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CHAPTER XXVIII.
SNOWED IN

Although everything in the gulch was frozen up, it must not be supposed that mining there came to an end. While it was true no more washing could be done that season, there was dirt, gravel, and sand to be heaped in convenient spots, ready for the first run of water in the spring.

At one end of the claims there was a bank which had been examined by Foster Portney and found to contain very rich pay dirt, and this bank was now attacked by all hands and the dirt brought out to the nearest sluice box. To thaw the ground a fire was built up against the bank every night and allowed to burn until morning. Even in extremely cold weather this thawed the bank to a depth of several feet, and when they had scooped out a hole which resembled a baker's oven the thawing-out process was still more effectual.

But it was hard and bitter work at the best, and as the cold increased, Fred found he could not stand it, and had to remain in the cabin the greater part of the time, coming out only during the middle of the day.

"This cold gets into the marrow of a fellow's bones," he said to Randy. "I don't see how you can put up with it."

"Earl and I were used to pretty tough weather up in the Maine woods, as you know," replied Randy. "I guess an out-and-out city chap would freeze stiff before he had been here a week. The thermometer was down to six below zero this morning."

The cold had cut off their water supply, and every drop for drinking or cooking had to be obtained by melting ice on the stove. To keep them in fuel, all hands spent four days up in the woods cutting timber, which was allowed to dry out for two weeks, and was then hauled over to the edge of the cliff and tumbled down to a spot between their cabin and that of their nearest neighbor, two hundred feet away.

By Foster Portney's advice another trip was made by him and Earl to the Yukon River in search of fish for winter use, for fish could now be kept by simply being frozen in a chunk of ice and laid away. The two found the ice on the Yukon over two feet thick, and had to cut fishing-holes with an axe they had brought along for that purpose. They spent a day on the river, fishing and spearing, and were rewarded with a catch of over fifty pounds. Earl had brought the shot-gun, and to the fish were added a dozen small sea-fowl, which were caught on the wing while flying southward.

"We had better be getting back," observed Foster Portney, early on the following morning. "Unless I am greatly mistaken we shall have a heavy fall of snow by to-night."

As they did not wish to be caught in a storm, they started on the return to the gulch as rapidly as their loads would permit. They were still in the woods when the first flakes began to fall. With the coming of the snow the wind began to rise, shaking the bare limbs above them savagely and causing a lively tumble of dead branches on every side. Not to become stormbound, they increased their pace, reaching the lower end of the gulch by six o'clock in the evening. They could hardly see before them, so thickly did the flakes come down, and both considered themselves fortunate in having struck familiar ground. By the time the cabin was reached the snow was six inches deep.

"We thought you'd be snowed under!" cried Randy, as he opened the door to let them in. He had been watching anxiously since the snow began to fall. "It's going to be an awful night."

He was right; it was an awful night – more so than any of them had anticipated. After a hot supper they retired to their bunks to sleep, only to be aroused about midnight by the roar of the wind as it tore through the woods and along the gulch with the force of a hurricane. The snow was coming down "in chunks," as Randy put it, and mingled with it were tree branches, small brush, and dried tundra. In one corner of the cabin the wind had found a crack about six inches long and less than a sixteenth of an inch wide, and through this crack the snow had sifted over the entire floor.

"Jerusalem! the roof is coming down!" cried Earl, when they had been up a few minutes, and while his uncle was stuffing a piece of cloth in the crack mentioned. There was a great noise overhead as the hurricane tore away the top joint of the stovepipe. Through the opening poured a lot of snow, which, falling on the hot stove, sent up a cloud of steam. To stop the snow from coming in, Foster Portney climbed up on the top of the table and nailed a bit of a board over the hole.

"We can't have that stovepipe up there, that's certain," he said. "We'll have to stick it out of the side window. It won't look very elegant, but I reckon we're not keeping house on looks up here." And by their united efforts the stove was swung around in front of the little window, and the upper end of what was left of the pipe was twisted around and pointed outside, after one of the small window panes had been taken out. Around the pipe Mr. Portney fitted a square sheet of tin, obtained from an empty tomato can. Then the floor was cleared of snow and the fire started up afresh.

The hurricane, or blizzard, lasted until six o'clock in the morning, and during that time nobody thought of going to sleep again. The cabin shook and rocked, and had it not been for the shelter of the cliff would have gone to pieces. The snow kept piling higher and higher until it threatened to cut off the smokepipe again.

"Perhaps we'll have to swing the stove around to the front," said Foster Portney. "We can let the pipe out near the roof, and build a little hood over it, so that the snow from the cliff can blow right over into the gulch." And later on this was done.

"This will stop work in the gulch," said Randy. "It's too bad! What on earth are we going to do with ourselves from now until next spring?"

"We'll try to keep alive and well, Randy," returned Mr. Portney, seriously. "Remember, from now on comes the tug-of-war, as the old saying goes."

But work was not over, as Randy had surmised. To be sure, when the storm ceased at noon it was found the snow was nearly three feet deep on the level. But a day's labor sufficed to beat down a path to the bank in the gulch, and once again the fires were started and the work of getting the dirt to the sluice boxes resumed. The clearing of the storm had left it stinging cold, and all were glad enough to hustle lively in order to keep warm. They worked with their overcoats on and with their feet encased in several pairs of woollen socks, and even then spent much time around the fire, "thawing out," to use Randy's words.

The work in the bank, however, paid them well. Four days after the fall of snow, Foster Portney struck several rocks to one side of the rise and located another pocket of nuggets. They were all small fellows, the largest about the size of a hickory nut, but the nuggets numbered nearly half a hundred and caused a good deal of excitement.

"It's another fifteen hundred or two thousand dollars to our credit," said Mr. Portney. "And not only that, but this dirt is as rich as that taken from the pocket over yonder. We haven't struck a million, but we are doing remarkably well."

"I wonder how Captain Zoss and Dr. Barwaithe are making out," said Earl. They had not heard from their former partners for nearly a month, when a miner had brought word to the effect that they had just located a claim on a gulch heading into Hunker Creek, the third strike since leaving Mosquito Hollow.

"I imagine they are not doing any better than we are," replied his uncle. "If they were, we should have heard of it. It may pay to strike around, more or less, but I believe in giving a claim a fair trial before abandoning it."

Less than a week later it began to snow again. The sky was heavy, and even at midday it did not brighten up. They had gone down to the gulch directly after breakfast, but now returned to the cabin, to fix up the stovepipe as previously mentioned, and to cut enough small wood to last for several weeks. All were hard at work when they saw two white men and two Indians approaching, the latter driving before them two dog teams attached to a pair of Alaskan sledges, piled high with miners' outfits. The two men were Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss.

"It's a sight good fer sore eyes to see ye ag'in!" exclaimed the captain, as he shook hands with Mr. Portney and the boys. "I couldn't keep away no longer. How are ye all?"

"We are very well," said Foster Portney. "How have you been doing?"

"Only fairly well," answered the doctor. "To tell the truth, I don't think it paid to strike out. We have a little dust, but no more, I imagine, than we should have had had we remained with you."

The pair had come over to see if they could not arrange to remain at the cabin through the winter, fearing that they would find it very lonesome if they went off by themselves. They had brought along all their things, including a stock of provisions, and were willing to pay whatever was fair in addition. As their company would no doubt prove very acceptable during the long, cheerless days to come, they were taken in without question.

"We can put up two more bunks somewhere," said Foster Portney. "And though we may be rather crowded, I reckon we'll manage it." He had taken a great fancy to the doctor, and was pleased to think he would not have to depend altogether on the boys for companionship. As for the boys, Randy declared that the presence of the jovial captain would make every day seem several hours shorter. Fred, whose story had been told in secret, also took to the newcomers, and all together they formed a happy family.

But the height of the winter was now on them, and it was destined to keep its grip for many long weeks and months to come. The storm that had started on the day the doctor and the captain arrived kept up with more or less vigor for a week, and by that time they found themselves snowed in completely. The thermometer kept going down steadily, registering as low as fifteen degrees below zero, and on more than one occasion the pail of water standing up against the side of the stove was frozen solid. To keep thoroughly warm was impossible, even though they wrapped themselves in all the clothing and blankets their outfits afforded.

CHAPTER XXIX.
WAITING AND WATCHING FOR SPRING

"Perhaps it isn't cold! I never felt so frozen up in my life!"

It was Randy who uttered the words, as he danced around the floor of the living-room, almost on top of the stove. The fire had burned low during the night, and he had just shoved in some fresh wood and opened the draughts. Going to the little window of the sleeping-apartment, he looked through the single pane of glass at the thermometer, which hung on the casement outside. The mercury registered twenty-two degrees below zero.

"Twenty-two degrees below, and this is Christmas morning!" he went on, with another shiver. "The best thing Santa Claus can bring us is warmer weather."

"Merry Christmas!" cried Fred, tumbling out of his bunk, and his cry awoke the others, and the greeting went the whole round. The fire was now blazing with a vigor which threatened to crack the stove, yet as they talked they could see each other's breath. Every one was stamping around to get his blood in circulation.

"I'll give ye some hot coffee and Christmas flap-jacks!" said the captain; and soon a smell which was most appetizing was floating through the air, and they sat down at the table, which had been placed as close to the fire as possible. Indeed, "hugging the stove" was a common trick all day long, and Fred often grumbled because he could not take the stove to bed with him. The boys were waking up to the fact that an Alaskan winter was "two winters in one," as Earl said, when compared with those experienced at home.

It had been snowing again; indeed, it snowed about half the time now, and even in the middle of the day it was so dark they could scarcely see, excepting right in front of the windows. Some time previous several Indians had appeared with fish oil and some dried fat fish to sell, and they had purchased a quantity of both for lighting purposes. The oil was used in a lamp made of a round tin having a home-made wick hanging over the side. The fat fish, dried very hard, were slit in strips and set up, to be lighted and burnt as tallow candles. Many of the Indians and the Esquimaux have no lights but these dried-fish candles. The smell from them is far from pleasant, but they are certainly better than nothing.

As it was a holiday, the boys felt they must do something. But what to do was the question, until Fred suggested they try their hand at making some candy. They were allowed just a pound of sugar by the men, and worked themselves half sick over the wood fire until noon, when the candy was declared done. It was a sort of taffy; and although it would not have added to the reputation of a skilled confectioner, all hands partook of their share of it, and declared it excellent.

Just before being snowed in Mr. Portney had become the possessor of two newspapers and a magazine, and much of the time was spent by one or another over these. The magazine was rather a heavy one, yet the boys read it through from cover to cover, including all the advertisements. It contained among other stories one which was continued, and to pass away the time they tried to invent a conclusion. This self-imposed task amused the doctor also, and he took a hand and finished the tale in a manner which took three evenings to tell.

And so New Year's Day came and went, and still they found themselves housed up with the thermometer continually at fifteen to twenty degrees below. Once it went down to twenty-six below, and everything fairly cracked with the cold. To keep from being frozen, one and another stood guard during the night, that the fire might not go down. During that time they received but scant news from their neighbors, although the cabins along the under side of the cliff were less than seventy yards apart. Nobody cared to venture out, and even opening the door was something to be considered, although the doctor insisted on having a little fresh air.

"Providence help the poor chaps who are not well provided for this winter," said Mr. Portney, one day. "I shouldn't wonder if some of them are found dead in the spring."

"To be sure," answered the captain. "I looked ter somethin' putty bad myself, but I didn't expect nuthin' like this. Why, we might jest as well be a-sittin' on the top o' the North Pole. Hain't been a blessed streak o' sunshine fer eight days, an' every time it snows the stuff piles up a foot or so more! It must be nigh on to thirty feet deep in yonder gulch."

"We'll have to economize with our store before long," put in the doctor. "Flour is running pretty low. Captain, you'll have to give us less flap-jacks – they're too toothsome."

"Yes, we'll have to come down to plain bread," said Foster Portney. "And maybe eat it stale too," he added.

Economizing began that day, after Mr. Portney had taken an account of the provisions still left to them. Whatever they had must be made to do for three months yet, and three months meant ninety days, a goodly number for which to provide.

Slowly the days wore on, every one so much like the others that it seemed impossible to tell them apart. Sunday was the one day they observed through it all. On the morning of that the doctor invariably read a chapter out of the Bible he carried, and one or another of the rest offered prayer. "It's right an' proper," said the captain, speaking of this. "We don't want ter live like no heathens, even if we are cast away in an ocean o' snow!"

February proved the worst month of all. It snowed nearly the whole time, and it was so dark that they kept the lights lit as long as they dared to consume the fish oil and the dried fish. During that time they saw or heard nothing of their neighbors, who might have died of starvation without their being any the wiser. The snow against the door was five feet high and water was obtained by shovelling this into the pot instead of ice and melting it.

"Well, it's a dog's life and that's the truth," said Earl one day, in the middle of March. "It's worth all the gold we've found – that's my opinion." It was the first time Earl had grumbled since winter set in, but as he had not had what he called a square meal for a month he can well be pardoned for the speech.

"If I thought I could get there and back, I would try for some extra provisions from Dawson," said Foster Portney; but none of the others would hear of his attempting such a trip, feeling certain he would lose his way and perish.

"We'll make out with what we have," said the doctor. "Divide the rations so they'll hold out until the middle of April. I fancy by that time this winter siege will about end." His advice was followed out, and they waited with all the patience possible for the coming of spring.

The fish and game had long since come to an end, and they were now living on plain bread, beans, and bacon or pork, and half a can of fresh vegetables per day, with an occasional taste of stewed dried apples or apricots as a side dish. They were all tired of the beans, especially Fred and the doctor, who had been used to good living all their lives.

"They're too much for me," said Fred, one day, as he pushed his small plateful back. "I'd rather eat a crust of bread and drink snow water." And the beans remained untouched for two days, when he was forced, out of sheer hunger, to go at them again.

They had also reached the last half pound of coffee, and by a general vote this was reserved for dinner each Sunday. As the amount on hand decreased they made the beverage weaker and weaker, until the doctor laughingly declared that the snow flavored the water more than the coffee did. The lack of coffee hit the captain more than the others, for he loved his cupful, strong, black, and without sugar.

It was on the last day of March that they heard a noise outside and then came a faint hammering on their door. All leaped up and ran to open the barrier. When it had been forced back a distance of a foot, they beheld two miners there, so weak they could scarcely stand, much less speak. "Sumthin' to eat!" whispered one of them hoarsely, and the other echoed the word "Eat!" as being all he could say.

The two were taken into the cabin and warmed up, while Earl prepared a thin vegetable soup for them, that being best for their stomachs, according to the doctor. They could hardly swallow at first, and it was not until the following morning that they were strong enough to sit up and tell their stories. They had been wintering back of the woods, but starvation had driven them forth in an attempt to reach Dawson City for supplies. Their strength had failed them, they had lost their way, and here they were.

"Take care of us, and we'll pay you well," said one of the miners. "We've got over a thousand dollars in gold dust with us and ten thousand in dust and nuggets hidden up at the camp."

"I'm afraid your money won't count up here," replied Foster Portney, sadly. "We're almost as badly off ourselves. Yet I am willing to share what I have." A vote was taken, and the miners remained; and that made two more mouths to feed out of their scanty store.

The first week in April saw them reduced to next to nothing. The flour was gone, so was the bacon and the canned goods, and it was pork and beans and stewed dried apples twice a day and nothing more. Every one looked haggard, and all felt that something must happen soon. Would spring ever come?

"Pork and beans enough to last about three days yet," said Foster Portney, as he surveyed the scanty store, with the others standing around. "Three days, and after that – " He did not finish, and a silence fell on the crowd. Were they to suffer the pangs of actual starvation, after all?

CHAPTER XXX.
LAST WASHINGS FOR GOLD

Just one day before their provisions gave out the skies brightened as if by magic and the sun came out warmly. They could scarcely believe their eyes, so sudden was the change. The snow was cleared away from the door, and every one lost no time in rushing out into the fresh air.

"This is living again!" cried Earl. And then he added: "Let us beat down a path to Wompole's cottage and see how he is faring."

The others agreed, and soon they had a trail to the next cabin, where an old Alaskan gold hunter had gone into quarters all by himself. Wompole was also out, and they shook hands. When questioned he said he had run out of everything but beans, dried peas, and some smoked salmon, and he agreed to let them have enough of his stores to last them three days longer.

"Winter is broke up now," he remarked. "An' I reckon thar ain't no doubt but wot ye kin git ter Dawson an' back, if ye try."

"And I shall try," said Foster Portney; and an hour later he and Captain Zoss started off on snowshoes which they had made during their many idle hours. Randy and Earl saw their uncle depart with much anxiety, but did nothing to detain him, for food they must have, and that appeared the only manner in which to obtain it.

"If we could only bring down a bird or something with the gun," said Earl, some time later, and then he climbed the cliff and beat a path to the first belt of timber. But though he thrashed around three hours, not a sign of game was to be discovered anywhere.

The night was cold, but not nearly as much so as other nights had been, and on the following day the mercury when held in the sun actually crawled up to ten degrees above zero. And so it kept gradually becoming warmer, until the snow started to melt and they knew for a certainty that the long and tedious winter was a thing of the past.

It took Foster Portney and Captain Zoss five full days to find their way to Dawson City and back again. The return for the larger portion of the way was made on dog sledges driven by Indians. They had found provisions very scarce and high in price in Dawson City, but had brought back enough to last a month. One of the Indians had also brought provisions for the two miners, this commission having been executed through Mr. Portney, and the next day the miners set off for their own cabin with many sincere thanks for the assistance which had been rendered them.

On the day the provisions came in, they celebrated by having what Dr. Barwaithe called "a round, square meal." To be sure there was nothing but the plainest kind of food, but there was enough, and that was of prime importance.

After this they watched eagerly for the day to come when they might get to work again. A bargain had been struck all around, whereby the doctor and the captain were to work the single sluice box on the upper claim and have four-fifths of the findings, the other fifth going to Foster Portney for keeping them – the contract to hold good so long as the pair were content to remain in the present camp.

"The water is running in the gulch!" was the welcome announcement made by Earl one day, and all went down to see the thin stream, which soon became stronger. The snow was almost gone now, and the sand, gravel, and dirt which was exposed to the sun was quite free from frost. The picks, shovels, and other tools were brought out and cleaned up, and two days later found them at work as during the previous summer. It was marvellous how the seasons changed when once there was a start.

Before the end of the month Mr. Portney made another trip to Dawson City, and this time he took with him both Randy and Earl. They had settled that they should remain in the gulch until the first of August, and now they took back, by Indian carriers, enough provisions to last the camp until that time.

The stop in Dawson lasted two days, and the boys had a chance to walk about the town and see how it had improved. There were now at least two-score of buildings, and several of them were quite pretentious. At the dock were two steamboats, both nearly free of the ice which had held them fast all winter.

In the town there was much news to be heard of the many wonderful strikes which had been made. Several had taken out over a hundred thousand dollars in dust and nuggets, and were waiting for navigation to open on the Yukon, that they might sail for home with their riches. No one who had accumulated a pile cared to remain in that forsaken country.

Just before they were to start for the gulch, Mr. Portney brought news of Tom Roland. The man had been captured at Circle City two months before, and the gold stolen from Cozzins taken from him. He had escaped from his temporary jail and fled to the mountains, and now his dead body had been found at the foot of a lofty cañon, down which he had most likely tumbled during the snowstorm which was then raging. It was a sad ending to a misspent life, and the boys could not help but shudder as they heard the story. They wondered what had become of Jasper Guardley, but nothing further was ever heard of that cowardly rascal.

By the first of June the gulch was as active as it had ever been during the previous summer, and the mosquitoes and flies were just as numerous and troublesome. No more finds of nuggets of large size were made, but the sluice boxes yielded heavy returns of dust, and all were very well content, and Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss gave up all thoughts of leaving.

"We know what we have here," said the doctor, "and I am convinced that too much prospecting does not pay."

"An' besides, it's something ter be in company which is congenial," added the captain. "Over to the other claim it was nuthin' but fight the whole day long with yer neighbors about stake lines."

By the end of July the sand and gravel taken from the bedrock of Mosquito Hollow gulch had been disposed of, and now a month was given to a general clearing up of the dirt taken from half a dozen little hollows which lay on either side. It was terribly hot again, but the workers took their time over what they did, and often rested during the middle of the day. Three days before the first of September they were done.

"There, that settles it!" cried Foster Portney, as he flung down his shovel. "No more work for me until I have paid a visit to the States."

"Hurrah!" shouted Randy, and he gave his pick a whirl which sent it thirty feet off. "I'm just aching for a sight of civilization."

"And for an old-fashioned meal," added Earl.

Fred's eyes glistened, but he said nothing. He was wondering what sort of a reception he would receive when he got home. He had sent on two letters from the gulch, but no answer had come back and there was no telling if the communications had reached their destination.

The next day was spent in the delightful task of counting up the proceeds of their venture. Of course it was impossible to calculate closely, yet they were conservative in their estimates, and in the end, when their nuggets and dust were turned over to the United States mint in San Francisco, they were not disappointed as to the check received in return.

The upper claim during the time it was worked by Dr. Barwaithe and Captain Zoss in the spring had yielded five thousand dollars. Of this, as per agreement, two thousand dollars went to the doctor, a like sum to the captain, and one thousand dollars to Foster Portney. Added to what they had made previously, the doctor and the captain now held a matter of nine thousand dollars' worth of gold between them. Not a fortune, but still a tidy sum, all things considered.

The Portneys, of course, had fared much better. The total yield of gold to them from start to finish footed up to fifty-two thousand dollars. Of this amount, as we know, one-half went to Earl and Randy, which gave the lads exactly thirteen thousand dollars apiece. Twenty-six thousand dollars was Foster Portney's share, but out of this he had been compelled to spend three thousand dollars in bringing the party up and keeping them, and he would have to spend nearly another thousand in getting them home.

During the early summer of the present year, Earl, Randy, and Foster Portney had held a private talk concerning the amount to be granted to Fred, and it had been decided that he should have an even thousand dollars, one half to come from the two boys' share and the other from their uncle. Fred's fare was also to be paid clear through to Basco. The lad, when told of this decision, said he was more than satisfied, as the amount of work he had been able to do had really been very small on account of frequent attacks of sickness.

"I can't stand the climate," he said. "And I shan't attempt to come up here again. If father will let me, I'll go to college and become a lawyer."

The doctor was going on to Dawson City to give up mining and establish himself in his profession, having become satisfied that he could do better at this than he could in working a claim. But the captain decided to remain where he was.

"I'm bound ter strike it rich some day," he said. "An' I'm goin' ter rustle till I do."

"I certainly hope you strike it rich," said Randy; for the pair were now greater friends than ever.

It was a warm, clear day when the party of five left the gulch, with their faces set toward Dawson City. The Portneys had decided to return to the States by the way of the Yukon and the Pacific Ocean, and a voyage of five thousand miles still lay before them. They carried all their findings with them, and now the question arose, – having found so much gold, would they be able to get it out of this wild country in safety?