The Trail of 98 (25 page)

"I guess we'll fool those trying to follow us," snapped Ribwood grimly.

Suddenly the Prodigal said to me: "Say, you boys will have to go on without
me. I'm all in. Go ahead, I'll follow after I'm rested up."

He dropped in a limp heap on the ground and instantly fell asleep. Several of
the others had dropped out too. They fell asleep where they gave up, utterly
exhausted. We had now been going sixteen hours, and still our leader kept
on.

"You're pretty tough for a youngster," growled one of them to me. "Keep it
up, we're almost there."

So I hobbled along painfully, though the desire to throw myself down was
becoming imperative. Just ahead was Jim, sturdily holding his own. The others
were reduced to a bare half-dozen.

It was about four in the afternoon when we reached the creek. Up it our
leader plunged, till he came to a place where a rude shaft had been dug. We
gathered around him. He was a typical prospector, a child of hope, lean,
swarthy, clear-eyed.

"Here it is, boys," he said. "Here's my discovery stake. Now you fellows go
up or down, anywhere
you've a notion to, and put in your stakes. You all know what
a lottery it is. Maybe you'll stake a million-dollar claim, maybe a blank.
Mining's all a gamble. But go ahead, boys. I wish you luck."

So we strung out, and, coming in rotation, Jim and I staked seven and eight
below discovery.

"Seven's a lucky number for me," said Jim; "I've a notion this claim's a good
one."

"I don't care," I said, "for all the gold in the world. What I want is sleep,
sleep, rest and sleep."

So I threw myself down on a bit of moss, and, covering my head with my coat
to ward off the mosquitoes, in a few minutes I was dead to the world.

I was awakened by the Prodigal.

"Rouse up," he was saying; "you've slept right round the clock. We've got to
get back to town and record those claims. Jim's gone three hours ago."

It was five o'clock of a crystal Yukon morning, with the world clear-cut and
fresh as at the dawn of Things. I was sleep-stupid, sore, stiff in every joint.
Racking pains made me groan at every movement, and the chill night air had
brought on twinges of rheumatism. I looked at my location stake, beside which I
had fallen.

"I can't do it," I said; "my feet are out of business."

"You must," he insisted. "Come, buck up, old man. Bathe your feet in the
creek, and then you'll feel as fit as a fighting-cock. We've got to get into
town hot-foot. They've got a bunch of crooks at the gold office, and we're
liable to lose our claims if we are late."

"Have you staked, too?"

"You bet. I've got thirteen below. Hurry up. There's a wild bunch coming from
town."

I groaned grievously, yet felt mighty refreshed by a dip in the creek. Then
we started off once more. Every few moments we would meet parties coming
post-haste from town. They looked worn
and jaded, but spread eagerly up and down. There must have
been several hundred of them, all sustained by the mad excitement of the
stampede.

We did not take the circuitous route of the day before, but one that
shortened the distance by some ten miles. We travelled a wild country, crossing
unknown creeks that have since proved gold-bearing, and climbing again the high
ridge of the divide. Then once more we dropped down into the Bonanza basin, and
by nightfall we had reached our own cabin.

We lay down for a few hours. It seemed my weary head had just touched the
pillow when once more the inexorable Prodigal awakened me.

"Come on, kid, we've got to get to Dawson when the recording office opens."
So once more we pelted down Bonanza. Fast as we had come, we found many of those
who had followed us were ahead. The North is the land of the musher. In that
pure, buoyant air a man can walk away from himself. Any one of us thought
nothing of a fifty-mile tramp, and one of eighty was scarcely considered
notable.

It was about nine in the morning when we got to the gold office. Already a
crowd of stampeders were waiting. Foremost in the crowd I saw Jim. The Prodigal
looked thoughtful.

"Look here," he said, "I guess it's all right to push in with that bunch, but
there's a slicker way of doing it for those that are 'next.' Of course, it's not
according to Hoyle. There's a little side-door where you can get in ahead of the
gang. See that
fellow,
Ten-Dollar Jim they call him; well, they say he can work the oracle for us."

"No," I said, "you can pay him ten dollars if you like. I'll take my chance
in the regulation way."

So the Prodigal slipped away from me, and presently I saw him admitted at the
side entrance. Surely, thought I, there must be some mistake. The public would
not "stand for" such things.

There was quite a number ahead of me, and I knew I was in for a long wait. I
will never forget it. For three days, with the exception of two brief
sleep-spells, I had been in a fierce helter-skelter of excitement, and I had
eaten no very satisfying food. As I stood in that sullen crowd I swayed with
weariness, and my legs were doubling under me. Invisible hands were dragging me
down, throwing dust in my eyes, hypnotising me with soporific gestures. I
staggered forward and straightened up suddenly. On the outskirts of the crowd I
saw the Prodigal trying to locate me. When he saw me he waved a paper.

"Come on, you goat," he shouted; "have a little sense. I'm all fixed up."

I shook my head. An odd sense of fair play in me made me want to win the game
squarely. I would wait my turn. Noon came. I saw Jim coming out, tired but
triumphant.

"All right," he megaphoned to me; "I'm through. Now I'll go and sleep my head
off."

How I envied him. I felt I, too, had a "big bunch" of sleep coming to me. I
was moving forward slowly. Bit by bit I was wedging nearer the
door. I watched man after man push
past the coveted threshold. They were all miners, brawny, stubble-chinned
fellows with grim, determined faces. I was certainly the youngest there.

"What have you got?" asked a thick-set man on my right.

"Eight below," I answered.

"Gee! you're lucky."

"What'll you take for it?" asked a tall, keen-looking fellow on my left.

"Five thousand."

"Give you two."

"No."

"Well, come round and see me to-morrow at the Dominion, and we'll talk it
over. My name's Gunson. Bring your papers."

"All right."

Something like dizziness seized me. Five thousand! The crowd seemed to be
composed of angels and the sunshine to have a new and brilliant quality of light
and warmth. Five thousand! Would I take it? If the claim was worth a cent it
ought to be worth fifty thousand. I soared on rosy wings of optimism. I revelled
in dreams. My claim! Mine! Eight below! Other men had bounded into affluence.
Why not I?

No longer did I notice the flight of time. I was ready to wait till doomsday.
A new lease of strength came to me. I was near the wicket now. Only two were
ahead of me. A clerk was recording their claims. One had thirty-four above, the
other fifty-two
below.
The clerk looked flustered, fatigued. His dull eyes were pursy with midnight
debauches; his flesh sagged. In contrast with the clean, hard, hawk-eyed miners,
he looked blotched and unwholesome.

Crossly he snatched from the other two their miner's certificates, made the
entries in his book, and gave them their receipts. It was my turn now. I dashed
forward eagerly. Then I stopped, for the man with the bleary eyes had shut the
wicket in my face.

"Three o'clock," he snapped.

"Couldn't you take mine?" I faltered; "I've been waiting now these seven
hours."

"Closing time," he ripped out still more tartly; "come again to-morrow."

There was a growling thunder from the crowd behind, and the weary,
disappointed stampeders slouched away.

Body and soul of me craved for sleep. Beyond an overwhelming desire for rest,
I was conscious of nothing else. My eyelids were weighted with lead. I lagged
along dejectedly. At the hotel I saw the Prodigal.

"Get fixed up?"

"No, too late."

"You'd better take advantage of the general corruption and the services of
Ten-Dollar Jim."

I was disheartened, disgusted, desperate.

"I will," I said. Then, throwing myself on the bed, I launched on a dreamless
sea of sleep.

Next morning bright and early found me at the side-door, and the tall man
admitted me. I slipped a ten-dollar gold piece into his palm, and presently
found myself waiting at the yet unopened wicket. Outside I could see the big
crowd gathering for their weary wait. I felt a sneaking sense of meanness, but I
did not have long to enjoy my despicable sensations.

The recording clerk came to the wicket. He was very red-faced and
watery-eyed. Involuntarily I turned my head away at the reek of his breath.

"I want to record eight below on Ophir," I said.

He looked at me curiously. He hesitated.

"What name?" he asked.

I gave it. He turned up his book.

"Eight below, you say. Why, that's already recorded."

"Can't be," I retorted. "I just got down from there yesterday after planting
my stakes."

"Can't help it. It's recorded by some one else, recorded early
yesterday."

"Look here," I exclaimed; "what kind of a game are you putting up on me? I
tell you I was the first on the ground. I alone staked the claim."

"That's strange," he said. "There must be some mistake. Anyway, you'll have
to move on and let the
others get up to the wicket. You're blocking the way. All I
can do is to look into the matter for you, and I've got no time now. Come back
to-morrow. Next, please."

The next man pushed me aside, and there I stood, gaping and gasping. A man in
the waiting line looked at me pityingly.

"It's no use, young fellow; you'd better make up your mind to lose that
claim. They'll flim-flam you out of it somehow. They've sent some one out now to
stake over you. If you kick, they'll say you didn't stake proper."

"But I have witnesses."

"It don't matter if you call the Angel Gabriel to witness, they're going to
grab your claim. Them government officials is the crookedest bunch that ever
made fuel for hell-fire. You won't get a square deal; they're going to get the
fat anyhow. They've got the best claims spotted, an' men posted to jump them at
the first chance. Oh, they're feathering their nests all right. They're like a
lot of greedy pike just waiting to gobble down all they can. A man can't buy
wine at twenty dollars per, and make dance-hall Flossies presents of diamond
tararas on a government salary. That's what a lot of them are doing. Wine and
women, and their wives an' daughters outside thinkin' they're little tin gods.
Somehow they've got to foot the bill. Oh, it's a great country."

I was stunned with disappointment.

"What you want," he continued, "is to get a pull with some of the officials.
Why, there's friends of
mine don't need to go out of town to stake a claim. Only the
other day a certain party known to me, went towell, I mustn't mention names,
anyway, he's high up in the government, and a friend of Quebec Suzanne's,and
says to him,'I want you to get number so and so on Hunker recorded for me. Of
course I haven't been able to get out there, but'

"The government bug puts his hands to his ears. 'Don't give me any
unnecessary information,' he says; 'you want so and so recorded, Sam. Well,
that's all right. I'll fix it.'

"That was all there was to it, and when next day a man comes in post-haste
claiming to have staked it, it was there recorded in Sam's name. Get a stand-in,
young fellow."

"But surely," I said, "somehow, somewhere there must be justice. Surely if
these facts were represented at Ottawa and proof forthcoming"

"Ottawa!" He gave a sniffing laugh. "Ottawa! Why, it's some of the big guns
at Ottawa that's gettin' the cream of it all. The little fellows are just
lapping up the drips. Look at them big concessions they're selling for a song,
good placer ground that would mean pie to the poor miner, closed tight and
everlastingly tied up. How is it done? Why, there's some politician at the
bottom of the whole business. Look at the liquor permitscrude alcohol sent into
the country by the thousand gallons, diluted to six times its bulk, and sold to
the poor prospector for whisky at a dollar a drink. An' you can't pour your own
drinks at that."

"Well," I said, "I'm
not going to be cheated out of my claim. If I've got to move Heaven and
earth"

"You'll do nothing of the kind. If you get sassy there's the police to put
the lid on you. You can talk till you're purple round the gills. It won't cut no
figure. They've got us all cinched. We've just got to take our medicine. It's no
use goin' round bellyaching. You'd better go away and sit down."

And I did.

I had to see Berna at once. Already I had paid a visit to the Paragon
Restaurant, that new and glittering place of resort run by the Winklesteins, but
she was not on duty. I saw Madam, resplendent in her false jewellery, with her
beetle-black hair elaborately coiffured, and her large, bold face handsomely
enamelled. She looked the picture of fleshy prosperity, a big handsome Jewess,
hawk-eyed and rapacious. In the background hovered Winklestein, his little,
squeezed-up, tallowy face beaded with perspiration. But he was dressed quite
superbly, and his moustache was more wondrously waxed than ever.

I mingled with the crowd of miners, and in my rough garb, swarthy and bearded
as I was, the Jewish couple did not know me. As I paid her, Madam gave me a
sharp glance. But there was no recognisant gleam in her eyes.

In the evening I returned. I took a seat in one of the curtained boxes. At
the long lunch-counter rough-necked fellows perched on tripod stools were
guzzling food. The place was brilliantly lit up, many-mirrored and flashily
ornate in gilt and white. The bill of fare was elaborate, the prices exalted. In
the box before me a white-haired lawyer was entertaining a lady of easy virtue;
in the box behind, a larrikin quartette from the Pavilion Theatre were holding
high revelry. There was
no mistaking the character of the place. In the heart of the city's tenderloin
it was a haunt of human riff-raff, a palace of gilt and guilt, a first scene in
the nightly comedy of "The Lobster."