. There re.ally was no seaway to speak of ; only
light, merry, wee waves that sparkled in the sun-
shine, and, driven along before a gentle breeze, made
the ocean all around look like a mighty Missouri.

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HUU1{AII ! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD

173

Well, the Yankees do believe in good food, any-
how, and in plenty of it, and it did seem to Wilson
Webb that the stewards had no sooner cleared away
one meal than tliey began to lay for another.

There \; as a fairly good piano here. The doctor's
wife sang and played ; the first mate had a beautiful
voice, and so, with the addition of Wilson's Stradi-
varins, most delightful musical evenings were spent.

As for the skipper himself, and most of the men
passengers, though they liked to hear the music, it
did not prevent them from playing poker of an even-
ing, or whist itself, although this was not so great
a favourite.

But much to the amusement of everybody, the old
Klondyke miner and his wife settled down every
night, as regularly as the tides, to a humble game
of bezique, for six-penny points. This lonesome
game they had played together all their lives, and
they saw no good and sufficient reason why they
should change it now.

The skipper was a thorough Yankee, — at heart,
anyhow, — by no means handsome, but affable and
always smiling. He tried to do all he could to
please everybody, and, truth to tell, he succeed'^d.

Well, the Hopeful was bound for St. Michaels,
which, a glance at the map will show you, lies some
distance north of tlie mouth, or rather the many
mouths, of the great Yukon. In so long a voyage as
this, no one could hope that it would be all fine
weather.

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IIUIIUAII ! FOR TIIK LAND OF GOLD

Nor was it. Tlie Ilopcfnl was 110 racer even with
a fair wind, but wlien it commenced to blow \i'hat the
first mate called " a regular sneezer " right in her
teeth, the good ship did not half like it, and she made
such labouring, heavy weather that the ladies, and
most of the gentlemen also, were fain to stop below.

The great seas went lizzing and singing past the
ship, threatening and vowing vengeance on all on
board. Sometimes a heavier wave than usual would
hit the Hopeful on the bows with a sickening thud,
that made her quiver from stem to stern for a time,
and, despite her powerful engines, actually stop dead
for a second or two.

But soon the good ship forged ahead once more,
presently, perhaps, loading up as it were with a great
green sea that she took in over her fo'c's'le, — a sea
that went rearing and surging and foa,ming aft along
the decks like the bore that rushes down a Highland
river, after a thunder-squall among the mountains.
And with terrible force, too, flooding the deck-houses,
flooding everything, and carrying with it beef kids,
capstan bars, legs of mutton or pork, or anything
loose it found in its way.

But the saloon companion had been battened down,
so the sea had to steer clear of this.

The Hopeful was stronger perhaps than she really
looked, and seemed to lose her temper when boarded
thus by green seas. She would rise to the oc^ ision
literally and figuratively, and soon shake herself clear
of the superabundant water.

IlUllUAll! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 1 75

But this storm lasted but a day and a night.
Then in the morning the sunmier sun shone bright
and pleasantly once again over a summer sea; the
decks were dry, and all the whiter ai)i)arently for
their drenching.

A few slight repairs had to be made, for, forward,
the bulwarks had been considerably smashed. After
this, things went as merrily as marriage bells.

The wind had gone right round to the southward
and east ; fires were banked, sails were set, and even
stunsails low and aloft. It must be stated that this
was no ordinary steam tub, but a ship, with steam as
an auxiliary power.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

" O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free."

— Bykon.

As the ship got more to the northward, the weather
became sensibly cooler ; but this only in comparison
with the fiery south. The sun was still strong ; the
sea, like the sky, was blue ; and so the forenoons,
spent on the quarter-deck, over which an awning was
always spread, when it could be carried, were pleas-
ant enough.

There were books to read and yarns to be spun
by those who had been much to sea, or up Klondyke
way, before.

It would not be difficult to fill whole chapters
with the strange stories that the first mate told.
Perhaps they bordered on the fictitious and roman-
tic, but I do not think they were really much the
worse on that account.

Then there were the experiences of old Jolin
and young John to be related, and these were very
quaintly told, and every bit as true as Johnson's
Dictionary.

TIIK VOYAdE OF TIIK IIOriOFUL

177

As they approached the Aleutian Islands, the ship
became enveloped in dense, white fogs. Hardly a
breath of wind blew now, yet the seas were high,
smootli, and rolling almost like the doldrums one
falls in with while crossing the line.

These doldrums are far, indeed, from pleasant, no
matter where you meet them. Sea-legs are exceed-
ingly serviceable, and will hold you erect while you
walk, even in half a gale of wind. But sea-legs are of
little use in the doldrums. If on deck, you go sidling
about in a most uncertain way. At one moment you
may find yourself alongside the starboard bulwarks,
and next hanging on to the port bela^'ing-pins, won-
dering wliere you have got to skate to next.

When you seek rest, below, you can hardly find
it. If there be a coal-scuttle in the saloon, it is sure
to meet you in the doorway and get mixed up with
your legs, of which you seem to have five and twenty.
If there are any footstools, they are certain to tiip
you up Most of the small chairs are in the middle
of the floor ; and the skipper's big easy-chair comes
gliding towards you as if it expected you to waltz
with it. But who, in all the world, wants to waltz
with a skipper's easy-chair?

In despair you fling yourself on a couch. If this
couch stands athwartships, you'll be resting on your
heels one minute, and standing on your head the
next, and if you exchange it for a fore-and-aft sofa,
you'll have to pick yourself off the deck in less than
a brace of shakes.

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178

THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

" Oil, dear, dear ! " you cry in your agony ; " the
man who goes to sea for pleasure may go to — to a
far different place for rest."

But neither the swell nor the fog continued a very
long time, although the progress of the ship was con-
siderably interfered with for a time, and the voyage
therefore rendered much longer.

Concerning the fogs, the skipper, with whom
Wilson Webb and the Doc. were one day walking
the quarter-deck, made the following remarks : —

" Ah ! gentlemen, this is nothing. Away up in the
Bering Sea, where I spent many and many a season
at the fur-sealing, the fog was sometimes so dense
that it was dilBcult to see a man five yards away."

" The fur-seal is the sea-lion, isn't it?" said Wilson.

" You're right, young sir ; sea-lions, or sea-bears,
these seals are called, though I never could tell
rightly why, unless it be that they roar just like
the African lion, or the great ice-bear, when he's
yawning a bit, or stretching himself.

" Well, gentlemen, it is up there they go to breed,
season after season, as regular's the tides. But how-
ever they can find their way through the dense and
terrible mist, to these same Pribylov Islands, has
always been a poser and a licker to me. What men
o' science call the 'homing instinct,' 'cause they
haven't a better name for it, is one o' the mysteries
of Providence. Talk about pigeons having this in-
stinct, why, the fur-seal can give them points in
everything but speed, and lick them hollow. But

THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

179

the strange thing is this : after tlie breeding season
on their lonely island is over, they make their way
south, living on the fish that the sea everywhere
teems with. South and south, to sunny lands, and
they may be found all along the coast of Japan, and
goodness only knows where all else. Then north
again, early in s[)ring, through these fearful fogs that
you could cut with a hatchet, unerringly too, till
they once more reach their northern home, where
the babies are born. What guides them ? We sailors
just say ' God,' and we say it with some reverence too.'*

" Are there not terrible cruelties committed at the
fur-sealing?" said Wilson.

" Well, in my earlier days there were, but I think
it is better now. We didn't use to kill the father
and mother lions, but we would get between the sea
and the bachelor droves, and just work them inland
for a mile or so, like a flock o' sheep, to a kind of
slaughter-pens, and then the murder began.

" So many did we kill, too, that if the law hadn't at
long last interfered, to limit the massacre, I don't
think that by this time there would have been a
single fur-seal left alive."

One day something white was reported away on
the weather bow, and the course was altered a point
or two. It turned out to be a huge, square piece of
ice. Snow covered it was, and on a hummock right
in the centre stood a huge snow-bear. He was
evidently on the outlook for land — which he was
destined never to see.

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THE VOYAGK OF THE HOPEFUL

Mrs. Debrett was much interested in the poor
beast, and when slie lieard a boat being ealled away
with a gunner or two —

" Oh, captain, do not send and kill tlie bear.
Indeed, indeed, it is cruel ! " she urged.

"My dear lady," said the skipper, "you must
really credit me with having as soft a heart as ever
beat in a sailor's breast, but we are going to shoot
that bear to save it fiom a far worse fate. Already,
he is no doubt suffering all the pangs and terrors of
starvation. Ue can never reach shore. His raft
will melt from under liim ; but long before that he
would go mad and leap into the sea, only to be torn
to pieces by the great sharks,^ with which the
northern seas abound. Don't you think, then, we
are going to do what is best?"

Mrs. Debrett said no more, but went down below.
• * * * *

One bright, sunny morning mountains showed
their white heads over the blue horizon, to the
northward and west, and it was soon reported that
Unalaska island would be reached that same even-
ing. A glance at the map will show its position in
the Aleutian chain.

It has mountains towering to the moon, which the
snow never leaves. And on a small island, in a lovely,
enclosed bay, stands the town of Dutch Harbour.

1 The Scymnus Borealis is probably the hirgest shark in the
world, a.s it is undoubtedly the fiercest. I liave seen specimens
caught fifteen feet long, and they grow even to eighteen feet. — G. S.

THE v()ya(;k of the hopeful

i8i

Tliey had mails for this town ; and so the anchor
was let go, and soon boats sunonndud the ship and
the decks were crowded with all kinds and condi-
tions of men.

The stay here would be brief, the ca[)tain being
anxious to get on to St. Michael's. Hut a party,
among which were the «'octor and his wife, with
Wilson Webb, were l.inded, and much deligiited
were they with all Jiey saw.

High, high above thcni were the dazzling peaks
of the jagged and serrated mountains, but down
below the valleys and the plains, many of the for-
mer wildly and picturesquely wooded, were green
and beautiful. Birds sang in the bush and copses,
and the whole earth seemed carpeted with flowers,
which in the open hugged the ground, and in more
shaded places were tall and plumed.

No one had taken a gun — it would have been
cruel, anyhow, to have disturbed the reindeer, the
strange little foxes, and the otters in their native
wilds.

The streams appeared to abound with fish, and
many kinds of game were seen in the scattered
pine woods.

While admitting that this island must be a very
paradise It the all-round sportsman, who could
shoot and fish by r^urns, and study the wonders of
nature when tired of rod and gun, Wilson had to
content himself with taking snap-shots with his
camera. But with this he was very successful

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THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

indeed, especially witli pictures of river scenery, — >
waterfalls, rapids, and rocks.

The little party did not go on board until long
after moonrise, and if the scenery was beautiful by
day, under the moon's rays it was solemn and weird
in the extreme.

As they rowed back to the ship, some one started
a song, in which all joined and to which the very
oars, in their rowlocks, seemed to keep time.

They were very happy.

But they were under way again next morning long
before breakfast.

^^ ^^ ^^ 1^ 'I*

It was an Irishman, who, being asked to describe
his native village, could only shake his head and
smile and repeat over and over again, "Och thin,
Ballintray is a quare place ; a quare, quare place."
. Well, and our heroes found St. Michael a " quare,
quare place." And, indeed, I don't think that any-
body locked upon it with any degree of favour.
They had by this time settled down to their quiet,
dreamy sea-life, and this was a rude awaking from
so pleasant a dream.

A " quar'^ " place, and a " quare " wee town on the
island ! The white population — if one is really justi-
fied in calling those dirty faces white — numbered
probably about a hundred. Probably less ; I am not
quite certain, but then there were at least four Eski-
mos, or Innuits, to every civilised man.

It didn't appear possible to lynch a man here ; for

THE VOYAGE OF THE IIOriiFCL

183

altlioiigli the rolling land was boiiiiie and flowery and
, green, there was not a tree to be seen. I should be
sorry to say there was anytliing in the shape of a
street, and the old-fashioned, wretched houses were
stuck down anyhow and seemed to give one the
cold shoulder by often turning their gables towards
one.

But there was a warehouse — so called — here and
there, and there were hills in the farther distance, on
which it was pleasant for the eye to dwell; to say
nothing of the fort.

St. Michael's is about sixtv-five miles, as nearly as I
can guess, north of the Yukon River, and in two days'
time a river boat arrived to take them down there,
and so up the broad and winding stream to the Land
of Gold.

Wilson, the doctor, and young John went on shore
here at St. Michaers, but as there was nothing very
exhilarating about the place, and as the smell of
decayed fish was not calculated to increase the
ai)petite, they soon came on board again.

Everybody was hopeful, and the saloon of the
steamer was never more bright and cheerful than it
was that last evening, after dinner, when the lamps
were lit and Wilson had taken out his fiddle and
tuned it up.

The best of friends must part, and next morning
the disembarkation and reembaikation took place ;
and before noon, farewells having been said to
those they had to leave behind them, the Innuit, as

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THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

she was called, was under way and coasting down
towards the great Yukon.

I have said nothing in my description of this voyage
from San Francisco about the steerage passengers, or
gold-seekers forward. Mostly young they were and
hardy, as well tliey needed to be. Some were Ameri-
cans, but there were Britishers there, too ; and I may
say here at once, and be done with it, that though
a certain percentage of these failed in finding suffi-
cient gold to reward them for their enterprise, most
did well, and several came back rich and are now
living in beautiful houses, and spending their money
freely enough in their own countries.

It was pretty hot just at present on the Yukon,
and the more scantily dressed one was, so much
the better as regarded coolness. But the mosquitoes
were in fine form, and Wilson Webb soon found out
that they could bite beautifully, even through a thin
Garibaldi shirt. Tliey knew well what they were
about, did those skeeters, and the very best places
on which to alight and sample their man. The ear
was a very favourite resort of the blood-thirsty creat-
ures, and the next nicest place, I think, was the bj-ow
in man and the cheeks or necks of fair womanliood.

Yet, strange to say, some possessed a complete
iiTirviunity from their tantalising attacks. Young
John, for instance, and young John's father and
mother were perfectly mosquito-proof.

Wilson certainly was not, nor the doctor and his
dear little wife either, until he brought science to the

THK VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

185

rescue, in the shape not only of a lotion to be ap-
plied night and morning to the exposed part of the
skin, but of a draught to be taken at the same time.

To prove the efficacy of this, the doctor would
catch a mosquito and, after pulling the wings off so
that it could only crawl, place it on a sheet of white
paper, then, dipping a clean pen in the lotion, draw
a circle round it, when the unpleasant insect at once
fell and expired.

But the triumph of his art was manifested when
he operated on a white bull-terrier dog, which was
so bitten and tormented that it was all but dead.
The Doc. injected a few drops of the principal
ingredient under the animal's skin and bathed him
with the lotion. The dog was well in a few hours,
and never again was much bitten.

It was considered in 'Frisco to be a very daring
and foolhardy thing for the Doc. to take his young
and somewhat fragile wife with him.

The doctor himself was not of that opinion. He
knew what he was about, and he never had cause to
repent it. Indeed, it was very much all the other
way. For even before leaving the city of the Pacific
slope, she proved her value in doing shopping ; and
many a little comfort did she purchase and pack up,
that he himself would never have thought of.

Of course the amount of luggage or outfit was
limited as to bulk and weight, but it is certain that
Mrs. Debrett made the best of both, so that her hus-
band was reallj'^ proud of her.

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THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL

And she had assisted Wilson Webb also in doing
his shopping and choosing his outfit.

Moreover, when once fairly settled in Klondyke,
she proved to be an excellent cook.

But stay, they are not quite there yet. There is
all the long, wide river Yukon to navigate before
they can reach the Land of Hope, the Country of
Nuggets and Golden Sand.

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CHAPTER XIX

STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON

" Ne'er saw T, never felt, a calm so deep !
The river glideth at his own sweet will,
And all that mighty heart is lying still I "

— Wordsworth.

It was not to be supposed nor expected that the
same comforts and accommodation were to be found
on the river boat, Innuit, which had made life so
pleasant on board the sturdy Hopeful. But as far as
our heroes were concerned, this troubled them but
little. They had come out here, not for pleasure, but
profit, and were willing to gird up their loins and to
rough it. -

And everybody was healthy, happy, and cheerful.
Wilson Webb was singing all day long. Singing for
the same reason that the birds sing, because there is
music in their hearts, born of their beautiful surround-
ings, and music tvill find vent.

Yes, everything they saw from the Innuifs deck
now was new and strange, and some of the scenery
was wild and beautiful in the extreme.

It was changeful, too, ever changeful, and so nu-
merous were the islands that it was generally impos-
sible to tell whether they were gazing on the river's

187

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STEAMING UP TIIK GREAT YUKON

banks, or on some green little isle in the midst of the
stream.

To describe in detail the scenery of a great and
mighty winding river like this would, indeed, be a
labour Herculean. Nor is it necessary. More wise,
it is, to try to identify ourselves with those on board
who gazed thereon, oftentimes, I fear, without ap-
preciating it ; hardly seeing it, perhaps, so filled with
hopes and aspirations and plans for the future were
their hearts.

For every one here was pregnant with ambition of
one kind or another, though varied, perhaps, in
degree.

Wilson Webb's was probably the highest, the most
bounding. He could look ahead, too, with hope, and
the happiness of anticipation, to a not far-distant time,
when, with much fine gold in his coffers, he should
be bounding homewards — yes, "bounding" is just
the right word, in the light place — across tlie broad
Atlantic, in a greyhound of the fastest, fleetest build,
to the green shores of Merry England, and the arms
of the girl he had left behind him.

The doctor's ambition was also high. He had all
he loved on earth beside him, in the person of his
nervous, anxious, but dear and pretty, wee body
of a wife. But great possibilities were before him,
and gold could do anything. He had not yet, and
never would, regret the time he had spent in cow-
boy land. The wild life had made a man of him ;
had strengthened and hardened every muscle in his

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STKAMIN'G UI' THE (iUKAT YUKON

189

.^>

body, even to that strongest of all muscles, the heart
itself.

Yet a medical man's life in a city even like San
Francisco, he told himself, was but toil and slavery ;
no time to call one's own, every joy or pleasure
leavened with anxiety.

But with gold — ah ! No wonder he rubbed his
hands as the river went flowing past and the moun-
tains and hills in the middle distance kept mingling
and mingling, and seemingly shifting position every
minute — yes, the gold ! His country house should
be a very beautiful one, his park all around it a gar-
den of dreams, Lilla, as he called his little wife, its
presiding genius. But their house and lovely
grounds would not be all. No, there would be that
yacht. She should not be a racer, but a voyager,
broad in beam and comfortable, everything beautiful
and luxurious, and its saloon like a mermaid's palace.
Everything that high art and modern science could
accomplisli, would be done to make the yacht a
triumph and the envy of all who might behold her.

"For what,'' reasoned the good doctor, "is the
good of gold but to purchase pleasure ? "

But Mrs. Debrett's ambition was not of so high a
standard. Gold, she, too, would like to have, because
its possession would render her husband happy, but
a home life would have much greater charms for her
than wandering far in foreign lands, or sailing in a
lovely yacht over sunny seas, unknown.

Well, as to young John, he could scarce have told

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STEAMINC, 111' TIIK (JIIKAT VUKON

I- 'Jill

any one what he sliould do with wealth and fortune,
shouhl he be hicky enough to fall in with any. lie
loved a gun, he loved a rod and a good dog, and
that was about all in life he cared for.

Then as to his parents — old they were, though
healthy and hardy — yet was their ambition tinged
with a little sadness. Gold? Yes, they would find
gold, but, heigho ! they were wearing down, down
towards the horizon of life, and gold is no good in
the grave, and they should have no need of it in
the land o' the leal.

Very steadily did the Lmuit plough her way up
the great Yukon. Eastward first, with now and then
a bend towards the south ; past many a strange and
comfortless Indian village, where the wild inhabitants,
some of them uncouth even to extreme ugliness, were
so busy preparing salmon for the market that they
hardly cast a glance towards the slowly passing
steamboat ; winding in and out, then pursuing an
almost direct coui-se northwards with just a trifle
of east in it, till Nulato is reached, and soon after
another river or tributary that rises far away among
the Snow Mountains beyond the Arctic circle, passes
the hills of Yukon, and slowly, broadening out,
joins the main stream here.

Nulato was once, whatever it may be now, a great
fur-company's post, and although the desolate and
dreary place lies on flat rolling ground on the
northern side of the river, it affords but few attrac-
tions for the traveller. Beautiful enough, however,

STEAMING UP THE GUKAT YUKON

191

were now its summer surroundings, — the distant
hills, the rocks and glens, and deep woods of darkest
green, yet it is liardly the spot one would choose
as a winter resort.

As in other places, fishing is here the principal
employment of the natives, and this is carried on
during the summer months by means of strange
wicker eel-traps, and in winter through holes in the
ice.

There is a tribe here, or near here, of savages far
more ferocious in appearance than most met with
elsewhere. In days gone by a terrible massacre of
Russians took place at the foot of Nulato, the Ind-
ians fighting for the most part with bows and
arrows and ugly-looking knives.

But now the river runs straight for many and
many a mile, more northerly after a time, however,
until Fort Yukon is reached. Then it is southward
and east all the way until Dawson City, at the mouth
of the Klondyke River, appears in sight. This river
rises far to the northeast among the spurs of the
Rocky Mountains, — a mere brown roaring burn at
first, dashing on amidst a chaos of grey boulders,
forming here a cataract, and here a dark brown pool,
where trout and tish leap up in the glad sunshine ;
and so numerous are these at times that the surface
of the water is as troubled, as if a shower of summer
hail were falling on it.

Few, if any, men come to the Yukon for pleasure
and sport alone ; or if they do, they speedily catch the

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STKAMING Ur THE GKEAT YUKON

gold fover, get liold of a claim, and proceed at once
to make tlieir fortunes, or try to.

But Wilson Webb, being at heart an artist as well
as a photographer, could not be otherwise tlian struck
by the strange and ever-varying character of the
scenery. Even the hills and mountains, whether
green and near, or serrated, snow-peaked, and far
away, had a weirdness about them he had never seen
surpassed. The river was sometimes very broad and
shallow ; at other times narrowed by frowning rocks
and precipices, and so rapid, that it was, indeed a
struggle for tlie Innuit to get on at all.

The forests or woods were often dense, and quite
lilled up the glens at times, and on more elevated
and exposed ground the trees were growing only
here and there. But strangely shaped they were
and weird, for all had to do battle with the stormy
winds of winter. The branches of the pines — mostly
a kind of spruce — all pointed downwards. Tliey
would always grow thus, and it is doubtless a provi-
sion of nature, to save them from being broken by
the weight of falling snow.

In these hills and near to the shelter of the woods
the reindeer would often* stand to gaze and wonder
at the steamer ; then, tossing their antlered heads in
the air, dash off at a speed that the best of hounds
could hardly have equalled.

It may be guessed that Wilson's camera was never
idle. The only difficulty he experienced lay in choos-
ing the views to seize upon. He would have liked

'..-•61

STEAMING \]V TIIK GllEAT YUKON

193

to have taken them all, and thus form a panorama,
givhig- the whole sweep of the mighty Yukon.
» « « « •

Dawson City at long, long last !

Dawson City on the borders of the Land of Gold !

The real El Dorado would seem at present to be
a wild eircular tract of country, lying between the
Rocky Mountains on the noiih and east, the lUue
Mountains on the southeast, and the river itself from
Fort Selkirk to Dawson City.

But the Klondyke River is itself the largest, and
into it flows — high up-stream — many and many a
tributary, chief of these being the Hunker, the
Bean, and the Bonanza.

Into the Yukon, higher up still, flow the Indian
and the Stewart rivers, and several others less im-
portant.

Neither Wilson Webb nor the doctor was much
struck with the beauty of Dawson City. It seemed
a lively enough place, built here and there and any-
how, one might say, by the river's bank, but many
parts laid out in streets and squares, many houses
farther inwards on the sparsely wooded, rugged, and
rolling country. But on this lovely summer's day
the broad river itself was shining like silver in the
sunshine, and the brae-lands that bounded it to the
o

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STKAMING Ur TllK GHKAT YUKON

south resenibled those surrouiidiiig some Scotcli or
Jrish lochs.

Beauty or not beauty, every one was j^hul enough
that the h)ng voyage up-stream was eudeil at last,
and that the work of gold-seeking would soon
begin.

"Dawson City," said the aged miner, "is going to
be a big place, by and by, whoever lives to see it.
Ay," he added, " and the real incursion to Klondyke
hasn't hardly begun yet. Inde< young fellows,
you may think yourselves happy to ue here in time."

Wilson and the doctor went on shore to spend
the evening and just see how things looked, but
Mrs. Debrett stayed on board. City life of this kind
was somewhat too rough for her.

The old man was going to hold back, and did for a
time.

" Go into the town by all means, John," said his
better half. " There'll be many who want to see you
and welcome you back, and you can act as guide to
the boys. Young John will stay on board with his
old mother."

" That will I," said John, right heartily.

" Why, Webb," cried the Doc, just as they were
starting, " wouldn't it be a good idea to take your
fiddle?"

"Capital!" said Wilson, "and so I shall. Who
knows but that I may have to fall back upon fiddling
yet, when gold-digging fails me ! "

Many had come down to see the unloading of the

STKAMING Ul' TllL CiKKAT YUKON

195

Innuit ; for .slio caniod not only piissengcrs, but {|uite
ii variety of stores.

The steerage people landed for good, and 'dmost
all were provided with tents, as well as their packages
of tools, provisions, ete. They heljjed eaeli other to
carry these, and they formed (juite a little camp all
to themselves in tlie rear of the city.

Mr. Grimshaw, the old mm miner, as it seems he
was usually called in Dawson CUty, was hardly on
shore before he was recognised, — not by one man,
but by many.

h\ fact, before they reached the largest general
store, he had to stop and shake hands at least a score
of times, and quietly refuse about as many invita-
tions to the saloon.

" These young fellows," he said, " want to see a
little city life, and I'm their guide. D'ye lay to the
situation ? "

" We lay," they would reply ; " but we'll see you
at McRae's later on."

"Never fear."

"I'm just real glad," said Grimshaw, "that you
paid for a year's provisions. 'Cause 'way up country
the winter won't pass through without a kind of gen-
eral famine.

" And things here," he added, " are just about
starvation prices already. Let us go into this store
and interview the merchant. Mind, it isn't his fault
that provisions are high ; some, you know, are more'n
scarce, and then the trading companies have formed

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STEAMING Ur THE GllEAl' YUKON

n^ ' I

a kind of corner. Greenhorns who haven't paid for
a year's pj'ovisions before leaving Seattle or 'Frisco
may make gold up the country, but when they come
here, somehow the wind gets hold of it and it is soon
scattered."

" Ah ! Mr. Grimshaw," cried the storekeeper, " is
it really your pleasant old-fashioned face I see before
me? Shake. This is a pleasure. And the old
woman, how is she? "

" Just as benign and beautiful as ever. I thank
the Lord we both have health.

" Well, here are a couple of young fellows just
out. They won't want much at present, mebbe, but
later on. Only they'd like to have some idea of the
prices of things."

This man behind the rough counter and surrounded
by laden shelves of all sorts of provisions, and corners
lilled with pickaxes and shovels, boots, shoes, and
what not, was an Englishman, and very civil indeed.

" Well, gentlemen," he said, " I've got a good
supply of mostly everything ; but I must tell you, to
begin with, that you won't find food quite so cheap
as you would in Oxford or Cambridge, but some
articles are what we call reasonable.

" Here is rice, sugar, peas, and beans from thirty
cents a pound, and bacon only two shillings. But
moose hams I can't sell you under five shillings a
pound, Kjut rare good stuff it is, and potatoes to go
with it, if the best, only two and six for a couple
of pounds. -

STEAMING Ur THE GUEAT YUKON

197

Ir
jo
le

lis
I'e
Id

" Flour isn't extra cheap, though, and a hundred
pounds will cost you well-nigh three sovereigns."

"Canned meats are cheap, I suppose?" said
Webb.

" Well, say about two shillings a pound tin."

"And salmon must be very cheap?"

" 1 dunno. Maybe' you'd better catch your own
fish. Here is a kippered salmon, look you, and not
a very big one, either, but he'll cost you seven
shillings ! "

Wilson Webb opened his eyes somewhat wider,
and the Doc. whistled.

" Well, now," said the former, " I'm fond of a good
egg. AYe can get these, I suppose, for a penny
each."

The storekeeper laughed.

" There are no such things as pennies here," he
said, " and even a cent is never seen. It is only an
imaginary coin. We deal mostly for gold dust.
Those are our scales along the counter, yonder.
Eggs, did you say?"

"Yes."

" We have two sorts. The ordinary ones I can do
at six shillings, and the better class will cost you
eight and six a dozen."

Wilson laughed heartily.

" I see," he said, " that the sooner we get up coun-
try to excavate the pay dirt, the better."

"That's so, gentlemen; and good luck go with
you. Shake. Your voice, sir, brings back to me

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STEAxMING UP THE GREAT YUKON

many and many a pleasant scene on far-off English
shores. Good-evening."

After walking about the town some time, they
found their way to the principal saloon.

A lively shop, indeed, was this. And the old
miner and his young friends were speedily sur-
rounded. They must drink.

" Drinks, landlord, drinks ! "

Wilson would liave preferred something cooling
to that fiery old rye, for the evening was close and
hot, even outside. But here there was no iced water
to be had.

The landlord shoved three or four bottles and half
a dozen glasses towards them. They were supposed
to help themselves, and take just as much or as little
as they pleased. And whisky was cheap, if nothing
else was.

"What! are you a fiddler?" said the landlord to
Wilson, noticing him place his violin-case on the
counter.

" I guess," was tlie reply, " I could play a little
better, than the wretched gut-scraper you've got in
your ball-room."

" Oh, for goodness' sake ! " cried the saloon-
keeper, "have another whisky and go in."

" ' ith pleasure," said Wilson. " I'll play best
without whisky, however."

A dance had just come to a conclusion, as the
young fellow stepped behind the bar.

"I say," whispered the barman, "don't give 'em

STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 199

too long a dance, 'cause, ye see, it's only between

dances they drink."

Wilson's fiddling to-niglit was perfection, and the
ball was kept up till long past twelve.

Then the old miner and his young friends went on

board to sleep.

I t'i

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CHAPTER XX

"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT

m i

' Let us then be up and doing,
VV^ith a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait."

Longfellow.

There was an artificiality about society in Dawson
City that was very far, indeed, from being agreeable
to either the doctor or Wilson Webb. Both had a real
stake in life. To each of them

" Life was real, life was earnest."

Moreover, both loved nature, and might have said
with Byron in his " Childe Harold " : —

" I live not in myself, but T become
Portion of that around me ; and to me ■,

High mountains are a feeling, but the hum ^,,
Of human cities torture."

So they were not sorry when they managed to
make a start, at last, eastward and away high up
beyond Bonanza.

All went together ; all those, I mean, who had
become so friendly on board ship. Mr. Grimshaw,
the old man miner, had managed, by means known
only to himself, to retain not only his claim but his
house, during his absence down south, — " inside "

200

"JACKIE HAS ST'lUCK THE PAY DIRT"

201

the states, — so that all that was to be done now was
to reopen.

The roads to the upper regions of the Klondyke
were really no roads at all, only beast tracks. Some-
times they led over higli and rugged hills, sometimes
through dark and dismal woods and forests, or across
great, treeless plains, and anon along the bottom of
some rocky ravine.

But the men-folks helped on the ladies ; and after
all, I am not sure that, old though Mrs. Grimshaw
was, she did not show more courage and cheerfulness
than any one.

Carriage and porterage was an expensive item,
but the men had come prepared, and they somehow
sincerely believed that fortune lay before them.
What mattered a few extra dollars when going to a
land where wealth was scattered broadcast, and gold
was to be had everywhere for the digging !

And now it was arranged that the old lady, with
the doctor's wife, should occupy the log-hut, while
the men-folks dwelt in tents, until they could pre-
pare themselves houses.

But the anxiety to get on, and to commence work,
was paramount and above everything. It was well,
indeed, for the doctor and Wilson, that they had made
the acqu[iintanceship of such a trustworthy fellow
as old John. There were many little outs and ins,
many odds and ends, that only lengthy experience
could have taught them, had not John put them up
to the ropes.

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202 "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT"

And the prevailing trait in young John's charac-
ter was good nature.

lie soon got his father's claim under way and
once more into working order, and, greatly to every-
body's astonishment and delight, it panned out far
better than it had done before.

The Doc. and Wilson Webb had no difficulty in
securing claims for themselves, and set to work like
men.

Wilson's was at some co- siderable distance from
the other, and not far from a little mountain stream
that did not go dry even in summer.

But now the curious thing was this, — that is, if
in such a place as Klondyke anything can be called
curioiis, — Wilson seemed to become at once the
favourite of fortune, while for months and months
the poor Doc. had literally no luck at all.

No wonder he began to get nervous and fidgety, —
tlie worst state of mind it is possible to be in.

" Keep steadily on," said the old man miner, " and
some fine morning you'll find that luck will come,
all in a jump."

"I don't believe," said the poor Doc, "there lies
a pound of pay dirt in the whole of my claim."

" Nonsense ! " cried the old man.

"And think what it means to me, with winter
but a measurable distance ahead, and I incurring
expenses every day ; money going out, and no gold
coming in. Why, Mr. Grimshaw, the situation spells
ruin I "

"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIIIT " 203

" My dear young fellow ! " cried Grimshaw, ear-
nestly enough now ; " pray do not let down your
heart. Here am I, old enough to he your father,
working cheerily from morn till night, taking fort-
une as it comes."

"You are one of the favoured."

"There are none such. In Klondyke, as in every
other land where gold is found, there are ups and
downs. Those that lose heart soon sink and fail;
but never in all the history of gold-mining, did a
persevering man go unrewarded in the long run."

" Well," replied Dr. Debrett, forcing a smile ; " I
thank you for your kindly encouragement.

" ' 'Tis not in mortals to command success ;
But I'll do more — deserve it.' "

" Bravo ! " said his old friend ; " that is spoken like
a man. Now, just settle down quietly, and — look
here ! vary your work a bit. Begin, to build your
house."

And so the doctor did. There was little, if any,
night just at present, and Wilson Webb had already
commenced his. Luckily, he had plenty of tools,
and was a very fair specimen of a carpenter.

But, to the surprise of everybody, Wilson's house
was to be a three-storied one. When asked to ex-
plain, he just smiled, and said nothing.

Dr. Debrett was content with a log-hut of one
room, but it was so neatly arranged inside, that it
had quite a home look about it. Nor were orna-

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204 "JACKTE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT"

ments waiitinof nor — rnirahile dicta! — a cushion
to the easy-chair, a footstool, and a pipe-rack; so
that after coming in from the toils of the day, the
Doc. could really enjoy himself and imagine he was
at home. But ivas he iiot? Yes, Lilla was the pre-
siding goddess, and the doctor himself would have
told you that it was home wherever she was. I do not
really know what he would have done without her.

She not only loved him, worked for him, darned
and sewed for him, — these may not be very romantic
occupations, but they are exceedingly useful in Klon-
dyke, — but she consoled him in her own womanly
way, and with her own womanly logic.

He threw himself into his chair one evening, with
a tired sigh.

And Lilla lit his pipe.

He took it without a word. Thanks and gratitude
were understood.

" A little weary, dear ? "

" Weary, Lilla ? Why, my little wife, weary is no
word for it. If it wasn't for you, I'd go straight
away home again, and make for the city of 'We're-
all-here.' Hang Klond3'^ke ! Here am I, slaving
from morning till night, my hands are already as
hard as a navvy's, my back aches so constantly that
I feel certain I'm getting a stoop, but though other
fellows have luck, none comes my way. Is a man
old when he feels old, Lilla? Then I'm ninety -five
years nine months and a week. Why, Grimshaw
is a mere boy to me I "

"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 205

^^m

"Luck will come, dear. We must be patient."

"But Luck doesn't. The jade doesn't see me.
Or she thinks perhaps I ought to be putting legs
in splints, extracting bullets, or lancing children's
gums, in cowboy town. Bah ! I said to Grimshaw
that I'd do more than command success — I'd deserve
it. Lilla, that was only just a bit of poetic bluff.
I may deserve it a thousand times over. Much good
that does, if Luck goes down the other side of the
hill."

"Do you know what I've cooked you for supper,
Charlie?"

" Oh, Lilla, Lilla ! How like a woman ! When a
man is worrying over such weighty matters as gold
dust and nuggets, she wants to divert niy thoughts
to — but what is for supper, dear wee wifie mine ? "

" Two lovely mountain grouse, and bacon I "

"Hurrah! well, I'll sit in."

And he did.

And really, judging from the speed with which he
reduced one of those beautiful birds to a skeleton,
bad luck had not much affected his appetite, any-
how.

Coffee — really good, fragrant coffee, but nothing
stronger.

" Better than all the old rye in the world," he said,
as he reseated himself in the easy-chair, with pipe in

within

cup

easy

hand.

Lilla sat on a low " creepie " by his side after mak-

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206 "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DHtT "

ing up the fire, so tliat she could mend that stocking,
and lean against his knee at tlie same time.

" Charlie dear," she said after a pause, " there is
only one thing needed to complete our happiness."

"Gold?"

" No, the cat ! " •

" So like a womn.n, again ! "

" Yes, but 1 f^jel really sorry we didn't bring poor
Tim with us. I think I can see him sitting on the
footstool yonder, nodding to the fij-e and singing.

" It is so soothing and consolatory, you know," she
added.

" Oh, i'^'/*//," he said. He spoke sai'castically. " I
suppose if you had the cat, you wouldn't mind stay-
ing here all your life."

" The cat and you, Charlie ! The cat and yon ! "

She looked up in his face very innocently, and he
couldn't help bending down to kiss her brow.

" You're only a baby ! " he said.

" I'm afraid that is all," said Lilla. " But, heigho !
everybody can't be a man. Cmi everybody?"

A few nights after this, Wilson was putting what
he called the finishing touches to his " mansion," as
the miners had named it, when the doctor strolled
in.

Webb was working by candlelight. He had made
these dips himself from the fat of a bear, that one
of the boys had killed in a wood hard by.

The young fellow seemed very happy and cheerful,
and was singing low to himself as he worked.

"JACKIK HAS STUUC;K TIIK I'AY DIRT" 20/

"Ila! D()(3.," he cried, "seat yourself, old nnui.
You'll lind 'baccy there. How lucky we took a
good supply of the blessed stuff! Well, and how
do you pan ? "

" Pan ? " replied the doctor, in a sadly aggrieved
tone of voice. "Man alive ! that claim of mine isn't
worth shucks. A man might slave away there for
a dozen years and not find enough gold to keep him
in shaving soap. I'm going prospecting to-morrow,
and if I don't find a good thing, why, I'll believe that
fate has made a dead set against me."

"Keep up your courage. Doc. There are good
times coming ! "

" Good times, indeed ! Pah ! that is what you all
say, you and old Grimshaw and young John, and the
whole of you. I'd like to see them, that's all."

Well, Dr. Debrett and one or two other disap-
pointed miners did go prospecting next day, and
old Mrs. Grimshaw went to stay with Lilla, and
keep her company.

All round about the neighbourhood, where our hero
had settled, there were many claims, and many good
fellows hard at work, some drawing blanks, while
to others, Fortune, the fickle jade, was dealing out
" trumps."

Well, we cannot all be born with silver spoons in
our mouths. Some of us have to be contented with
Britannia metal.

But what I was going to say was this : to each
and all of these sturdy miners Lilla was a queen.

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"JACKIK HAS STUUClv TlIK PAY DIRT

imi

^Vhether rich or poor, tlicy would liiivo done any-
tliiny for her, and ever when slie jjassed by tliey
stood erect and doffed their grubby hats, and were
rewarded with tiie sweetest of smiles.

" 1 had a dream hist night," said LiUa, on the
second morning after her husband's departure.

" A dream, dearie ? "

"Yes, Mammy Grimshaw; I thought Charlie and I
were sailing over a blue, blue sea, in a lovely yacht.
Oh, so lovely ! for the decks were mother-of-pearl and
the sails of beaten gold."

Mammy Grimsliaw laughed.

" I hope the dream will come true," she said.

" Oh, I'm going to make it come true, mammy ! "
cried Lilla, merrily. Then she struck a theatrical
attitude, with one hand raised on high.

" This is Charlie's style," she said:

"' 'Tis lot in mortals to command success ;
But wb'I. do more — deserve it.'

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" But Charlie lets down his heart too soon, and
that isn't deserving it, is it ? "

Then this queer little woman took out of a box
a spare mining-suit of Charlie's. Of course they
were much too big for her, but she put them on all
the same, and made Mammy Grimshaw dispose of
the extra longitude in arms and legs with the aid
of a darning-needle and a stout thread.

The hat well-nigh buried her ; so she threw that to
one side and put on a hood of her own.

'•JACKIE HAS STRUCK TllV VAY DIRT"

209

Next hIio Lfot hold of a pick and a shovel, and pre-
pared to inarch.

" 'Tis not in mortals to command snccess," she said.
" But how do I look on the whole, Mrs. Grimshaw?"

" Ver}^ nice, dear."

"But I'll do more, mammy — I'll deserve it."

The miners did stare as Lilla passed them on this
particular morning, and more than one sturdy fellow
went forward to meet her and offered to carry her
tools.

But she thanked him and refused the proffered
aid, and hurried on to her husband's claim.

Now there was one of the boys to whom not only
the doctor but Mi-b. Debrett had been exceedingly
kind. He was a bad boy, that is true, — a kind of
a Klondyke ne'er-do-weel, — though I daresay that,
like most of us, he had some ^ood in him, deep
down. A blue-eyed, bright-faced young fellow of
about seventeen, who did odd jobs for everybody,
but never failed to get the worse for drink when he
had a chance.

He happened to be very much down on his luck
on this particular morning, white-faced and hungry-
looking.

He simply doffed his hat and stood before Mrs.
Debrett, near to the claim.

" Well, Jackie, haven't you a word to say?"

" Can't think of nufifin, miss."

Jackie was really a London lad. He had been by
turns a shoeblack, a paper boy, a boot-lace boy, a

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"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT"

stowaway, and so forth ; but here he was, and nobody
would see Jackie starve.

"Well, run off at once to Mammy Grimshaws
— she's in the doctor's hut — and get something to
eat, and be back here in a brace of shakes. Ahem ! "

Jackie ran like a hare.

" Brace of shakes ! " said Lilla to herself. " Why,
I'm getting quite nautical. So this is hubbie's claim!
Dear hubbie ! Why, he's a good way down, and what
heaps of stuff all about. Well, I'm going to work."

And in she went.

Her hands were red and sore before she had laboured
for half an hour. She had to straighten up every
now and then to get the kinks out of her back. But
she started again every time afresh.

" Poor Charlie ! " she said, '* no wonder he looks
weary and old when he comes home."

But now came Jackie, running. He was a cute
lad, and there was nothing he didn't know about
mining; only in Klondyke it is simple enough, or
wi s in those days, tliere being no quartz-crushing.

Well, those two strange miners slaved away all
day, but without much luck.

Jackie had a good supper, though and a dollar.
He promised faithfully not to touch rye, a id he kept
his word. So when he turned up the next day at the
hut, he was much more bright and clieerful.

" I'm goin' to be a downright water-bil)ber," he said.
" Goin' to save all my bloomin' skivvies, and by and
by, buy a claim, and become a bloomin' millionaire."

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HER HANDS WERE RED AND SORE BEFORE SHE HAD LABOURED FOR

HALF AN HOUR.

"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 211

" Well, I hope you may, Jackie ; but you mustn't
say ' bloomin',' because it's a bad word, except when
applied to flowers."

Wonders never cease at Klondyke, and when, that
same day, Jackie was seen executing a wild dance all
around the cradle and sluice box, now on top of a
heap of earth or gravel, now in a hollow, and whoop-
ing like an Indian, then says one miner to another,
" Jackie's drunk again, Tim."

" That ain't a drunk," said Tim. " Jackie's struck
the pay dirt, or I'm a Dutchman."

" Let's go and see."

They went, and Tim was right.

Jackie showed them a nugget, then Lilla herself
produced another, and if either was worth a brass
farthing, it was worth two hundred dollars, and more.

Poor Lilla ! she scarcely could sleep that night for

joy-
When she opened the door next morning, behold !

there was faithful Jackie, curled up for all the world

like a tame coyote, in a big tub lined with sti'aw.

So sound asleep was lie that she had to shake him
for nearly a minute before she succeeded in waking
him.

Jackie had been on watch all night, witli a revolver
hidden among the straw, but had sunk to sleep at
last.

" Poor lad ! " she said, and went away to make his
breakfast, and her own.

CHAPTER XXI

"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE? — GOLD ! "

■is

lit?

"Gold! (lold! Gold! Cold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold ;
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould."

— Hood.

It was quite a fortnight nfter tlie discovery of those

splendid nuggets before Dr. Debrett returned. Lilia

./ was getting very uneasy about him indeed, when,

one evening, soon after sundown, travel-stained and

weary, he dragged himself up to the door of his hut.

I daren't attempt to describe the joy of that meet-
ing. But Mrs. Grimshaw went quietly home. Slie
was not needed any more for the present.

Then more dry wood was heaped on the fire, and
Lilla, with her sleeves rolled up, and looking quite
" wifey," as the Doc. expressed it, proceeded to cook.

Jackie had taken an hour off, and had brought
some beautiful mountain trout home.

" And you don't ask me, Lilla dear, if I've had any
luck this journey."

" Oh, no, Cliarlie. I can read disappointment in
your face ; but never mind, dear. No, never mind ! "

" Of course not," answered Charlie, with some

212

"A NKW SORT OF SAUCE? — GOLD ! "

213

degree of bitterness and irony. " Of course I won't
mind. I rather like the situation. Starvation is one
of the best things in the world, and ragged clothes is
next nicest. And winter coming on too ! Capital !

" But, I say, Lilla, where on earth have you been
with your hands ? They're as hard and brown as old
John's. Been grubbing among the pay dirt? Eh? "

Lilla didn't answer.

She just laughed a little, dished the trout, and then
going to a box in the corner, took therefrom two
heavy pickle-bottles, and placed one at each side of
her husband's plate.

" What in all the world have you got there, dear ?
Some new sort of sauce? Eh ? "

Then he took up a bottle.

" What a weight ! Why ! I say, Lilla ! Wh-wh-
why, lass, this is Gold ! "

Then Lilla sat down on her husband's knee, for
just half a minute, to receive her reward in — thanks.

The sleeve of her best gown was resting lovingly
on top of the fried fish, but that didn't seem to signify
one little bit, back nor fore.

" Well, well, well ! " cried the Doc, when he had
eaten nearly all the trout, and lit his pipe. " Why,
wonders will never cease ! Lilla, you're a jewel! "

And high up in those curling wreaths of smoke,
the good doctor could see once more visions of the
beautiful home he had promised himself, and the
beautiful yacht on sea.

• • « * •

214

"A NKW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD 1 "

f'3

ii;

The doctor's claim kept well to the fore ; so did
that of Wilson Webb; but the Grimshaw diggings
somehow came to a sudden close. They had struck
a rocky kind of quartz, and the old man miner
determined to give up for a bit.

But young John had too much energy in him to
be easily downcast.

He got a fresh claim, and commenced digging on
his own account. But winter had come now in
downright earnest, and so work was doubly hard
and tiring.

The stimulus to gain gold, however, more and more
gold, kept both the doctor — with Jackie to help —
aiid Wilson Webb, working whenever it was possible.
-^ Washing was out of the question, but they secured

the dirt just the same. The miners here were
honest. Had any one been caught pilfering from a
neighbour's claim, rough, indeed, would have been
the handling he would have received from his
brother-miners.

If thieves had stolen anything, I do not think it
would have been gold, but food ; for some of these
poor fellows were hard enough pushed now, and as
the weather got worse, these, having no provisions,
made up their wealth in packages, and started off
down west to Dawson City.

As I am telling a plain, unvarnished tale, I need
not trouble to conceal the truth. Well, then, to
return to Dawson was about the worst move these
miners could have made. For here they had to

"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD !"

215

live in common lodging-houses, at tremendous ex-
pense, and pay for everything they ate or drank
with their hard-earned gold.

An idle life is an irksome one ; and many of them
sought for mental relief by smoking all day long,
and by appearing every night at the alluring dance,
the drinking-bar, and the gambling-table.

Then, when spring began to return with floods
that washed away the snow, quite a large percentage
of these unhappy men succumbed to illness.

These would never dig again; nevermore handle
pan or pick or shovel.

.It was even suspected that more than one of
them, overwhelmed with despair, hastened their
own ends ; though this is almost too terrible to
believe.

When spring came back in reality, and all in a
jump, as some miners described it, Wilson Webb
announced his intention of leaving Klondyke. The
rumour spread abroad, and more than one speculator
offered to buy liis claims and pay him handsomely
in nuggets.

" No," he said, " no ; I am going home v/ith a
purpose, but I shall retain my claims " — he had
taken up three^ though he worked but one — "I shall
retain my claims, and my house as well, because
I'm coming back, and that, too, I hope, long before
the summer has ended."

Perhaps Wilson was speaking without his host.
That host was a compound one, and composed, if so

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"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! "

1^1:

I may word it, of the steamboat, the ice, the wind,
and the weather generally.

However, he packed up. Young John promised,
and so did the doctor, to give a look at Wilson's
diggings and claim once a week, at least.

And so with hurried farewells, with a heart full of
hope, and gold in his boxes, galore, our hero Webb
departed.

There was ice on the river, but it was in floating
streams, and the steamer was a strong one, and so
could give those baby icebergs points in speed of
floating, and beat them hand over hand.

We, the readers and author, have the wings of

imagination and so can fly faster even than the

/ albatross, and thus we get back to England long

before Wilson Webb has reached the mouth of the

• Yukon.

Now those two boys, Laurie and Ernest, felt just
as sure of going out to Klondyke, to make their
fortunes, after they received that long letter from
their dear friend Wilson, as they felt certain of the
sun rising the day after to-morrow.

The letter to Ernest and Laurie — for it coupled
both their names — was quite a business one, but
most friendly and generous. Here is a bit of it, read
by Laurie himself one beautiful spring morning, by
the banks of the stream, and with interested and
sparkling-eyed Leebie looking over his shoulder.

' Well, you lads must be seventeen now, .ind

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«'A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD I"

217

begun again, and my wee favourite, Leebie, is mebbe
wee no longer. Plfteen is not old, I confess. How
I wish I were fifteen once again ! But a girl of
fifteen isn't a baby, so Leebie must not shed more
than about ten tears when I take you boys back
with me to Klondyke. It will be just too awfully
jolly for anything. And somebody else is going
back with me, too — you would never guess — "

" I'm going for owe," cried Leebie, interrupting.
" Perhaps you would guess that^ boys ? "

" You've heard me speak of Madeleine Peters," the
letter ran on. " Well, we are both going to be mar-
ried, yes, the whole lot of the two of us are to be
married, — for I shall marry Maddie, and Maddie is
going to marry poor me."

" Anybody could have guessed that," said Leebie,
nodding her pretty head. "And I shall go out as
Maddie's maid. Oh, Pm determined to ! "

" Well, boys," the letter continued, " I'll be with
you mebbe a week after you get this, unless unfore-
seen circumstances determine my stay in the city of
C ."

" Ha ! ha ! " Leebie laughed, roguishly. " I know
what that means. / know. / know.

" Don't I, Towsie ? Don't I, Currie ? "

From the capers those two dogs now cut, it really
looked as though they had been listening to the read-
ing of that long letter, and fully understood every
word of it.

And even Neddy must lift up his voice and laugh,

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2l8

'A NEW SORT OF SAUCE? — GOLD I

with a " ffaw-hee " and likewise a " ^ce-haw," till
the echoes rang from wood and brae.

Well, Farmer Lea was a very easy-going farmer,
indeed, and Mrs. Lea was a true English farmer's
wife. Contented and happy always — till now, and
even now they could see no objections to Laurie going
out to Klondyke. He would be in good hands, and
the boy must do something, for the farm hardly
paid.

But, ah! to think of Leebie wanting to go with
him !

Dreadful !

Leebie would never return. No, they could not
spare her.

This was the situation when Wilson Webb and his
young bride turned up one day at the farm.

Now, Farmer Lea had known Wilson before and
had a high regard for him, but Madeleine he had
never yet seen. Her sweet young face, and that
bonnie bride's bonnet, took the honest farmer's heart
quite by storm, however.

The young folks could only stay for a day, they
said, but Lea had told them that day must extend to
a week, and they consented.

Leebie Lea was not slow to see that this would be
for her advantage.

She enlisted Maddie's services in pleading her
cause.

"If you can stand Klondyke," she said, "so, I'm
sure, can /. So do get father to let me go."

"A NKW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD 1 "

219

^1
's

"I'll do my best, dear," said Maddie ; "you may
rely on that."

" And you are really going to Klondyke," said
Lea after dinner that evening. " You, so young, so
tender ! Oh, Mrs. Webb, you will never, never re-
turn ! Ice and snow all the year round. Surely, you
will not venture ! "

But Wilson Webb laughed heartily.

" Why," he said, " the tenderest child can stand
the climate of Klondyke. In fact, children are
there, and ladies too. The summer, the spring, and
even the autumn are charming; blue skies and fleecy
clouds, birds singing in every woodland and grove,
and wild flowers everywhere. During these seasons
it is, indeed, a land to be loved, and the winters,
though somewhat dark and dreary, aie really no
worse than they are in the far nortli of Scotland."

" Is that really so ? But then, are not the hard-
ships to be endured very great while getting there ? "

" No ; not by any manner of means, when one goes
about it in the right way. Then think of the fort-
unes to be made! Here, in i'i:s country, — which
really is played out, — all is a struggle and a grind,
simply to make ends meet, and even this is often
impossible.

" So long as a man is young, Mr. Lea, he can fight
for life against adverse fortune, here in England ; but
when old age begins to load him down, tinge his hair
with grey, and bow his shoulders, the struggle is all
unequal. It was but the other day, sir, I heard a

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220

"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD 1 "

man, holding a good position in commercial life,
make this remark : ' I care not how soon I die.'

" ' What ! ' I said, ' are you tired of life already ? '

'•'No, no,' he replied; ^the love of life but in-
creases with years. Hut I have all I can do even
now to live, and old age would be for me but one
long, lingering death.' "

" Well," said Lea, " I'm fifty ; I daresay I am a
little too old for Klondyke ! "

Then Wilson Webb told him all about the old
man miner and his wife.

Mr. Lea looked at his wife.

"Shall tve go, dear?" he said.

"Nay, nay, husband," she answered. "I wouldn't
exchange my dear old English farm for life in a
heathen land, where ne'er is heard the chime of
Sunday bells, for all the gold in Ophir."

" No more would I," said Lea. " Light my pipe."

But so prettily did Mrs. Webb play her cards that
at last Farmer Lea consented to let Leebie go with
her, on the promise that if, on her arrival in Klon-
dyke, she did not like the place, or was homesick,
Wilson himself should come all the way, straight
back with her.

* ' * « * #

But there was the question of expenses to be con-
sidered as far as Laurie and Ernest were concerned.
This was soon got over.

" I owe my life and i-'y liberty to these boys," said
Wilson, speaking most earnestly now, " and as some

••A NEW SORT OF SAUCE? — GOLD

221

r(3tuni for so great a favour, they must permit me to
pay their passage and journey to Klondyke. And
if pride prevents them from accepting this as a free
gift, then I will respect their feelings. They can
pay me back from the gold they dig from their
claims the first year."

Then Ernest brought Wilson to see his father.

There was not the slightest difficulty about obtain-
ing his consent.

" By all means," ^aid the jolly old English squire,
" let the lad go out. If he doesn't make a fortune,
why, he can only fail. I'm not sure that, morally
speaking, failure won't be as good for him as fortune.
What do you think yourself, my son ? "

" Think ! " replied Ernest, with sparkling eyes, as,
boylike, he encircled his father's neck. " I couldn't
tell you all I think. Only just one thing, — you're
the best and dearest of daddies, and if I had my way,
an Act of Parliament should be brought in to have
all fathers built on the same model, and that would
be yours."

" Well," said the squire, laughing, " mind you
take care of my lad, ]\Ir. Webb, and, by the way, you
may just as well come and dine with us to-night, and
bring Mrs. Webb and Mr. Lea's children ; they and I
are old friends.

"Who knows," he added, "that I shan't take a
run out to Klondyke myself, after hearing you
dilate a little further on its golden glories."

" No, no, daddy, we won't have you. Providence,

1 -

\ I

222

"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! "

you know, didn't make Klondyke for English
squires: only for younger sons."

"Good-morning, Mr. Webb. Six o'clock. We
are all early people here."

"Six o'clock, with pleasure, sir."

m I

' •a

•i-'il'

CHAPTER XXII
A sportsman's paradise

" Fur and feather, heath and heather,
Birds and beasts in bush and tree,
Witli rod and gun, with sport and fun,
Alaska is the land for me." — Alaska.

Six o'clock precisely !

Well, it was, perhaps, an early hour for society
people to dine. But the squire was old enough to
be entirely iiidependent of society and its customs.
And he was there himself to meet his guests, liis
brave, broad bosom heaving under an expanse of
what the miners would call " starched shirt " ; his
jolly red face beaming with smiles, that half hid his
kindly eyes.

Well, Mrs. EP'ot was there also; a dear little
woman, people ,s dd who knew her best, only nobody
Avould have gone so far as to say she was the squire's
better lialf. And when she graced any public enter-
tainment with her presence, she was rel'erred to by
the local reporters simply as the squire's lady. Slie
belonged to the non-assertive class, which very many
ladies do not.

" Why, wliat have you got there, Mr. Webb?" said
the squire.

223

224

A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISK

■»'^i

lii'i via

" Oh," said Ernest, " I made him bring tliat."

And lie took Wilson's violin-case and placed it on
the hall-table, as he spoke.

" That," said Wilson, " is my first wife, and though
you would hardly call me a bigamist, I am happy to
say she is still alive."

The dinner was a very great success, not exactly
from a culinary point of view, for the squire did not
retain the services of a French cook, but because

every one was so happy and cheerful, and it really
did the squire's heart good to look at the joyous,
beaming young faces of the children, as he persisted
in calling Ernest, Laurie, and Leebie.

But for a whole hour, if not more, after dinner, the
squire kept Wilson Webb all to himself and kept him
talking too, mostly about the wonderful river, the
river Yukon.

Wilson having gone down the mighty stream —
which, by the way, is in some places over five miles
from bank to bank — as well as up it, and having
amassed a whole portfolio of views thereof, which he
had brouglit with him to-night, was no mean author-
ity on the subject.

And Wilson was tremendously enthusiastic, and a
portion of this enthusiasm communicated itself to the
squire.

" Heigho ! " he said, " I'd like nothing better, I do
believe, than to be a young man, with nothing much
belonging to me except a pick and a spade and a
gun.

mmmmmm

A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE

225

"Why, making one's fortune," he added, "all by-
one's own exertions, must be more exciting by far
than even football — Rugby rules I "

"It is, sir," said Wilson, "and I've tried both.
But at the lowest estimate, the output of gold from
these regions will soon be greater than that, from all
the other regions of the earth combined. It is
scarcely to be computed in figures, and lucky, indeed,
will they be who are there in time."

Then he described to his earnest listener all the
strange but beautiful, though often dreary scenerj^ of
the Yukon ; especially in its upper regions, with its
mountains, its hills, and its multitude of islands, too
numerous far to be even counted.

Wilson Wi » was nothing if not a naturalist;
even the wild Howers found on the river banks and
in the glens appealed to his very heart. They were,
every one, a poem.

"Just after you start to steam up the river, the
scenery may be somewhat unint- resting, though half
covered in haze, as it often is, it has a look of
mystery about it that makes one long to land and
explore.

"But even here on the banks grow the silver saugh,
stunted alder, and several species of willows, where
birds abound in springtime. With the rattle of the
engine you may not be able to hear tliem, but with
your glasses they may be seen. About opposite to the
head of Norton Bay, and just where the river begins
to flow from the east, we encounter lovely woods."

226

A SrOUTvSMAN'S TAKADISE

;!i':liill

ii i\

" Ah ! it is there 1 should like to be," said the
squire, lighting a fresh cigar.

" Well, sir, as you would expect, the trees are
mostly — with the exception of the cotton wood —
just those you meet with in Scotland, and the silver
birches on the braes are exceedingly beautiful. And
as in Scotland, berries grow everywhere wild in the
woods, — blaeberries, raspberries, splendid cranber-
ries, cro wherries, and even currants."

" A good country for sport, I suppose ? "

" Yes, I was coming to that. Though, mind you,
sir, with the prospect of getting gold for the gather-
ing higher up, he would be a very enthu.^iastic sports-
man, indeed, who would think twice about either fur
or feather.

" Well, whether bears are or are not to be ranked
as fur, there they are — plenty of them, — brown,
black, and grizzly, and very far north, the gigantic
white bear himself.

"Then there are all sorts and — I was almost
civiiicr — sizes of foxes, — the red fox and the black
fox, and higher up the real Arctic or white fox, but
these latter, I am of opinion, are only white in
winter.

" There are otters, also, in abundance on every wild
stream ; and they tell me there are beavers, as well, to
be found, but I have never seen them. I mentioned
the black fox, sir, but that is really tlie pekan or
fisher marten.

" Then the wolverene, I am sure, would interest any

A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE

227

one. It looks like a little bear, though its face is
that of a dog with a high domed skull. It would be
easier to say what it doesn't eat than what it does.
It is a very great enemy to the birds, its claws en-
abling it to climb the highest trees. It will even
attack cattle and reindeer."

" Well, are the reindeer common on the Yukon ? "

" Not very plentiful.

" But there are plenty of wolves, and they come
down in winter, their tracks often being found near
the huts. And, of course, there are marmots and
rabbits too, in abundance.

" The grizzly is found among the mountains, and
my own experience is that, unless you are spoiling
for a fight, it is best to give him a wide berth.

"The brown bear of these regions is quite a char-
acter, in whatever way you consider him. He has a
hobby of his own, and that is fishing. Moreover, he
is an epicure in his way, and will only eat salmon,
and that, too, the best and cleanest. He is very
fierce, moreover, and many terrible fights take place
every year between the Indians and these monsters.

"Nevertheless, tlie brown bear has his uses, for
if a traveller follows his trail, he will not go far
wrong; he will find all the easiest travelling and
the best fords, — always, however, having to keep his
weather eye open, in case of meeting Mr. Bruin
himself. And Mr. Bruin always stops to question
one. •

"Well, away on the more mountainous districts,

' ^1

228

A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE

un.

,■• I

big game is found, — deer, moose, sheep, goats, and
caribou."

"Well, Mr. Webb, you speak for all the world
like a book, and the wonder to me is, that you don't
write one ! "

" Oh," said AVilson, laughing. "I'm going to."

" But, you haven't said a word about feathers
yet."

"No, sir; nor fish.

" Well, then," he continued, " the higher regions of
the Yukon, and all around, are, during the short, but
delightful, summer season the home of more birds
than can easily be imagined. But they are nearly
all emigrants, either from the states of America, or
from the far north. For here we find the snow-bunt-
ing, or snow-flea, as Greenland sailors call it, and
that loveliest gull in all creation, the snow-bird
whose plumage rivals the driven snow in its purity
and whiteness. Warblers are in very great abun-
dance, and wrens of various sorts.

" But, sir, one should scarcely expect to find the
humming-bird here, but here it is, nevertheless,
flitting from wild flower to wild flower, an(! sip-
ping its sweets. We have bobolinks, also, and gros-
beaks, and, later on, grouse, wild duck, teal, etc., and
as many as ouo cares to shoot

" Trout swarm in the lakes, and in every brown pool
of every mountain ^jtream ; and I fear I should be
accused of telling a mere sailor's yarn, if I mentioned
how many the Indians sometimes haul out in a single

A SrORTSRIAN'S PARADISE

229

hour, with the most ordinary and simple of fishing-
gear.

" And as to salmon, why, the Yukon has probably
more than any other river of its size in the known
world.

"We miner people, however, have little time or in-
clination to fish. All our thoughts are on gold, gold,
gold!"

" Well, Mr. Webb, I don't altogether blame you ;
for hunting for treasure must become a kind of mania,
even as gambling does, after a time. But neverthe-
less, you have been describing a sportsman's paradise.
How I should like to be there with rod and gun !

" But come," he continued, " my good fellow ; we
want to see your first wife."

" You shall, sir, and hear her too. Probably Mrs.
Elliot will preside at the piano."

Mrs. Elliot did, and so the evening passed quietly
and pleasantly away. It was one to be remembered
long, long after this, when those who sat in the
scpiire's cheerful drawing-room that evening were f.ir,
far away in the wilds of Klondyke.

-11

'II

I I

CHAPTER XXIII

r •<

■''m

i'ill

OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAI J

" Ye gentlemen of England,
Who live at home, at ease,
Ah ! little do you think upon

The dangers of the seas." — Old Song.

" Come wander with me, for the moonbeams are bright

On river, in forest, o'er mountain and lea." — Jeffkeys.

Why, the emigration of our young friends was
quite an exodus.

It is really a difficult thing for an author to deal
with so many heroes and heroines. He is thus handi-
capped and just a little bewildered, as the circus rider
must feel, who goes hooping round the sawdust
stage, riding on one beauty, and driving half a score
before him.

Well, to say nothing of the two boys, — young
fellows, then, — Wilson Webb, with his happy little
wife, and Leebie, who seemed happier than anybody,
here on board this ocean greyhound is the English,
wall-eyed, but wise, old bob-tailed sheep-dog Towsie
and daft, droll little Currie. Nominally, these dogs,
while on board, were in charge of the cook. Really
and truly, they were in Leebie's cliarge, and nobody
else's.

230

■V

OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 23!

" I don't know," said the chief mate, " that I can
permit your dogs, miss, to come running aft. Dogs
are generally kept shut up, most of the time."

" Oh, captain ! " pleaded Leebie, most prettily,
" Towsie and Sir Duncan Currie have been used to
run wild on the prairie, — I mean the moor, — and if
shut up, they would die. Then, captain, so would I."

I think the chief officer rather liked being styled
captain, and then Leebie was such a beautiful girl.
He* spoke lower now, and bent down towards her as
he said : —

" Do pretty much as you please about it," he said,
"but don't get me into hot water, if possible. I
will pretend not to see them, and I'll tell the other
officers to do the same."

" Oh, thank you, thank you ; it is so kind ! "

So the two dogs had far more liberty than is gener-
ally granted to animals of the race canine when
crossing the broad Atlantic.

At first, Towsie and Currie were observed to be
holding little consultations together, concerning the
peculiarity of the circumstances under which they
were placed.

" I say, Currie, old man," said Towsie, on the very
first morning they were let out for a dance, " I say, it
does seem funny, don't it ? "

"Seems to me, Towsie," replied Currie, "we're
going somewhere, and if it wasn't that master and
mistress were both here, I wouldn't half like it."

" Well, I'm sure I don't, and I'd feel far more at

(

232 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVEU THE LAND

^ m'l^ 1

! i;

home among the heather. The house keeps moving
so, too, and outside all the world is water. Besides,
my head is swimming so, Currie, and I can't stand
nor walk across the floor without almost falling. But
here comes the servant with breakfast."

They were fed and felt better.

" I say," said Currie, " tliere are some things in
this world that even dogs can't understand, vastly
superior in intellect though they be to men beasts
as a general rule." '

" True, Currie, true."

" Well, Towsie, my philosophy is this : ' what ye
can't understand, don't worry over.' Care killed a
cat, Towsie, so what do you say to a scamper ? There
isn't any grass or flowers growing here, but never
mind. I'm off."

He was off indeed, and so was Towsie, round and
round and round the decks in a wild, duft, inde-
scribable kind of a scamper, and thougli they often
fell, they soon got up again. It is true that Towsie
collided with a boy carrying a huge dish, bi'ouglit
the lad to the deck, smashing the dish and.scaiytering
about a score of crisp brown sausages in tlie lee: scup-
pers. A trifle like that did not signify a bark to
either Currie or Towsie. They ran till tired, then
trotted aft to the quarter-deck, where it was a deal
drier and more pleasant, and commenced to make
acquaintances among the saloon passengers. In this
they were most successful, especially with the chil-
dren ; so it is no wonder that before the vessel was

OVICll THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 233

111

three days out, the "twa dogs" were the greatest
favourites on board.

Leebie had onlj'^ one grief. She had not been able
to take Bobbie and Neddy witli her. But she hoped
to meet them again when all her wanderings were
over ; and she was determined to present both these
pets with patent-leather harness mounted with Klon-
dyke gold.

^1 ^f ^* ^^ ^p

Well, there was a long and even dangerous jour-
ney before our people yet, before they siiould reach
the Land of Gold.

Wilson Webb was, of course, captain-commandant
of this brave expedition, and after his arrival at
New York he had to consider and choose one of two
routes, and there was no one with whom he might
consult.

If you have a* map of the world, reader, — and a
very handy aid to one's memory such a broad sheet
is, — you will easily find Lake Winnipeg, that majes-
tic inland sea that lies a long way south and west
of Hudson's Bay.

Had Wilson taken his party tliere, he could have
gone by railway to Vancouver, and thence across
the water to Victoria, and tlience again to Juneau
by boat. For Wilson meant to take the overland
route this time from the mining-town of Juneau.

But he had never crossed British America, and had
an idea that the journey through the United States to
San Francisco would prove far less tiring to the ladies.

MlH

234 OVER THE SEAS, ANO OVER THE LAND

Hi! i

li^

r,uii

Wilson really proved himself a good general. And
he did what every traveller should do before com-
mencing a long journey to a foreign land: he kept
a note-book by him night and day, — literally lashed
himself to it, as sailors say, — and herein lie jotted
down every idea as it occurred to him, and the name
of every article of the outfit that must be taken. lie
was unlikely, therefore, to forget anything that should
prove really serviceable or tend to the comfort of his
wife and friends ; and even the dogs were not for-
gotten.

Of course, he showed his wife this note-bo( k now
and then, and she gave him many suggestions that
proved ultimately valuable.

Well, the lighter articles of the outfit were nearly
all purchased in England ; and they found an im-
mense saving by so doing. Other things were
bought in New York itself and San Francisco, and
odds and ends at Juneau, even.

Although anxious enough to get on, Wilson could
not resist the pleasure of letting his crew, as he
called them, have a peep at the wonders of New
York. So he made a three days' stay in this splen-
did city.

The hotel was not only comfortable, but quiet and
homelike ; and instead of dining in the main room,
they managed to get private apartments, to which
even Towsie and Currie were not denied admission.

Wilson determined to leave nothing undone, to
make the exceedingly long and somewhat hazard-

OVKll THE SKAS, ANM) OVER THE LAND 235

Oils journey liave call the charms of a picnic for
Maddie and Loebie.

" We, boys," he told Ernest and Laurie, as they
sat together in the verandah one evening, "could
rough it. We are strong and hardy and cool. More-
over, we are temperate ; and I think we are just
about as brave as most Englishmen, or Scotchmen,
either. But," he added, "women-folks are women-
folks, you know. I am going to do, and am doing,
just about all I know to prevent a breakdown."

"You don't fear it?" said Ernest.

" N'o, I don't fear it, because Maddie is strong and
happy — oh, there is a deal in that I And our Leebie
has all the expectancy, the dash, and the courage of
youth to keep her up. Nevertheless, a harsh wind
shall never blow on them, if I can keep it at bay.

" Well, boys, I don't really think that we shall be
out a year, altogether; still, I have taken an outfit
for two, and we shall take provisions, also, for two
years. Maddie has chosen tiie rig-out — winter and
summer — for herself and Leebie ; and really, I must
confess that it is not only comfortable, but even
beautiful. I did not credit Maddie with sucli good
taste, as regards fur garments and head-dresses, as she
really has. Oh, she is really clever !

" But," added Wilson, " I did not consult her as
regards clothing for you boys, and for myself. And
those garments for which you were measured, and
the material of which you left to my choice, you will
find just the things for Klondyke."

Vr 1 '

k\ ■

236 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND

liii

I I'

in,

I''

'^"iki

■ ' /■ ■ '

;«■*

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•:■■! ■

twm

Iff! '

1 :r

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■'? '^I

" Yes, and Laurie, here, and myself wonueied \yliy
you were so particular about a fit."

Wilson laughed.

" Because, my boy, I've been there." he laughed,
" and ha})pen to know that comfort is only gained by
having garments that, though loose, fit well. We
have all got working-suits of stout jean, with work-
ing-pants and boots. Yes, and I have laid in the
wherewithal to mend these latter ; for I assure you,
lads, you will often have to be your own cobblers as
well as your own tailors. Needles, thread, scissors,
buttons, and all paraphernalia of that kind, I laid in
while in London, v/ith sweaters, socks and stockings,
towels and toilet outfit, and even tents. These are
easily and neatly packed in the waterproof bags, in
which some sorts of easily damaged provisions will
ultimately be stowed. We will procure more furs
at Juneau or Dyea, where the Indians make and
sell them ; but I have taken out from England half
a dozen eider-down quilts, and sleeping-bags, also.
These last I had to have made. They are of water-
proof canvas, lined with fur.

" Often and often have I slept out all night in
these, even in tlie wildest weather.

" But I'm not done yet. I have no less than a dozen
pairs of blue-glass spectacles to prevent snow-blind-
ness. Pretty guys wd shall all look with these on, I
must own, but what's the odds, so long's you're happy ?

'" Then I have the best camera outfit that could be
purchased in London."

il;i

'\ '

t ,•.,'.

H ''■' ,

)Liii^M

OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 237

rhy

led,

I'k-
the

"And guns?" said Ernest.

"Yes; I have a good rifle and good fowling-piece
for each of tis, to say nothing of revolvers ; but these
won't be needed, boys, for there is very little
rowdyism, indeed, even in Dawson City.

"And I have some fishing-tackle. Not much,
though, because the Indians can procure us all we
want, in that direction.

" But I'll tell you what I made a note of, before
I left Klondyke to come home, and that was mos-
quito curtains. With these and Dr. Debrett's won-
derful antidote, our lives will be a real pleasure all
the way through.

" Well, I have taken a note, also, of all the tools
we shall need; but these we can purchase where we
buy our provisions, namely, ac San Francisco."

While Wilson Webb was talking, Sir Duncan
Currie was sound asleep on Laurie's knee, but
honest Towsie stood by the speaker's side, with his
chin resting on his leg, and gazing up into his face
with loving intelligence, as if he understood every
word that was said.

Wilson put his hand on the dog's head at last.

"No, my good Towsie, I haven't forgotten you,
either. Yourself and Currie will have plenty to eat
and drink, and far more fun and romping than ever
you could have enjoyed in England."

Towsie lieaved a sigh.

" And I have bought you and Currie a waterproof
blanket, or jacket, each ; besides towels, all for your-

! .

238 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND

selves, combs, and brushes, and, last but not least, a
pair of strong, sharp scissors."

" And what may these be for ? " said Ernest. " To
pair their nails ? "

*•' No, young fellow, but to cut away the liair
between the toes, else it speedily get/S balled in
snow time, and the dog is then rendered sore-
footed, lame, and useless."

Well, in course of time, our brave little band
found itself stife in 'Frisco. Here Wilson received
a hearty welcome awaiting from many old friends,
and was obliged to stay neztrly a week.

Here, again, Wilson gave proof of his good gen-
eralship ; for, retaining only the food and things that
were absolutely necessary for the overland journey
from Juneau north and away to the gold regions,
and for a month's stay at the claims, he had all
heavy stores carefully packed and sent by sea to
St. Michael's. They woi»ld he conveyed thence up
the river to Dawson City, and met there by the
young miners themselves.

They arrived, at hist, in Juneau by boat, without
a single adventure, and without encountering even a
heavy sea, far less a storm.

But they met many a slowly melting iceberg, the
cold breath cif which told them what sort of a
country they might erelong exi)ect to come to.

The summer was far advanced, by the time they
reached Juneau, but they hoped to arrive at the El
Dorado in good time to begin the digging, nevertheless.

OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 239

()

lir
in
i-e-

Juiieau is a town on the mainland or level gronh ^
but backed by high mountains and certainly not
devoid of the picturesque in appearance. A strag-
gling sort of a place, which, with its whisky saloons,
its dancing-halls and gambling-hells, put Wilson in
mind of Dawson City iteelf.

However, there was no time to waste in criticising
it. Northwards now on a very uncomfortable little
steamer as far as Dyea. Maddie and Leebie had
heard a deal about Dyea, and quite expected to find
it a large and flourishing city. On the contrary, it is
but a small trading-post up a creek, inhabited chiefly
by Indians.

But these Indians proved to be very handy, in-
deed, and it was not very long before a bargain was
struck with them, and they agreed to carry till the
packages safely northwards as far as Wilson should
wish.

To their credit, be it told, that though very far,
indeed, from prepossessing, these Indians were hardy,
strong, cheerful, and willing.

They had to be well paid, however.

Well, Lake Lindeman, or Lindermann, is about
five and twenty miles from Dyea, over the terrible
Chilcoot Pass.

It was not to be supposed that Maddie and Leebie
could walk this trail.

Indeed, Wilson Webb had arranged that tiiey
should walk only very little, indeed.

He had brought a very large packet from San

240 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND

\^n:'V

R». 5 .

If-'

Francisco to Juneau, and thence to Dyea, and when it
was undone and fitted, lo, and behold ! a very com-
fortable palanquin, not unlike those used in India,
only far lighter and broader.

The two ladies could sit in this, side by side, and it
was borne by four Indians on two long, light bamboo
poles. Moreover, it could be shui up by windows on
either side.

This contrivance, for the construction of which
Wilson deserved no small kudos, was plentifully
lined with furs and had pillows on which to rest the
back and head.

Waggons and horses might possibly have accom-
plished the first eiglit miles of the zigzag road, that
led along the banks of a brawling stream.

They were bound for Sheep Camp, Avhere a halt
is to be made for the night.

Both Ernest and Laurie found all their work cut
out when they began the ascent up through the woods
that grew on the rocky mountain sides. They were
not really in proper Alpine form, and they were not
Scots.

But they were brave young Englishmen, and far
too courageous to think of complaining.

To Wilson, with his stout heart and his iron mus-
cles, the task was as easy as it was to the Indians
themselves ; at some of the more difficult parts, more
strength had to be bent on to the palanquin poles,
and for this purpose loads had to be left behind.

With a stout stick in his hand Wilson walked

OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 241

Ua,

)00

along by the side of the "palkee," talking and laugh-
ing with its occupants, both dogs keeping close to
his side, as if on gvard.

Indeed, neither Towsie nor his little companion,
Currie, liked the look of these Indians, and told each
other so.

"There is no saying, Currie," said Towsie, "what
they mightn't do. They might throw them over a
rock or run right away with them. Well, Cui-rie,
mind this: if I see anything suspicious, I'll give a
bark, then we sliall both attack in the rear. You
are to go for their calves, because you're not big ; but
I shall fix my teeth in something higher up, and, my
eyes, Currie, won't I make them squirm just ! "

Well, there was little likelihood of those Indians
running away with the " palkee " during the ascent,
at all events ; and so, after a hard sti'uggle, tliey
reached Siieep Camp, and here they determined to
pass the niglit.

The Indians, who were accompanied by some of
tlieir squaws, had brought their own food and blan-
kets ; the " palkee " would be the sleeping-berth of
the ladies, and the men-folks would pass the houis
of darkness in their sleeping bags.

While Wilson prepared a warm dinner, cooked in
real gipsy fashion, Maddie and Leebie, glad enough
to stretch their legs, went for a stroll, accompanied
by the boys and dogs. These latter were wild with
joy, bounding over rocks and boulders, dadiing into
the woods, and disappearing as if they never meant

f i'

is *

iii'

242 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND

to return ; reappearing again grinning from ear to
ear, so full of joy and gladness that it made every-
body happy tc look at them.

Laughing and chatting gayly, our friends wandered
on until they reached an eminence from which the
view on either side was very impressive.

Away to the north and the east and north were
jagged, serrated mountains, on the snow-clad summits
of which the setting sun was throwing a glorious
flood of crimson light, the shadows a pale, pale
blue.

To the west was a canon, and far away splendid
glaciers. Southwards, when they looked beneath
them, was the everlasting woods, but far away the
tranquil ocean itself, asleep in the evcxiing sunshine.

The silence was very impressive, broken only by
the strange wailing cries of birds or beasts ; they
knew not which. Both dogs were panting and tired,
and they, too, appeared awed by the silence and soli-
tude of their surroundings.

They got back to camp just as the shadows of
night were falling; falling and filling up the caiion
and glens.

Sound, indeed, was the sleep of every one to-night.
I may probably except the dogs, however, one of
whom slept at each side of the -'palkee," an arrange-
ment suggested, I believe, by Towsie himself.

But ugly though they certainly were, those Indians
were faithful enough.

Nevertheless, when our heroes were awakened next

OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 243

morning before it was quite light, and found a bright
tire of wood burning not far off, with a hissing frying-
pan over it, for a short time at all events, while they
rubbed their eyes and looked at each other, Laurie
and Ernest would have given something to know
where they were in particular.

The odour of that frying-pan was very inviting,
however; so they quickly wriggled clear of their
sleeping-bags, and then memory returned to them
all at once.

iji

CHAPTER XXIV

"T-l,

ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

" Hurrah ! my lads, we'll build a raft,
A stroug, substautial, sturdy craft." — Anon.

" Row, brothers, row ; the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near and the daylight's past." — MoonE.

The struggle over that wild pass, which com-
menced soon after breakfast, was a terrible one ; and
there is really no use in denying it.

For far over a thousand feet the climb was both
steep and dangerous. Maddie and Leebie were now
much too frightened to remain in the palkee, even if
it had been possible to lug the contrivance to the top
of the mountain, they being inside. It was, accord-
ingly, left at a place called Stone House, with the
heavier packages, as it took all the power the Indians
possessed to assist the ladies and dogs up the fearful
slope.

The Scots talk of " a stout heart to a stey brae."

Well, this brae was more than stey ; and the word
' stey," I may inform Englishmen, means steep multi-
plied by ten.

The climb was, moreover, somewhat zigzag, as
the Indians took it, and at times steps had to be

244

» -n

ON TIIK rjUEAT LAKE-CHAIN

245

formed. But it was really wonderful how bravely
those girls bore up.

As for Leebie, I do think that slie was far more
concerned about the dogs, than about her own safety.

I must tell you how these last were got up. Dogs,
as a rule, are bad Alpine climbers ; so Laurie stopped
at the top of the cailon until the Indians, after seeing
Maddie and Leebie safe, had returned. Then, much
to their surprise, Towsie and Currie were tied up,
each in a sleeping-bag, and thus carried to the
sunnnit.

Were their trials and dangers at an end now?
Nay, indeed; they were really but beginning.

There was six miles of snow to be crossed, and
the wild descent to Lake Lindeman to be negotiated.
Though there was but little wind blowing, — there
always is a breeze on the mountains, by the way, —
still the little there was made it piercingly cold. It
was a cold that searched one to the very marrow ;
cold that no clothing could protect one from.

A long rest had to be made ; and while Maddie
and Leebie were glad to seek for shelter and warmth
among their furs inside the palkee, Wilson took
advantage of the halt, boiled water in a spirit-lamp,
and made some beautiful coffee with essence and
condensed milk. While they sip the warming and
delicious tin mugful which Wilson hands to each,
they talk of the terrible climb they have had ; and
no wonder they shudder a little as they think of it.

From the rocky walls called Stone House I think

I'l

ill

246

ON TIIK GUKA'i' LAKK-CllAIN

!i;'ii!

I have guessed tlie ascent at about one tliousand
feet. T am told now it is nearly, if not (juite, double.

The glaciers that towered skywards, precipitous
walls of glittering iee, were really a grand but awful
sight.

But now the long and dangerous descent to the
lake wfis commenced. It was fully nine miles from
the summit of the pass, and the greatest care had to
be taken of the palkee, into which Maddie and Leebie _
liad once more tremblingly ventured. This had in
reality to be lowered down for a great part of the way.

To begin with, there was snow, but this soon got
soft and slushy.

I am sure that during this fearful descent, Wilson
was far more anxious than the occupants of the
palkee themselves. The Indians kept it back with
ropes from behind, while others walked in front, if
walking it could be called.

But more than once our hero's heart seemed
almost to stand still with dread, as the palkee
showed signs of taking charge.

Had it done so, or had it once got way on it, its
speed would have increased every moment. No
power on earth could liave staj^ed its fearful rush,
and those above would have had to witness its com-
plete destruction and the dashing to pieces on the
rocks of iti inmates.

When they reached Crater Lake at last, it was no
wonder that Wilson breathed a heartfelt prayer of
thanks for their safety.

ON TIIK GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

247

and
l)le.

-Oils

vlul

Dc!si)itc all danger and dilUcully, liowever, after
passing several other small lakes and fording a
stream or two, i^ake Lindeman was readied well
on in the afternoon, and prei)arations at once made
fo.' going into eamp for a few days. For a raft has
to be built, so that this delay is inevit;d>lf>.

It is usual here for Indians to return, but such
strong, hardy, and willing fellows were they, that
Wilson determined to retain their services for a
time. And they made no objections, plenty of
'baccy being allowed the'a, as well as their wages.

Not far from the spot where our people rested
was another camp, a kind of semi-permanent one ; for
here not only provisions but pitch could be bought.

Well, this last Wilson believed would come in
handy, as he looked forward to having at least one
boat to build.

It should be remembered that they had still about
five hundred and sixty miles of a journey before
them, ere they could reach, by the chain of lakes
and by the Lewes River, which is really the head
waters of the Yukon, the land of gold they were
going to.

Just think of it, reader, as you scan these pages
of mine ! Nearly six hundred miles of one of the
wildest countries it is possible to imagine, down
streams, along lakes, through passes and rapids,
through gloomy forests, wliere wild men wandered,
and wild beasts too ! As long this journey would be,
or nearly, as from London to Aberdeen !

=! ' ili

f ■

V 1

248

ON TIIK GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

Ilowover, our party liiul one stroke of luck here at
"tent-town," — they found a l)oat for sale. Tlio
owner had overworkitd hiniself> taken ill, and died.

It is not supposed to be lucky to sail in a dead
man's boat, but Wilson Webb was far, indeed, from
being superstitious, and as the boat was a good one,
very strong and newly pitched, he readily closed
with the offer, and so two weeks at least were saved.

After they had got over the first fatigue of the
journey, Maddie and Leebie here brigiitened up con-
siderably.

They told Wilson that they did not mind the rest
of the journey one little bit.

" I do believe," said Wilson, " that, after all, women
are just as brave as men, or nearly so."

" Oh, indeed ! " said Maddie, pouting, or pretending
to, "and I believe that they are often much braver."

Her husband laughed.

" I confess," he said, " I was in a terrible funk as
we were descending the mountain — and all for you
children."

"Well, I'm sure," said Leebie, "that neither
Maddie nor I were in the slightest degree afraid. It
was just a sort of toboggr.ning, you know."

Wilson shuddered a little. ,

It would have been a fearful kind of tobogganing,
he thought, had the palkee got beyond control.

One night as our three heroes were soundly sleep-
ing in their bags, a terrible " hallabaloo " arose.
Towsie and Currie had got hold of some wild beast

ON THK (JHKAT LAKK-CIIAIN

249

or wild l)eing, and were doing their best to tear it to
pieces.

I'lie sound of worrying and tlie shrieks, ronsod
every one, and Wilson soon wriggled clear of his
sleeping-sack.

It was a lovely night, and so far north were they
that scarcely was it daik now. Anyhow, there was
a half-full moon shining clear in the west and stars
twinkling overhead.

"Down, dogs, down! Down, Towsie ! Currie,
come here ! "

Wilson was rushing towards the scene of conflict
as fast as he could.

"Oh! ah! me deaded. Me too much deaded, foh
true. Oh ! ah ! oh ! "

It was a Chilcat Indian, and Wilson could see at
a glance that he was not sober. Fact is, that he had
crawled towards the utility box, as it was called,
broken it open, and helped himself liberally not only
to rum but to methylated spirit.

The spirit was warm enough, in all conscience, but
when they found him, Towsie and Currie had made
it warmer for him still. His compatriots also had
been roused, and forthwith they tied him to a tree in
a very unceremonious manner indeed.

" He a' righ' now, sah, foh true," said the chief ;
" to-mollo' mo'ning we squashee he ver goot. Damn ! "

I'm sorry to put so bad a word in the page, but
Quilquah spoke it with such force that down it had
to go.

i I

m-^l^

J ■(

>iMl. I

I ii'i
Til

R!f^i||j,.

250

ON TllH (iHKAT LAKE-CHAIN

A very wretched Indian, indeed, was Kanuk next
morning when dragged before his boss, lie was
never a beauty, but cringing and begging for mercy,
he was worse-looking now than before. The bard of
Avon tells us that

"Sweet Mercy is nobility's true badge."

He also tells us in words as beautiful as any in our
language, that

" It is twice blest :
It blesses hitn that gives and him thai takes," etc.

Well, I fear that Quilquah had not studied his
Shakespeare. Perhaps it was not to be found in the
lending library to which he belonged.

Anyliow, he displayed none of the qualities of
mercy ; for Kanuk was quickly tried and quickly con-
demned, and the execution of the sentence followed
sjieedily after.

Kanuk was hurried away into the adjoining wood,
and for the next few minutes, except for the shrieks
that could be heard after the sound of every blow,
one would have thought tliere were girls down there
beating carpets.

Kanuk was finally ordered to take himself back at
once to the coast, and his cliief quietly requisitioned
his pay, for his own personal use.

But now work began in earnest, and the making of
a log-raft, strong enough to stand a voyage >wn the
great waterway to Klondyke, was really no joke.

Never mind, with the assistance of the Indians,

ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

251

lOXt

was

our

rough, sizeable trees were cut down, lopped, and
carried down to the water's edge. Mere they were
piled up, until it was believed that quite enough
were £rot together.

Then commenced the building of the log-raft.
Maddie and Leebie said they wf "-e sorry tliey could
not help, but were assured by Wilson that they were
entirely mistaken, as, if they chose, they could materi-
ally assist.

" Oh, do tell us how !" cried impulsive Leeb.

" Why, just by looking on."

Well, log after log was floated well out and lashed
together, the first two being anchoi-ed.

It was weary work, and wet work too, for they
had to wade into the water; and although it was sum-
mer, cold, indeed, did it feel in that lake.

The mosquitoes, moreover, gave them some con-
siderable trouble, and Wilson Webb's [U'escription —
that he had received from the Doc. — was in great
request.

When one deck was built, another lot of logs was
lashed crosswise over it, and even a third. It was
noiv tried, but it was found that when weighted
down with human beings, it was still too low; so a
fourtli deck wa,s added, and when this was th^ne, the
raft was quite a serviceable affair and, ai)parently,
sti'ong enough to defy both rapids and rocks.

Lake Lindeman is only five mdes long, and is
joined to Lake Bennett by a stream hardly a mile long,
but of very great rapidity.

'l 1

1 i

■ 1

; 1

-i

l««|;^»*«t*

252

ON THE GREAT LAKE-( IIAIN

iiil

l! •"■■

Laurie, with a considerable deal of luggage, one
Indian, and the two dogs, occupied the boat. The
ladies were on board the raft, with Wilson and
Ernest and all the rest of the baggage.

Now Laurie would have rushed the rapids, if he
had not been persuaded not to by Quilquah. It
was certain death, he assured liini ; so the boat was
beached and skidded along to the next lake by tlie
Indians.

Meanwhile Maddie and Leebie were told they had
better land and take their places in the boat, as the
danger of an accident was very real.

Ernest and Wilson had poles, it is true, "but so fear-
ful was the speed of the tumbling stream that steer-
ing was very difficult indeed.

The^ xefused to go on shore, liowever, and soon
the raft takes the plunge, with a rapidity, too, that
makes every one's head whirl.

" Hold fast, ^laddie ! Hold fast, Leebie ! " shouted
Wilson.

He struck at a boulder here and a boulder there,
as she went dashing on.

It seemed for a time that nothing could save her,
and wlien she struck a submerged rock, from which
the water innnediatcly lifted her off, liowever, she
shook and trembled like — as Ernest afterwards
graphically expressed it — an old clothes-basket.
Wilson expected that she would go to pieces.

But thanks to her sturdy build, she did not, and
in a wonderfully short time she was rushed into

ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

253

one
rii(3

was

the

Lake Bennett itself. Mere the raft turned round
and round, like a tee-totum, giving those on board a
kind of circular panorama of the wild scenery around,
that was somewhat confusing to behold.

This Lake Bennett is the firsi; of the chain of such
sheets of water, joined together by streams much in
the same way that the great Caledonian chain of
locks is by its canals. We have first the Naves Lake,
then what is called the Windy Sleeve, or Windy Arm,
of Lake Tugish, then the real Lake Tugish, and fol-
lowing this, Mud Lake, sometimes called Lake Marsh.

Now this chain of lakes, with its connecting streams,
is called the "still-water route." This is certainly
misleading, for our party found the water very far,
indeed, from being still; only there were no cataracts.

But terrific squalls were at times encountered, and
twice the boat in which Laurie was had been all but
capsized, very much to the terror of Maddie and
Leebie on the raft. Had she gone down, he would
have been drowned before their eyes. But their own
danger was considerable, although they seemed to
think little, if anything, about this. Even to run on
shore on tlie nuiddy edge of a lake, would have de-
layed the journey for weeks.

The distance from the head of Lake Bennett to the
lower end of Mud Lake is about seventy-three miles,
and danger threatening the party all the way. In
fact, owing to the suddenness with which dirty
weather or squalls may come up, one can never feel
safe on this lake-chain.

jnjij^«»ftir«».i<'-

254

ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

[i I]-

'< '<■

* \

III

1, i

1^1

a>^../

But at long, long last they are out of Mud Lake
itself, and have entered tlie river Lewes.

On they sweep ; somewhat more cheerily now.

Oh! but I do not want to give a wrong impression,
and must admit that they were cheery most of the
time ; and when the weatlier was fine, when it was
all plain sailing, as it were, many a capital song was
started by Wilson, — rolling sea or boating songs, as
a rule, that well suited the scenery and the occasion.
Maddie and Leebie never failed to chime in with
their sweet, girlish voices, and Laurie himself drew
nearer to the raft, that he, too, might join.

For, gliding on and on like this, in boat and raft,
might be compared to sailing through life's streran
itself. On that stream all our boats f.re floating, at
present. We may not know, clearly, where we are
sailing to, and storms may often arise, but we are
happy, most of the time, and we are steering all the
time by a star.

The name of that star is Hope.

The Indians that Wilson had still with him were
now only two ; the rest were paid off, and had gone
back. One was with Laurie ; the other, Quilquiih
himself, w.as acting as guide on board the raft.

"Now that the lakes are all behind us," said
Maddie, " I am sure, Quilquah, our danger is all over."

-" The twoof [truth] T talkee, Missie Maddie. Big
lie all samee debbil. No muchee goot. We come
plenty quick, now, to Pale Hoss Rapids. No fear,
Quilquah plopah guide, fob twoo [true]."

9.'.w^i!*Mr**t»rtt'j« a«Tts-

ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN

255

The rapids the chief referred to were those about,
four and twenty miles down-stream from Mud Lake,
at a phiee called Miles Canon.

Anc the danger in rushing the stream here is very
great indeed.

It is a case of minutes only, however, and is a
great saving in time.

It must be confessed that Wilson Webb's heart
beat high with anxiety, as he neared the canon.
Ernest crept nearer to Leebie. as if to protect he-.

Laurie himself, in his sturdy boat, showed the way.
He kept to the right, and was soon dashing on, and
out of sight.

More slowly did the raft glide now.

But soon they are entering the fierce and awful
current, that has swept so many brave fellows to
death and doom.

It:

m t ^^

pr 5 •;

CHAPTER XXV

AT HOME IN KLOI^^DYKE — A BEAR ADVENTURE

"Oh, I liae seen grecat anes, and sat in great ha's,
Mang lords and maiig ladies, a' covered wi' braws ;
But a sight so deliglitful, I trow, I ne'er spied
As the bonnie blithe blink o' my ain fireside," — Burns.

Although considerably short of a mile in length,
Miles Canon is, without doubt, a dangerous and fear-
ful rapid.

The mountains here rise up into precipitous cliffs,
forming a gorge or canon, so that the river is nar-
rowed till it is scarcely fifty feet from side to side ;
although above the dreaded rapids, it has a breadth
of fully four hundred yards. The rocks at each side
are dark and perpendicular. With the terrible speed
on boat, or raft, even to touch these fearful walls
would mean destruction.

It takes but five or six minutes to sweep through,
but these seem hours, so great and fearful is the
tension on one's nerves.

Right in the centre, or half-way down, is the
White Horse Rapid, so called because the stream
widens somewhat here, and is tossed back again, in
froth and foam, from the narrow entrance to the

256

AT HOME IN KLONDVKE

257

second part of the canon, giving a fanciful leseni-
i)lance to tlie mane of a wild horse. The foam is
increased from the fact that the water dashes and
curls around and over boulders, witli a noise that is
confusing, deafening.

Wilson will always believe, as long as he lives,
that but for his forethought in taking the Indian
"boss" with him, he never could have safely rushed
these rapids.

Nor do 1 think he would attempt to do so again,
with liis wife on board, for all the gold in Klondyke.

But both boat and raft are out into the broad river
at last, safe and sound.

To say that Wilson was grateful and thankful to
God, would hardly desci-ibe correctly the state of his
feelings. For soyie time, indeed, he would not have
trusted himself to speak for a good deal, nor to
glance round at his wife and Leebie. He just kept
gazing ahead. Then he waved his hand to Laurie.

But as soon as he could swallow the big lump in
his throat, he turned to Maddie, and said with
assumed carelessness : —

" You weren't afraid, were you ? "

"Just a little, this time."

" And you, Leebie ? "

The girl's eyes were overflowing with tears, and
when Ernes' patted her hand, down they came fast
enough. SJie made no attempt to hide those
tears.

258

AT HOME IN KLONPYKE

" I'm 8o glad," sliu said at last, '' that Laurie is
safe. 1 thought — oh, I thought we might pass his
boat all smashed, and poor Laurie — "

She put her hands to her face, now, as if to shut
out the terrible, though imaginary, picture.

Well, the rest of the voyage was comparatively
safe and easy ; but they encountered more than one
squall ; and one rapid, also, had to be negotiated, but
after their fearful experience at Miles Canon, it gave
them but little concern.

Dawson City — and crowds rush down to meet
them, to welcome Wilson back again, and wish the
newcomers luck and joy.

Even Towsie and Currie had a part in that hearty
welcome ; and when they got their feet on shore
I feel quite certain that there were not two happier
dogs in Dawson City. ».

Well, in a place like this, with an ever-fluctuating
population, one need hardly be surprised at anything
that may happen, even in a few months' time.

Wilson Webb, therefore, was not astonished at all
when among the first to greet him was Mr. Grim-
shaw himself, " the old man miner." He was look-
ing very happy and jolly, indeed.

" We saw you coming down," he said, " and my
wife set about getting everything ready to receive
you."

"My dear fellow," answered Wilson, "I am,
indeed, pleased to meet you. It is so unexpected,
but, on the whole, so delightful. Now let me intro-

il^

AT HOME IN KLONDYKK

259

lis
ut

The boat
Remember

Come on,

(luce you to my wife and friends. We must not
stop a day, however/'

"Nonsense, Wilson Webb! nonsense!
will be in shortly and all your stuff,
you wrote and told me."

" Yes."

" Well, she isn't far down-stream,
ladies ; bring the dogs and all.

" Yes," he contiiuied, as they walked towards a
snug little bungalow on the outskirts, "me and my
missus are done with Ivlondyke. We've done well
since you left, and we've enough money now to set
up house again in Chicago and keep finer horses
than ever. Ah ! lad, it will be our turn now, and
I mean to make those pig-stickers, who turned their
b^cks on us because we were poor, sit up. You bet !
Ha ! here comes Mrs. Grimshaw to meet us."

" And young John? " Wilson mquired when they
had all got seated.

" Oh, he's np-stream. Claim is working fine again,
and John will keep it on."

" And the Doc. and his wife ? "

" Eh ! dear, dear," said Grimshaw, sadly ; " now you
have struck a hard pan, my boy. Oh, what a weary
woild it is at best! But why doesn't death take the
old ones and spare the young and the beautiful ? "

" Death ! You don't mean to say — "

" But I do. Poor Mrs. Debrett is buried not a
quarter of a mile from where we sit. It was a terri-
ble thing, and cast a gloom over the whole of Dawson

26o

AT HOME IN KLONDVKE

ft i »

%»{

City. An accident, you know, and it happened not
over a montli ago.

"You remember the Uul Jackie that she be-
friended?"

" I do riglit well."

" He is dead too. Died a hero's death, poor fellow.
You see the Doc. was away for a day or two, pros-
pecting. He always was restless, and, as usual on
such occasions, Jackie slept in a tub among straw not
far from Mrs. Debrett's log-hut door. He used to
pride himself in being her guard and sentry. Well,
one dark niglit Jackie was awakened by a wild, ter-
rified shriek, and could see at once that tlie log-hut
was in flames. He blew a shrill wliistle he carried,
to alarm the miners in the neiglibourhood, ai d soon
tliey came rushing towards the hut, to render assist-
ance if they could.

" They found Jackie wild with grief and dashing
himself against the dooi-, which, being bolted within,
all his strength could not force open.

'"Oh, my poor, dear mispress!' Jackie was cry-
ing ; ' so kind and gentle, so good to wicked me I '

" A few blows from a pickaxe were sufliciefit to
burst in the door, but a gush of flames and black
smoke sent them reeling back.

" Jackie, however, did not retreat. On the con-
trary, he made a dash and a rush for the doorway.

" Heigho ! he was never seen alive again. The
hut — which they think liad been set on fire from
the explosion of an oil lamp — was soon a heap of

Wli

AT HOME IN KLONDYKE

261

hot cinders, and in the early dawn the bodies of both
Mrs. Debrett and Jackie, sadly charred, were dragged
from the ruin.

"From the position in which Jackie lay, it was evi-
dent he liad made an attempt to drag the poor lady
to the doorway, and had fallen dead over her body."

"And my poor, brave friend, the doctor?" said
Wilson. " Oh, I dread to ask about him!"

" He — he is gone."

" Dead, too ? " ,

"Nay, lad, 'tis worse than death. His mind has
given way. As often as not he is wandering among
the woods and glens. No one knows how he lives,
or what he subsists on. Only now and then he
appears in camp to tell of wonderful gold finds in
some creek or other, which has no existence save in
his dazed and darkened brain. But it is sad to hear
him sit by a log-fire among the miners and tell of
the treasures he is going to carry back with him to
far-off San Francisco, where he thinks he has left his
wife."

"Heigho!" sighed Wilson; "that is, indeed, bad
news."

"Poor Mi's. Debrett," said Grimshaw, solemnly;
"there is some consolation in thinking that she
could not have suffered long, nor could she have
suffered much. And we have all to die."

This was Grimshaw's philosophy.

Well, in a place like Dawson City even tragedy
itself makes but little lasting impression on people's

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262

AT HOME IN KLONDYKE

minds, and Mrs. Dobrctt and her husband also were
soon forgotten.

Not by Wilson Webb, however ; for '^he Doc. and
lie had been very great friends, indeed.

But even now Wilson was not without some ho[)e.
No springtime, it is true, can e'er revive the ashes of
the urn. Yet tlie Doc. might get well ; that was the
thought which helped to cheer our chief hero when
he at last settled down with his friends in Klondyke.

There is nothing like work for curing worry, noth-
ing like work for banishing grief and care, and now
commenced a season of the hardest toil that ever
Wilson had known.

And not only for him, but for Ernest and Laurie
too.

All his traps and provisions, which Wilson had
shipped at 'Frisco, had arrived safe and sound, and
were stored partly in a hut built specially for them,
and closely adjoining the three-roomed mansion, as
it was called, and partly in a cache.

But there was a vacated hut to spare. This now
belonged by rights to sturdy young John, because it
was that in which his parents had dwelt. He himself
preferred occupying the one-roomed shanty he had
built himself, and so the boys, as they were usually
called, were permitted to take up their quartera in
the other.

Ernest had the good luck to acquire a fresh claim,
and not only his but Laurie's turned out marvel-
lously well.

■PHP!

AT HOME IN KLONDYKE

263

T have not a stronger adverb than " marvellously "
liantly, else I should use it, because of all the claims
in Klondyke those belonging to the boys were ad-
mitted to be the best.

The brief but warm summer had now worn to a
close, and the mornings and evenings of the shorten-
ing days were already keen and cold.

The work all round went on as merrily as ever,
notwithstanding.

And Wilson's party were as happy as any one could
be in so forlorn a country, and with the prospects of
a long, dreary winter before them.

The main room in the mansion was particularly
cosy of an evening. It was large, and the fire that
burned on the low hearth would have done any one's
heart good to gaze upon.

This hearth was a triumph of Wilson's skill, en-
ergy, and engineeiing. It was laid with stone ; there
was a semicircle of stone and cement behind it, and
the smoke and sparks found their way up a funnel and
into an iron pipe or chimney, so that there was not
the slightest danger from fire.

How different all this was from the miserable little
iron stoves in other shanties, it would have been
difficult to conceive unless one had seen both.

Well, it was the invariable custom for tlie boys
to drop in after the evening meal, and join the
magic circle around that cosy and hbmelike fire-
place.

Sometimes young John came too. Whether he did

264

AT HOME IN KLONDYKE

r,\

■m

or did not, his seat and his corner were always
reserved for him.

How were the evenings spent ? Well, Wilson Iiim-
self, being the oldest, wai5 relegated to the easy-chair,
and it was pleasant, indeed, to see him sitting there
listening to the merry conversation, and occasionally
taking his pipe from liis lips and joining in. Some-
times Maddie, his wife, would bring the violin and
place it in his hands, and however tired lie might be,
he never refused to play when she told him to.

Yes ; the boys would be tired of an evening, but I
wish to inform all whom it may concern, that there
are two species of tiredness, — the nervous kind and
the muscular. The first is far from agreeable ; but
rest soothes the latter, and this kind of tiredness is
really rather pleasant than otherwise.

Well, "the girls" always had knitting and sewing
to attend to of an evening, so until the early bedtime

"The time flew by wi* tentless heed."

It is no wonder, therefore, that everybody was as
fresh as a mountain trout of a morning. And every-
body had an excellent appetite too.

The days got shorter. But Ernest and Laurie
continued to have their morning swim, and they
determined to keep it up until they should be fiozen
out of the river.

This river or stream was several hundred yards
away from their shanty ; so after getting uji and light-
ing the stove, iii scanty atti e they ran all the way

AT HOME IN KLONDYKE

265

to their bathing-pool, and quickly undressing, plungec
in.

The glorious feeling of exhilaration wliicli they ex-
perienced after five or ten minutes of sphisliing and
swimming, was worth a king's ransom. This last is
merely a figure of speech ; for, as a matter of fact, I
have no idea what a king's ransom is, though some
of the kings we read of in history, would have been
precious dear at any price.

But early one morning, the two boys had a very
strange adventure, indeed. Though it had its hu-
morous side, it was none the less alarming.

The water on this particular morning was consid-
erably colder than usual ; for a high, nor'land wind
was raging through the spur of the forest, in which
tlieir swimming-pool in the river lay.

It wanted nearly an hour to sunrise, but dawn was
already spreading up in the east. The clouds banked
along the horizon in the middle distance were dark
and grey, but fringed with silver, while those fai", far
behind them were aglow witli gold and crimson.

" I say, Ernest," said Laurie, " I'm going on shore.
It is too cold for a long swim."

"Well, I guess I'll como with you. You are all
over as red as a boiled lobster."

" Am I ? And do you know what you're like?"

"No."

" Why, like a raw one, and that is worse."

" Wo-ah-rr-rr-wo-0-0-0 ! "

That line is really meant for music. I could not

.'^

266

AT hump: in klondvke

write it in any other way. But I wish it to convey
the sou'ul of that grizzly l)ear's awful voice, as he
stood on the banks of the stream, impatiently waiting
for his breakfast to land.

lie had made up his mind to breakfast off Ernest
and Laurie, the boiled lobster and the raw one, and
it was perfectly immaterial to him which he began on
first.

" Oh, Laurie, look, look I "

''Oh, Ernie! Back, back! Let us swim down-
stream."

Truth to tell, they were both almost paralysed with
fear, for as they swam the ferocious monster — the
first seen this season — walked alongside the bank.

Perhaps he was not famishing with hunger, or he
thought the water too cold to hazard a spring.
Though he crouched more than once as if about
to leap, he refrained.

How the adventure would have ended had not
help been most unexpectedly at hand, I cainiot say.
Sir Duncan Currie generally went with the boys for
a swim. On this particular morning, however, he
had overslept his little self, and was late. When
he dashed up to the stream at last, he took in the
situation at a glance, and went straight for the heels
of the grizzly, biting as hard as he knew how to.

With an angry roar, the brute wheeled and tried
to strike the wiry, wee ^errier with a paw. But the
doggy kept out of his reach, only whenever Bruin
faced towards the river, he renewed the attack.

HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE HEELS OF THE GRIZZLY.

/■'iC-iitf*.

AT HOME IN KLONDYKE

267

This continued for many minutes, till the grizzly
could stand it no longer, and, grumbling and growl-
ing, made off towards the hills.

An Aberdeen terrier chasing a bear !

It may be strange, but it happens to be fact !

The boys did not stop to dress. They gathered
up their clothes and fled back towards the village ;
and as they rushed madly past some miners going
early to work at their claims, the astonishment of
the men may easily be imagined.

The sun soon rose, and shone very brightly down
on hill and dell and woodland wild.

Little Currie had come back safe and sound, but
all excitement. He seemed to tell the boys that he
knew where Bruin had gone to cover.

When Wilson heard of the adventure, his very
eyes sparkled with joy.

" Come on, lads ! Get your guns ! Come, Currie !
A bear's ham is an excellent change of diet."

"Wowff!" barked Currie.

And so the hunt started.

Two hours after this, the bear was bagged.

i i\

I :

CHAPTER XXVI

THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN

" Stormy winter's come at last,

With winds and clouds and changing skies ;
I hear the rushing of the blast
That through the snowy valley flies." — Bryant.

"Now, boys," said Wilson, an evening or two
after this, as he laid down his violin, "I believe I
am still boss of the show."

" Oh, yes."

" Well, I'm going to exercise my authority. We
have been here, now, a whole month, and our claims
have all panned out splendidly, and I have taken
over the poor doctor's, for he can never dig again, I
fear. But, anyhow, you youngsters are working far
too hard, and — look here — harder than you need to."

" Oh, Wilson," cried Ernest, " we want to make
a pile, you know ; and, really, the excitement is very
great ! "

" True, old man, and excitement kills, as sure as
you are alive at present. If you go tearing on as you
are now doing, for six weeks longer, you'll be down
with fever, and won't have strength enough to fight
it."

Well, what would you have us do?"

268

((

^tir-

TIIK DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE 1 URN 269

"Why, give yourselves two good hours' rest a
day."

" Wliat, ait down and whittle sticks and whistle ? "

" No, lad, not that ; but shoulder your guns and
your fishing-gear and be off to the hills and the
glens. We want fish ; we want more bear meat.
Old hands tell us it is going to be a hard winter ;
and so, while keeping up your health and strength,
getting good fun and excellent sport, you will have
the satisfaction of knowing that you are filling the
larder."

"What say you, Laurie?" said Ernest.

" I'll go like a shot."

"So will I."

And so a series of almost daily hunting and fishing
expeditions were inaugurated and kept up, too, until
the early winter had fairly set in. Then they had
to be abandoned.

But not before our young heroes had encountered
one or two thrilling adventures that they were not
likely to forget.

On these expeditions that poor little dear, wee,
rough-coated tyke Currie was their constant com-
panion.

" I feel it my duty," he seemed to say, " to look
after you with so much danger about. Where would
you be now, I wonder, if I had not destroyed that
terrible bear?"

Yes, Currie was really convinced that he alone had
slain the grizzly.

270 TIIK DAY WILL SOON BF, ON THE TURN

But, for reasons best known to himself, the hob-
tailed Towsie preferred remaining in eamp. Perhaps
he thought chat there were bad charactei-s about, and
that it was his duty to protect his mistress.

Well, while the young fellows were fishing, Currie
used to be romping througli the bush, doing a bit
of mink or wolverene hunting on his own account,
and refreshing himself now and then with a feed of
raspberries.

One day while the terrier -""is away on the war-
path — he could be heard yap-yapping in the dis-
tance every now and then — and the boys were
fishing, with such success that they were actually
covering the banks with living, leaping mountain
trout, all at once, to their no small consternation,
a huge black bear put in an appearance on the scene.

My own experience of bears has been chiefly among
the large Arctic species, and I have had one or two
narrow " squeaks " ; but I have noticed that when
a bear is very self-possessed he feels sure of his prey,
whether it be a man or a seal. ^

Well, this particular bear did not seem put out in
the slightest degree.

There was a cunning leer on his crafty face, and
I'm sure he would have spoken somewhat as follows
could he have spoken at all ; —

^ In the Arctic regions once we liad a little ragamuffin of a dog
who used to chase the white bears. He could do tliem no harm, but
by biting at their heels he delayed tlieir progress, and this enabled
the rifles to get near euough. We called him "Brick, the bear
hound."— C. S.

THE DAY WILL SOON BK ON Till: TUIIN 2/1

"Ilillo, lads! IIill-1-lo! Wliy, tliis is quite a
pleasant surprise I Fisliing, eh ? Well, I've just
been doing a little of that myself, fartlier up-stream.
I've swallowed about two dozen, but la! what is that
to a healthy young fellow like me. But don't let me
disturb you I "

lie had lain down to watch them, as a cat watches
a aiouse.

" 1 thought, you know," he went on, " that a bit o'
fresh meat would help to make up a dinner for me ;
so, as soon as I got scent of you, I just came along."

Both boys were almost paralysed with fear, for a
time. They had left their rifles, foolishly enough,
far down-stream.

But they determined to sell their lives dearly, and
defend themselves with their fishing-rods.

It was pretty evident thai Mr. Bruin could not
make up his mind, as to which he should spring
upon first.

The delay enabled both to recover self-possession.
Laurie suddenly remembered that he liad in his
pocket a very large and shrill dog-whistle, and a
happy thought occurred to him.

"Ernest," he said, "slip off your coat quietly, and
when I give a startling whistle, whoop as loudly as
you can, wave the jacket, and rush towards the brute."

" Well," thought Ernest, " it is death anyhow, I
daresay." So off came the coat.

"Aren't ye afraid of catching cold?" Bruin
seemed to say.

i W

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272 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN

"Are you ready, Ernest?"

" Ready, aye, ready."

Whew-\v-\v ! went the whistle.

In Bruin's ears it was startling in the extreme ;
but when the jacket was waved, and both boys
advanced with a wild whoop, hij nerves couldn't
stand it a moment longer.

He wheeled and bolted.

Then a new actor came rushing on the stage.

And this was Currie himself.

" Let us run for the rifles," cried Laurie.

And run they did.

They ccild still hear Currie barking and yelping
at Bruin's heels, so they hurried on in chase. To
their horror, just as they were within gunshot, the
bear wheeled so suddenly that he downed poor Cur-
rie, and lay on top of him.

Never had Laurie fired a shot with more caution.

Yet, strange to say, he was cool the while.

The bullet struck the monster on the left shoul-
der. He started to his feet with a coughing roar,
spitting blood and froth, then — he fell on his side,
dead.

But the strangest thing of all was this : Sir Duncan
Currie did not appear a single bit the worse.

He looked a little dazed, but soon recovered even
from that.

"I killed that bear in fine style, didn't I?" he
seemed to say as he trotted up to Laurie, laughing
apparently all the way down both sides.

■» W'k

lie

THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 273

Laurie took him up in his arms and kissed liis
heathery brow, a dozen times over.

" My dear wee friend," he cried, " what should we
do without you ? "

. " What, indeed ? " thought Currie, though he did
not say so.

Anyhow that black bear when it was got home
made a very welcome addition to the larder. As
did the fish also.

But it is not to be supposed that a little party of
five or six could make away with a large animal like
a bear, even in winter time when appetites were
wholesome and meat kept long. No, but there were
many men not very far off who had been unfortu-
nate, and were already beginning to feel the pinch
of hunger, and to these a portion of that meat was,
indeed, a much-prized present.

Now I am anxious to give the gold fields of Klon-
dyke all their due, as well as the brave fellows who
worked there, and for aught I know do still work
there; yet it would be far less than my duty as a
writer of books that are meant not only to amuse,
but to convey a little information, were I to leave
the reader with the impression that every one who
goes to Klondyke is bound to gather wealth.

Klondyke has been the ruin of many of those who
were even able and willing to work and struggle.

For several sorts of reasons they have simply been
unsuccessful. They have drawn blanks as regarded
their claims ; they have lacked patience and long

274 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN

endurance ; they have not come provided with the
proper necessaries of life, and so have starved first,
and broken down afterwards.

There are many of such men in Dawson City, —
some of them gentlemen's sons, who have gradually
degenerated into hangers around bars or the dancing-
saloons, and loafers.

Ah, me ! it is bad enough to be poor in any city,
but to be in a town like Dawson, and not to know
where to turn for a dollar, or not to know when
eating one meal, where the next is to come from, is
pitiable indeed.

Still, many who went to the mines had no sand in
them, as the Yankees expressively say; they were
from the first inclined to loaf and be idle, and per-
haps addicted to drink. How could such as these
expect to get on ? , _

Crime is hardly known high up in El Dorado, but
once Laurie's little Currie guided his master to a
gloomy spruce copse, some distance down a wood.
For a time, although armed with his rifle and Ernest
not far away, lie hesitated to enter that dark thicket.

It was evidently no live beast, however; for the
wise little dog, instead of showing excitement, sat
down on his haunches, lifted his chin high in air,
pursed his lips, and howled most piteously.

Then Laurie knocked aside the branches and
crept in.

There lay a man on his back — dead.

His sightless eyes were turned upwards; there

■■■MM!

and

THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 275

was a large brown patch on the ground, made by the
blood that had poured from a wound beneath the
ear, and his right hand still grasped the revolver
with which the deed had been done.

An unsuccessful miner ! Ah ! no one could tell
his sad story. None here knew what his home life
had been. But on his left hand was a diamond ring,
and beside it a ring of plaited hair — bonnie yellow
hair supporting two little golden hearts.

Easy would it be for me to weave a story around
a tragedy like this. I refrain, and restrain even my
imagination. The subject is a sacred one.

But another day, not far from B , a body was

found in the river.

Suicide was the verdict; but the simple court that
held the inquest refrained from adding those idiotic
words " temporary insanity."

Well, our hero Wilson, and the boys too, were
as kind as they could be to unfortunate idlers, and
gave some of them work at the diggings when they
could be approached. What I mean is this, that
many had been gentlemen at home in England, and
were far too proud to take manual work from anybody.

But others there were who begged for it, their
only wish being to raise as much cash as would take
them back to America, or to their homes in Merry
England.

One man who told Wilson he belonged to a good
old county family in Kent, and who really looked a
young fellow of education, worked for weeks and

2/6 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE

TURN

seemed very grateful. In the end, he showed his
gratitude in a way that was not very commendable.
He stole about five hundred dollars in nuggets and
gold dust and, decamping, reached Dawson City and
was seen no more.

Wilson did not worry over this, but it taught him
not to trust every one who was pleasant in speech.

But shorter and shorter grew the days, and it was
evident that the winter was going to be not only
earlier than usual, but harder. The bears now dis-
appeared.

" What a blessing it is," said Wilson, one evening,
" that we came prepared." And he added : " I really
did not know which of yu. young ladies to admire
most when you came to . it us at our claims. No-
bod}; must ever tell me thac fur hoods and parkas are
not becoming; and I think that wolverene is just
about the prettiest fur out."

" It does seem cruel, though," said Leebie, "to kill
the poor little minks, or even the wolverenes."

" I think," replied Wilson, l ^hing, " it would be
as well, Leebie, to lecture Sir Duncan Currie on the
subject ; for it is he who catches most fur."

Sir Duncan laid one ear forward when he heard
his name mentioned. But he did not make any
remark. I really believe that Sir Duncan kept very
many of his very best thoughts to himself.

The claims continued to pan out well, but I fear
I should be accused of exaggeration, if I told all the
truth concerning the wonderful land of gold.

THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 277

I have surely said enough to prove that it is energy
and industry alone that bring fortune.

As the weather grew colder and the days got
shorter, it saddened the hearts of not only the " girls,"
but our boys as well, to observe that many of the
miners who had been only partially successful were
now all but destitute of the necessaries of life.
These poor fellows worked on hopefully, however,
at their claims, believing that luck would eventually
take a turn. For some it did ; for others it came
not, and these at last stampeded to Dawson City.

But provisions of all kinds had there even already,
reached almost famine prices, and many a one now
repented bitterly ever having come to Klondyke
at all.

Ernest and Laurie had, as we have seen, taken
Wilson Webb's advice, and did far less work now,
spending more time in taking wholesome exercise.
They were young, very young, and they were strong
too.

Well, the gold would keep. This was Wilson's
reasoning: why kill themselves in winter by grub-
bing for that which could be got with far less toil
and trouble in the lengthening days of summer ?

They settled down to winter work, therefore, in
the following fashion: —

There was but little daylight during December,
only from an hour and a half to two hours," accord-
ing to the state of the sky and atmosphere. Well,
to make the most of this, they worked with lanterns

• i

i M

ffl-

! M

J ^^l

278 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN

underground in the mornings and in the evenings,
so that they could have all the middle part of the
day for sport and amusement.

But in the earlier part of December they cut
down wood on tlie braes, and conveyed it home in
logs for firing. This was pretty hard work, yet they
had the satisfaction of knowing that they were pre-
paring to bid defiance to the worst kind of weather
that could blow.

Their extra stores they had long since " caclied,"
or placed in safes erected on poles. It was thus
protected from the attacks of either bears or wolves,
though the former sleep most of the winter.

Poor little wire-haired Currie still persisted in
sleeping in a tub out of doors ; but he graciously
permitted Wilson to nearly fill tliat tub with wood-
shavings and skins, and under these he quite buried
himself, only giving voice when some beast of an
inquiring turn of mind — a fox or a wolf on the war-
path — came prowling round.

These wild beasts chose the darkest nights on
wliich to visit the camp; and as it was no good at-
tempting to get a shot at them then, a rifle was
placed in the wall so that when Currie gave tongue
it could be fired by Wilson, by simply pulling a
string from the couch where he lay.

One shot was enough ; the enemy fled, and re-
turned no more.

But there were beautiful moonlight nights when
it was light enough to obtain a shot, and either one

THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 279

of the boys, or Wilson himself, would creep quietly
out when Currie barked, and have a look around.
Bruin had generally been the would-be burglar. At
the commencement of winter, and in one month, no
less than three bears were discovered up at the
cache, endeavouring to claw it open ; and each time
one was shot.

" Come, men," Wilson said to about a dozen of
men one night, at a meeting they were holding to
discuss the question of shutting up their claims, and
retreating down upon Dawson City. "We are all
brothers here. I and my people have provisions for
two whole years, and we are not going to see you
starve. Besides, God is sending us a bit of fresh
meat now and then, and even wolves are not bad
tack when a fellow is hard pushed. Don't give up
your claims ; that would be ruinous ! Better times
will come — must come; and, my friends, don't for-
get this; the day will soon be on the turn."

The men — hollow-cheeked, glistening-eyed, and
starving — stood up with one accord to thank and
bless him.

Many could not utter a word, owing to the tears
that were choking them, but all crowded round him,
and the honest grip of each hard hand was proof
enough of the gratitude that dwelt in their hearts.

CHAPTER XXVII

CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE — A TERRIBLE JOURNEY

" But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ;
Or like the snow-fall in the river,
A moment white — then melts forever;
Or like the borealis race
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form.
Evanishing amid the storm." — Burns.

Perhaps the glorious aurora borealis never shone
and scintillated more beautifully above the wild hills
and snow-laden woods of Klondyke, than it did on
that still, starry night of December 25th, 189-.

As white as the sunlight at one moment, in quiver-
ing, snake-like ril)bons and fringes, so close, appar-
entl}^ that you might cast a salmon fly over it, as one
docs over the Dee, and the next moment flickering
here and there in a flush of pale crimson, sea-green, or
blue.

Not a sound was to be heard over all this strange
land, save now and then the wail of a wolf, or sharp,
ringing bark of a fox in the distance. Except for
this, it was a silence that seemed preternatural, a
silence that could be felt, and gazing skywards, al-
though one might be mistaken, it was impossible not

280

CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE

281

to believe that the aurora did emit sound, partly
liissiiig, partly crackling.

Well, anyhow, the light of the stars shone with
but feeble rays through tliis light of the north.
There was a new moon, too, but that was slowly
sinking in the west.

No need of lanterns to-night, at all events, to guide
those half-dozen brave and sturdy miners, who were
making their way through the powdery snow towards
the mansion.

It was Christmas night, and neither Wilson, his
wife, nor Leebie were going to forget it. Tlie girls
had been busy for days making mysterious-looking
cakes and a huge plum-pudding, with many other
dainties, which a woman only could name.

The boys had been busy too ; not only was there a
tent added to the mansion, whereby its available
space was extended, but the inside of both this and
the largest room was decorated with evergreens, of
which the woods around afforded a supply that would
suffice to cover the walls of St. Paul's Cathedral itself,
outside and in, and change its dome into a canopy of
green.

But those evergreens behaved "funnily," as Laurie
expressed it. For at the end of the room farthest
from the fireplace, they were hung with tiny icicles,
from the melting of portions of snow, which it had
been impossible to shake off. But these icicles had
a decorative tender jy, and sparkled with all tlie
colours of the rainbow.

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CHRISTMAS IN KLONDVKE

A dozen, in all, sat down to dinner. Well, that
was better than thirteen, anyhow. The ladies sat
nearest to the fire; not beeause they were eolder
than anybody else, but beeause they had to serve
up the dishes.

I may mention, at once, that soup was not down
on the menu. Hut fish was. And delightful they
were. These splendid trout the boys had caught —
Indian-fashion — through an ice-hole in the stream.
Well, there was a splendid haunch of deer, brown,
juicy, tender, and done to a turn. This was flanked
by potatoes and hunks of brown bread, baked by
licebie herself. There was wild duck, besides, for
those who liked them. Beauties they were, though
not very large ; and, mind you, those miners had
brought healthy appetites to that Christmas dinner.

" Gentlemen," said Wilson, with a smile, " I shall
carve these ducks as the young Scottish naval sur-
geon did some fowls that were placed before him.

" ' Let every man tak' a birrrd,' he said, and so
you must do the same."

Well, for vegetables, tliere were green j)cas and
tomatoes ; tinned, of course, for neither of these
dainties flourish so far north, as yet. But I think
that the cranberry jelly went well with either veni-
son or duck. This jelly — honour to whom honour
is due — was also made by Leebie.

The wine was coffee, with j^reserved milk.

From my own experience of regions round the
pole, I can testify that good coffee is a far more

CIIIUSTMAS IN KLONDYKE

283

wliolesome and generous stinuilant than rum; and
I've tried both.

" Perhaps," said Maddie, with a mischievous
smile, " some of the gentlemen would prefer iced
water."

But the very thoughts of this seemed to cause
more than one of her guests to shudder.

Well, tlte crownijig glory of this Christmas din-
ner was the plum-pudding.

Ernest himself hoisted this to the board, and,
indeed, it needed all his strength to carry it. It
was rich and brown and savoury, and though no
holly graced its crown, a species of crimson barberry
did duty excellently well instead.

I feel quite certain that the Prince of Wales him-
self — who, 1 am told, is rather partial to pudding —
never enjoyed a more splenditl or better-made pud-
ding than this.

After this, more coffee was served, and then
Scotch thistles were handed round. Each Scotch
thistle, however, was of purest crystal, and con-
tained a modicum of tlie purest Scottish wliisky.

So ended the dinner.

15ut not tlie evening.

For now a wide circle was formed around the low
hearth, on which more logs were hea})ed, and blazed
and danced and sparkled right merrily.

I need hardly add that Towsie and bold Sir Dun-
can Currie were there, or that they had enjoyed
their dinner as much as any one else.

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CUlllSTMAS IN KLONDYKE

f! ^\

" Upon the wliole," remarked the terrier to his
friend Towsic, " Klondyke isn't such a bad jjhice
after all, and evon at home it ain't every day we get
such a glorious dinner to discuss. What do you say,
friend Towsie ? "

Tovvsie sighed.

"/say that I'd rather eat a dry biscuit in our cave
on the moor, in our own bonnie land, than pudding
and venison liere. Ah, C.'urriel we don't quite under-
stand mai ind yet, as wise as we are; but, after all,
I think tliat digging for gold, Currie, must be a
species of madness."

" I'd rather dig for mink myself," said Currie, and
then he curled up and went to <leep.

There was noil ' i ng talked about to-night except home.

And several of those miners had stories to tell of
their former lives, that were interesting to a degree,
but sad enough to boot. Nearly every one there had a
mother or sister or sweetheart in the " far eountrie,"
and their thoughts went out to her to-night.

And even the songs that were sung and the melo-
dies played by Wilson Webb on his violin, litid an air
of sadness about them.

Never mind ! That Christmas evening was a very
happy one for all that, and not a heart was there,
around that cheerful fire to-night, which did not beat
high with hopes of brighter days to come.

« * . MIt « «

I am so terribly sensitive that even while I write
my readers seem to be around me, and I often feel I

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CIIHISTMAS IN FmKDYKE

285

liave many tliiiii^s to apologise for. I feel just so at
this nioiuont, because of my inability to make tlie
last part of this chapter as gladsome and cheery as
the first.

But one's dut}' plainly is to describe things as they
are, and at the risk of dashing the hopes of many
wlio may have half made up their minds to visit tliis
laid of gold, I must say that the winter there may
be not only a hard but a deadly time.

In what follows, then, you will find no straining
liter stagy effects. I shall be happy if simplicity
marks my every sentence, though, being an Arctic
man myself, it would be easy for me to make my
descriptions very graphic indeed, without departing
in the slightest degree from facts.

Still, I should premise few winters, even in the
regions around the Klondyke and Dawson City, are
so terrible as that of 189- was.

As early as October, high winds and biting blasts
began to blow fiercely from off the Norland hills,
and when it veered more round to the west, snow
commenced to fall, in little pellets at first, no larger
than grains of mustard-seed. But as the wind went
down this was changed to big dry flakes, of a size
such as we never see in England. I have myself
seen such flakes — away up in Greenland north — as
large as florins and crown-pieces.

As the frost was hard, and even the river frozen
over, these flakes, lying loosely enough, soon accumu-
lated to what is called a great fall.

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CHRISTMAS IN K^ONDYKE

For days and days after this a kind of blizzard
blew. The sensation, when one attempted to go
out of doors, was precisely like that experienced by
a man who is out of form, when he stands under
a cold shower-bath. One gasped and struggled.
The ice-dust was choking, suffocating, and paralysing
to the air-cells. The cold, too, was intense, and one
had to grope one's way from door to door.

The saloons in Dawson City were brightly lit up
all day long, and I do not wonder that hundreds of
poor wretches sought for shelter, refreshment, and
warmth within their walls.

The wind fell at last, and then the scene all
around, might have been called dreary in the ex-
treme. Nothing black, or even dark, was visible.
The whole world was robed in its winding-sheet.
Tents and even log-houses had collapsed, and many
of the latter liad been entii-ely covered over, so that
the inmates had to be dug out.

In some parts the wreaths of snow — shaped like
curling waves just before they break on a sandy
beach — were so high one could scarce have touched
their sliarply defined upper edges with a fishing-rod.

But starvation reigned in Dawson City. The
prices of food of all kinds were proliibitorj'^ except
to those who had an abundance of " dust."

Hunger alone is capal)le of making cowards of even
brave men, but few, indeed, can withstand the wither-
ing, nerve-destroying effects of starvation and cold
combined.

CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE

287

" Boys," said a Yankee, one evening, at the bar of
Mac's saloon, " I've had enough of tliis. What say
you to skip? It is little more than seven hundred
miles to Juneau. It is true the journey will be a
terrible one, for burdens must be borne ; but, rather
than leave my bones here for the wolves to pick,
I'm going to try it."

The proposal found favour with scores, and so a
stampede was resolved upon; and in two days' time
five hundred men at least had crossed the frozen
river, and were heading away for the far, far distant
Chilcoot Pass.

They had hired Indians as guides and carriers.
There was no thought of gold now. All they longed
for was food and warmth and a chance of life.

They departed singing.

Yes, British courage or American is indomitable !

But mercy on us ! what a fearful journey they
had undertaken ! Had they been all as strong as
mountaineers, tliey could not have hoped to reach
the end of it without sufferings and privations, the
character of which it would be dillicult, indeed, to
exaggerate.

Shall we follow them in imagination? Better not,
I think. But a man lives near me now who had
made one in that thin dark line which, as he spoke
in short sentences, every word stamped vdth the
impress of truth, I could in fancy see winding its
slow, sad way across snow-clad plains and frozen
streams, round rocky boulders houses-high, througli

t !

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CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE

lonesome frozen forests and over mountains bleak and
bare and wild ; poor fellows with frosted feet and
lagging limbs, their faces pale, their lips a dusky
blue, hardly looking where they went, hardly caring,
indeed, seeing nothing but the snow or ice beneath
their i'eet, happy only — if happiness it could be
called — when night fell and they could creep into
their sleeping-bags, cold and hungry as they were !

To sleep ? Not all, for refreshing as sleep would
have been in many cases, aching limbs and racking
coughs banished slumber till far into the short hours,
when it was well-nigh time to roll out and continue
the dreary journey.

" But ah ! " says my informant, " seldom of a morn-
ing did all roll out, and when we placed hands
on the shoulders of those we thought were sleeping
sound, we found the sleep was sound indeed. They
were dead and stiff.

" We buried them, bags and all. Just covered them
uj) with snow, for the ground was far too hard to
open, even had we brought with us picks and shovels.
The bears and the foxes would (ind them in spring,
but this we could not help.

" So slow was our march that November itself was
half through before we reached ]\rarsh Lake, and
the pass still lay in front of us.

" Those among us who were strongest sympathised
with the weakly, as far as men in such circumstances
as tliese can liave sympathy or feeling. We lielped
the ailing along, anyhow, and we gave them a portion

CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE

289

of our own food allowance; we even carried them
when too bad to walk.

« I mind well that one afternoon Nat Hunter and
I were carrying a poor fellow between us. The day
was a bitter one, with a high wind and driving snow.

"'William,' said Nat to me, as well as his half-
frozen lips could speak, 'we needn't bother with
this one any more.'

"'Oh, Nat,' I answered, 'we cannot desert the

poor fellow now!'

" ' Speaks well for your kind heart, William, but —

he is dead.^^

" So we covered him up as we had helped to cover
so many, and then — well, then we lit our pipes.

" We left more than a dozen dead, on or near the
pass, and when we dragged ourselves into Dyea at
last, there were barely three hundred and fifty of us

all told.

"For years and years to come our trail will be

traced by bleaching bones."

CHAPTER XXVIII

SICKNESS AND SORROW — THE MANIAC DOCTOR

Wt'l

" O woman ! in our hours of ease
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the ligiit quivering aspen made ;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou I " — Scott.

A MINER arrived pretty early one morning at the
mansion.

Wilson Webb and the boys had just breakfasted,
and were getting ready their lanterns to go under-
ground.

It was about the latter end of January, and the
wind was blowing fierce and keen.

He was a hardy Cumberland man, and had already
made his pile.

"Oh, good-morning, Spencer!" said Wilson,

" Good-morning, Mr. Webb. But I haven't the
best of news to give you."

" Why, what is the matter ? "

" Only this, — and it's bad enough, — my pal
dropped down-stream last night."

"What — dead?"

" Ay, dead enough, sir. Don't say a word to the

290 ,

the

ted,
der-

the

ady

the

pal

the

SICKNESS AND SORROW

291

ladies. We'll get him under by lantern light, and
they need never know.

" It was his heart," continued the miner, " acceler-
ated, as a doctor would say, by starvation."

" But, my dear fellow, you must admit that we —
my young pals and I — have been willing to share
our very last crust with you."

" Ay, that you have ! May God bless you for it !
But I must be plain with you. These miners you
have been so good to are Biitish and American: and,
being so, they are proud, and it is the very fact that
you refuse to take their dust for the meat and flour,
which causes them in their pride to keep away, and,
in fact, to starve."

" Is that so, Spencer, really ? "

" That is so really, sir."

" Well, then, in future, and till better days come
round, 1 shall sell.^^

"Spoken like a hero, sir. Rather than hurt the
pride of those brave fellows, you bury your own.
Now I'll go and tell them."

It was evident he had done so ; for when dayliglit
came, more than a dozen gaunt and hungry men
found their way to' the mansion, received tinned and
other food, paid for it like men, and went away
contented.

But Wilson had told each and all of them that,
though he had consented to take "dust" for the
stores from the cache, all deer or wolf meat and all
fish caught must be accepted as gifts.

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SICKNESS AND SORROW

And the men agreed to this, without a single
dissentient voice.

No more hands died of actual starvation, but long
before that weary winter ended, five more graves had
to be opened, to receive the bodies of men who had
succumbed to the awful cold and to chest complaints.

Most of these had been nursed to the very last, by
either Maddie or Leebie.

Sr kind hands had smoothed their dying pillows.

But what made several of these death-beds all the
more affecting was, that towards the end tiie poor
fellows imagined that they were being nursed by
a sister or mother.

" Hold my hand, Jeannie," said one poor young
Scottish lad.

Leebie took the hand in hers; and a thin, thin,
cold one it was.

"Mother isn't here. But tell her, Jeannie, — tell
her that — I died happy — so happy ; and that I'm
going to land where gold is never needed, — a land,
Jeannie, where there is neither cauld nor care."

There was a smile on his pale lips ; but the eyes
rolled upwards, the eyelids drooped, and Leebie
knew the end had come.

Spring returned. The days grew longer, brighter,
clearer. And though floating ice came down the
stream, no more snow fell.

Bears that had slept most of the weary winter
through, in caves far away among the hills, awoke,
ravenous and hungry ; and came lower down to seek

^T,

SICKNESS AND SORROW

293

for meat or fish. They were sometimes seen gnaw-
ing the bark of trees, or eating the greener twigs.

But foxes and wolves went farther off.

One day Ernest, with Currie, had gone to the
woods in search of a bhick Mr. Bruin which, after
very cautious stalking, he managed to kill. But in
returning, he found in a sheltered corner some sweet,
wee wild flowers nodding to the gentle westling
wind, and pulled a bouquet for Leebie.

And, as he gave her the flowers and received
thanks, he told her that he had seen a bird, and
heard it sing.

" Oh, then," cried Leebie, " spring is indeed come,
at long, long last."

" I would not go so far as that," said Ernest; "but,
Leebie, spring is coming ! "

Perhaps Ernest lingered a little longer than usual
that morning beside Leebie. So true is it what Ten-
nyson has told us, that

" Tn tlie spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove;
Jn the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts
of love."

Well, one day, about a month after this, a party of
strange Indians arrived at the camp, dressed in fur
from top to toe. The Indians were strange, but
stranger far the story they had to tell.

There were seven of them in all, and from the
bows and arrows and other arms they carried, it was
evident they were on a hunting expedition.

Ill

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294

STCKNESS AND SOmiOW

The chief, or "hoss," could talk a little English,
liiiving been p-uide many times, he told Wilson, to
white men wlio came with fire-sticks from the " mucli
big water."

They were a tribe of wandering Indians, but their
real home lay at a village near by a lake, to the south-
ward of the Blue Mountains, and not far from the
banks of Big Salmon River.

Now, although Wilson Webb had not said a word
to the boys, or to any one, for many a long month
about poor Dr. Debrett, it was because he believed
him dead.

The unhappy Doc. had just disappeared and come
again no more. "Long ere now," Wilson had told
himself, when thinking about his dear old friend but
a day or two before the arrival of these Indians, " he
must havp, fallen an easy prey to bears or wolves, or
been drowned in some raging torrent."

But what the Indian chief told him at once raised
hope in his heart.

A strange white man, with no fire-stick, had one
evening arrived "mooch sick and plenty mooch tire,"
at the Indian village of Kwea-a-chi.

The Indians had taken pity on him, and given him
flesh to eat and wild honey, and shelter in the biggest
tent; and so he grew well by degrees and lived
amongst them.

From the chief's description of the strange white
man, Wilson Webl^ felt certain and sure it was none
other save the unhappy doctor.

i<-

SICKNESS AND SORROW

29s

((

him

tj.

Was there anything strange in his manner?" he
asked.

" Yes, yes ! " cried the chief. " He speak mooch to
self. And he talkee, talkee, sometime all night, to
good spirits. No, no, we not see. On'y white man
see spirits foh true."

"Boys," said Wilson, " this is my friend, the doc-
toi", and I am going to find him, living or dead."

" Tlien we shall go too ! "

"No, lads, no. Here you must stay and work
your claims, and see to mine, with hired labour. I
shall take just one friend with me, and that is little
Currie. These Indians shall guide me."

Great, indeed, was Maddie's distress when she
heard Wilson's resolve.

She shed bitter tears, — for never yet had they been
parted, — and begged to be allowed to accompany him.

But this her husband would not hear of.

" The danger is nothing to me," he said ; " but small
though it may be, and few even the hardships I shall
have to encounter, compared to that we have gone
through together, I shall be ten times more happy and
hopeful if you stay at home, darling. And I shall
always be buoyed up with the thought that you are
praying for me."

So Maddie dried her eyes at last, and tried to be
brave.

Wilson started the very next day, simply with his
gun over his shcMlder, and Currie trotting at his
heels.

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SICKNKSS AND SORliOW

Curiie had kissed Towsie before he departed.

" I don't know where on earth we're bound for,"
said the brave little terrier, " but of course he couldn't
go without me. I'll take good care of him, Towsie,
even if I have to kill an Indian or two, and the usual
amount of bears and wolves."

It would be foolish, indeed, to attempt to minimise
the dangers of this long journey towards the Blue
Mountains. Only a man in the best of health and
strength could have accomplished it.

Wilson had more adventures than would suflice
to fill a good-sized volume. TJie Indians canied all
his traps, provisions, and so forth, and of court:e acted
as his guides. But there were streams innumerable
to ford, some of them dangerous in the extreme, from
the fact that the shallows were usually but a little
way above rapids and cataracts, and slipping or fall-
ing would have meant certain death.

There were wild canons — beast-haunted — to trav-
erse, high hills to climb, where our hero had literally
to hang on by the toes, and dark gloomy forests to
penetrate aiid pierce.

But the Indians were faithful. Wilson gave them
plenty of tobacco, with the promise of much more,
and many blankets besides, if they should guide him
safely back to the camp of his friends.

Five long weary weeks were spent before they
reached the village where the white man lived.

It was the doctor. And yet how changed ! The
long beard he had grown was sprinkled with grey,

SICKNESS AND SOUIIOW

297

tor.

(lii't

his hair as white as the snowy peaks of Toon-dah,
his cheek-bones high, and his dark eyes glittering
with a light which the Indian guide told Wilson the
spirits had put there.

" Debrett ! Charlie, old man, don't you know nie ?
Don't you know your old friend Wilson Webb?"

The doctor's gaze was on the far-off forest yonder,
that went straggling up the mountain's side. lie
seemed to see nothing else.

" Poor Wilson Webb ! " he said slowly. " Yes, he is
in the cowboy country, and Dr. Debrett — I did used
to know him, but he never writes now — never writes."

"Well, my friend," said Wilson, "you shall come
with me to-morrow, and I will bring you back to Dr.
Debrett."

The Doc. just turned his back and walked away
towards his own hut, the Indians everywhere stand-
ing aside to let him pass.

For men in this state of mind Avere looked upon
with a reverence that amounted to awe by tliese poor
savages. They were supposed not only to commune
with spirits, but with the Great Spirit himself.

From the tall, hideously grotesque images that
stood here and there in this Indian village, their
religion seemed to partake of the nature of devil-
worship, and Wilson thought he discovered evidence
of even human sacrifice. But of this he was not at
all certain, and I myself am inclined to doubt it.

Dr. Debrett went slowly away, and sat quietly
down on the sunny side of his own hut, which was

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298

SICKNKSS AND SOUltOVV

covered with skins, lined with skins, iind probably
the most comfortable in the whole village.

Wilson sat down beside him, but the Doc. took no
notice.

Only he could be heard muttering to himself, now
and then : —

"Dr. Debrett? Dr. Debrett? Didn't I used to
know the doctor once upon a time, ever, ever so
long ago? And wasn't he married? Oh, yes, a
charming little wife. Died — a terrible accident.
And I — yes, I was as much grieved as Dr. Debrett
himself. Strange that 1 should have taken it so to
heart. Strange — strange — strange ! "

Wilson was very nuicli pleased when he found
that, with only two Indians to act as guides, he
could dash down the river all the way to Fort Sel-
kirk, and so on to Dawson City itself.

But as there would be some porterage needed at
catanicts, another big canoe, with five Indians as its
crew, was got ready.

Everything was prepared in a single night, and
early next morning, much to the sorrow of every one
in the village, Wilson and the Doc. departed. He
suffered himself to be led down to the river, as
quietly as a child would have done.

Then the voyage was at once commenced.

The river was a rapid one, at some places ex-
tremely so ; but the rowers were exceedingly expert,
and knew the stream in its every feature.

At times the boats dashed on with inconceivable

SIC'KNKSS AND .SOllHOW

299

speed ; .it otlicr times it wan considerably less, but
never slow.

Yet there were many places at which the guide
called a halt, and at these the canoes or boats had to
be landed and hauled along the banks.

This was no easy work, when the sides were steep
and rocky, though, much to Wilson's joy, Debrett
liimself gave assistance, in a mechanical sort of way,
however, as if he had been some wonderful piece of
automatic machinery.

Still, there was a ray of hope in this.

At times Wilson Webb tried to draw him out, but
it was evident enough the poor fellow's memory was,
for the time being at all events, completely gone.

Under other and happier circumstances, and with
other company, that voyage down the beautiful river
would have been all one long and pleasant picnic.

It was summer now, and the woods and lower hills
were very beautiful, and the wild flowers bloomed a!
along the banks of the river or clung to the rOv s
in great patches or curtains of snow-white, blue, ai.d
crimson.

Anxious though he was to get home, Wilson
would often make his Indian rowers lie on their
oars, that he might listen to the gush of bird melody
which everywhere filled the air.

Dawson City once more !

And Wilson lost no time in hurrying on to his
camp and claim, hoping to find all well, as, assuredly,
he would find a welcome.

''{

I H

I! H
S5 *';

I!}

Mil

IF"

CHAPTER XXIX

THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED

" Music that dwells
Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die ;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof,
That they were born for immortality."

— Wordsworth.

■ Yes, everything was well, and Wilson Webb could
not lielp thinking it was really worth his while to
have been so long away just to receive so happy a
welcome, and such evidences that there was one
being who loved him better tlian all the world, au'i
that was Maddie.

But the only words she could utter were, "Oli,
Wilson I " Then she flung herself into his arms, and
cried.

" I've had such a long and weary time," she said,
when at last she found speech ; "and I've had such
dreams, I will never, never let you leave me more."

When he led Maddie into the house, Wilson
seemed suddenly to recollect himself. He gazed
anxiously around the room.

" Dr. Debrett ? " he said ; " Charlie ? Is he not
here, and did he not come in?"

300

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THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED

301

He waited not for a reply, but went hurrying out

again.

No one, not even the Indians, seemed to h^ ,e
noticed which way he had gone.

But some instinct — for reason, alas ! had fled —
appeared to have guided the poor Doc. to the heap
of charred wood that had once been his happy home ;
and there Wilson found him, sitting on a half-burned
log of wood. His hands were pressed over his face,
and, while his chest heaved convulsively, the tears
were gushing through his fingers.

Wilson was no doctor, yet he had been told that
the insane never weep. He looked upon what he
now beheld, therefore, as a good sign, and simply
sat beside his friend and watched him.

At last, with a long-drawn, broken sort of a sigh,
he looked up.

Then he stretched out his thin cold hand towards
Wilson.

" It was there," he said, pointing to the ruins ;
"just there. The tragedy ! The fearful tragedy ! "

Even these words caused Wilson's heart to beat
high with hope.

" Poor Debrett I Poor Charlie ! " continued the
Doc.

Then Wilson's newly awakened hope died sud-
denly away in his heart, for his friend had evidently
lost Ids own identity, and fancied himself some
other man.

And yet he was so very gentle withal, and

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302

THE CLOUD HAS LTFTKl)

appeared grateful, indeed, for ev^er}^ little service
done liini, whether by Maddie, Leebie, or Wilson
himself.

I have said that our liero was no doctor, but he
was a man of common sense, and, with all due
respect to the no]ile profession, to which I have
the honour to I "1(." ' common sense is a quality
not possessed In ^wiy medical nmn.

Wilson had a happy tliought ! He took his poor
friend by the hand and led him back as if he had
been a little child.

Then he called the chief Indian guide.

" Chee-shoh," he said, " you know the white man
well ? "

"Yea, yea, and net-ee-nee fJiun [I love Iiim]."

" Well, I will give you m'u.>y more blankets and
much tobacco, if you will star U'jre for some months
and take care of him."

"I stop — I stop!" Ciic'i Chee-shoh. "I stop
plenty long."

And so it was arrange'!. A spare Imt was
specially arranged for t]ie doctor, and this would
be his quarters ; for Wilson determined that he
would tiike his friend back with him as far as San
Francisco, and there f d him a home.

It was all very sau, ' - told Maddie, " and yet,
oh, dear," he added, "it may be all for the best; and
the loss of 7neniory in a case like this may really be
a blepsirf, /.l disguise."

A-iid now all claims were worked with energy.

THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED

303

The doctor's turned out well, and even the gold
that had been buried hi tlie ruins of the hut was
recovered; so that the poor man was very far,
indeed, from being a pauper.

EA/^ery evening Wilson took his violin and went
across to the doctor's hut. At first, he hardly
seemed to hear the music, so distrait was he, but
gradually it seemed to creep into his very soul; and
now he used to listen with rapt attention to every
bar and slide and chord.

I think that the mystic power of music, as a
mental medicine, is hardly yet fully appreciated by
the profession.

It must be music, however, that shall be in per-
fect accordance with the spirit of the listener. It
must be

" The still, sad music of humanity" —

stop

music not necessarily melanclioly, yet not too bright.

Wilson used to ])lay with the mute on. It
sounded ever so much more soft and sweet.

Sometimes, as he played, tears would course
silently down his poor friend's cheeks. Though
something assured him that this was a hopeful sign,
he took no notice, but just played on.

But one evening Wilson Webb tried an experi-
ment. It might have been a rash one, nevertheless.

He played, low and sweetly, that charming old
song, "Ever of thee."

It had been a great favourite with Lilla, his young

WW
0'^

■ !i si' Si

.\i ^(

tl- .

if I'll'

11-

304

THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED

and beautiful wife, and Charlie never used to tire
hearing it.

" Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming,

Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer ;
Thou wert the star so mildly beaming,

That shone o'er my path when all was dark and drear.

" Still in my heart thy memory T cherish,

Every kind thought like a bird Hies to thee.
Ah I never till life and memory perish
Can I forget how dear thou wert to me.
Morn, noon, and night, where'er I may be,
Fondly I'm dreaming — ever of thee."

A very sweet voice had Wikon Webb ; and as he
played, he sang over his instrument. And from his
eyes some tears had fallen, so that even when tlie
music in sweet, sad cadence died away, he did not
look up immediately, for his sight was bluri-ed and
misty.

When he did at last glance towards his friend, he
noticed that a change had come over the poor fellow's
face, such as he could not have believed possible.

That was no longer the countenance nor the eyes
of one insane, but that of a clear-minded, think-
ing, reasoning being. A grief-stricken countenance,
nevertheless.

He held out liis hand ; and with feelings that he
could not himself have described, Webb grasped it.

" Oh, Wilson ! " said the doctor, " the cloud has
been withdrawn. I am myself again. But tell me,
dear friend, how long have I been ill?^^

" A whole year, Charlie. One long year I "

il M

\ '

THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 305
" Ever since that awful niglit when I lost my poor

wife ? "

"Ever since then."

" But tell me tlie story, for all the past since then
till now is a blank."

And Wilson told him everything he knew, — about
his sudden disappearance, about his being consid-
ered dead, about his life among the Blue Mount.iin
Indians, and his (Wilson's) going to bring Jiim
down the river.

" My dear fellow," said the doctor, " I owe my life
to you. The cloud has lifted, but it leaves me
plunged in grief."

" Ah ! Charlie, friend, she is in a better world.
Do not grieve for her. You would not bring her
back, surely?"

" I would not be so selfish. Our married life was
brief ; but oh, it was happy ! My only regret is
that I did not die instead of Lilla. And now," he
continued, " you must stay with me, Wilson, just a
few hours longer, because I would sleep. I may
sleep many, many hours ; but do not wake me."

As he spoke, he partially undressed, and crept
into his cot under the mosquito curtain.

" Play now, Wilson," he murmured. " Play and
sing that sweet, sad song again."

Wilson gladly did as he was told ; but long before
he liad finished, the gentle rising and falling of his
patient's chest, told him that sleep had claimed him
as its own.

3o6

THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED

Wilson rose now, and wliisperecl some words to
the Indian nurse ; then he left the hut and stole
quietly away to his own house, to tell every one
there the joyful tidings.

But he returned again to the hut, and both he and
the Indian watched beside the sleei)er all night long.

Yet scarcely could it be called night at this sea-
son ; for hardly did the sun go down, and scarcely
ever did the wild birds cease to sing.

CHAPTER XXX

CAN THIS BE DEATH?

" How wonderful is Death !
Death and his bvotlier Sleep." — Shelley.

" Get lip! " cried Jack, " let Joha sit down,
For we are homeward bound." — Old Soup.

Tired out at last, Wilson Webb sank into a kind
of doze in wliich strange dream after strange dream
chased each other through the regions of his fancy.

How long he slept, he never knew. It may have
been for hours, but he was awakened at last by a
dream that partook almost of the nature of a night-
mare. He thought he had been wandering in a
forest, dark and deep, when a shadow fell between
him and the light. He Avas flying now from some-
thing, he could not tell what, but, as in dreams of
this kind, his limbs refused to bear him, and he sank
down, the shadow darkening over him. Then be-
side him he saw the dead body of his friend the
doctor, and, as if beckoning his spirit away to hap-
pier lands, a being Avhom he speedily recognised as
Lilla, but far more beautiful even than she had been
in life. He heard strains of dulcet music, too, and

307

308

CAN THIS BE DEATH?

caught siicli glimpses of a far-off liappy land as
mortal eyes seldom are i)ermitted to behold.

He started up iiow, wide-eyed, gasping, and per-
spiring at every jiore.

Then a sickening terror took possession of him.
The doctor was dead ! So still he lay, so pale he
was, he could not be alive !

There was not a movement in his frame. The
lips were slightly apart, but no breath seemed to
come therefrom.

Wilson placed a finger lightly on his pulse.

" Thank Heaven," he said, half aloud ; " he still
lives."

" He go now to de spirit land plenty mooch quick."
This from the Indian.

" I fear so," said Wilson, sadly.

There was no thought of mining that day, as far
as Wilson Webb was concerned.

Either he, Maddie, or Leebie sat beside the sleeper
all day long.

But towards evening Laurie, who had been on
watch, brought glorious news to the mansion.

The doctor was awake, refreshed and quiet. He
was sitting up, moreover, and had asked for food.
Wilson hastened to the hut, and found the good
news true. And from that very hour the doctor's
recovery dated.

He was naturally weak, and, moreover, he mourned,
as only a sensitive man can mourn, for the one being
that had been so dear to him; who had been lent, as

lie
to

CAN THIS BE DEATH?

309

it were, for a brief space of time to bless Ids life, and
then taken away.

"Wilson," said the Doc., abont ten days after
this, " Vm drifting into low spirits and despond-
ency. Now, this ninst not be. I must prescribe
for myself what I should order for any other patient
— woi'k.'"

" Are you strong enough ? "

"I'll get stronger every day."

And so the Doc. started work in his mine that
very forenoon.

" Grief," says a Avell-known author, " is the i)arent
of fame."

This is certainly the case at times, so I believe ;
but one thing is sure enough, namely, that honest
work will banish grief. It has a healing action on
the brain. And tliis was well exemplified in the case
of Dr. Debrett. Not only did he get stronger in body
day by day, but in mind as well, and, to all ai)pear-
ance, he was, in a short time, the most quietly hai)py
man about the camp.

* * » * «

The summer had brought swarms of fresh men,
and some women as well, to the regions about
Bonanza and El Dorado.

And greatly disappointed men most of these
were. They had really come here with the ide
that they would find gold lying about like "cliu( le
stanes " (pebbles), and that they should only have
to gather it and go home again. But now, lo! they

i: I

310

CAN THIS BE DEATH?

found every claiin taken up, and no cliance of get-
ting in anywhere. And, alas! scores of these
"green Englishmen " had sold everything they pos-
sessed in the old country to come out here, and now
were almost totally without the means of suhsistence.

It was very sad.

Several went i)rospecting far afield. IVFen of stern
resolve these. True Hr'tons, who w^iuld dare all to
live, or failing, die. Stmie were successful, and
found gold in abundance.

But others there were who got soon discouraged,
and, being poorly fed, lost heart altogether, and,
finally, found their way to Dawson City, there to
work at any odd jobs they could find to do.

One could not but feel sorry for these poor
fellows. They had sailed away from England or
from Scotland so full of hope and assurance of the
wealtli, and with it the happiness, that a few short
months would bring them.

And now to be so rudely awakened from their
pleasant dreams, to the stern realities of a life not
worth living ; to cold, to hunger, to misery, and, as
often as not, to sickness that was but the forerunner
of early death.

******

Well, as the summer wore away, instead of the in-
flux of gold-seekers getting less, it really increased.

And they seemed to come from all directions; at
any rate, they did not all come up the great Yukon.
No, nor down it, either.

wmm

CAN THIS liK DEATH?

311

And many of tlie nowcomers seomecl wealtliy —
that is, well-to-do.

"I came here to Avin," one of these told Wilson

Webb.

"And I."

" And I." This from several others.
"Ya-as:," drawled a somewhat sallow and lank
Yankee, who was smoking a cigar as big as an
nm])rella when it is neatly rolled up, — well, more
or less, I mean, — " ya-as, sir ; I've been in gold
mines before, and digging, in my 'pinion, is just
like advertising — you want to keep on at it i)ersis-
tent-like, if you are to make a pile."
" That's true," the others assented.
" But now here we are, and we've got to go pro-
specting. Worse luck ! Made sure we'd find
claims here to be almost given away."

" Well, gentlemen," said Wilson, " if you really want
to buy into some good claims, and if you can pay — "
" We can pay."

"Call on me to-morrow at the mansion, say by
twel,' 'dock. Mind this. I don't promise, posi-
tively, that there will be claims for sale. I only
just tJdnk tlif-re may be four."
" Hurrah ! We'll be there."

That same evening after supper, when the doctor,
Ernest, Laurie, and all sat round the lire, Wilson
Webb made a little speech.

Speech-making was not much in his line, only this
was a special occasion.

312

CAN THIS RE DEATH?

•i'«fii

'rf-vMiir.-y

" Friends," he said, witljout gettih,^ out of his
ehiiir, "we've been liere a hnit^ time, now, and tak-
iiif,^ tlie one thing* with the other, I tliink we've been
precious lueky."

" Hear ! Hear ! "

" Well, I, for one, have made my pile. Twice or
thri(!e I've added considerably to the treasure-ship's
cargo. You boys have also done fairly."

"True!"

" And my dear ^oc, yours has lately worked
splendidly."

"That's so, Wilson."

" Well, much though I love Klondyke, I'm going
to leave it. The winter is but a measurable dis-
tance ahead of us, and owing to the famine of last
dark season, I doubt if we have enough food left to
take us tlirough another ; so I'm going to sell out
to-morrow."

" But can you ? " said the Doc.

Then Wilson told them of his meeting with the
speculators, and of their intended visit next day to
buy claims — if they could.

Well, although Wilson's proposal was thoroughly
sifted and debated, it was finally agreed to unani-
mously.

So when the speculators arrived next day, they
found four capitally going claims for sale.

But not for nothing.

No ; Wilson AVebb was a business man, and when
he was offered what he considered an insignificant

CAN THIS BE DEATH?

313

ik-

sum, he coolly lit a cigar and addressed the men as
follows : —

" Gentlemen," he said, " T really took you for men
of the world, but I find you are only school-boys.
Well, this interview eiidri right here. My price for
these four claims is — "

Here he named a very large sum.

" I'll give you an hour to consider about it. If
you don't see your way, the claims shall be put up
to auction in Dawson City."

"Here!" cried one who seemed to be at the head
of affairs, " we shall not want an hour to consider.
My advice to my friends is. Close at once. Wl\at
say you, men ? "

" Close," was the answer.

So, much to every one's satisfaction, the business
came to an end.

Those speculators were not men of straw ; but
large though the cheque paid to AVilson was, I have
heard that they took gold enough out of the four
claims, before the winter ended, to pay it six times over.

Young John had been asked to sell his claim, but
refused. He determined to work it for another year
at the very least, and so Wilson and his fellow-
travellers had to leave him behind.

" Good luck to you, John," said everybody. " And
mind," added Wilson, " that when you come to Eng-
land on your way to Paris, where all good Ameri-
cans go, you must come to see us all. This is my
banker's address."

if "'ia'^i '/'■■•

1 ■'

I'Kg ! ' ■ !

314

CAN THIS BE DEATH ?

"Tliat will I," said young Joliii, "and if ever you
come to Chicago, just drop in, will you, and see the
finest city in all creation."

Young John had never been demonstrative, but
now, in saying good-bye to his friends, he displayed
far more feeling than any one would have given him
credit for.

Indeed, Leebie felt certain that she noticed tears
in those honest big blue eyes of his.

But Leebie might have been mistaken.

It had been a busy time for a whole week before
our people left the gold diggings. There was a
good deal to pack up, but everything they did not
want, and all the food they had not used, was put
to the hammer. Even the huts they liad Ijuilt and.
their rough, primitive cooking-utensils and tools
were sold.

They retained their guns, however, and Wilson
laughingly proposed that they should also keep their
well-worn picks and shovels. So these were packed
up.

The men they had so befriended were as grieved
at parting as young John himself, and long after
they started for Dawson City that wild and heartfelt
cheer soemed ringing in their ears.

The doctor went to see the grave of poor Lilla,
his wife, before he left, and with him went Wilson.
He shed a tear or two, he reverently touched the
sod, and that was all.

" Good-bye, Lilla, good-bye," he said, or rather

■f:-.- •'-

CAN THIS BE DEATH?

315

«i.1,ed " For your sweet sake I shall lead a better
uftL e'er I've done befce, that I may meet you

in the world above. Good-bye.

Teuckv gold-diggers were going to dropdown
JrivL,andsoontoSt.Miehaers,n>the>rway

to San Francisco. i ,1 fn

The steamer was late, however, ^-kI «-y -^ "
wait at Dawson City for nearly a week. And with
Jl considerable anxiety, too. For there was ,«s
tCchanee of the river being hard -" - *f_
nortion of it whieh sweeps up mto the Aict.c re
"^ If so, though H was only autumn ye, the^
was the disagreeable and dismal probabd ty
U>ey might have to winter somewhere en route

r,.ey were not sorry, therefore, when the steamer
was at long last floating down the streanr

And 1 am quite certain that the two dog». Tows e
ivnu i » 1 „ ijoard that

and Ourrie, knew as well as any one oi

they were homeward bound.

rather

■,j!<*ilfia,!iH,j^(*i*i,il(

iiiii-^

<, 1

CHAPTER XXXI

THE WELCOME HOME

Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands,

And sailed o'er many a sea ;
But of all the spots on this sweet earth.

My British home for me I
My British home ! My British home !

Land of the good and free !
And I would spill my Highland blood,

My British home, for thee. — G. S.

There are people in this world who really do not
know how to enjoy themselves ; people possessed
of wealth who do not know in the least how to get
any pleasure therefrom.

lint neither Wilson nor his friends belonged to
this category.

There was a little bother farther north in getting
the ship throngli the floating ice, and a good deal of
liamniering and poling was needeil ; b..t at last tliey
got clear away, and in good time found themselves,
not only at the moiitlis of the Yukon, but at St.
Michael's itself.

Tlicy w(!re lucky enough to catch tlie very last
southward-bound steamship, and it was then, and
not till then, that Wilson Webb and the boys

316

1 ill

.:mmn»mmmi^''^^*m^'mm

, and
boy 3

THE WELCOME HOME

317

thought they were quite justified in building a few
castles in the air.

I have said never a word about their correspond-
once with the old country, during their gold-liunting
adventures in Klondyke. Letters came but seldom,
yet they kept in touch with friends and relations
nevertheless. And from the very latest accounts,
all was well at home.

The ship they were now on board of was a very
comfortable and, may I add, contented one. But
the adjective "contented," some may tell nie, can
only be used to qualify that which possc^sses life.
Well, somehow I could never help looking at a ship
otherwise than as a living, sentient being. I am
just that much a sailor, at all events. But the
Amiie Boleen, as the old-fashioned skipper called
lier, had appurently made up her mind about a good
many tldngs. She was fifty years of age if a day,
and therefore old enough to take matters easy.
"What is the good of hurry-scurry?" she seemed
to say. " With all their steam and rattle and noise,
with all the first mate's bawling and his use of
words not usually found in Scriptural texts, they'll
V)e very clever, indeed, if they can knock more than
ten knots out of me. But I'll get there, all the
same, one of these days. They may call m ■ .n old
tub if they like, and tell me that I shake and shiver
like an ancient clothes-basket whenever I get a clip
on the bow with a big sea or a runaway bit of ice ;
and the sailors may growl and growl because they

%H4»»(.tim.»N»'«<*

i III

318

THE WELCOME HOME

have to pump an hour in every w^atch. Pooh ! what
does it matter to me ? Why, if a sailor had nothing
to growl at, he'd be as miserable a man as they make
them. As for me, I'm going to take this watery
world easy."

And she did.

She rose and fell on the long, racing seas in an
easy showdy-bowdy sort of a way that almost sent
one to sleep. When she was stern-down, with her
jib-boom in the air, the Annie Boleen seemed to be
studying astronomy ; when she did condescend to
dip lier prow again, the bottom of the ocean appeared
to have such attractions for her, that she was not in
the slightest hurry to pfet on an even keel again.

Well, she rolled to starboard and she swung to
port, for all the world as if singing the cradle hymn
to herself.

" I say, matie," said the skipper one forenoon to
liis first officer, "blow me tight, if I don't think that,
as the wind is about fair, we hadn't better bank fires
and clap sail on lier. Blessed if I don't believe
we'll get as much out of the danged old consarn
under canvas, as under steam."

" A ' danged old consarn,' am I ? " said the Annie
Boleen to herself. " Well, that's all my thanks for
keeping afloat so long. That's all I get for having
weathered that awful gale off Pumnak, when two
otlier vessels went to the bottom pop ! "

" Fm o' your way o' thiukin', sir, and mebbe we'd
just as well let the fires out altogether."

mmmmmmmmm

HHPHREIBHHWH

THE WELCOME HOME

319

'•' Very well, niiitie, very welL"

So sail WHS set, iind everything on board was far
more jolly, sliip-sliape, and coir fortable after that.

" This is what I call something like being at sea,"
said Wilson Webb, cheerfully. "Bother the rattle
and the roar of dirty engines. I'uts me in mind of
being in a jute factory all the time."

Everybody agreed with him, even the skipper
himself, but more especially the engineers and
stokers. They could now smoke the calumet of
peace at the fo'c'sle head and breathe pure air in-
stead of coal dust.

But what made this voyage all the more delightful
to Wilson and his little party, was that there were
very few passengers on board except themselves ;
so, cosy, indeed, were their dinners, and cosier still
their evenings, when they sat around the big stove,
over which was placed a huge copper coffee-urn that
made the merriest kind of music imaginable, hissing
and steaming and throwing out a fragrance that was
very inviting.

lint this was not the only music. For Wilson's
fiddle was like himself — never in better form. Even
the sailors used to "lay aft" to listen, and more than
one was heard to say that if he could only bring
music like that out of catgut, he would never tempt
the sea again.

During the first part of the voyage, although the
weather was fine, it Avas very cold, and there were
many streams of ice about. The long nights, too,

urn

320

THE WELCOME HOME

were dark, and the rattling or bumping on the bows
and along both sides of the ship, was terrific when
passing through the ice. The pieces were flat and
of no great size, but still large enough to bear the
weight of many a fur-seal or sea-lion that lay sound
asleep on these snow-clad rafts.

Well, with all her self-contentedness, the A7mie
Boleen was a strong and a safe ship. This was
fully proved when a storm arose as they were pass-
ing through the Aleutian chain of islands.

It was but half a gale at first, and the skipper
hoped it would remain at that. lie was disap-
pointed ; for the glass went tumbling down, and it
was necessary to shorten sail to such an extent that
the Annie was soon staggering along under very
little canvas indeed.

A fearful night succeeded a wild and stormy day.
Darkness closed around them a full hour before its
time. It would be but the truth to say that the
ship Avas enveloped in clouds, and so near aboard
did they seem, so closely did they hug the Avind-
tossed ocean, that the masts seemed to cut them
asunder. The gale canT. tearing up astern, and
the wavos that now and then broke over the Annie
Boleen so weighted her down, that both fore and. aft
there was a momentary silence, which gave one the
impression that she was Settling slowly down to the
bl'.ick and slimy depths of the northern sea. And
c very one felt relieved when they heard the roaring
of the wind again.

■\*

THE WELCOME HOME

321

When diiyliglit broke once more murkily over the
grey, unsettled ocean, and the storm-clouds went
trailing along the horizon, it was found that scarcely
a bulwark was broken, and not a single boat was
carried away.

" Wa-al," said the mate, " it is true enough, sir,
that Annie isn't a beauty to look at, but split my
mainsail, if she ain't a sturdy old craft, for all that."
Annie Boleen seemed to shake her sides and laugh.
"True, true," the skipper said; "I 'How she
behaved better than many a new one would have
done. But several times, matie, durin' the awful
storm I did think we were going to Davy Jones."

" Oh! as for me, sir, I made sure of it. Look at
this,, capting."

He held up a black bottle as he spoke.
" What's that, matie ? Ye don't mean to say you
were goin' to die drunk ? "

" Never a bone of me, sir. No Dutch courage for
this child. When I goes to heaven, sir, I goes quite
sober. But that's '1 bottle sealed, as you see, and
inside is a letter to my wife. Guess she'd never
have got it. Only you never can tell. Can you ? "
"No, matie."

The "matie" opened the bottle with his pocket
cork screw, and shook out the epistle, which he
proceeded to rct^d.

"'The S. S. Annie Boieen, in tlie Bearing Seas of Alasker.
Beloved wife and children. Wicli we're sinkiu fast. God be
merciful. But thiukiu more of you. Heaven will take care

322

THE WELCOME HOME

111

I
,1

of you. Last thouglits of you. Kiss Johnnie and EUie. No
more — no more.

" ' Your loving husban,

"'Tom Casskll, goin down.'"

"Glad, sir, I didn't throw it overboard."

" And so am I, matic."

" Well, Mr. Wilson," lie added, as that individual
came up, making heavy weather, for there still was
a rough sea on, " well, how fares it below ? "

" We're all beautiful noAV."

"Sleep?"

"Oh, yes, we all slept."

" Good for you. Well, it's going to be fine.
The glass is going up ; and in ten days' time, wliy,
we'll all be on shore at San Francisco."

And sure enough the good weather did come, —
blue skies, fleecy clouds, sun-kissed seas, and all
the rest of it, just the kind of weather to make a
poet out of even the dullest material.

Perhaps our heroes needed rest. I am of that
way of thinking, because, for many days now, while
the good ship sailed slowly into warmer weather,
they felt inclined to sleep most of the time.

But a brisk wind began to blow from the north-
north-east, and braced up the nerves of every man on
board.

Away forward Jack himself was singing all day
long. At eventide, after the main brace was spliced,
— for the skipper was generous in that way, — the
men leaned about the bows, smoking ; and from the

'■-}.

THE WELCH^Ml-: IKJME

323

bursts of hcjii'ty laiigliing tliiit rose overy now and
then, it was evident tliat many a droll sea-yarn was
being spun, and many a tough tale told.

" I say," said Wilson one day, about a Aveek after
they had landed in 'Frisco, and were all comfortably
lioused in a homelike hotel, " how do you think I am
going to take you all home from New York?"

"The fastest ocean greyhound," ventured Ernest.
"No, not the fleetest," answered Wilson. "I am
in communication Avitli Captain I5arnes, and ten to
one, I shall buy his splendid ocean yacht."

" Capital ! " cried both Ernest and Laurie ; and
when :Maddie and Leebie got an inkling of Wilson's
intention, they went into raptures over the idea.
*****
Well, nothing would satisfy the good doctor but
crossing the Rockies to have a look at the city of
"Tf(j're-all-here."

" After that," he said, " I sliall purchase a practice
in New York ; for I love my profession, and idleness
would soon kill me."

"But, my dear Doc," cried Wilson, "I've got an
idea that it Avould do these lads good to have a look
at the plains and the cowboys before going home to
tame, domestic, but dear old England. We can
leave the ladies here and return for them."
Leebie stamped her little foot.
" The ladies are going to cowboy land as well as
you," she said. " Aren't they, Maddie ? "
"Oh, yes, certainly."

ill 1

324

THE WELCOME HOME

' .

And so it was arnuiged. So it had to be arranged
I oiii-'ht to say.

One way or anotlier the journey was a long and —
under other cireumstanees — it wouhl have l)een eon-
sidered a very fatiguing one. As it was, liowever,
e^^^e'-ything Avent as merrily as marriage hells.

When they did arrive at last at " Trt^'re-all-here,"
the boys turned out en masse to greet them, and their
welcome was a ten-horse-power one.

The editor liimself was the first to extend a brown,
hard hand, and it was a case of "shake " all round.

And a very delightful week they spent among the
cowboys. Indeed, the more ]\Iaddie and Leebie
saw of these honest fellows, the better they liked
them, so different were they from all the ideas that
have been fostered concerning them in our country.

But time wears aNvay, and after a hearty farewell
they had to leave cowboy land, and in a fortnight's
time had left New Ycrk itself, in the sea-yacht
Anemone.

Who knows that I may not at some future time
tell you of the cruise round the world of this beau-
tiful vessel ? For such a cruise has been fully ar-
ranged, and by the time the reader's eyes scan these
pages Wilson's Anemone will be far away in foreign
lands.

But this reminds me that my story is nearly, if not
quite, finished.

When I say that everybody at home wa§ found to

THIC WKLCOMK HOME

325

be well and happy, what need is there to expatiate
on the welcome the wanderers received ?

Only some things mnst be tohl.

Well, Bobbie, the daft, wee pony, was out in the
held, and so was Neddy, his companion. Botli ran
to the gate to meet the boys and Leebie, but their
ways of exi)ressing their joy differed somewhat.

Bobbie thrust his warm nose into Lcrbie's arms,
and really seemed to sob and sigh. He had quite
given her up for lost, and her sudden return was
almost too much for his nerves, and made him
Iiysterical for the time being.

But Neddy, after kicking his heels in the air sev-
eral times, and even trying to walk on his hind legs,
burst into what appeared to be an uncontrollable ni:
of such hearty laughter, that even the dogs had to
take jDart in it, and in order to allay their feelings
fly round and round the field in a circle, but so
swiftly that they could scarce be seen.

Wilson and his wife became the guests of the
squire for a month and more, and there was not a
friend or neighbour all round the country-side, that
he did not invite to his house just to hear the trav-
ellers speak of all their adventures in the land of
gold. Indeed, he even inq)orted people from Lon-
don to meet them • for this jolly old squire was en-
thusiastic to a degree.

* ^^ ^f ^p *^

Well, Farmer Lea himself is a man that can always
take tilings easy, and no doubt he was exceedingly

326

THE WELCOMK HOME

■>W-']^

i I,

glad to see Laurie and Leebie, and even Towsie and
Currie, all baek home safe and sound. On the con-
trary, iVlrs. Lea was somewhat nervous and (hunon-
strative, and she really eould not, for a considerable
time, believe her own eye. that her eliildrcii were
indeed before her. Hut those eyes were really con-
siderably dinuued with tears; for if she laughed one
minute, she cried the next.

About a week after his leturn, Laurie proposed
that his father should give up the farm and live in
a city.

Laurie was sly, for he ki.evv pretty well what the
answer would be.

"Leave the country, Laurie ! Give up my farm !
Never see the green fields and woods again, and the
horses that know and love me ! No, Laurie, no.
When I leave my farm, it will be to take my place
in the old churchyard yonder, where my fathers sleep
so soundly."

" Father, it was only my fun ; but the farm does
not pay very well, does it ? "

"The rent is somewhat high, my lad."

" Well, father, look ! "

Laurie placed a batch of title-deeds in his hand.

The farm was a farm no longer, but a small free-
hold estate.

" God bless you, my son ! God bless you, boy! "

" No, no, father, not for that. What should I do
else with my money, I wonder ? Oh, I am old
enough to know it is more blessed to give than to

TIIK WKLCOME HOME

327

receive. I5ut I love the dear old home aH much as
you. And /shall never leave it, either.

" HesideH," Laurie continued, " Ernest is going to
build a lovely house on the hill b(%side the lake, and
he will thus be our nearest neighbour after he mar-
ries Leebie."

" Eh ? What ? Marries — say it again ! "
"Oh, father, Leebie is no longer a child, but a
young woman ; and T know for certain that, with
your consent, what I have said is coming- off in a
year or two, at most."

" So may they be happy," said Farmer Lea, sink-
ing into a chair ; " but dear me ! dear me ! I never
thought that little Leebie would get old — nor
myself, either. But — the Lord's will be done."

THE END

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