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^ 
 
ffietl'g 3n^(an an6 Colonial library 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE 
 
nis edition is intended for circulation only in Ind 
 and thf British Colonies. 
 
 lit 
 
ut 
 
 THE 
 
 OHICAMON STONE 
 
 liV 
 
 CLIVE rHILLIPl>8-W0r.LEV 
 
 AlTI.On OF "SNAP.- "(.OLl), GOU, ,N CA.Ui..,>0,- '',,v, 
 THE HROKE.V URIGADE," ETC. 
 
 (»!• 
 
 LONDON 
 (GEORGE BELL A 8 
 
 AND BOMBAY 
 
 1900 
 
 ONS 
 
Ill 
 
 TEIKTED lit 
 
 WILtUM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLES. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Tm: Wn'CH-FrN'bKRs 
 
 i'AGK 
 1 
 
 PART II 
 
 Thic Kula Kcli.uis 
 
 97 
 
 ART III. 
 
 Tin: Blixd Man's H 
 
 VST 
 
 lf)7 
 
Lr 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 -*o^ 
 
 PABT I.-TBE WITCII-FINDEiiS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was evening in Wrangel, and it was raining. If it 
 had been morning the same conditions would have 
 prevailed. Indeed, though I had been in the town 
 three days waiting for a steamer in which to go up the 
 Stickine river, I had never seen the skies do anything 
 but rain. Alaska remains to us to-day as a sample of 
 what the world was about the time of the Flood. 
 
 From the sunshine of Victoria or California you 
 come to it by Avinding channels dividing the main- 
 land from a hundred rugged islands covered with dense 
 growth of pine ; whales spout in the waters, and bald- 
 headed eagles soar overhead ; in the background is the 
 threadbare scenery of mountain and winter-blasted 
 forest growth. Round Wrangel itself the tides come 
 and go, the black squalls race across the grey sea, and 
 the curtains of mist shift and shut across the sun. 
 
 B 
 

 \\ fi 
 
 2 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 At present the forsaken little town is owned by the 
 States, and when I was there, a very disconsolate 
 regiment of Uncle Sam's soldiers was spending its 
 time in wondering why it had been sent there. Even 
 Uncle Sam's soldiers cannot hold the place much longer 
 — the sea will have it. 
 
 To-day the sea knocks at the door of its houses, 
 which, being water-logged, lean heavily away from their 
 foundations, whilst a green moss creeps over everything, 
 and in the square where the soldiers drill, stands a 
 huge wooden saurian, put there, men say, as a totem 
 by the Indians, crawled there, 1 think, as the forerunner 
 of the beasts of the deep which are to come and 
 possess the place to-morrow. 
 
 I had spent my morning fishing off the piers for 
 halibut; I had tried to keep the balls out of the 
 pockets on the one old billiard-table, and could not do 
 it ; I had read until neither Kipling nor Hope could 
 interest me any more, and the eternal " lap, lap," of 
 the sea and the ceaseless drone of the rain upon the 
 roof-tree had fairly " got upon my nerves." 
 
 Indoors there was nothing to do, but you could 
 keep dry; out-of-doors there was nothing to do but 
 get wet. Being young and foolish, I preferred to get 
 wet rather tlian do nothing, so I slipped into my long 
 gum-boots, and went squelching across tlie road to 
 McFarlane's store. 
 
 " You call that rich, do you ? " said old IVFcFarlane 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 ' the 
 olate 
 g i^s 
 Even 
 onger 
 
 oiises, 
 1 their 
 thing, 
 inds a 
 totem 
 runner 
 le and 
 
 iers for 
 of the 
 not do 
 [e conld 
 ap," of 
 ion the 
 
 could 
 I do but 
 
 to get 
 
 long 
 
 Iroad to 
 
 'arlane 
 
 as 1 entered, to a couple of tough-loo kini^ prospectors 
 who were leaning over his counter. " Wait until I 
 show you something." And so saying, lie stooped down 
 and iished out a small parcel, wrapped up in a handana 
 liandkerchief, containing about a couple of pounds of 
 rock — or so I should have thought at first siglit. A 
 better acquaintance with the contents of that parcel 
 later on made me treble my estimate of its weight. 
 
 " What do you thinlv of your stuff from the Liard 
 now ? " the old man asked. 
 
 For a moment the two prospectors looked at ^Mac's 
 specimen in silence, bending over it, a: d tinning their 
 pocket-glasses on to it hungrily. 
 
 "DDn''^ want them things to find the g(dd in that 
 rock, do you ? " asked 3[ae, contemptuously. 
 
 " Wal no, old man," retorted one of the two, " except 
 to see how you put the stuff in. I'll allow you've done 
 it pretty slick." 
 
 " Yes, you bet. Him as put that gold in, put it in 
 pretty slick," admitted ]Mac. " I guess He'd ha<l some 
 experience in the business, but He hasn't put it in as 
 thick as that in most places." 
 
 And indeed He who made the rocks has not put gold 
 in them in many places as it was put in that lump of 
 dirty white quartz. On one side of the specimen, 
 which was as big as a briclc, there was nearly as much 
 gold showing as there was quartz ; the rock was honey- 
 combed, and gold was the honey of it. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 u 
 
 * 
 
 " Got it from Coolgardie, I'm thinking," said one of 
 the prospectors, wlio had once been a Scotchman, a 
 sqnat, red-headed fellow, with a furtive blue eye. 
 
 " No, man, an' I didna," replied Mac, with a touch of 
 his long-forgotten native speech. "I got that rock 
 where you got your swelled held the night, right 
 here." 
 
 " There's more of what swelled my heid, mon ; is 
 there more of this ? " 
 
 " Aiblins there is and aiblins tliere isna. I canna 
 tell." 
 
 " Wont tell, you mean," corrected the other pro- 
 spector. " Well, it's easy guessing. If you knew 
 where that ledge was, you wouldn't be here." 
 
 " Waiting to serve you gentlemen," replied jMac, 
 picking up liis specimen, and turning to the two with 
 an inquiring wave of his great fat hands. '' What can 
 I do for you ? " The bacon is Armor's best ; the 
 beans are Boston. Nothing like beans and bacon for 
 a prospecting trip. They tell me the boys have struck 
 it pretty ricli on Glacier Creek." 
 
 "Rich. Five dollars a day, perhaps. Chinaman's 
 wages and mule's work. No, we ain't tenderfeet going 
 prospecting. Give us a couple of plugs of Climax 
 chewing, and tell us how you came by that rock, and 
 maybe we'll give you our order when we do go up the 
 river." 
 
 jMac looked at the speaker out of the corner of his 
 
THE CHICA^ION STONE. 
 
 eye, but if he liad an answer on the tip of his tongue 
 lie swallowed it. 
 
 These two might, after all, raise a few dollars some- 
 where, and if they did give an order in "Wrangel, he 
 might as well have the benefit of it." 
 
 " There's the Climax," he said. " It's moat and 
 drink to a hungry man, ain't it ? and as for the story 
 of the rock, there's nothing in it that any man mayn't 
 Ivnow. One of the siwashes who trade witli me brouglit 
 it in two summers ago witli his furs, and sold it to mo 
 for fifty dollars." 
 
 " Where had he been lumtiuL!: ? " 
 "Somewhere down the Arctic Slope. The Jiord 
 knows where." 
 
 " And didn't you ask him where he got it ? " 
 " Well, yes, and I offered him five hundred dollars 
 to show me the ledge." 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " Said he'd come and see me about it in the morning, 
 if I would have the dollars ready." 
 " And didn't you have them ? " 
 "Yes, I had them, you bet, and burning a hole in 
 my jeans too, but wlicn became ho wouldn't look at 
 them, though T made tlieui rattle and crisp under his 
 very nose. He'd had a talk witli his tillicums in the 
 night, and they would not let him give the secret away. 
 Said it was in their hunting grounds, and they ditln't 
 want any white men mining in there." 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 "Didn't you oifer him more? Man! that leds^e 
 would make a Vauderbilt of you, if you got on to it." 
 
 " Yes. I doubled my offer, which was a fool's trick 
 anyway. If a siwash won't take five hundred dollars, 
 nothing will fetch him." 
 
 " So that's all you got ? " put in the dark man, who 
 had been listening intently to the conversation between 
 3 lac and his partner. "And I suppose you go around 
 tliinking as you're a United States citizen ? " 
 
 " I do," replied Mac, stoutly. 
 
 " Wal, I don't. Do you know the States motter — 
 'iVit there'? If it had been the Almighty Hisself 
 that owned that ledge, I'd have got there; and you 
 let yourself be bluffed out of it by a measly siwash. 
 Sho ! " 
 
 " Steady, Luke — steady," put in the red-headed one. 
 " The gentleman don't set up for being a miner. He 
 makes his storekeeping. P<^rhaps, sir, you wouldn't 
 mind telling us the name of that siwash, and, if we 
 could run across him, Luke and me might manage to 
 persuade him to be a bit more Christian-like. Then 
 you and me could divvy up, fair and square." 
 
 " How do you calculate to persuade him, if dollars 
 won't do it ? " asked IMac, suspiciously. 
 
 " Well, there's no tellin'. One thing will persuade 
 one man, and another will persuade another. Per- 
 suadin' is a prospector's profession in a manner of 
 speaking. What did you say his name was ? " 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " (Siyah Joe/ ' answered Mae, reluctantly. He could 
 see no reason for withholding the information, but he 
 seemed to give it unwillingly. " Good night, gentle- 
 men." 
 
 " Siyah Joe — a Stick Indian ? " 
 
 " Yes, a Stick. Good night." 
 
 "And what does Siyah mean ?" asked Luke ; but 
 he was too late, the old man had disappeared into the 
 back part of his shop, so, after waiting for a moment 
 with his hand upon the latch, Luke muttered something, 
 and slouched out into the darkness, and I heard him 
 and his partner splashing through the mud towards 
 the Indian quarter of the town. They were hot on 
 the scent of the Chicamon Stone already. 
 
 "What does Siyah mean, 31ac?" I asked, as the 
 old man came in again. 
 
 " Siyah," he said, dwelling on the syllables — " Si-yah 
 means far a\\ay, very far away ; and it's a deuced good 
 thing, to my way of thinking, that Joe is siyah just 
 now. I guess he would iind their way of persuading 
 quite a bit unpleasant. They've left my rock, [ sec ; " 
 and the old man took up the parcel, and, bidding me 
 gouil night, left the store for his den at the back. 
 
 As I went out, I fancied that I saw a couple of tigures 
 lurking in the alley way at the side of the store, but 
 I was uncertain, and in any case it was no business 
 ol mine, and in Alaska it is as well to let other people's 
 business very strictly alone. So 1 went across to Uiy 
 
8 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 shack, and went to bed, but I could not go to sleep. 
 Even the rain on the roof would not malie me forget ; 
 even the incessant barking of the Indian dogs, as 
 they fought over refuse on the beacli, could not divert 
 my thoughts from the one absorbing topic of IMac's 
 chicamon stone (gold rock). It was but the size of 
 an ordinary builder's brick, and yet he, shrewd dealer 
 as I knew him to be, had given fifty dollars for it. 
 He had sold, so he said, a hundred dollars' worth of 
 specimens off it since then, and the mere intrinsic 
 value of it was still probably several times as much 
 as he gave for it. If a man, I thought — if I, for 
 instance — could only find the ledge from which that 
 specimen came, what would it mean to me ! And why 
 should a dirty siwash, to whom two hundred dollars a 
 year would be affluence — why should he keep such a 
 secret to himself? I began to think that there Avas a 
 good deal to be said for Luke's determination to " get 
 there," get there at any cost, and I wondered what 
 means he was taking to get there. 
 
 Just as I was at last dozing off, a coup^ ^ of revolver 
 shots rang through the stillness of the night, and all 
 the dogs in the town gave tongue together. There was 
 a distant sound of shouting, a door or two opened and 
 shut ; some one asked a question, and I heard the answer 
 given distinctly just under my window. 
 
 " Some one been selling whisky to the siwashes, I 
 guess. It will be a job for the marshal to-morrow ; " 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 9 
 
 uiul tlieii all was silent again, except for the rain and 
 the sea. Nature cared nothing for gold reefs, or 
 midnight shootings, and at last lier grand impassive- 
 ness wrought even upon my fevered imagination, and 
 I s\e])t. 
 
 In the morning there was a busy stir in the little 
 town. The fast and commodious steamship Alaskan 
 was ready to start up the river, and, like everything 
 else in Alaska, having kept every one waiting for days, 
 she would not wait now a single moment for any one. 
 There was a wild bustle everywhere, ^len who had 
 been complaining of having had nothing to do for 
 a week, were now at their wits' end to finish their pre- 
 parations in time. The stores which had been idle 
 all yesterday were thronged now with impatient 
 customers, and as the boat was casting off from her 
 moorings, two or three people were seen lialfway 
 between the pier and the town, packed like mules with 
 all sorts of parcels, staggering through the mud, and 
 crying to the captain to hold hard just (me minute more. 
 
 In the rush of our departure, I had almost forgotten 
 my adventure of the night before, when the })urser of 
 the boat, a quiet, good-natured young fellow, came up 
 to me with a half-apoh>getic air. 
 
 " 1 u.ii afraid," he said, " tluit you liave got two rather 
 ronghish chnps in your room, but the boat is so crowded 
 that I c(mld not help myself. It is my business to 
 let the berths, and ask no quest ions." 
 
1 
 
 10 
 
 THE GHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I . 
 
 «TI 
 
 That's all right," I replied ; " they won't eat me, I 
 expect. But who are they ? " 
 
 " Well, no, they won't eat you, but they might skin 
 you. If you like, I will put anything you want taken 
 care of in the ship's safe until we reach Glenora. They 
 are the two men, I think, who were mixed up in that 
 sliooting affair last night. People say that they sold 
 wliisky to the Indians. But there was no evidence on 
 which to hold them, and in this rush the police cannot 
 waste much time over a case. Besides, it was onlv an 
 Indian." 
 
 " Killed ? " 
 
 " No, badly wounded, though. He was too drunk 
 to know who shot him. Ho was a 8tick from Dcase 
 Lake, and probably quarrelled with one of the AV^rangel 
 si washes." 
 
 " And who are the men ? " 
 
 " There they are," he said ; and he pointed to my 
 two acquaintances of the night before, 8andy Bill and 
 his mate Luke. " I wonder if they know where old 
 Mac's gold rock went to ? " 
 
 " You don't mean ]\EcFarlane's gold specimen ? " I 
 asked. "Has anything happened to that? " 
 
 For a moment the purser looked at me half 
 suspiciously — 
 
 " You've seen it, have you ? " he asked. " AYell, Mac 
 shows it to most men. Yes ; the last thing I heard, 
 before we cast off was, that some one forced his 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 11 
 
 store last night and got away with the Chicamon 
 Stone." 
 
 " Didn't any one remember that he was showing it 
 to those two men last night ? " I asked excitedly. *' 1 
 was in there and saw him do it." 
 
 '* I wish I had known before," replied the purser — 
 '•still it will keep until Glenora. Perhaps now you 
 would like me to take something, and put it in here?" 
 
 Outside No. 5 Sandy Bill and Luke were still 
 standing. They gave me good morning, as I went 
 past them into my room ; but, in spite of their good 
 wishes, I carried with me a roll of notes and my 
 watch, and deposited them with my friend the purser 
 for safe keeping. Their only luggage, as far as I could 
 see, was a small bundle done up in a handkerchief ; and 
 this they kept always with them. I'hey did not even 
 leave it in No. 5 when they went in to dinner. 
 
 I dare say that it was a foolish thing to do, but for 
 the life of me I could not help it. We all think 
 that we are born detectives, and I am no better 
 than my fellows; so, as I fixed up my bunk more 
 comfortably, I looked Sandy Bill full in the face, 
 and said — 
 
 '' Did you hear about that rock old ^fcFarlane was 
 showing us yesterday ? " 
 
 If I had expected him to show any sign 1 ^^as 
 disappointed. 
 
 " No," he said. " What about the old tool's rock ? " 
 
i ! 
 
 12 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " JSoine one broke into his store and took it, al'tei* we 
 werc^ in there last night." 
 
 " ]\[ore'n likely he has misplaced it," was the calm 
 answer. 
 
 " Well, it's lucky for us," I insisted, " that there was 
 no fuss made about it. As we were the last in the store 
 last night tliey might have kept us to ask questions, 
 and made us miss our steamer." 
 
 "Lucky for you, you mean! " retorted Bill, angrily; 
 " you seem to forget as we left you alone in the store, 
 and, for all I know, you've got it. Thief-catching ain't 
 my business, but if you'll talvc my advice you'll keep 
 your head shut, young man — and shut tiglit too." And 
 with this insolent rebuff he left me and went out, 
 taking his parcel with him. 
 
 I should have liked to knock him down, but pru- 
 dence pre^ ailed. Pie most likely carried a gun ; I 
 did not, and besides, every word he had said was 
 true. 
 
 I was a very young man wlio had — as our boys do — 
 taught myself most of that which I knew, and, being 
 too independent to hang round my home any longer, had 
 put my little savings in my pocket and turned west. 
 As yet I had not fairly commenced my life, and the 
 making of it largely depended upon my own exertions. 
 One of the lessons I had learned was not to make 
 enemies unnecessarily, and I was not fool enough to 
 enter upon tlie stage brawling with the two roughest 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 13 
 
 saloon-loafers I could find. If I could lay my band with 
 certainty upon those who had stolen ^EcFarlane's rock, 
 that would be quite a different business, and might 
 secure me an opening in the police force. But to do 
 tliat I must wait and be thankful, meanwhile, tliat in 
 a new country, where I was known to no one, sus])ici(Ui 
 had not fallen upon me at the outset. 
 
 And on deck a new country Avas indeed opening 
 before me ; through grey and savage seas, along the 
 pathway of the seals, past rugged foruiless mountain- 
 masses, I had at last come to the mouth of the Stickine 
 — to the gateway of that mysterious north where there 
 were still untrodden places for tlio fur-hunter and the 
 gold-seeker — fortunes to be won and reputations to be 
 made if a man dare play for them with his own life as 
 the stake upon the table. That is what I had come to 
 do ; and I looked at the mountains as a man look?, w ho 
 measures his opponent and doubts of his own strength. 
 I knew that at last I had come to Jotunheim. 
 
i; 
 
 ii ' 
 
 14 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 There is something very wonderful in the constantly 
 recurring migrations of men; and T am glad tliat I 
 have shared, however humbly, in one of them. On 
 the north-west coast of America we have had several 
 in the century. There was the Californian rush in 
 1841), the Fraser River and Cariboo rushes in 18")S 
 and 18G0, and now we have the Klondyke excitement. 
 Elsewhere, in Australia and in South Africa, the same 
 phenomena have occurred on a far larger scale ; but 
 the main features have been the same in all cases, and 
 the results have been similar. 
 
 For centuries a great space on the earth's surface 
 lies void, and then Nature, who wants a population 
 for her waste places, and that population of tlie 
 strongest and youngest, holds out her lure and attracts 
 what she requires. Her methods are the same in all 
 cases, whether she shows a new goldfield to a mining 
 people, or reveals the bright colours of an opening- 
 flower to the fertilizing bee; but I could not help 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 15 
 
 woiKlering, a>» 1 entered upon my own pilgrimage, 
 wlietlier the bait she offered to ii.s was not somewhat 
 more vulgar and prosaic than that which she offered 
 eight hundred years ago, when at the great cry of 
 " Deus Vult ! Deus Yult ! " tlie Europe of hjrds, and 
 knights, and men-at-arms, of robbers, incendiaries, and 
 homicides, bent to the blessing of the priests, and, in 
 the full belief that God would pardon the sins of His 
 stout soldiers, belted on the crimson cross and marched 
 to reclaim the Holy Land where His Son was born. 
 
 We know now — I wish we did not — how full of evil 
 was the world of that day ; we know, alas ! that private 
 vice tarnished some of the brightest shields amongst 
 the Crusaders; but if it be only to temper our own 
 self-complacency, it is worth while to remember that 
 eight liundred years ago religion moved men to face 
 greater dangers than those whicli greed of gold leads 
 men to face to-day. 
 
 In 1099 Europe, or part of it at any rate, was not 
 very much easier to travel across than Cassiar is to- 
 day ; I doubt if it was as easy. We read in Gib^^^n, 
 tliat between the frontiers of xVustria and the seat of 
 the Byzantine monarchy the Crusaders were compelled 
 to traverse an interval of six hundred miles, the wild 
 and desolate countries of Hungary and Bulgaria. The 
 soil is fruitful now, it is true ; but then it was inter- 
 sected by many and great rivers, and covered with 
 morasses and forests which no man had tried to re(;laim. 
 
16 
 
 THE CHrCAMON STONE. 
 
 And the men who faced these physical dangers had 
 no stern-wheel steamers to force a way for them up- 
 stream ; no ocean steamers to cross the channel in ; no 
 collapsible boats ; no organized transportation com- 
 panies; no ader[uate tools even for building boat or 
 bothy, nor any knowledge of those applied sciences 
 which make all travel comparatively easy to-day. 
 
 And yet they left all and dared all in such numbers 
 that we read, that after wandering starved and naked 
 amongst the Carpathian mountains during the winter, 
 preyed upon all the time by a hostile population, 
 three hundred thousand members of the first Crusade 
 perished before a single city had been rescued from 
 the infidels. 
 
 And here was I playing at the same game half 
 consciously, which Attila and his millions, Gengis 
 and his myriads, and Godfrey of Bouillon and his 
 hundreds of thousands had played at before. 
 
 In the world's yesterday the pilgrims had come in 
 and told o' nights of lands flowing with milk and 
 lioney ; of groves of odorous cinnamon and frank- 
 incense, of palaces of marble and jasper. 
 
 Yesterday, it seemed to me, I had heard the same 
 story. Prospectors at Seattle were telling men of 
 river-beds where gold (which means palaces, and milk 
 and honey) was to be had for the taking, by the 
 bucketful. 
 
 in 1099 the lads of the first Crusade dreamed of 
 
THE CeiCAMON STONE. 
 
 17 
 
 f- 
 
 grasping in their hands the golden sceptres of Asia, 
 as well as of the glory of a free Jerusalem ; and the 
 very meanest amongst them might aspire to win 
 royalty by the strength of his own right baud and 
 the cunning of his brain. 
 
 Then, too, rich men sold their castles, traders closed 
 their stores, 'prentices left their benches — and some 
 wise men stayed behind. Some of those who went 
 succeeded; most of those who were left behind did 
 well. 
 
 God forbid that I, of all men, should deprecate the 
 spirit of adventure which has made the race wh.it it 
 is ; but there is honour in honest, patient industry, and 
 profit, perhaps, more than in the boldest 'enterprise. 
 And if I dwell on these thoughts now I must be for- 
 given, for the crowded piers, and closed business houses, 
 and weepii g women I had seen had made me think ; 
 and besides, even the leaping silver-mailed salmon 
 pause and play awhile at the mouth of the Stickine 
 Eiver before they rush north. None of them return ; 
 many of those on the Alaskan would not return either. 
 
 And now we had fairly begun our obstacle race, 
 lietween us and Wrangel lay a broad sheet of water, 
 calm as a millpond, where the human heads of the 
 , seals rose on all sides of us : they were the guerillas 
 ! hanging on the flanks of the salmon army. 
 
 There were no rocks to strike, no swift currents to 
 Imake our course difficult ; but there were troubles ahead 
 
 
 
■ ! 
 
 18 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Ei ! 
 
 I I 
 
 for all that. In the midst of my dreaming there was 
 a sudden shock : the whole slight fabric of plank and 
 canvas, frail for all its imposing appearance, trembled 
 under us. 
 
 We had run on a sand-bar, and it took all the skill 
 and energy of the crew to get us off before the tide, 
 which was rapidly falling, left us high and dry on the 
 flats. 
 
 In spite of the fair-seeming breadth of the waters 
 there was but a narrow channel, where the tide ran 
 strong close inshore, through which our steamer could 
 creep at ordinary times. She drew but little more 
 than two feet : on this day she was overloaded, and 
 drew more. Freight was worth $40 per ton in those 
 early days, and the captain had not had the heart to 
 refuse any that he could stow away, though he risked 
 his boat in accepting it. 
 
 What with her overload, and some defect in the 
 untried steering- geer (for this was her first trip), the 
 vessel answered badly to her helm, and once more, 
 before we reached the mouth of the river, we saw her 
 veering straight on to a bluff of rock on the shore. 
 
 It seemed absurd, with a Avide sea behind us, to run 
 ashore ; and it shook our faith in the skipper almost as 
 much as the second shock shook the ship, and if she 
 took in several tons of water in her bows, our courage 
 too received a considerable damper. Worse than that, 
 as we found out afterwards, it destroyed the captain's 
 
 •■* 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 19 
 
 le waters 
 tide rail 
 ner could 
 ttle more 
 aded, and 
 a in those 
 p heart to 
 he risked 
 
 confidence in his craft, and " '-attled " him badly. He 
 was a little man with some foreign blood in his 
 veins, and none of that stolid calm which makes a 
 sailor. 
 
 But nothing short of shipwreck stops a boat on the 
 Stickine. We had started, and we meant to pull 
 through, so, though her bows were heavy with a load 
 which would pay no freight, the steamer turned into 
 the stream and faced the current which runs down 
 that roadway to the north. 
 
 Our decks were covered with passengers in spite of 
 the mist which was falling, through w^hich you could 
 see the leet of the coast range protruding like the 
 paws of some monster which crouched up-stream wait- 
 ing for us. 
 
 I was not the only man on board who had never 
 seen a glacier or a grizzly before, and we were keenly 
 looking out for both. 
 
 " It is a weird world we are passing through," said a 
 voice at my elbow, and turning, I saw a middle-aged 
 man extremely neat in his dress, and with a certain 
 quiet air of authority upon his clean-cut features, 
 [leaning over the taffrail by my side. 
 
 " Yes," I said, ' ' it is ; but I suppose men become 
 [used to it ? " 
 
 "They become assimilated, I think," he corrected. 
 f Nature makes her own men, and queer fi»h somo of 
 them are." 
 
1 ■:! 
 
 20 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I I 
 
 11 
 
 i! 
 
 " Yet surely most of them come here ready made ? " 
 I suggested. " Nature can't be held responsible for 
 these," and I glanced towards the crowd of rough 
 fellows irx blue overalls by whom we were surrounded. 
 
 "Nature made them what they are," he replied; 
 " but she has had a turn at most of them in many 
 lands, so that they bear the clear impress of none of 
 those lands. But I was thinking of the natives, and 
 the mark which the north leaves upon them." 
 
 " Do you know much of the natives ? " 
 
 " I ought to. I am in charge up here as chief of 
 police," 
 
 " Are you indeed ? And are the natives such very 
 queer fish ; different to those on the coast ? " 
 
 For a moment he was silent. As a rule, I expect he 
 was not a communicative man, but the loneliness of 
 the great river struck him perhaps, and made him 
 instinctively long for companionship, and ^ e could 
 talk to me more freely than to most of those on board, 
 some of whom he knew too well already. 
 
 " Yes, these Sticks are very different to the British 
 Columbian Coast Indians," he said at last. " Doesn't 
 it strike you that the world looks a bit younger here, 
 more unformed and void than elsewhere ? Just as the 
 ^^orld is, so are its people. What do you think my 
 present mission is ? " 
 
 " To run some (;ne in, I suppose ? " I said, laughing. 
 
 " No, to get some one out, in the first instance, at 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 21 
 
 any rate. I am going to prevent a witch-killing if 
 possible." 
 
 ' A vvitch-killing ? " 
 
 " Yes, a witch-killing. That is the time of day in 
 this chaotic coimtiy. Here, at the end of the nine- 
 teenth century, are men who believe in witchcraft, 
 and kill for it." 
 
 "Have they ever killed any one for it in your 
 time?" 
 
 "Tliey killed a lad only last year; got him away 
 from the tribe, cast lots for his executioner, and then 
 cut awav his chest, took oui his bad heart, and shoved 
 the rest of him through a hole in the ice. And he 
 was their friend a month before." 
 
 " And do you tell me tliat another such murder is 
 contemplated ? " 
 
 " Not only is it contemplated, but I am terribly 
 afraid that it will have been committed by now. 
 Siyah Joe knows his danger, and knows the ways of 
 these woods as well as the moose knows them ; but 
 then, so do the two who are on his track, and God 
 knows whether the gloom of these grim places and 
 the fear of his fate won't make him crazy enough to 
 give himself up. They do such things sometimes." 
 
 1 started at the mention of Siyah Joe's name, and 
 so did another man in the crowd, and 1 saw Luke and 
 Ids partner edge their way nearer to us, so that they 
 could better hear our conversation. I so mistrusted 
 
i i 
 
 
 22 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 these men even then that I would have turned the 
 conversation if I could have done, but I was too late. 
 The chiefs next words put that out of my power. 
 
 "It's hard luck too on poor Joe — especially hard 
 luck," he said. " Joe is a very white kind of Indian, 
 and doserves better treatment from his fellows. They 
 say, you know, that he and two of the Tahl Tans have 
 the secret of a fabulously rich ledge somewhere up by 
 McDame's Creek, but though lots of white men have 
 offered Joe money to show them the ledge, he won't 
 do it for fear the miners should spoil the tribal hunt- 
 ing grounds." 
 
 " An' you say, chief, as they're goin' to kill this poor 
 boy?" chipped in Sandy Bill, craning his head past me. 
 
 " Yes I did, if they can catch him." 
 
 " An' can't no one stop them ? " 
 
 " We shall if we can," was the curt reply. 
 
 " Would it be asking too much to ask whereabouts 
 you think he is ? " persisted Bill. " You see, me and 
 my mate here are goin' in prospectiu', and we might 
 be able to lend a hand. It's every man's clear Chris- 
 tian duty to do that if he can." 
 
 " It's a great thing to do one's duty," said the chief 
 drily, looking his man up and down with no great 
 favour. " There is no reward, mind." 
 
 " * Virtue's its own reward,' I've heerd tell," put in 
 Luke, with a sneer ; " but I think I heerd you say as 
 the siwash was near iMcDanie's creek ? " 
 
THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 23 
 
 « I don't think I did," retorted the chief; "if 
 he's anywhere above ground, he should be this side of 
 Dease Lake." 
 
 " Wal, if so be as you want any specials, you'll know 
 where to look for them." 
 
 " I shall ; but I would rather know where to look 
 for McFarlane's Chicamon Stone." 
 
 Now, whether he drew a bow at a venture, or whether 
 he was thinking only of the ledge which every one 
 spoke of as the summiim homtm of miners' luck, I don't 
 know, but the effect was instantaneous. Bill seemed 
 to become suddenly conscious of a certain parcel he 
 was carrying, and Luke stood open mouthed glaring 
 at the speaker. 
 
 I don't know how it would have ended, but every 
 one rushed forward crying that the canyon was in sight. 
 
 The canyon is the real gateway from the coast to 
 Cassiar proper, from the wet land to the dry Ijelt, u 
 gateway through the coast range, against wliich all 
 the rain-clouds, driven up, strike and explode. 
 
 In itself it is a narrow gorge not fifty yards \n ide, 
 with sheer rock sides, between which at hii»h water 
 the confined volume of the great river rushes at a 
 terrific pace, so that a i-:trong-engined steamer can 
 barely make headway against it. 
 
 It is the test of a river-boat. If she can go up the 
 canyon at high water, she is all right; if not, her 
 engines are not good emjugh for the Stickine. 
 
^w 
 
 24 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 For some time past we had been making our 
 preparations, and now we steered into the mouth of 
 the canyon, using every pound of steam which the 
 law allows — and perhaps more. 
 
 As the boat felt the force of the current she shivered 
 like a live thing, and then, gathering herself together, 
 forced her way up foot by foot until she was about 
 halfway between the entrance to it and the exit. Then 
 the furnaces became clinkered and the steam fell oft". 
 We could not get the boat to do her best, and slowly 
 we had to back down-stream until we were again clear 
 of the strong water. 
 
 Twice we tried to make that passage, with the same 
 result ; and then we got out our wire cable. 
 
 It would injure the boat's reputation ; but if she 
 could not steam up she must be lined up. So, when 
 men had scrambled over tlie hii>h cliffs and fastened 
 
 O 
 
 the cable to a rocl^y point, we set the steam-winch 
 going, and again, with steam and line, we fought our 
 way to tlie crux of the position. 
 
 Here we hung again ; and I watched a point on shoro 
 whilst the paddles churned the water into white foam 
 and the hot ashes streamed from the funnel^ and the 
 great white creature we were driving snorted and 
 panted as if she would explode. And we did not 
 gain an inch ; we stood still. 
 
 Then the line, which had lain below the level of 
 the water, began to show, foot by foot, until at last 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 25 
 
 every inch of it was visible, white and strained and 
 trembling; and then something gave — a part of the 
 line came back to us, and, before any of us had time 
 to think, we were broadside on to the current, being 
 swept down-stream. 
 
 If the captain had kept his head, even then things 
 might have gone well with us, but he did not. He 
 was rattled already when the accident happened, and 
 now tlie bells rang for the engine-room as if they were 
 crazy ; and the next moment, with an appalling crash, 
 we went stem on on to a buttress in the middle of the 
 canyon. I don't know myself quite what happened. 
 I saw the jaekstaft' snap with the force of the shtjclc, 
 and, falling, fell the mate upon the lower deck ; I 
 lieard men calling that she would blow up. I saw 
 the captain outside the pilot-house, and as we struclc, 
 I saw two men jump, and cling in some juniper 
 scrub, whicli was the only live thing growing upon 
 tlie canvon's walls ; but for mvself I had time to do 
 nothing, before, as luck would have it, turning round 
 and round like a top, we came out still floating at the 
 canyon's foot. 
 
 After that we tied up to the bank for repairs, and 
 spent tlie whcde afternoon and night in cuiting cord- 
 wood, which was considered better for generating steam 
 than coal ; and next morning, with a spliced line and 
 all the steam we could put (m, we just managed to 
 crawl through with all our freight, and all hands on 
 
H 
 
 111 > 
 
 26 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 ii ( 
 
 board except two. Those two were Luke and Sandy 
 Bill, and, though we kept a sharp look-out for them 
 on the way up, we never caught sight of them again 
 that voyage. 
 
 " Did you know anything of those two who spoke 
 to us about Siyah Joe ? " asked Luscombe, the chief 
 of police, just before we reached Glenora. 
 
 I told him what I knew, keeping nothing back. 
 
 " Ah," he said, " I thought they looked like some 
 of my wards. I wish I had known. But I will see 
 that a reception committee waits upon them when they 
 visit Glenora." 
 
 " You don't think, then, that they were drowned ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " No ; nor scared, except by that stupid speech of 
 mine about the Chicamon Stone. They saw their 
 chance and took it, and took old McFarlane's specimen 
 with them too. On second thoughts, I am not so 
 sure that I shall ever get a chance of receiving them 
 at Glenora according to their merits. They are pretty 
 daring rogues ; and I ho2)e, for Siyah Joe's sake, that 
 they may not find him before I do. If I am not 
 mistaken they are after the Chicamon Stone, and mean 
 to ' get there ' at any cost." 
 
 His words struck me. He was putting Luke's 
 determination into Luke's own words. 
 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A WEEK later I " struck a job," i.e. I obtained employ- 
 in ent. 
 
 A mining and transportation company was engaged 
 in packing supplies into the Dease Lake country, and 
 was in trouble with its men. Some of them were 
 drunk, most of them were incapable ; and so, being at 
 my wits' end for work, I went down to the principal 
 oflice and asked to see " the Boss." 
 
 When I reached the station every one was in the 
 corrals : enclosures made of great pine-poles, one above 
 another, strong enough to hold a herd of wild cattle, 
 and big enough to hold three or four hundred head, 
 at a phich. 
 
 The " boys " were breaking young mules, and, as 
 luck would have it, one of these wrenched the snubbing- 
 post clean out (jf the ground as I came up, and bucked 
 over the corral fence like a deer. Without stopping 
 to tliinlc, T clutched at the loose end of rope which the 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 1 lil 
 
 s 
 
 28 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 beast trailed behind liim, and the next moment T was 
 jerked off my feet and dragged over half an acre of 
 rough clearing, the sharp stumps in which found every 
 tender spot in my body. 
 
 But I had played Rugby Union in my time, and, 
 once having collared, old habit made me hold on like 
 a limpet, though my arms seemed to be coming out 
 of their sockets. 
 
 " Stay with him, stranger ! Shake him. Applejack ! " 
 I heard tlie men yelling, and, before I knew what they 
 meant, I saw a pair of long ears laid back, a gleam of 
 white teeth which looked as large as gravestones, and 
 Applejack came right at me open-mouthed. 
 
 I am quite willing, as a general rule, to take credit 
 for any clever thing I ever did, l)ut common honesty 
 comi)els me to admit that I am utterly unable to say 
 why, instead of trying to get away from that mule (as 
 I undoubtedly wanted to), I shortened my hold on 
 tlie rope, and rolled in towards him instead of rolling 
 away. 
 
 However it was, I did so ; and this possibly saved 
 my life, for the beast, blinded by fear or rage, missed 
 me with his teeth, stumbled over me with his fore 
 feet, and the sudden jerk of the shortened rope, when 
 his head was down, made him turn a complete somer- 
 sault over my prostrate body. 
 
 Before he could recover himself three or four pair 
 of strong hands were on the rope, the end man making 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 29 
 
 a snubbing-post of his own body ; but even then Apple- 
 jack kept his captors waltzing ronnd him for a good 
 five minutes before they managed to take the rope 
 round a tree, and so put a period to his performances. 
 
 I was slowly pulling myself together, and absent- 
 mindedly dusting my trousers with my cowboy hat, 
 when a huge fellow by my side asked if I were much 
 hurt. 
 
 " Not much," I said, feeling my limbs to see if it 
 was true ; " but a little dazed, I think." 
 
 " Lucky it was only a little," he laughed ; " if you 
 had not kept your wits deuced well, you would liave 
 lost the number of your mess. That was a very neat 
 throw of yours." 
 
 I did not contradict him. Indeed, I was not sure 
 whether he meant that he admired the neatness witli 
 which the mule threw me, or that with which I threw tlie 
 mule. As the mule might be his, possibly his admira- 
 tion was for his own property ; but there was no time 
 for explanations, for just then a black cook came into 
 the yard and beat noisily upon the back of a frying- 
 pan, at which all the " boys " began to pick up their 
 coats and leave the corral. 
 
 " That means grub," said my new friend ; " if you 
 have not had lunch yet, will you come and have some 
 witli us ? The food is not 'high toned,' but it is filling." 
 
 " Thank you," I said, " but I was looking for Captain 
 Lanyon." 
 
mm 
 
 30 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 H 
 
 " That's me," replied the bi<r fellow, with a Hue dis- 
 regard for grammar. " What do you want ? " 
 
 Now, this style of address has its merits, brevity, and 
 so on, but it is embarrassing sometimes, and besides, my 
 abrupt questioner did not look a bit like the man I 
 thought I was looking for. 
 
 I had been told that a young English gentleman, 
 with any amount of money, was " running " the mule 
 trains for the fun of the thing. This man wa.-' young, 
 but he was the roughest-looking fellow in the whole 
 crowd ; two huge bare arms protruded from his shirt- 
 sleeves, the blue flannel breast of which was open enough 
 to show a hairy chest, of which a navvy might have been 
 proud, a fair beard was all over his bronzed face, and the 
 rest of him was just blue overalls, and moccasins a shade 
 more ragged than those of any other man. 
 
 " Not my idea of a dude, anyway," was my mental 
 comment ; " and not half a bad fellow," I added an hour 
 later, as I went down to his corrals to lend a hand at 
 the breaking, as his hired man. 
 
 I told him honestly, as he sat eating a huge meal 
 with his packers, that I had been brought up as a civil 
 engineer, but having failed to find employment in my 
 own line, I should be glad to do anything to earn a few 
 dollars to keep me until somethivig better turned up. 
 
 " I am afraid that I shall not be much good," I con- 
 cluded ; " but I can try." 
 
 " Some of the others are not any good, and they 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 31 
 
 don't try," he growled ; " but, if you like, I'll take you 
 ou at fifty dollars a month. The regular wages are 
 seventy-five. If you only help to catch the mules in 
 tlie morning, you ought to earn your money." 
 
 And so I was hired, and next morning began to learn 
 what a very large number of things there were con- 
 nected with mules, ropes, and packages of which I had 
 not the faintest idea. 
 
 But the packing was over at last, and in spite of 
 every artifice known to the half-broken produce of little 
 Spanish mares and cayuse jacks, the whole train was 
 loaded and ready to start. 
 
 "Now, Mo, let them rip," sang out the boss, "and 
 look out for squall; You'll have a merry time, but I 
 believe it is the only way to break those devils, and 
 there is nothing much to damage." 
 
 And then we had a picnic for two or three days. 
 After that, most of the mules sobered down ; but at first 
 it was just as well that the loads were only made up of 
 well-packed sugar and flour. 
 
 At first the leaders would not move. Then one of 
 the youngest dashed back, and executed a pas seule in 
 front of the cook-house, bucking and kicking like a 
 Chinese craclcer until the rigging gave way, and her 
 whole pack was scattered in all directions. In the 
 middle of this performance, the whole band took it 
 into its head to move, and charged in open order up 
 the steep hill which overlooks the corrals. 
 
32 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 hi 
 
 
 r ' 
 
 " Piclv up the pieces, boss ! So long ! " yelled Mo, the 
 carcadore; and the next moment all of ns, the boss 
 included, were riding at best pace after the train. 
 Somebody else might pick up the pieces. He meant 
 to see the fun. 
 
 I have no time to tell you all about the first 
 trip, though it miglit be worth telling ; suffice it to say 
 that at the end of the first day we had lost one-third 
 of our mules, and though we Ivuew that their loads 
 were still in the country, we knew very little more 
 about them, but by the fourth day out, thanks to un- 
 tiring efforts on the part of Mo, we had twenty-four 
 reasonably quiet pack-animals instead of the thirty 
 fireworks we started with. 
 
 Later on, we recovered all the mules, and most of 
 their paclvs. What was lost went to the brealving 
 account, and was considered well spent. 
 
 At first, of course, I was as bad as the mules. I could 
 not do anything right, from lighting a fire, or pitch- 
 ing a tent, to throwing the diamond hitch. 
 
 Between you and me, 1 cannot do that right yet. 
 But, after a time, I learned to know a dry stick from a 
 green tree, and to detect a shirker when lie tried to 
 slip off the trail, as the train went by, and, above all, I 
 was of some real service to my mates in retrieving the 
 lost and strayed. Bringing in the mules in the morn- 
 ing became my special duty, after the first week out. 
 
 The journey from Telegraph Creek to Dease Lake 
 
THE CIirCAMOX STONE. 
 
 33 
 
 took ten days, if all went well ; fifteen, if things went 
 normally ill. Every day we were up in the dark, and 
 every day we camped before midday, so as to give the 
 boasts the benefit of the cool hours of the morning for 
 their work. As a rule, at first, whilst there was good 
 feed in every swamp, most of the animals stayed where 
 they were turned out, and, after a month's packing- would 
 come in as soon as we appeared in the morning, and 
 walk sedately up to the semicircle of the aparejos, 
 which had been placed in readiness for them. It was 
 a pretty sight to see them standing like soldiers at 
 attention, waiting for their masters to pack them. 
 
 But there were always a few who, out of pure meanness, 
 would sneak out of the richest feeding-grounds, and 
 refuse to present themselves at the morning roU-eall. 
 Applejack was one of the worst of these, and many a 
 morning I had to run myself to a standstill upon the 
 track of this wandering beast. The whole country 
 between Telegraph Creek and Dease Lake is, with 
 very few exceptions, a succession of willow thickets, 
 running in great swells like a dull green sea up and 
 down for seventy miles, with here and there a patch of 
 black pines where the best camps are, and here and 
 there an open swamp where the best feed is. In these 
 swamps, at early morning, every step you take stirs up 
 a covey of mosquitoes, and it was lucky for me that 
 my business kept me moving pretty briskly or I 
 should have been eaten alive. But I was quiclc-sighted, 
 
 D 
 
■^r 
 
 34 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I I'i 
 
 and a good tracker, so that I generally fonnd my 
 beasts, and football and baseball had made me a good 
 ** stayer," so that, as a rule, I caught the shirkers before 
 old Mo, our carcadore, had quite lost all patience, and 
 thus won for myself a fair reputation with the men 
 and the boss, who, though he never said much, paid 
 me my seventy-five dollars the second month without 
 being asked to do so. I never saw a man take less 
 trouble to make himself popular with his employes, 
 and yet I never knew one of whom the men thought 
 more. lie never praised a man, but he always paid 
 him ; he never rated a man, but if he was not satisfied 
 with him; he just " fired " him without a word, and if 
 there was a particularly hard thing to do, the boss 
 generally had the first try at it himself. Any evening, 
 wherever we were camped on that trail, we were likely 
 to see him come " loping " in on foot, with a single 
 blanket tied on his shoulders, and a tomato-tin (his 
 cooking outfit) in his hand, to see how we were getting 
 on. He Avould cover his thirty-five or forty miles in a 
 day, and, as lilvcly as not, if all was well, turn round 
 at daylight next morning, and " lope " back. 
 
 I should have been working for him still, if it had 
 not been that one morning in the first week of October, 
 my old enemy, that slab-sided, fiddle-headed Applejack, 
 could not be found even in the lialf-hour wliich I 
 usually allowed for him. 
 
 Lately the feed, even in our favourite swamps, had 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 35 
 
 ml iny 
 a good 
 cs before 
 nee, and 
 the men 
 Lch, paid 
 1 without 
 take less 
 employes, 
 L thought 
 .vays paid 
 t satisfied 
 rd, and if 
 , the boss 
 y evening, 
 sere lihely 
 a single 
 ,-tin (his 
 ire getting 
 miles in a 
 ;urn round 
 
 I, if it had 
 hi October, 
 Kpplejack, 
 which I 
 
 [omps, had 
 
 been getting very short, and the nights unpleasantly 
 cokl. Indeed, we had had one considerable fall of snow 
 already, and orders had been issued that this was to be 
 our last trip for the season. Want of feed and cold 
 combined made the animals restive, and they would 
 wander unheard-of distances to find a bite of grass out 
 of which the frost had not taken all the goodness. 
 Even if you turned them into feed which was over 
 their hock;^, tliey would still move round to keep warm, 
 and my billet as " finder " was no sinecure. 
 
 On this particular morning I had spent so long 
 h oking for Applejack, that I knew Mo must either 
 , . , d given up all idea of moving for the day, or must 
 liavo gone on without me, leaving me to follow as best 
 I conld. 
 
 I did not like the idea of camping by myself, even 
 tliough I knew that tlie boys would leave some food 
 for me ; but I liked less the idea of losing old Applejack, 
 who was one of our best mules, right at the end of tlie 
 season. 
 
 I had ^r jHMged to beat In'm so far, and I meant to 
 bring ],.-v« h. at the finish. It had become a personal 
 matter hei . >:ou Applejack and myself, so I took up the 
 contrary b^^^^ faint tracks again for anot]»er hour. 
 
 Now, if my reader happens to be a hunter he will 
 know what the fascination is of following traci^s. It is 
 linrd enough to keep on a trail, but it is much harder 
 to leave fresh trae::s till you lose them. However far 
 
36 
 
 THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 ; i 
 
 I 
 
 1^ 
 
 . 
 
 •t i 
 
 i ■ 
 
 :f' 
 
 they may have led you, yon still want to go on just 
 another half-hour. You h7iow that the beast will be 
 just beyond the next ridge, or browsing in the next 
 swamp, though he was not on any of the twenty ridges, 
 nor in any of the ten swamps through which you have 
 already passed. Having spent already so much time in 
 hunting him, it would be folly to abandon the hunt now, 
 when another quarter of an hour would infallibly reward 
 you for all the trouble you have taken. 
 
 This was the way I argued, and this was why, when a 
 brown beast crashed v i*- '^'^ the other side of the swamp, 
 I could not for the m >nt make out Applejack as 
 clearly as I ought to have done, /or it was groiving 
 distihctly darh. 
 
 Until then, I had been so engrossed in the pursuit, 
 that I had hardly noticed how the time was going. I 
 knew that it was past dinner-time. My inner con- 
 sciousness had been telling me that at intervals all day. 
 I had wanted food badly for a long time, but then I 
 wanted that confounded mule worse. 
 
 And of course it was Applejack ! 
 
 On second thoughts I was not absolutely certain even 
 of that, though to doubt it seemed rather ridiculous. 
 
 As I looked the beast moved out into a comparatively 
 open space, with a long, slouching stride, feeling his 
 way, as it seemed to me, with his nose, until he came 
 right out upon the skyline, his great clumsy head 
 outlined clearly against the sky into which the 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 37 
 
 )n just 
 *vill be 
 le next 
 ridges, 
 )u have 
 time in 
 nt now, 
 ' reward 
 
 , when a 
 ! swamp, 
 ejack as 
 groxdng 
 
 pursuit, 
 ling. I 
 ler con- 
 all day. 
 then I 
 
 iin even 
 ilous. 
 ratively 
 [ing his 
 
 le came 
 head 
 
 jh the 
 
 cold green tint of a northern evening had ah-eady 
 come. 
 
 Then I knew that it was not Applejack, and that, for 
 the first time, I was looking at one of those huge giants 
 of an earlier creation, to whom these wastes of deep 
 silence are home. 
 
 For a space of many minutes, so it seemed to me, the 
 moose stood immovable, gazing at me whilst the dark- 
 ness seemed to increase perceptibly, and the silence 
 fell and deepened, until I felt a long way from camp and 
 humankind. 
 
 Then one great ear moved, the grotesque head turned 
 slowly round, and without a sound the whole apparition 
 disappeared. If he had gone off with a crash of break- 
 ing underbrush, I could have endured it : that would 
 have been natural. 
 
 His sudden appearance had not shaken my nerves in 
 the least ; but when he went without a sound, he left me 
 shaking, and when at last I turned and looked f r land- 
 marks, the heart fairly went out of me. 
 
 I said that I was a good tracker, and, as mule-driveis 
 go, so I was, but I was no hunter. I had been looking 
 for a mule and not thinking of moose, and had, I 
 suppose, somewhere changed Applejack's tracks for 
 those of the great bull I had just "jumped " — not a very 
 difficult thing for a better man to have done, who was 
 only tracking by the bent grass and broken twigs, with- 
 out troubling to look for the print of the beast's feet. 
 
38 
 
 THE CHiOAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 r i 
 
 
 I don't wish my worst enemy to endure what I 
 endured after I discovered my mistake. 
 
 Look where I would I could see nothing that I 
 recognized. Everywhere there was rolling swamp; 
 everywhere willows, and nowhere was there any vantage- 
 ground from which I could see into the beyond. 
 
 For a time I let the silence and the fear of the place 
 master me. Then one of those grey birds, which 
 northern men call whisky-jacks, lit on a bough close to 
 my head. He was a mere ball of grey feathers — the 
 very ghost of a bird, — and so light and dainty in his 
 movements that he hardly swayed the tiny sprig on 
 which he lit. But in the silence I heard him, and the 
 sound and the presence of another live thing roused me. 
 Without stopping to think of the direction in which 
 camp ought to lie, I turned and crashed back along 
 the way I had come. At any cost I felt that I must 
 get back to camp before the black dark caught me. 
 
 As I came I had moved easily through the brush. 
 
 Now in my hurry every Lush seemed to rise in my path 
 
 and oppose me ; every crooked stick caught me ; the 
 
 very withies swung back and cut me viciously across 
 
 the eyeball. 
 
 In the night I saw these woods as they really were, 
 
 full of a personal hostility to man. I set my teeth and 
 
 charged through these personal enemies, but the tough 
 
 boughs laughed at my puny strength ; a dozen times 
 
 I stumbled, and fell to my knees more than once. 
 
 Ml 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 39 
 
 what I 
 
 that I 
 swamp ; 
 t^antage- 
 l. 
 
 he place 
 J, which 
 
 close to 
 ers — the 
 ;y in his 
 gprig on 
 and the 
 used me. 
 in which 
 pk along 
 
 I must 
 
 me. 
 
 3 brush. 
 y path 
 Ine ; the 
 
 y across 
 
 lly were, 
 leth and 
 |e tough 
 times 
 
 te. 
 
 I began to pant and sweat until I was wet through. 
 ]My knees gave under me, and at the last a short stick 
 caught in the end of my moccasin, and, rising as I 
 pressed forward, threw me heavily upon my face. 
 
 For a moment I lay there almost crying, with rage 
 rather than fear. When I rose the rage left me, and 
 fear took its place. I knew then that I was lost ; not 
 just " turned round " in the woods, but lost without 
 any idea of direction at all. 
 
 Then an utterly unreasoning terror took possession 
 uf me. Things were looking at me, voices were whis- 
 pering ; I was not sure that the trees were not moving, 
 closing in thicker and thicker all round me. Something 
 was coming. 
 
 If you have never been lost, laugh at me. If you 
 are a man who has been alone with Nature — I mean 
 really alone — you won't laugh. She is a terrible person 
 to meet face to face, when there is no other fellow any- 
 where near to call to, and the night is coming on. 
 
 And with the night came the cold. 
 
 As long as I was moving, blindly forcing my way 
 through interminable labyrinths of willow. Heaven 
 knows I was hot enough. When I stopped, utterly 
 exhausted, the swamp-water pumped into my moccasins 
 and froze there, and the little wind which came creep- 
 ing through the willows had in it all the sting of the 
 glaciers where it was born. 
 
 Luckily for me I smoke ; and at last, as I plunged 
 
I 
 
 40 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 heavily through the swamps, my pipe fell out of my 
 pocket. That gave me an idea. I picked up my old 
 friend, filled and lit it ; and then, having found a fairly 
 dry log, sat down to smoke and think. The tobacco 
 calmed me, and, I fancy, saved my life. If I had not 
 sat down then I think I should have blundered on. 
 Circling through the woods, until fatigue and fear 
 made me light-headed, and I might have died mad a 
 few hundred yards, perhaps, from a Government trail. 
 Such things have happened before. 
 
 But the tobacco calmed me, and in a few minutes I 
 could almost have laughed at myself. 
 
 Here was I, a man who sought adventure, probably 
 not half a dozen miles from the camp of my own pack- 
 train, ready to chuck up the sponge because I had lost 
 my way, and I had not even tried shouting yet. 
 
 So I rose and shouted till I was hoarse, and listened 
 for an answer until I could hear bells in my ears. 
 
 But no answer came, and I knew enough to know 
 that the bells were only fancy, though I confess that I 
 walked for a good hour trying to reach them. I walked 
 indeed until the moon, a tiny crescent — very new to 
 its work and very incompetent, I thought — came up 
 and showed me nothing but millions of silvery leaves 
 trembling in the frost. 
 
 I tried to light a fire, and could not do it. Most of 
 my matches were damp, and there was not a thing in 
 the swamp dry enough to burn. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 41 
 
 tened 
 
 Then a hunting owl laughed somewhere in the 
 sliadows, and, though I am not superstitious as a rule, 
 I cursed the bird in my angry fear. 
 
 I think I was just revolving some wild scheme of 
 making myself a bed of brush, and piling the same 
 over me to keep me warm, when a thin column of mist 
 caught my eye. At first I looked at it without interest, 
 then an idea struck me. Was it mist ? was it not too 
 dense, too blue for mist ? above all, was there not a 
 shadow of a glow in it, which never came from 
 moonlight ? 
 
 Certainly there was. It was a camp-fire, beyond 
 doubt, and I was saved ; and in a moment the kingdom 
 of shadows vanished, and there were only ordinary 
 trees and bushes round me again, through which I 
 could push my way like the lord of creation instead of 
 blundering like a hunted slave. 
 
 But the fire was a long way off, and it was past 
 midnight before I reached it. 
 
 What I saw when I stood almost within the glow of 
 it will do for another chapter. 
 
 .•!£_. 
 
ll 
 
 I 
 
 
 42 
 
 THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Here and there in the Cassiar country occur islands 
 of black pine amongst the endless waves of willow and 
 swamp. 
 
 Tliese make the favourite c xmping-grounds for 
 hunters and packers, and other lonely folk whose lot 
 it is to wander homeless over the Arctic Slope. By 
 day these pines are but dark spots in the rolling green. 
 So dark are they, that they seem the natural harbour 
 where the gloom lurks, and whence the shadows steal 
 out at nightfall ; but they have this advantage, they 
 stand on firm ground, and amongst them are sure to 
 be two or three dry sticks which will burn ; and hence 
 it is that at night, if there is a spot of comfort any- 
 where, it will be in the pines where the dry wood 
 cracks and sputters and the red embers glow. 
 
 It was on such a spot that I looked as I peered from 
 the edge of the swamp, my knees shaking with ex- 
 haustion and fatigue, and my body rapidly passing 
 from the heat of incessant physical exertion to the 
 chills of damp and starvation. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 43 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances I should have blun- 
 dered through the brush and rushed to the fire, making 
 sure of warmth and welcome, but a very short sojourn 
 in the woods changes a man's nature. 
 
 No one ever saw wild game come galloping up to 
 their feed ; no one ever saw a bear, even, swagger 
 boldly up to a carcase. No ! The woods breed 
 caution. 
 
 The deer pushes noiselessly through the brush, stops, 
 listens, looks carefully all round, standing still as a 
 carven image for an unconscionable time at the edge 
 of the little meadow, and then dropping his head, steals 
 in daintily and noiselessly to eat his fill. 
 
 The grizzly, though he is the master of the woods, 
 plods in a long circuit round his kill, his ears pricked, 
 his nose testing every draft of air ; and then, if neither 
 nose nor ear warns him of danger from any quarter, 
 he too walks quietly in and feeds in silence. 
 
 To some extent men, too, learn the lesson of the 
 woods, and I had myself imbibed enough of their 
 caution to step lighter, half consciously, as I drew near 
 that fire, lift the boughs gently asunder, and peer 
 through them before passing into the open. 
 
 Light as my moccasined step had been, and though 
 I could hear no rustle of the moved boughs, I had 
 not altogether escaped observation. 
 
 Of the two figures by the dying embers, one sat up 
 at once and peered into the darkness where I stood. 
 
!'l 
 
 :11 h 
 
 1^1! 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 (;' 
 
 f ;ii 
 
 44 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Listening like a stag at gaze, this upright bundle of 
 blankets remained rigid, intent, motionless, until I 
 almost gasped and let go of the upheld boughs, so 
 greatly did the strain tell upon me. 
 
 At last the listener seemed satisfied, and, letting the 
 blankets slide from his shoulders, a heavily-built 
 Indian rose to his knees, and reaching forward drew 
 the logs together on the fire. 
 
 Then for a moment he sat upon his heels thawing 
 himself, and a few minutes later rose, and fetching an 
 armful of logs from a pile close by, heaped them on 
 the fire and started a blaze. 
 
 The fresh logs crackled and snapped like pistol- 
 shots, but theirs were the first sounds which broke 
 the stillness. The Indian himself had moved like a 
 shadow, without a sound. 
 
 When the logs had been piled upon the fire the 
 Indian's mate set up too, watching him; and as he 
 turned said something to him, but in that low, con- 
 strained voice which is natural to woodsmen, so that 
 I could not catch the meaning of his speech. 
 
 Perhaps you wonder why, even then, I did not go 
 forward into the genial glow I so longed to feel. 
 
 If you had seen the two who crouched beside it, 
 you would not have wondered. An Indian in store 
 clothes near a settlement looks a very ordinary, harm- 
 less person, but these two looked otherwise. 
 
 They were at home and natural ; and their red-brown 
 
THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 45 
 
 [e it, 
 
 store 
 irm- 
 
 I'own 
 
 faocs, their glitterinn^ eyes, and liarsli blaok hair, 
 k)oked beast-like and terrible in the glow, and their 
 stealthy, silent movements were more suggestive of 
 beasts of prey than of men. For a time they talked 
 together in low growls over the fire, and then one of 
 them took something from his blankets, and, stepping 
 over the embers, sat down facing his comrade. 
 
 For a full minute he sat there, weaving his liands 
 backwards and forwards, under and over, with sur})ass- 
 ing rapidity, the other watching him, as a lynx watches 
 a rabbit, until suddenly the watcher shot out a long 
 bare arm and touched one of the weaver's hands with 
 his finger. 
 
 The weaving stopped, the hand was opened and it 
 was empty. Again the weaving began, j iid again the 
 other player leaned forward and arrested one of the 
 rapid hands. This time there was something in it 
 which was passed across the fire. Then the winner took 
 up the play, and his mate watched him. 
 
 The two were playing a game, not unlike the merry 
 play which white boys call " Jenkins up ; " but there 
 was no cheery noise, no mirth in their game. They 
 were in deadly earnest. 
 
 Perhaps they played for five minutes — it seemed 
 more to me, — and at the end of that time the first 
 Indian, a huge fellow, as many of the Sticks are, 
 sprang to his feet with a short snarl, and, throwing 
 some little billets of wood across the fire, said — 
 
m 
 
 \i 
 
 
 I: 
 
 i! 
 
 it' 
 
 
 AC 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 " Yon are yourself more witcli than witeh-findor." 
 
 The other langhed. " L'^ne Goose has won," he said. 
 " Go you and do the killing, and take care. You have 
 lost little this time. It is better to be killer than 
 killed, and those who spied out Siyah Joe may spy 
 you next time." 
 
 " If Lone Goose comes to Tahl Tan from the hill- 
 top to spy out Tatooch he had better fly high ! " 
 retorted the other, angrily. 
 
 "Do your business now. Throats are for boys. 
 The day comes, and the wiiite men will soon be here 
 now," was the cold answer; and the other sullenly 
 began to make himself ready, the victor in the game 
 helping him. 
 
 From a little cafhc of pinebark the Lone Goose 
 drew out two or three small sacks of deerskin. From 
 one of these he took a bladder of grease. With it he 
 anointed Tatooch from the crown of his head to 
 his broad shoulders. From another bag he took 
 two or three handsfnl of white down, with which 
 Tatooch was thickly sprinkled, until his stiff black 
 hair was hidden in a quaking mass of white like snow- 
 flakes. Then he took from under his skin shirt a 
 long, evil-looking knife, and, before handing it to 
 Tatoosh, whetted its broad, recurved blade upon his 
 bare palm, and, laying a feather across the edge of it, 
 gave a dexterous upper cut, and the feather in two 
 pieces settled slowly down upon the damp ground. 
 
 iii 
 
THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 47 
 
 " It is sharp," he said, " ami Joe will not feel 
 much." 
 
 Last, he took a wooden mask from the cache : a 
 hideous thing, with the jaws of a wolf, and great 
 cavernous eyeholes in it, and long streamers of human 
 hair flying from it. 
 
 Tatoosh put this on and the other fixed it for him, 
 and then knife in liand he rose. 
 
 With mask and plumes he must have stood nearly 
 seven feet high, and in the faint light of coming dawn, 
 with the black pines behind him, their blackness 
 emphasized by thin wreaths of new-fallen snow, Tatooch 
 looked the incarnation of all evil — a very devil of the 
 woods. 
 
 " See that you bring the heart and liver, that we 
 may know you have slain him ! " hissed Lone Goose ; 
 "and remember that the spirits watch." 
 
 '•And that dead men cannot find the Chicamon Stcnie," 
 said a voice from behind the mask ; and then turning, 
 the wearer of the mask strode into tlie brush, passing 
 swift and silent within a few feet of where I cowered 
 amongst the willows. 
 
 Had Tatooch been free from his headgear, or had 
 l)is cunniu^ brain been loss full of otlier tlioughls, he 
 would have seen me as cleaily perhaps as I sa\v liini. 
 I almost tliinic he would have heard my heart thump- 
 ing against my ribs, or tlie gasping for breath in my 
 dry throat. As it was lie saw noiliing, but passed on, 
 
ill 
 
 48 
 
 THE CITTCAMON STONE. 
 
 i n> 
 
 li I i 
 
 the little morning breeze making the gliastly trimmings 
 of his mask flutter as he went. 
 
 Now what possessed me I cannot tell. I had no 
 mind to meddle with these wood-fiends. I only- 
 wanted to get away and be at home amongst white 
 folk, and listen to their merry chatter round the camp- 
 fire, instead of having my ears ache with the silence 
 of northern forests ; but I turned as Tatooch passed 
 and followed him.. Like everything else, it seemed 
 to me tliat I was coming under the spell of the wilder- 
 ness and becoming one with it. 
 
 Now the bushes no longer withstood me ; my 
 moccasins forgot to squelch in the wet places; the 
 very boughs passed over me without that noisy, rasping 
 scrape to which I had grown accustomed. 
 
 Perhaps all this was only fancy. More likely was it 
 that it was because, as I found out before long, we were 
 passing — Tatooch and his tracker — over a comparatively 
 well-worn trail. 
 
 Above us was rising ground — a ridge bare of timber, 
 which might be the beginning of the foot-hills — and 
 towards this we were making, my leader passing in 
 front with such swift, silent strides that it would have 
 been more than I could have done at ordinary times to 
 keep him in sight. 
 
 But now I think that I was outside myself. 
 Want of sleep and want of food, and weariness and 
 fear, had worke'l upon me until now I needed neitlier 
 
 i 1 
 
 lit 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 49 
 
 »ber, 
 -and 
 
 fg ill 
 have 
 
 les to 
 
 and 
 
 ither 
 
 food nor rest. Fever was coming on me, and for the 
 time lent me unnatural strength. 
 
 Presently we came to the mouth of a narrow canyon, 
 deep, and tortuous, and dark. Here the rock had 
 cropped out from the hillside, and made towers and 
 parapets which guarded the entrance to the gorge, 
 whilst further up one crag hung over it like the keep 
 of some old castle. 
 
 Inside the gorge Tatooch stopped, and so suddenly 
 that I, following him, only just stopped in time. I 
 even think that he must have heard me then, and 
 perhaps fancied that the Lone Goose followed him. At 
 any rate he stood and listened, and when I saw him 
 take out the great knife and finger it delicately, I gave 
 up all for lost. 
 
 But he was thinking of other things. First he re- 
 adjusted his mask, and fingered the plumes on his head 
 like a girl who tries whether her fringe is still in curl ; 
 then he lifted his hand to his mouth and piilled — 
 hollow, far-reaching, deep-sounding — the call ot the 
 hunting owl. 
 
 Twice he repeated the boding cry, and then close 
 to, as it seemed to me, came the hollow answer. It 
 was the Lone Goose answering him from the camp. 
 Who else heard the call, or what it meant to him, I 
 did not know then. I know now, and I can fancy the 
 terror of it to him. 
 
 As soon as the answer came Tatooch moved on, but 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 now no longer with the swift stride which it had tired 
 me so to follow. Stately and slow lie strode, carrying 
 himself at his full height, his plumes nodding as he 
 went ; and the next minute the trees parted, and the 
 grey cold light fell upon an acre of brown moss, crisp 
 and hoar with frost, in the midst of which was a solitary 
 pine, dead of age or lightning stroke, gr^ y-white and 
 skeleton-like in the grey of the morning. 
 
 Tied to this and facing us, naked, or almost so, was 
 an Indian lad of twenty, his flesh almost as grey with 
 cold and terror as the tree he was tied to. 
 
 Have you ever seen a rabbit when the caretaker has 
 thrown him in to the snakes, and they rise slowly and 
 begin to rear up and sway their heads ? Do you knoAv 
 tlie stony horror that seems to seize him, so that he 
 cannot flee from the death that comes to him so 
 leisurely ? 
 
 As the rabbit looks, so looked the boy. Slowly tlie 
 grim figure strode across the moss, whicli made no 
 sound beneath its feet, and with eyes starting from 
 their sockets the witch saw the witch-killer come. 
 This Avas no Indian to him ; it was the Wood Devil 
 coming for his life. Perhaps, if he had been able to, he 
 would have cried out ; perhaps, it they lould have done 
 so, those straining arms would have burst their thongs, 
 and he would have fled shrieking into the thicket. 
 More likely he would have waited dumb and fascinated 
 for the stroke. As it was, he had no choice. The 
 
THhi CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 51 
 
 I tired 
 Trying 
 as lie 
 nd the 
 s, crisp 
 solitary 
 lite and 
 
 so, was 
 rey '.vitli 
 
 on know 
 that he 
 him so 
 
 )wly the 
 lade no 
 |ng from 
 }r come. 
 )d Devil 
 )le to, he 
 lave done 
 thongs, 
 thicket, 
 iscinated 
 lee. The 
 
 strength had been sapped from his muscles by three 
 days of cruel starvation and suspense ; the tight bind- 
 ings on his thumbs and ankles, and the frost at night, 
 had checked the current of his blood, and his mouth 
 was gagged. Only his eyes spoke, and the wild appeal 
 in them reached e>v.n the deaf ears of selfishness and 
 fear. As the great mask towered over the shrinking 
 victim, and the blue steel went up to strike, I think 
 the old lierserk madness of which the Sagas tell took 
 hold of me. The scream of my own voice, and the 
 rage in it, startled me, and made the dumb woods wake 
 and move ; and the next moment I struck as 1 never 
 struck before in my life. It was but a foolish blow 
 with bare knuckles, but, thank God ! I am six feet two 
 in my socks, and I know how to hit ; and though my 
 knuckles split and bled, the hideous mask smashed, 
 and its wearer fell like a log at my feet, lie was up 
 again, however, quick as a panther and as savage ; but 
 I had lost fear now. I only wanted battle — hot, last, 
 furious lighting — and, caring nothing for myself, I 
 closed, and struck again and again and again, as if 
 there was to be no end to my force or ftiy. The third 
 time he fell I saw his knife, the great blue-bladed 
 thing, sticking in the moss within reach A my hand, 
 and (piick as thought I clutched it and threw myself 
 upon him. 
 
 Now I had him by the throat, and the blade was up 
 to strike, when his eyes for the first time cauglit mine. 
 
52 
 
 THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 I "I ' 
 
 I have not told you, so far, that I have one unfortunate 
 personal peculiarity — unfortunate, as a rule, though 
 perhaps not so on this occasion : as a boy brain fever 
 had left me white-headed. In spite of my red-brown 
 cheeks my hair is white as snow. 
 
 Perhaps this saved his life or mine. At least I 
 think so, for when his eyes caught mine a look of 
 terror took all the mali -e out of his face, and with one 
 wild struggle he slipped from me. The grease with 
 which he had anointed himself spoiled my hold ; fear 
 gave him strength which rage could not supply. 
 Without one look behind him Tatooch darted into 
 the brush. 
 
 He had no eyes for me, no woodsman's feet now with 
 which to j)ick his way. I could hear him crashing and 
 blundering through the brush for minutes after I lost 
 sight of him, like a beast which has not only seen 
 the hunter but heard the bullet whistle between his 
 horns. 
 
 The superstitious fear which had brought him here 
 to kill his tribesman, had driven him away more scared 
 possibly than his victim. He had played the devil, 
 and dressed himself up for the part. In the cold grey 
 of the morning he had met a real devil — white-faced, 
 snowy-haired, and savage, — and he had not time or 
 courage to realize that, though his enemy was as tall 
 as he, it was but a boy who felled him : a boy who 
 would have had no chance against his seasoned strength 
 
 i.i 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 53 
 
 had he but had courage to maintaiu the fight a little 
 longer. 
 
 Had he come back he would have seen his error, for 
 now I was spent. The madness had gone out of me ; 
 the fever had left me ; and I was almost too weak to 
 rise. Indeed, I must have lain for minutes where he 
 slid from my grasp, the knife in my hand and my 
 face buried in the cold moss. 
 
 When I pulled myself together a^id rose to my 
 knees, I rested there a moment as the sun c^me up from 
 behind the ridge. I did not believe in devils, but I 
 too believed in something which was not f.s we are, 
 and I had a word of thanks to say to the Unseen who 
 is so little remembered except in the crises of our lives. 
 
 When my thanks were said I rose, and turned to the 
 cause of the quarrel. 
 
 If I had expected to see joy and gratitude upon 
 the Indian witch's face, I was doomed to disappoint- 
 ment. If terror had sat upon those haggard features 
 before, terror intensified sat there now ; and as I drew 
 near with the knife to cut the thongs which held him, 
 lie seemed to shrink as if he would vanish bodily from 
 my sight. 
 
 When the thongs on his ankles and the deerskin 
 strings which bound his thumbs had been cut, Siyah 
 Joe fell heavily forward on his face, and, for a moment, 
 lay there like one dead ; and when I went to him, 
 instead of trying to rise, he kept his face to the ground 
 
54 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 II 
 
 and clung about my feet, crying to me in that Indian 
 tongue, which has a wail in it at all times, and was now 
 the whimpering of a frightened child. 
 
 Of course it dawned upon me at once that to him, as 
 to Tatooch, I was not a white man but a white devil ; 
 stronger perhaps — perhaps worse than the one I had 
 driven away, and in any case equally to be feared. 
 
 It was ridiculous, but it was also embarrassing ; and 
 this was no time for fooling, for, though I had scared 
 away Tatooch, I did not expect that the hard-withered 
 old witch-finder would give up his prey without a fight 
 for it. He knew too much of witchcraft and its little 
 tricks to believe in anything, and, if I was not mistaken, 
 what I had heard about the chicamon stone (gold 
 rock) meant that a very real and prosaic devil was at 
 the bottom of his devilry. 
 
 So I did my best with Siyah Joe : gave him the knife 
 to give him confidence, and, with all the little Indian 
 at my disposal, put him in possession of my version of 
 the story, and implored him to lead the way out of this 
 cursed jungle to some pack-trail or settlement where 
 we might find food and protection. 
 
 If the shadow of death had not been very near him, 
 and if he had not passed much of his life amongst white 
 men at the coast, I should probably have failed even 
 then ; but the feel of the knife in his hands reassured 
 him, and I dare say a closer scrutiny of my ragged, 
 starved condition half convinced him of the truth 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 55 
 
 of my story. It did not weaken his respect or fear 
 of me, but it induced him to obey me ; and I was 
 astounded at the speed with which, in spite of what he 
 had endured, he managed to lead me up the canyon to 
 the foot of the castle-like rock, which I had noticed in 
 tlie earlier morninjr. 
 
56 
 
 THE OHICAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 This castle rock, which was perhaps half a mile from 
 the meadow in which he had been tied, was Joe's bane 
 and his blessing. 
 
 For centuries it had been a devil's stone to the Tahl 
 Tan tribes, a place where all manner of weird and 
 uncanny things collected at nightfall. Here the flying 
 cariboo used to alight and sing as the moon rose, and 
 here, they said, the little hairy men who have no 
 speech, and stink so that the dogs, winding them, 
 howl, crowded together when nights were dark. 
 
 Joe, as a boy, had had no reverence for local supersti- 
 tions. He had been too much with white men for that, 
 and, finding in the snows of one November the track of a 
 great grey bear, he had followed it up the canyon, and 
 not thinking, had tracked it to its den in a natural 
 tunnel in this rock, and killed it there. 
 
 The bear was in its prime, and the skin had been 
 worth many dollars to Joe, and, moreover, in the night 
 and morning which he had been obliged to spend near 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 57 
 
 the castle rock, he had fcund out for himself that, not 
 only did no flying cariboo sing to him, nor any hairy 
 men disturb him, but that superstition had made of 
 this place a sanctuary for certain fur-bearing beasts, 
 and a perfect mine of wealth for any hunter who was 
 unbelieving enough to help himself. 
 
 But Joe's haunting this place of devils had become 
 known to the tribe — more especially had it become 
 known to the witch-finder Lone Goose ; and this, and 
 Joe's knowledge of a certain other rock, of which 
 McFarlane had specimens — of which Lone Goose knew, 
 and which Luke and Bill would have given their souls 
 to find — had worked Siyah Joe's ruin. 
 
 The witch-finder had been absent from the tribe for 
 a week in the far mountains, conversing with the 
 spirits, he said ; and, when he came back to Tahl Tan, 
 he had pointed out Joe as the witch to whose evil 
 influence the last chiefs death was due. 
 
 Lone Goose had had the medical treatment of tliis 
 worthy, who was dying of old age, whisky, and rheu- 
 matism, and failing to cure him by the beating of 
 drums and chanting of songs, was compelled, either to 
 forfeit his reputation as a medicine-man, or find some 
 valid reason for this failure of the healing art. So he 
 had been away into the mountains, and the spirits had 
 revealed the witch to him in Siyah J(je. 
 
 It was useless for Joe to protest. In tlie first place, 
 Joe liad no powerful relations in the tribe, and, indeed. 
 
 ■MM 
 
58 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 he was a waif and a lone man amongst them ; and in 
 the second place his ill-conditioned wanderings round 
 castle rock were known, and it was argued that the 
 man whom the devils won't hurt must be something 
 of a devil Limself. 
 
 When he openly derided Lone Goose's claim to 
 supernatural powers he fared no better, though men 
 listened at first. 
 
 " Did you not see me four suns ago, about the time 
 of the half sun ? " asked the medicine-man. " Did you 
 not see me here in the village ? " 
 
 " No, you were not here," they answered. 
 
 " Did you not see one solitary goose fly over the 
 houses towards the Stickine ? " 
 
 Unfortunately some one had seen such a lone bird, 
 and said so. 
 
 " That was me," said the medicine-man ; and his 
 case was proved to those simple minds, and no one 
 would listen to Siyah Joe's explanation, that if the 
 old man had been hiding in the high peak which over- 
 looks the village, he would have seen the goose fly 
 as they had seen it, and could have said anything he 
 liked about its supernatural contents. 
 
 Joe's fate was sealed, and from that day to this he 
 had lived a hunted life, and even his white friends had 
 not been able to save him. In the woods, whose wavs 
 tliey knew, the red men were still the stronger. 
 
 And so it came that the eeriness of his surroundings, 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 59 
 
 and the constant terror of his life, had preyed upon 
 the untaught mind, until Joe himself had fallen back 
 upon the superstitions of his forefathers, and had 
 almost come to believe that he was a witch, and that 
 wood devils and singing cariboo really had an existence. 
 
 One thing only he would not believe, and that was 
 lucky for him and for me : he would not believe 
 that the castle rock was Launted. He had slept there 
 safe many a night, and brought from it a grand store 
 of fur, and seen nothing there more evil than a grizzly 
 mother with her cubs, and for her he had but little 
 fear if he could only creep near enough with his 
 Winchester. 
 
 80 he led me thither out of the canyon, and together 
 we clambered up the vast pile of boulders at its foot, 
 feeling no larger than mice as we stepped from one 
 huge stone to another, until at last we reached his 
 liiding-place. 
 
 AVhat I had taken for the first of the foothills were 
 ill reality but the precipitous rocks which overhang 
 one of the forks of the Stickine, and this castle rock, 
 which dominated the gorge running at right angles 
 to the river, stood almost in the elbow made by the 
 junction of the fork with the main stream. 
 
 At its foot was the gorge and the stone pile which 
 ran down ever to the raving torrent several hundred 
 feet below the level even of the gorge, and above, when 
 you had climbed the stone pile, one great shaft of 
 

 i. 
 
 t 
 
 li 
 
 fi' I 
 
 :'n 
 
 60 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 solid rock went up towards heaven, bare even of the 
 scanty verdure of the north. At the foot of this 
 monolith was Joe's cave, into which we crawled, on 
 our hands and knees, climbing upwards almost like 
 sweeps goir*^ up a chimney, so steep was the ascent, 
 until at last we reached a level floor, perhaps twenty 
 feet square. 
 
 " Old-time bear den," said Joe at last : " now nilca 
 house." 
 
 It was obvious that both partf. of his statement were 
 true. There was i^: +he place an unmistakable animal 
 smell even now, and along the ridge of rock at one 
 side there was a v,orn path, as of something which had 
 walked ceaselessly backwards and forwards for centuries. 
 In some of the smaller dens, wliich led oil' from this 
 main den, there was still enough hair (smoky black, 
 with a bright silver tip to it) to help a man guess who 
 had si" ' through tlie winter in those narrow quarters ; 
 and, if any one had needed a further clue, there it lay 
 on the floor in the form of two huge half-cured hides, 
 to which the heads and claws still adhered. 
 
 ]Motioiiiug me to take one of these, my friend the 
 witch dug out a bundle of matches from a cranny in 
 tlie walls of lus liouse, and lit a candle which hud been 
 left sticking against the rock, 
 
 ** S'pose wo make iire, no good," he said, " Tatooch 
 see smoke. Kat plenty muck a mnclv, white - uin keep 
 warm." 
 
 4 .;? 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 61 
 
 I was all but frozen. But lie was right, and alter all 
 I was gradually deriving a little comfort from the deep 
 I'ur in which I had wru [)ped myself ; so I nod'^ jd my 
 heai|, and held out my hand for the dried salmon whieli 
 iie had taken from a cache in tlie cavern. 
 
 If you have never eaten salmon smoked and dried 
 by the Tahl Tan Indians you liave missed one of the 
 good things of life. It is dry as a biscuit, as light 
 almost as a feather, and as tasty as anything 1 know. 
 1 ate an enormous meal of it, washed it down with a 
 luindful of snow from outside and then rolled myself 
 in the bearskin and s'ept. When 1 was last conscious 
 Siyah Joe was still eating : an Indian can starve as 
 long as a wolf, but when he has a chance he can cut as 
 much as one. 
 
 When I woke with a start Joe was bending over me, 
 shaking me, and it was broad daylight of tlie day after 
 his esca})e. 
 
 '* '.rhey are coming," he whispered. 
 
 "Coming?" I said only half awake. '* Wiio arc 
 coming r 
 
 " Tatooch and the medicine-man. Look ! " and he 
 led me to a crevice higher up in our tunnel through 
 which I could sea over the forest around. But there 
 was no one in sight. The woods stretched away and 
 away as if they went on for ever ; wreaths of snow 
 lay on them ; no wind moved iheiii; they looked as if 
 they were dead. 
 
▼r 
 
 :% 
 
 i! 
 
 I : 
 
 iH 
 
 li 
 
 Hi, I 
 
 'f 
 
 h 
 
 1 
 
 i ' 
 
 ^ 1 
 
 1 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 1% 
 
 
 w 
 
 ; . 
 
 m 
 
 - 
 
 m 
 
 i 1 
 
 I'l 
 
 1 i 
 
 M 
 
 L 
 
 62 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 " Do you see ! " he whispered at my elbow. 
 
 " No," I said ; " there is no one there. Tutooeh won't 
 come." 
 
 " Tatooch is coming," he persisted. " Don't you hear 
 the squirrels ? Don't you see the whisky-jacks ? " 
 
 And then I noticed that all through the woods, along 
 the way we had come, the squirrels were " churring," 
 and chattering angrily as they do when something 
 has disturbed them, and ever and anon one of the 
 little grey birds flew forwards to the confines of the 
 wood. 
 
 Quicker at noticing the signs of his own world than 
 I was, Joe had noted this stir in the forest life, and had 
 gathered its meaning at a glance. 
 
 Nor was he wrong. Even as I looked, I saw a man 
 move into sight among the outlying trees, and then 
 another. Later on I thought 1 saw two more, but they 
 kept in the brush, and I was not very sure of tl em. 
 The first two came boldly into tlie open, their tyes 
 bent upon our tracks. No need to ask if they were 
 white men or Indians. An Indian would not want to 
 read the sign at his feet ; he would have been looking 
 ahead. Yes ; they were wliite men, and white uien I 
 knew : Sandy Bill and his mate Luke, and both armed 
 to the teeth. 
 
 How tliey happened to be with the two Indians, as I 
 afterwards found they were, I did not know then, and 
 I can only guess now, that they were the white men 
 
 •'>f .)*. 
 
THE CHICAMvON STONE. 
 
 63 
 
 whose coming Lone Goose had feared in the killer's 
 camp. Probably they had come upon that camp before 
 Tatooch reached it in his flight from me, and hearing 
 liis story had put two and two together and persuaded 
 the Indians to think better of their fears, and join forces 
 in pursuit of the man wlio liad the secret of the gold 
 rock. There is a natural tendency of like to like in 
 this world, and the four thieves with a common object 
 may have determined to luint in company. 
 
 When the two had come near enough to our hiding- 
 place to be sure that the track led into the cavo, which 
 they could see in front of them, they halted and held a 
 coun(!il of war. Bill wanted one thing, Luke evidently 
 recommended another plan. 
 
 But Bill had his way, I thinl;, for lie was always the 
 craftier villain of the two. 
 
 Ostentatiously laying aside his rifle, and a great 
 knife which he carried, he motioned Luke back ; and 
 wlien Luke had retired to tiie nearest covert, Bill took 
 out a rag from liis pocket, and tying it on a stick cried 
 to tlie rock — 
 
 " Say, i\[r. AN'hitehead, are you tliere ? " 
 
 It was no good pretending that 1 was not, so 1 
 Huswered him. 
 
 " Yes. What do you want ? " 
 
 '* Just five minutes' talk with you where no one else 
 can liear. You and me can Hx this thing up in five 
 minutes, white man's fashion, it' we oidy get a show." 
 
64 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 'li 
 
 I fi 
 
 I ' 
 
 " What are you doing with those murdering 
 Indians ? " I asked. 
 
 "Don't holler so loud," he said, coming nearer. "Leave 
 your gun an' come and talk white man's fashion, an' I'll 
 explain that in a brace of shakes." 
 
 Joe, who heard the conversation, was against my 
 going, but I could see no reason for refusing. Man to 
 man, I felt myself more than a match for Bill ; and 
 besides, how did I know that he was really acting in 
 league with Tatooch ? 
 
 " All right, wait there," I said ; and the next moment 
 I was sliding down to the mouth of the tunnel, whilst 
 Bill, who forgot that Joe might be watching, was 
 loosening something in the top of his long gum- 
 boot. 
 
 When I came out Bill came to meet me, and 
 together we stood about halfway down the moraine 
 which led to the cave's mouth. 
 
 " Say now," said Bill, " that was a jtretty smart trick 
 you played on Tatooch. I suppose you've got the boy 
 up there." 
 
 " That's my business." 
 
 " All right, partner ; but the tracks say so. However 
 that's no matter. We are both on the same lay out, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " And what is your lay out ? " 
 
 "Why, to save the poor young fellow from these 
 murdering heathen, of course." 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 65 
 
 " And to get on to Iiis secret of the Ciiicamoii Stoue," 
 I suggested. 
 
 " Well, an' if we did, we three could divvy up fair 
 and square ; there's enough for three, ain't there ? " 
 
 " How do I know ? " 
 
 " Oh, I guess you know all you want to by now. I 
 should if I'd been in your shoes." 
 
 " If you wanted to save Joe, why did you bring 
 Tatooch with you ? " 
 
 " Without him we couldn't have found you." 
 
 ** And without you Tatooch dare not have come. Get 
 Tatooch out of this, and keep him away, and if Joe 
 gives me the secret, I'll pledge you my word to share 
 anything I get with you." 
 
 " What ! You haven't got the secret yet ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Bill looked at me suspiciously. I was very young, 
 but he didn't think I was young enough for that. 
 
 " Well," lie said at last, " if that's so, you want help. 
 Them Indians are cussedly mean brutes to handle : a 
 man wants experience in handling tliem. Now you 
 just take us in to this Joe, or bring him out to us, and 
 we'll get his secret. Yes ; an' make him show us the 
 nick afore we let him go, and then we can divvy up." 
 
 " And suppose T do this and Joe won't tell ? " 
 
 " Jou'U tell if we talk to him," said Bill, savagely ; 
 and by habit his hand went to his pistol, which lie 
 had shoved into the hea<l of his boot. 
 
 i 
 
 V 
 
ii' 
 
 (56 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 t ,i 
 
 • 
 
 it: 
 
 liii 
 
 I 'I 
 
 1^ I 
 
 m 
 
 u . 
 
 Instinctively I sprang back ; I had believed him to 
 be unarmed. 
 
 " So that is the way yon keep your treaties," I said 
 sneeringly, putting the best face I could on it. 
 
 He saw that he was discovered, but he made one 
 more effort to gain his ends in his natural way. 
 
 " Well, never mind my ways," he said. "We don't 
 mean you no harm — unless you're a bigger fool than 
 you look. Give up the boy, an' you can go where 
 you've a mind to." 
 
 " And suppose I don't give him up ? " 
 " You will," said Bill, quietly, looking me straight 
 in the eyes at last ; and there was more threat in those 
 two words than in a volley of abuse. 
 " I'll be hanged if I will ! " 
 
 " Not now ; " and quick as tliought the ugb' muzzle 
 of his six-sliooter was in my face. 
 
 " Look hove," he went on quietly ; "turn round and 
 walk back past me quietly to Luke there and the 
 Indians, and leave tlie boy to us. If you do that your 
 hide will be safe ; if you don't — well, there are three 
 other guns, besides mine, looking at you now." 
 
 I could see that he was right — in part at any rate, 
 ■ — I'or over his shoulder 1 caught a glimpse of Luke, who 
 had risen when his partner covered me, and now had 
 his Wiucliester to his shoulder. 
 
 It was an awkward predicament, and my lil'e did not 
 seem Worth a ni(»ment's purchase. I don't know wliat 
 
THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 67 
 
 I should have done — grappled with Bill, probably, and 
 been shot through the body before I could have fixed 
 my hold on him, — but at that moment there was the 
 ring of a rifle-shot, and Bill's pistol fell from his grasp. 
 
 As it fell I turned and bolted for the cave, and 
 stepping clumsily in my blind haste, missed my foot- 
 ing, and came down with a tremendous crash on my 
 knee-cpp. 
 
 The pain of it nearly mado me sick. If I had not 
 fallen I might not have suftered so much, but I shouM 
 not have been able to tell any more of this story, for 
 as I fell three bullets splashed on the rocks about me. 
 One went wide'of its mark ; but one, flying low, branded 
 me for life across my thigli — only skin-deep, luckily — 
 and the other must have passed where the small of my 
 back should have been : I have always attributed that 
 well-meant attention to Luke. However, they liad 
 missed, and their next volley only splaslied on the 
 outside of the mouth of the cave whilst I was nursing 
 my knee in safe shelter. 
 
 " So that is white man's fashion," 1 muttered. " Well, 
 Mv. Bill, it's war now anyway. Why the devil doesn't 
 Joe go on shooting ? " 
 
 But when I had crawled up to him I found Joe 
 watching with an empty rifle. 
 
 " Look ! " he said, " fool white men, and Lidian no 
 more cartridges." 
 
 It certainly was annoying, from his point of view, for 
 
i 
 
 
 I I 
 
 68 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 there were the two rascals, cunning enough in all 
 knavery, but so ignorant or careless in bush-fighting 
 that they were standing still in plain view — a long way 
 off, it is true — bandaging Bill's wrist. 
 
 " One more cartridge and I kill one sure — perhaps 
 two," muttered Joe ; and he took up his empty rifle 
 and drew a bead on the white men. 
 
 But it was no good. His gun was empty, and the 
 chambers of theirs were full probably. 
 
 " Well, Joe, if the gun is empty we have got to 
 quit," I said. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " we run away now, hyak." 
 
 " But how ? " 
 
 " You comtax how bear walk ? " he asked. 
 
 I thought he was crazy ; but in a moment I began 
 to understand, for he had lifted one of the skins and 
 was arranging it over his body. In less time than I 
 take to write it, he had so draped this skin that, as he 
 plodded round on all-fours in the half-lit cabin, he 
 looked even at that distance almost dangerous. 
 
 " You try," he said ; and hurriedly he wrapped me 
 in the robe, and put me through my paces. 
 
 He was not satisfied ; but there was no time to lose. 
 
 " Step slow," he said, " and kee^ your head down. 
 When we get out keep behind stones, so as pretty 
 nearly all hid. It's not far, and maybe they'll watch 
 me most. Now come quick." 
 
 And he started climbing up and up the funnel-like 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 69 
 
 passage until I thought that we must be coming out 
 at the top of the peak. But we were not. 
 
 When I peeped out I saw what the trouble was. 
 The second opening at the top of tlie cave was less 
 than one-third of the way up the peak, and opened 
 unluckily on the same side as tlio entrance, i.e. facing 
 our besiegers; but it opened on to a narrow ledge 
 which ran for fifty feet or so along the face of the clilf, 
 and then seemed to vanish over its edge towards the 
 river. 
 
 For a minute Joe was busy dressing me for my 
 part. 
 
 " It's a long way off," he said ; " and if Tatoocli isn't 
 watching we may fool tJum. Lone Goose is luiU" blind, 
 and they won't know. If they tell Tatooch he'll tliink 
 the shots scared two bears lying up somewhere back of 
 the cave. I'll go first. Now come." 
 
 And he jdodded slowly into fall view of T)ill and 
 TiUke, who were still at the edge of the bush. Tatooch 
 and TiOne Goose were not in sijiht. 
 
ll 
 
 70 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 '«> 
 
 ji 
 
 It almost looked as if Siyah Joe wanted our enemies to 
 see him. Perhaps he did — or, at any rate, as he felt 
 certain that he must be seen in a place which did not 
 aftbrd cover for a squirrel, lie wanted to be seen 
 unmistakably as a bear, rather than, by giving 8andy 
 Bill a glimpse of something going rouiid the corner, 
 leave on that fellow's mind an impression that what 
 he saw might have been a man. 
 
 Therefore, I suppose, it was that, to my horror, he 
 only went a few paces from the upper mouth of the 
 cave, before lie sat coolly up upon his haunches and 
 looked down over his shoulder at the white men, whilst 
 I crouched, an indefinite mass of fur, by his side. 
 
 There are no animal mimics in the world like 
 Indians. Down on the coast of Vancouver Island, 
 at the Feast of the Klooh-quah-nah, the two sects 
 known as Wolves and Crows have a dress-rehearsal 
 which lasts for days, members of either clan adopting 
 for the time being the outward semblance of the beasts 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 71 
 
 whose names they bear : the Wolves with their hair tied 
 out from their heads to represent ears and snout ; and 
 the Crows furnished with large wooden bills, and 
 blankets so arranged that they look like wings. Seen 
 in the dusk hopping about in the shallows by the 
 beach, shaking their wings and dabbing witli tlieir 
 bills for shell-fish, a traveller might well mistake 
 them for a flock of gigantic ravens. 
 
 As a mimic my Stick Indian was not a wliit beliind 
 the Ahts upon the coast. Although he knew that his 
 enemies were armed and looking at him, he sat there 
 as cool as a cucumber, with his muzzle over his 
 shoulder — a very bear — nor did the sudden sliout <>f 
 Sandy Bill disturb l\im in the least. 
 
 For a while he looked intently down below, and then, 
 rising slowly upon all-fours, ho lurched complacently 
 along, until a shot was fired and the bullet struck 
 somewhere below us. Then he turned sharply and sat 
 at gaze again for a moment, before he r( )se and scrambled 
 hurriedly over the ridge and out of sight. 
 
 It was admirably done, and 1 verily believe that if 
 the bullet had struck him, lie would have tiirnetl and 
 bitten at the place before seeking safety in flight. 
 
 For those few seconds Joe lived his part — he really 
 was a bear, — and I can only hope that his admirable 
 actinsr drew the attention of the audience from mv 
 poor attempt to second him, until, thank Heaven I we 
 were over the ridge. 
 
n 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Not over our troubles, tliough ! Rather did it seem 
 to me that we had come into worse. 
 
 Wo had, it is true, a rock now between us and our 
 enemies, but we had also a precipice between us and 
 the river, and that river was simply a raving, roaring 
 torrent. 
 
 Confined here in narrow limits, with two or three 
 great rocky teeth standing up in the middle of it, the 
 Fork liad churned its yellow waters into a creamy 
 foam which boiled and swirled like a witch's cauldron, 
 and from us to it there was a sheer rock-face of two 
 or three hundred feet. 
 
 But a difficulty is never as bad as it looks, if you 
 don't look too long ; and after he had cached his two 
 bear-robes, Joe went about the descent as if it were an 
 everyday experience. First he took his moccasins off, 
 and made me do the same. Tliese he slung on his 
 back ; and then the descent began. 3Iy head reeled 
 and swam so that I was near falling from sheer dizzi- 
 ness, at first; but this feeling went off after a while. 
 I had no time to think, no power lelt to do more 
 than grip with my hands and cling with my bare 
 toes. 
 
 Luckily the rock of the wall was what the geologists 
 call shale, I think — that is to say, it was like a coarse 
 slate which lay in flakes or layers, and this, instead of 
 lying horizontally, had by some convulsion of nature 
 been turned up on edge ; and the snow and the frost 
 
THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 73 
 
 and the sim had lm)ken into the wall, so that parts of 
 the outside layer had crumbed off, leavin*^ na narrow, 
 upturned edj^es along wliicli to crawl. Nowhere was 
 there room to walk face forwards ; but by plastering 
 our backs against the wall and moving sideways, wo 
 managed to shuftle along in some sort of safety, until 
 the break and the edge began to go downwards with 
 very considerable abruptness. 
 
 Then, if my hair had not been white already, it 
 would have grown white in a few seconds, and I 
 should have been almost glad, I think, to have 
 slipped, so that there would have been only one swift 
 rush through the air and the tc^rture ended. 
 
 I sujjpose we had climbed in this fashion nearly half- 
 way down to the river's level, when I lieavd an exclama- 
 tion below me from Joe. I could not look down to 
 him safely for fear of seeing the river, wliich seemed 
 to draw me to it; but he was within reach of mv 
 hand, and I couhl hear him plainly in spite of the 
 roar of the water. 
 
 " Trail very bad here ! " he said, " stone broken away 
 all smooth ! " 
 
 Trail indeed ! One would have thought we were on 
 a high-road to hear him talk ; and how could any- 
 thing be bad if this was not ? or liow could anything 
 be worse ? 
 
 But it was. And here seem<Ml to me the end of our 
 journey unless we could clinii) n[> again — and that 
 
r^ 
 
 ( 
 
 74 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 
 loolce'l impossible. 1 certainly could not lead, and he 
 certainly could not ^ret past me. But Joe was not 
 Ijeaten yet. The layer on tho edge of which we had 
 been walking seemed to have broken off altogether 
 just below Joe's feet, and from where he stood to tho 
 next ledge there was not a foothohl for a fly for a 
 distance of perl\aps eigliteon feet. 
 
 That is not very far, yoa wdl say, and a man might 
 put his h.;:ids on his own ledge, ami, lowering himself 
 down, drop to tho next in safety. 
 
 Miglit he? In the tirst place the ledge on which 
 we were standing v.'as not a foot wide, and tho wall 
 against whicii our back^^ were, seemed — as it was — to be 
 leaning over and pushing us face lorwards into the 
 river. 
 
 If 1 had bent outwards a single foot I must have 
 lost my balance and departed into space ; much less, 
 then, could 1, by any gymnastic trick known to me, 
 icach the ledge on which my foot wera witli my hands. 
 Again, s\ipi)t>sing 1 luid succeeded to this extent, tlic 
 ledge on wliich I In.d to drop seemed no \\ider tlian 
 tlie ledg(^ on wliieli 1 sii?o(l, and do you supjiose tluvt 1 
 could have dropped upon that with my back to tlie 
 wall and stuck there ? 
 
 '' N«)t much,' as my American friends used to say, 
 and i was not going to try. 
 
 Ihit .U>e liad a way out of the ilinicidty, and even 
 whilst I was regretting that 1 had not left him U> IJiU's 
 
 •■ I, 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 75 
 
 lie 
 
 n 
 
 » 
 
 s 
 
 tender mercies and saved my own life, he was busy 
 shaping a means for < ur deliverance. 
 
 From my position I could feel, rather than see, that 
 he had wriggled about on his nevrow perch until he 
 had the moccasins in one of his hands and his knife 
 in the other, and, trusting entirely to his balance, was 
 tying the deerskin thongs of them together, until he 
 had a string nearly long enough to reach the next 
 ledge. 
 
 He tried it ; and I could see the end of it dangling 
 down the face of the rock, looking about as big as a 
 reasonably stout cobweb. 
 
 But it would not reach quite far enough, so the knife 
 came into play, and the moccasins themselves were 
 cut into shreds and spliced together, until he had a 
 rope (I am tishanied to call it a rope), about fifteen feet 
 long, made of tico thicknesses of bootlace — for that is 
 about wluit a moccasin-string really is, only that our 
 bootlaces are made to break, and a moccasin-string is 
 as tough as well, nothing that 1 know is as tough as 
 deerskin. 
 
 When the rope was ready he sought about for a 
 stay to whicli to attach it. There was not a tree, of 
 course, nor even a crawling juniper bush on tluit sheer 
 face of smooth rock, neitlier was there a knob or corner 
 round which to hitch our ladder; but the knife found 
 a way out of that dilliculty too, and at last we were 
 readv with one end of a bottthice hitched round the 
 
1" 
 
 I. i 
 
 76 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 \f 
 
 ,1 
 
 haft of a knife — tlie blade of wliich was driven deep 
 down into a crevice in the shale — and the other end of 
 the bootlace loose over certain death. 
 
 From the way in which .foe had driven the knife into 
 the crevice, there seemed very little danger that that 
 wonld pull out. It was a big knife, tlie one with 
 which Tatooch liad intended to execute Siyah Joe, and 
 compared with what we liad already risked, I did not 
 feel very nervous about that. But the ladder of boot- 
 lace ! Tliat was the trouble. 
 
 It is all very well to talk about tongljuess, but size 
 (jounts for something. 
 
 If T had seen a good stout calde as tliick as my 
 arm hangiiiL;,' over that gulf, and an infallible autliority 
 had t(dd me tlitit the laces were strcuiger than the 
 cable, I should still have chosen tt) risk my life (Mi 
 the cable. IJut 1 had no choice : it was bootlaces (»r 
 nothi)ig — and, after all, Joe had to go first. T even 
 forgot my fear of the river and looked at him. 1 
 believe that fellow could have gone down on a cobwch. 
 
 It was done in a moment, and lie liardly seemed to 
 p\it any strain on his frail support. Until the very 
 last he clung to the ledge, and then, a touch halfway, 
 and ho was standing upright (m the ledge waiting 
 for me. 
 
 I wisiied that he had taken longer, and, for a moment, 
 I came to the concdiision that I ('(>uM not make the 
 attempt, even to save my life. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 11 
 
 (•r 
 
 'Cll 
 
 to 
 
 11^^ 
 
 it, 
 
 »o 
 
 I am afraid that I put a strain on the deerskin 
 thongs, even before I was over the ledge. I know 
 that 1 forgot to chitch the ledge, as my feet left it, 
 and I swnng (not widely, of course, but still I swung) 
 on that frail support before my feet touched the rock 
 again, and even then I came down with my face to the 
 rock instead of away irom it. Luckily it was a far 
 wider ledge than it looked — far wider than the one we 
 had left — and it was possible (,'ven for me to turn round 
 without upsetting; but 1 could not get out of Joe's 
 way to let him reach the rope, and 1 coidd not jerk 
 out the knife myself, so that we had to leave it sticking 
 there f »r Tatooch to recover if he cared to. 
 
 Compared with what we had done, what we still had 
 to do was easy, and in another five minutes at most we 
 wtie dambering along a shelf just above the torrent : 
 a shelf so wet and slippery tliat, at ordinary times, 1 
 would not liave tried to cross it for a tliousand dolhirs, 
 tliough Joe treated it as if it were a sidewalk. 
 
 After an hour's clambering along ledges and amongst 
 boulders we came out upon tlie river. 
 
 Now the Stickine is navigable for good swilt water- 
 men up to (xlenoraat all times ; iij) to Telegraph Creek, 
 with assistance from wire cables, at somcitimes ; but 
 above Telegrajih Creek it is not navigable at any time, 
 even for a siwawh in his canoe. And no woiuler ! 
 
 The big river has (Mit its way so fur througli the 
 rocks, and it knows, I suppose, that btjow (iienoni it 
 
If 
 
 I 
 
 78 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 will find plenty of room, where it can break itself into 
 a dozen arms if it pleases, or sleep in twenty sloughs 
 and backwaters ; but here, almost in sight of its broad 
 and comparatively easy bed, it is encountered by 
 narrow canyons and obstinate rocks, which will not be 
 worn away, and which crowd the impatient waters 
 upon one another, so that they become mad — a coil of 
 yellow snakes, twisting this way and Ihat, turning for 
 an outlet here, a riglit-of-way there, until at last they 
 are heaped up in a furious tangle of conflicting streams 
 which would tear anything to pieces that fell amongst 
 them. 
 
 And this is what we had to cross without a boat. 
 
 " Once across there, all safe ; the white men won't 
 follow," said Joe, cheerily. 
 
 I tliought not. If I was any judge of unnavigable 
 waters, there would be no one for the white men to 
 follow on that other si<le. 
 
 But Joe was at work already, and whilst I rested 
 amongst the boulders where the flying spray moistened 
 my hot feet and luinds, he was dragging two great drift- 
 logs together and making a raft of them. 
 
 To do this cost him his overalls. We had no rope ; 
 we had used up our moccasins ; now Joe's overalls 
 had to go. Overalls are honest gcjods, and, cut into 
 strips and twisted, his made reasonably good ropes, 
 but not for lashing a raft t )gether. 
 
 However, they had to sulH(!e, and befort> the stun w»s 
 
THE OHtCAMON STONE. 
 
 79 
 
 to 
 
 IvUs 
 Into 
 
 well above our hea<ls I was helping him launch his 
 craft. We shoved it out behind a great boulder, which 
 brcjke the force of the stream, and here it lay at peace 
 whilst he made his final preparations, which consisted 
 merely in whittling a broken board he had found into 
 some semblance of a paddle. 
 
 When that was done he signed to me to get on the 
 boulder and step on to the raft and sit tight. As I 
 took my place the nose of the raft came level with the 
 outside edge of the boulder. 
 
 " Hold fast now ! " ho cried ; " if y<Mi fall off you 
 dead sure ! " 
 
 ]\ry nails went into those logs. 1 would have hehl on 
 with my teeth if there had been anything to hold on to. 
 *'Now!" he cried; and with one strong stroke he 
 shot right out into the boil of waters. 
 
 For a moment tlie thing spun round, tlicn he got 
 control of it again for a moment; I saw him stand up, 
 and once or twice he leaned over, and drove his paddle 
 in, making tlie cra/y crnft jnmp, as we just gra/od a 
 rock round which the white water i»oiled. ]\[ean\vhile 
 the banks and trees ra(!ed Ity. We were standing still, 
 it seemed, whilst all naliirc was galloping up-stream 
 faster than an oxpnss train coidd go. 
 
 Suddenly there was a roailiii shock; 1 was thrown 
 clear of the raft ; someone caught me by my shirt, and, 
 for a moment, I felt my legs sailing away down-stream 
 without my body, ami the next 1 was lying s'-ared and 
 
 I'l 
 
80 
 
 THK CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 panting, half in lialf out of the water ; but out of the 
 current anyway. Joe was lying beside me, as spent 
 as I was, and our raft in (wo ineces was just going out 
 of siglit round the next bend. 
 
 Tlie place from which we had started looked nearly a 
 mile up-stream — it must have been lialf that, at least — 
 and it seemed to me as if I ha<l only just jumped on 
 board. Tatooch miglit come in the dress of the priuoo 
 ol' all Indian devils, and Sandy l>ill, and Luke, and 
 every rascal in Cassiar, but I would not move 1 had 
 done as mucli *»s liuman nature could stand in one day, 
 and 1 told tlie Indian so. IJiit ho only laughed, turn- 
 ing over on his back and looking up at the sun. 1 
 believe he was almost enjoying himself. 
 
 "Good sun," he said; "got warm now and dry. 
 ]iy-and-by Tatooch come; theri we hiugli jdcnty." 
 
 8o here we loafed and rcstctl for an hour, and tried 
 to find some scraj) of food to satisfy oiu' luiiiger ; but 
 tluM'c was nolliiug to lind. Tiie season of wild fruit 
 WHS over, and a few wilted and i»itter berries of the 
 high-busli cranberry, whose leaves were like a flame of 
 fire, were all wo I'ould lay our hands on. 
 
 If i had boon rested and full «)f meat, I sliould have 
 enjoyed that iiutumn afternoon ; I never saw anytldng 
 to compare with it in my life. I had been so long 
 in the pino-woods tluit 1 had grown used to their 
 monotonous gloom and the dead grey-green of the 
 willow biisht»s. 
 
THE CIITCAMON STONE. 
 
 81 
 
 kindlier thi 
 
 • hich 
 
 avo 
 
 III*,' 
 
 ioir 
 ho 
 
 But here, near the river, were 
 had drunk in the sun in the summer season, and were 
 jjivinff it hack in flame now that the summer was over. 
 Kvery hush hatl a tint of its own, and every tint 
 hcautiful. The leaves of tlio eottonwood were a 
 clear gold; the lire weeds were i)nr[)lo as wine; the 
 cranhcrry leaves wore jewels through which tlie light 
 shone; and the further hills were carpeted with a 
 r«)yal carpet, in which every richest tint of autumn 
 was blended as only nature knows how to blend. 
 
 "Pretty soon winter come now," said Joe, at last; 
 and he pointed to where the y»»ung ice was forming at 
 the mouth of a little creek which ran into tlie nuun 
 river. "No one stay at Telcgrapli or (Jleuoni now, 1 
 think. All the white men go down-stream before the 
 ice catch them." 
 
 Here was a new trouble which 1 had not tlioueflit 
 of. I had lulled at (Jlonora, at any rate, to lind the 
 boss and obtain a passage out witli tlie mules on his 
 river-steamer, and 1 said so. 
 
 '"Steamers gone long wliilc," said Joe. 
 
 When he said tliis all tlie suuliglit seemed to have 
 gone (mt of the sky. Indeed, a (doud did come drifting 
 up just then, and f noticed that the new, raw-looking 
 snows — not sparkling white, but thin and grey and 
 miserable — luul already crept a long way down from the 
 peaks; and a little breeze getting up in the willows ^> t 
 them sobbing. I shivere<l involuiitaulv. 1 had heanl 
 
82 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 the threat of winter, and the idea of it appalled me. If 
 I did not go, and go at once, T should be caught in this 
 desolate country and held fast here a prisoner for four 
 or five months. And then, what would happen with 
 Tatooch and the witch-finder, Sandy Bill and his friend 
 Luke, like wolves upon our trail ? You who sit at 
 home by your sea coal-fires, with the crimson curtains 
 drawn snugly round you, and lialf a dozen people to 
 wait upon you, know nothing of tlie world outside. Tlio 
 wolf knows, as he stands in the blizzard looking down 
 at the cozy red lights of Christinas in the little prairie 
 settlement, and some of tlic "boys"know,Mlio havepluck 
 enough to face it ; I had not. I wanted to get liome. 
 
 " Come, Joe," I said, " let us go — and go quick. AN'o 
 must got out bcf(jre the river freezes." 
 
 " I*erhaps," he said ; '• wlio knows ?" but lie rose, and, 
 taking an <dd game-trail on the top of the liigh bank, 
 set oft* at a swinging pace down-stream. 
 
 We walked far into tlie niglit and then camped for 
 a while, crouching over a fire whilst the stars came out 
 in wild brilliancy, and all the peaks looked crystal 
 clear against the bright dark sky. Now and again 
 waves of lemon-coloured light in arcs would spring uj) 
 and spread all over the heavens, whilst at other times 
 they would rise in irregular columns and flicker up 
 and down. 
 
 " Dead siwashes dancing," lie said when lie noticed 
 me watching the phenomenon. 
 
If 
 
 ll for 
 out 
 stal 
 aiu 
 
 up 
 ines 
 
 up 
 
 THE CIIICAMOX STONF. 
 
 83 
 
 Dead siwashes ! It seemed to nio before moruini^ 
 that I liad found my way into a dead, or at least a 
 dying, world. I would not have stopped in it by my 
 own free-will for a mountain of Chicamon Stone. 
 
 Joe, who was always watcliing me in his quiet way, 
 seemed to read my thoughts. 
 
 "Whitehead no miner?" ho asked, "not want 
 Chieamon Stone?" 
 
 " Xo, Joe," I said, " I am no minor ; but I wish T 
 knew whore your Chioamon Stone was." 
 
 " Indians swear they kill me s'pose I tell white man," 
 he answered. 
 
 "They have tried to kill you now, Joe, and you 
 didn't tell," I suggested. 
 
 " Yes," he said after a pause. " S'pose I tell, they kill 
 me ; s'pose I not tell, they kill mo too. Next spring, 
 s'pose we get out safe, I tell AVhitehoad. I take you, 
 show you Chieamon Stone; and then Joe go away 
 slyah, oh si-yah ; " and he hung on tlie first syllable so 
 long that his "siyah" meant a very long way indeed, 
 almost beyond the confines of this world. 
 
 lu 
 
 ed 
 
84 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Next morning at <lawn we saw Glenora. We had 
 passed Telef^raph Creek in the night. It was still too 
 early for any one to bo stirring, and the little town 
 looked very dead indeed. Tlie lires were all out ; the 
 tents all closed ; and there was not a dog even moving 
 about. Only in the corral by the river at tlie back of 
 ^faster and ]\ran's warehouses there were lialf a 
 dozen worn-out horses, standing freezing in the raw 
 morning air. Tlioy wore to be pitied. Tlie masters 
 had gone, but the poor slaves wore left ; no one would 
 buy them, and hay was ,^100 per ton. The time for 
 dogs was (doming — dogs who could drag sleighs over 
 the snow — and horses were of no further value. So 
 these were only waiting to be shot, and woidd be lucky 
 if some) merciful man took the trouble to shoot them 
 before they starved. ^'' 
 
 This was one of the most cruel features of the 
 Klondyke rush in 1808. 
 
 Jlorses were taken in by the hundred, and mules. 
 
TUE ClIICAMON STONE. 
 
 85 
 
 he 
 
 lea. 
 
 Hiid littlo or no provision was made for their keep, 
 whilst the country itself did not sn[)ply any foctd on 
 which to winter stock. After shivin«r as pa(dv-auimals 
 all the summer, they were nut found wortli feeding 
 throup^h the winter, or wortli transportation to a kindlier 
 country, wlicre tliey could forage for themselves until 
 spring. The hills were full of tliem ; some lame, all 
 lean, resting, an<l trying to pick up a mouthful here 
 and there. It was not worth their wliilo. When the 
 snow came, death for tliem was inevitable, and tliose 
 were luckiest which died soonest. I d(m't like tiiinking 
 of wlmt 1 luive seen, even now, and I cannot help 
 wondering if there will not some time be a day of 
 reckoninjjr in whicli tlie miserv of the beasts will cost 
 more than all the gold won by their masters. 
 
 There was onlv one tliiun: encouratjinj; in tmr first 
 view of (Jlenora. There was no steamer at the littlo 
 wliarf; no canoes on the beacli, but there was one 
 large flat-bottomed boat, made of incli planks, roughly 
 put togetlier, drawn up by the side of tlie main street. 
 It looked as if some one was going down-stream. But 
 we were still on the wrong side of the river. 
 
 However, a mile below Olenora, is new Glenora, and 
 there is the new fort or trading store of the Hudson 
 Bay Co., tlie largest and best building to-day in 
 Cassiar, with tlie flag flying, and the bell which the 
 Company always insists on, and a helping hand for 
 white man or L; lion at all times. 
 
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 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 f; 
 
 Here we found a small boat tied up under the fort, 
 and, in answer to our repeated yells, a man came down 
 to the beach, and at last launched the boat and brought 
 me over. Joe would not come. He was safe where he 
 was, and had no intention of risking himself where 
 Tatooch might be. 
 
 My mission was, if possible, to secure a canoe or 
 boat to take us out to Wrangel, but it was a vain 
 mission. The last steamer had gone long ago; the 
 Alaskan Company had left two days before in scows 
 forty-five feet long by fifteen wide with twenty mules 
 in each, and the men of Glenora were open to bet that 
 none of them would reach the mouth of the river ; and 
 the very last boat of the season was to leave Upper 
 Glenora in an hour's time. T might, they said, possibly 
 secure a passage, but the boat was too full for safety 
 already. I went up town, as they call it, to see what 
 could be done, and found that I might possibly bribe 
 the owner of the boat to endanger the lives of all his 
 passengers by taking just one more white man ; but the 
 idea of taking a siwash was scouted as absurd, and, 
 without Joe, I had made up my mind I would not leave 
 the country. 
 
 So I stood and watched the crazy-looking craft push 
 oilf, and listened to the cheers of those wlio were left 
 behind. The boat was so loaded that it looked as if 
 the water must come in over the gunwales, and the 
 four rowers were so cramped that they could hardly 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 87 
 
 handle tiie roiigh-hewu oars wliicli they had made; 
 but winter was at this end of the trip, and a white 
 man's Christmas at the other, so they stuck in the 
 oars one after another, and went wobbling dov.n-stream, 
 tacking from side to side, in spite of all their Indian 
 steersman could do for them. 
 
 " That's the last boat left in Cassiar, and there's no 
 time to make another, I think, before she freezes solid," 
 said a man beside me, jerking his thumb at the river. 
 
 " There's the Hudson Bay boat," I answered. 
 
 " Yes, a fellow might steal that, but he'd have to 
 steal it. The Company wouldn't sell it for a thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 I did not possess half as much as that in the whole 
 world, but I thought I w(juld, at any rate, make the 
 lirst bid for this boat, and turned to walk baclv to the 
 lower town. 
 
 As I started, I could have sworn that I saw Sandy 
 Bill's face at the window of the Nugget Hotel, 
 watching me. If it was his, he took it away very 
 quickly, but the fancy made me put my best leg 
 foremost, until I stood by the Company's counter. 
 xVs ill luck would have it, no one seemed left in the 
 place. Tlie police were away after cache robbers, on 
 the Teslin trail ; the Government agent had gone in to 
 Dease to make winter arran«>(unents, and tlie mana«j:er 
 of the H.B. Co. had taken advantage of a hist trip in to 
 Teslin to inspect liis store there ijei'ore the winter 
 
 ;^i 
 
 Si 
 III 
 
 
88 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 opened. I could neither buy the boat nor make any 
 arrangement for the safe custody of Siyah Joe, if I 
 could induce him to stay. I was at my wits' end as 
 to what to do, and was seriously revolving in my mind 
 the morality of theft under certain circumstances. 
 Would it not be justifiable to steal the Hudson Bay 
 boat to save Siyah Joe's life ? I was rapidly coming 
 to the conclusion that such a course would not only 
 be justifiable, but meritorious, when the clerk put a 
 better idea into my head. 
 
 " There are some fellows," he said, " down at Glacier 
 Creek, six miles below here. They took down some 
 grub a week ago, and are going to winter there on 
 some placer ground they've staked off. They had a 
 boat, such as it was, and might let you have it. But 
 I wouldn't take it, if I were you ; I didn't think it was 
 safe even for that distance. Below them there isn't a 
 boat or a man on the river till you get to WrangeL" 
 
 AVith this news I went over again to Joe, and by 
 midday we reached Glacier Creek, and found a good- 
 natured crowd of fellows ready to give any one half 
 of nothing, which was about all they possessed. A 
 capital chap who divided his time between painting 
 and prospecting, treating both as a highly coloured 
 joke, made us a present of the boat. He was glad to 
 get rid of it, he said ; it might tempt some one to desert, 
 and he could spare none of his Christmas party. If we 
 would only send him some canvases up from Wrangel, 
 
 S 
 
 
 I 
 
 
) 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 89 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 
 we should more than pay our debt. x\las ! I fear he 
 never got those canvases. The river was frozen before 
 we reached Victoria, and there is no parcels-post on 
 the Stickine in winter. 
 
 Like fools we were tempted to stay one night witli 
 the artist and his partners ; I salving my conscience 
 with the argument that the boat wanted caulking (as 
 it did), but really hankering after one more sqaare 
 meal and a chat with mv fellows. 
 
 Next morning we saw our mistake. Already tliere 
 were small cakes of ice drifting doAvn-stream. Joe 
 would hardly give me time to snatch a mouthful of 
 food. 
 
 " Come now, or stop all winter," he kept saying ; 
 and before the sun came up I had hold of the sculls, 
 Joe sitting in the stern with his paddle, and Glacier 
 Creek and its gold-seekers vanished from my sight. 
 Now and again we heard an ugly scraping sound as 
 the boat ground against a small cake of ice, but there 
 was nothing to seriously impede our progress ; so that 
 I was much more afraid of an upset than I was of 
 being caught in the ice, though tliat would probably 
 have meant death much more certainly than the 
 other. 
 
 One hundred and thirty miles by river is a long 
 way, and it looks longer in reality than it does on 
 paper ; but we had a racing current with us, and wo 
 made such good progress that I insisted upon stop})ing 
 
J'B PE S^'p^?; 
 
 i^t 
 
 ; 
 
 90 
 
 TKE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 for lunch and a cup of tea at noon. Joe wanted me 
 to eat what I needed in the boat, but I was chilled to 
 the bone, and would not forego my hot tea: neither 
 would I listen to him when he wanted to run all night, 
 risking the danger of snags in the darkness. 
 
 Perhaps there I was right, but when the dawn came 
 I doubted it. We had camped in a wood-pile on the 
 edge of the shore — a wood-pile which furnished us 
 with a roaring fire, and into the body of which we 
 crept for shelter from the bitter wind which was blow- 
 ing. The wind was busy all that night. In the 
 morning we saw what it had been doing. All round 
 us the ice-cakes were floating, and round our boat the 
 little fleets of them had packed, so that for a time we 
 could not move her. I used all my strength, and gave 
 it up at last ; but Joe, who knew the thing must be 
 done, worked like a fiend until at last we moved. 
 Then, for a time, catching the contagion from him, I 
 too poled and pushed until the great beads of perspira- 
 tion fell w ith a splash upon my hands, and at last we 
 were free. 
 
 " All right now," said Joe, as we sat down to our 
 work, and the ice came floating after us. " S'pose the 
 Big Bend open we see Wrangel to-night. Ice not 
 catch us now." 
 
 No ; the ice would not catch us, but something 
 else might. Even as he spoke I saw the nose of a 
 white boat come into the upper end of the reach. It 
 
 ' 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 91 
 
 ! 
 
 was half a mile off, but tlie men in it saw us and 
 shouted. They were 8andy Bill, Luke, Tatooch, and 
 the medicine-man, and they had stolen the Hudson 
 Bay boat. 
 
 How I wished then that I had had no scruples ; that I 
 had taken that boat myself ; or, at least, that I had not 
 been such a fool as to risk my life and Joe's for the 
 sake of a cup of hot tea ! 
 
 For now I knew well that my life, as well as the 
 Indian's, was at stake. Once caught they would kill 
 us both ; and for months, at any rate, the Stickine 
 would tell no tales. But it was no good wishing. 
 We were not caught yet ; we had half a mile start, 
 and the river was helping us as much as it was helping 
 them, and neither Bill nor Luke were oarsmen, lleally 
 it w^as only those two cursed Indians against Joe and 
 myself, and they had the heavier boat whilst we were 
 rowing for our lives. 
 
 For two or three hours we more than held our 
 own. Then my wrists began to feel dead ; the sculls 
 hung heavily in my hands, and I blundered as I rowed. 
 They began to gain on us, and I saw Bill working with 
 a spare paddle to help his Indian friends. He was no 
 waterman, but I think he helped them a little; liis 
 whole heart was in his work, and he was, to do him 
 justice, a strong rascal. 
 
 They had reduced the distance to lialf when I saw 
 Luke take up a Winchester and aim at us. Sitting 
 
 u 
 
 ;« 
 

 i* 
 
 ■ilii 
 
 
 n 
 
 92 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 as I was I could see it all ; but the bullets (for he fired 
 twice) skipped harmlessly past us, and for the moment 
 he desisted. 
 
 Just then a draft of air sj^rang up, and it was down- 
 stream. Joe watched it: for a moment, and then he 
 dropped his paddle and crawled into the middle of the 
 boat. Instinctively I stopped too. 
 
 " Kow, row ! " he screamed — " row for two men, or 
 they'll catch us!" 
 
 I could not row for one man, but I did my best ; 
 and mean^\■hile he, in a AAonderfully short time, fixed 
 up some sort of a sail with a blanket and two poling- 
 sticks. Then he snatched up his paddle again. But 
 tliat short pause had brought the other boat perilously 
 near, and this time Luke managed to knock one of 
 my sculls out of my hand with his bullet. But Joe 
 caught the scull as it floated by him, and the wind 
 increasing we drew away from them again. 
 
 That was Luke's chance. If he could only have 
 made a decent shot whilst we were still within range 
 tliey v>ould have caught us ; but he was too anxious, 
 and lost his opportunity. For now we wore leaving 
 them far behind us ; and I had time even to take a 
 momentary easy, and trail my aching wrists in the 
 cold water of the river. We had long since passed 
 through the canyon — a very prosaic piece of water, 
 now that it was low, compared to that up which we had 
 fought our way inch by inch in the early summer — 
 
 
 i 
 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 on 
 
 aud we were away down by the Barley Cache, wlien I 
 noticed for the first time a weird feature in the land- 
 scape which will haunt me, I think, all my life. 
 
 Up-stream, behind us, the clouds were gathering, 
 and in the front of them rose a mountain peak, three- 
 headed, I suppose ; but so shaped that it looked like 
 a bird with trailing wings, which flew ever after us, and 
 was never out of sight. 
 
 I suppose my nerves were strained to the breaking- 
 point, but that strange shape scared me more than the 
 boat behind. I had to keep my head down, or turn 
 my eyes away, and even then I fancied I could catch 
 glimpses of its flapping wings as it pursued us. 
 
 At the end of one long reach I did undoubtedly 
 catch sight of a more real danger. The white boat 
 was in sight again, and was overhauling us fast. 
 Taking a lesson from Joe, the men in it had also rigged 
 up a sail, a bigger and better one than ours, broad and 
 low down at the bow of their boat, and it was full and 
 drawing to the uttermost. But even so we had still 
 some little chance, for now and again the wind would 
 drop, and then their great sail drooped and hindered 
 them more than our small one hindered us. 
 
 But the end seemed evident. Each reach the dis- 
 tance grew less, and the chase could not last much 
 longer. Every risk that men could take we took. 
 Here and there the now shrunken stream ran in fierce 
 channels which seemed to suck our boat on to some 
 
 l!|l^ 
 
 ill 
 
 i- ' ' 
 
 
f 
 
 94 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 II! 
 
 rocky bluff, to touch which wouhl be to capsize or 
 break up ; but we never lowered the sail. 
 
 For a few breathless seconds the boat would tear 
 through the water, head on for the bluff ; then, at a 
 touch from Joe's paddle, she would sheer just enongh, 
 and only just enough, to graze by it and into smooth 
 water again. 
 
 I was so exhausted that I wished she would strike 
 and have done with it, when, as we came round a worse 
 and sharper corner than usual, I saw Joe's keen face 
 light up. 
 " Steamer," he said. 
 
 For a minute I could see nothing ; but at last, a good 
 mile off, I made out a puff of smoke. 
 " Coming this way ? " I asked. 
 "No; getting steam up. Tied to the bank," he 
 answered. 
 
 Could we possibly hold out for another mile ? I 
 did not believe it. The white boat was in range again, 
 and its sail was drawing well. With an open course it 
 must overhaul us before we had covered half the dis- 
 tance. But we weve not to have an open course. AVe 
 had come now to the Big Bend, and there was the ice 
 gathered in a solid bar right across it. Every little 
 drifting morsel seemed to have Ijeen caught in the 
 slack water of that sharp bend. 
 
 The river was gorged, and we were trapped in sight 
 of safety. 
 

 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 95 
 
 
 ht 
 
 The others saw it and put on a spurt. They too had 
 seen the steamer, and, until they saw the ice, had pro- 
 bably been thinking of abandoning the chase. But now 
 they had us. Had they ? 
 
 Joe did not seem to think so. His eyes were intent 
 on the barrier, and he altered our course a little, and 
 now, as we came up very near ^he ice, he struck his sail. 
 I looked back over my shoulder. Two-thirds across 
 the stream there was a narrow opening in the blockade, 
 not visible at first, for even in it there was floating ice 
 which would soon be solid. But the entrance was big 
 enough for our boat, and gliding into it, we used our 
 oars and paddles as poles, and pushing this way and 
 that, wound slowly through the channel. 
 
 Whilst we were still in it the other boat came in 
 with a crash. They had not struck their sail in time, 
 and had too much way on. 
 
 That almost ended the chase ; but the white boat 
 righted itself, and, utterly forgetting everything but the 
 Chicamon Stone, the four rascals in her poled madly 
 after us. They even forgot to fire again, though then 
 we were not fifty yards away from them. 
 
 Their excitement saved our lives. It ought to have 
 cost them theirs, for when we last saw them they had 
 stuck fast in the very centre of the floe. 
 
 Their boat being wider than ours was more difficult 
 to push through, and, sticking for a time, fresh ice 
 floated in and gathered round it. The longer they 
 
 ^ 
 
Hi 
 
 II 
 
 Of) 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 stayed the faster their boat stuck. At hist it seemed 
 fairly heLl, and, as they realized the fact, we shot into 
 open water, and were round the corner in sight of the 
 dear old Alaslcan. 
 
 Even Siyah Joe cheered then ; and tlie echo of his 
 cheer came in sullen curses from the floo where our 
 pursuers lay trapped. 
 
 Even if they could have freed themselves in time I 
 do not suppose that they would have dared to follow us 
 further, for the wliole of the next bend was a sheet of 
 open w'ater in fidl view of the stern-wheeler, from which 
 even then a flag was flying, one of two, beneath whicli 
 the hunted do not have to ask for sanctuary or the 
 wronged for justice. 
 
 The black wings of the Spirit of Winter might shadow 
 the Stickine, but in the light and warmtli of tliis 
 wonderiug nest of white men, Joe and I were safe from 
 the men and devils of the north. 
 
PAST II.~niE KULA KULLAES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was good to be on board the ^W™ agaiu ; goo.I 
 to see the bnght, cozy interior lighted with the w^ite 
 light of the acetyline gas, and, above all, good t- lear 
 the merry chatter of the white men I knew 
 
 Outside us was the gloom of the silent pine-wood.., 
 behmd us the camps in the snow, and the long wind- 
 swept reaches of the fast-freezing river. To have 
 escaped from that to this, almost made amends for the 
 misery I had been through. 
 
 The Boss was on board in command, more bearded, 
 more bronzed, and if anything more silent than ever. 
 The men said that he was slowly recovering from a spree. 
 Dont misunderstand me. The Boss never drank 
 Ihat was not his idea of a spree; but in the course of 
 business he had just had an opportunity of pitting 
 himself against Nature, and had done successfully 
 what none of the old-timers of Cassiar had hithor o 
 attempted. 
 
 n i 
 
 vf 
 .1 
 
 H 
 
 m 
 
 \ I 
 
 
98 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Owing to an unprecedented fall in the waters of the 
 Stickine, he and his mules had been trapped at Glenora, 
 and, when it was clearly seen that no more steamers 
 could possibly crawl up the river that season, his 
 company had allowed him to evolve some means for 
 conveying the animals out of the country, thereby 
 saving the cost of feed, which in those days was more 
 than the mules were worth. 
 
 Seeing that the river was dangerous for steamers, 
 and only safe for good boatmen in small boats, he had 
 conceived the idea of constructing several huge trays, 
 nearly fifty feet long, fifteen feet wide, and phenome- 
 nally shallow, in each of which he had tied some 
 twenty mules, and, steering the leading tray himself, 
 had, as he put it, let them rip down-stream. 
 
 There were four sweeps in each tray besides the 
 steersman's, and, when it was necessary to get way on 
 in the swift places, the men who pulled on them had 
 no time to think of such minor dangers as a mule's 
 heels ; in the slack water the threat of a hind leg 
 drawn up for kicking kept the sleepiest awake. 
 
 For five solid days — from dawn, that is, to dark — 
 in sleet and snow% the Boss had stood erect at the huge 
 steering-oar of the leading scow, listening for the roar 
 of swift water ahead, or using all his seasoned strength 
 to hold his frail craft off the rocks when the swift 
 water caught lier. 
 
 The scows were only flimsy things of inch plank 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 99 
 
 leg 
 
 Avift 
 
 lank 
 
 rudely nailed together, and a touch upon one of the 
 rocks where the white wate*.* broke, or upon one of the 
 many snags which rose above it, would have dissolved 
 them into a hundred pieces, and left men and mules to 
 drown. 
 
 But all the time the Boss never spoke except to 
 give a short order, nor did his smile or his pipe leave 
 his mouth. Only his face grew redder and redder as 
 the bitter wind struck it, and his brown beard stiffened 
 with ice until, at last, he brought his whole fleet 
 through in safety. 
 
 Then he said " it was pretty lucky ; " but the men 
 understood how much that meant, and knew now that 
 he was suffering from the reaction, after the pleasures 
 of peril, and from the ennui of being really comfortable. 
 "I thought you were dead, Whitehead," was his 
 greeting as he met me. 
 
 " Not quite, thank you ; but I've been near enough 
 death once or twice to make this kind of thing very 
 pleasant." 
 
 "Have you?" he asked, brightening, as if I had 
 spoken of a pleasant experience. "What have you 
 been doing ? and where have you been to ? We have 
 been scouring the country for you and old Applejack 
 for nearly a month." 
 
 "Did you find Applejack ? " 
 
 Without reply he led me to the lower deck, and 
 pointed with the stem of his pipe to the old villain 
 

 l! ) 
 
 ! 
 
 100 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 who had taken me into all my troubles. If mules 
 ever smile, that beast smiled then, laying back his ears 
 and drawing up one hind leg suggestively. 
 
 " Knows you, it seems," said the Boss. " He came 
 back to camp after Mo's train left it, and was nearly 
 bursting with swamp-grass when we found him. Where 
 did he leave you ? " 
 
 "Looking for him," I answered.; and then I told the 
 Boss the story of my hunt and of what I found, and all 
 the adventures which had befallen me, concluding with 
 a proposal that ho and I should spend part of next 
 season in looking for Joe's Chicamon Stone. 
 
 " I believe that there is such a ledge, and there can 
 be none richer ; and if you will come I'll go halves 
 with you at any share Joe will let me have in it." 
 
 " That's a fair offer, Whitehead, and I don't mind 
 taking a small interest in the ledge if we find it ; but 
 if I go, I shall go for the fun of the thing, a-.d to see the 
 country. I am not very keen about dollars, and don't 
 believe much in gold ledges. But what are you going 
 to do until spring ? " 
 
 " I suppose I must go down to Victoria, if you will 
 give me a passage as a deck-hand, though I don't 
 know how I am going to pull through the winter doing 
 nothing." 
 
 " I'll do better than that for you, if you are not sick 
 of mules ; I know I am. How would it suit you to 
 look after the stock ? " 
 
 r 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. IQl 
 
 Of course this suited me exactly. Victoria is a 
 charming place for a man with lots of money, but no 
 place for a loafer without any ; and, to tell the truth, I 
 am a poor hand at loafing any way. 80 next day I 
 left Wrangel with him for his island down south. 
 
 Before lea,ving we both went over to ^IcFarlaiie's 
 store to buy a few necessary odds and ends for the 
 journey. The old man recognized me, of course, as 
 soon as I put my white head inside his door. 
 
 " Hullo, sonny ! " he cried, " here you are again. 
 Where's my Chicamon Stone ? " 
 
 " I wish I knew. You don't think I took it, Mac 
 do you ? " 
 
 "No, my lad, I don't ; but I guess yuu were here not 
 long before it was taken. I know the rascal as took 
 it, I think, and I wish I could get my claws near his 
 ugly face again." 
 
 "Whitehead has got the siwash with him who found 
 it, though," said the Boss ; and it was the r.nly time 
 I heard him say a word too mucli. 
 
 The old man's face clianged in a moment. All the 
 kindliness went out of it, and all tlie Scotch suspicion 
 and distrust that was in him, replaced it. 
 
 "And what might you be doing with Joe?" lie 
 asked. 
 « w. „.,g g^^ij^^ ^^^ ^^j^^ j^.^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ mules," 
 
 e Boss. "It's not much of a j..b, but it is 
 n staying up there to be killed as a witch. 
 
 4 'ii 
 
 replied 
 better t 
 
 
102 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 ■ ! 
 
 til 
 
 1(1 
 I' 3 
 
 Good clay, Mac ! " and he handed me half the parcels 
 and stepped out of the store. 
 
 The answer was a reasonable one, and may have 
 disarmed the old trader's suspicions, but I was not 
 sure. When you have cherished a secret as long as 
 he had done his, you do not relish the idea that the key 
 to it is in another man's keeping. Besides, I had an 
 instinctive aversion to publishing either Joe's move- 
 ments or mine at Wrangel. Bill and Luke might 
 visit Wrangel, and I had seen all I wanted to see of 
 Bill and Luke. 
 
 If we had not left Wrangel within ten minutes of 
 that conversation, Mac might have made some attempt 
 to shake Siyah Joe's resolution to go south with us, 
 but he had no chance. 
 
 In an hour Etoline Island lay between us and the 
 gateway to the north, and a long trail of black smoke 
 was all that was left of us in the seas round Wrangel. 
 
 Now the journey from the mouth of the Stickine to 
 Victoria is as perfectly safe for an ocean-going steamer 
 as any in the world. The course lies through what is, 
 for the most part, a sea-canal, with the mainland upon 
 one side and a chain of rough, pine-clad islands on the 
 other, which breaks the swell from the Pacific. 
 
 The way looks eerie enough, I admit, in the fogs 
 which often haunt these seas, and the islands loom up 
 like vast marine-monsters in the fog, or, when tliat 
 lifts, show indescribably desolate, set in grey seas, witli 
 
 i 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 103 
 
 I If 
 
 up 
 I at 
 ith 
 
 long streamers of white mist curling up from the sodden 
 moss amongst the pines. 
 
 But the road looks worse than it is, except for stern- 
 wheelers. For them it is not too safe. Here and there 
 there are gaps in the chain of islands — gaps which take 
 several hours to cross, and through these the Pacific 
 comes with a thundering rush, which would soon shake 
 a fragile river-boat into her component parts. This 
 is why the agents will not insure, and that was why 
 we had to tie up every night, or whenever a " blow " 
 seemed imminent. 
 
 When we started from AVrangel we had made up our 
 minds that the trip down would take us from a fort- 
 night to three weeks ; and we were content, knowing that 
 we might spend November worse than in a cruise from 
 one wild-fowling station to another. For that was just 
 what it came to, and, had we been wise men, we miglit 
 have had a splendid trip, running only between flight- 
 ing-times, and shooting on new grounds every evening. 
 
 But man as soon as he comes West must hurry. A 
 real Westerner would look on Paradise as a pleasaiit 
 place to 'pass through, but he would not for all that 
 loiter willingly by the way. 
 
 Being Westerners we began to talk of " making 
 good time " to Victoria on the second day out, though 
 no one wanted particularly to arrive there ; and on the 
 third day success, and immunity from bad weather, had 
 made us reckless. 
 
 
■I 
 
 104 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 :II 
 
 From our shelter behind Prince of Wales' Island, 
 Dixon's Entrance had no terrors for us. There were 
 dark clouds, it is true, hanging low down amongst the 
 pines, but there was no wind worth mentioning, and 
 when are there not dark clouds in Alaska? It was 
 true that it was the biggest gap in our breakwater, but 
 the day was young, and there was no good shooting- 
 place handy, so we hardened our hearts and went at it. 
 
 Before we had steamed a quarter of the distance we 
 saw our mistake. Without any apparent freshening in 
 the wind the grey sea became silver-tipped, and then 
 all at once a black line appeared to seaward, and came 
 racing towards us with incredible velocity. As the 
 squall struck us the AlasJcan shook in every timber, 
 and a crash of falling pottery told us that the galley 
 was in trouble, whilst their trampling and screaming 
 on the main deck reminded us that there were con- 
 ditions under which even mules cannot keep their feet. 
 
 Luckily for us a sea could not get up in a minute 
 even in those waters ; but the whistling of the wind in 
 the rigging was a threat which put the fear of death 
 in us, and such roll as there was already, was enough to 
 strain such a ship as ours to destruction. We saw 
 plainly that if we stayed long where we were the 
 Alaskan would come to pieces under our feet, and 
 the Boss saw it as plainly as any one. 
 
 " Is there any place of shelter we can run to ? " he 
 asked. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 105 
 
 e 
 
 V 
 
 
 No one knew of any haven nearer than Stephen*s 
 Island, and that seemed far off for us with a beam sea, 
 until Joe roused himself from his dreams and came to 
 our rescue. 
 
 " Good little bay stop on Kula Kullah," he said, 
 pointing seaward in the teeth of the wind to where a 
 small island loomed through the mist. 
 
 " That thing ! Why, it is not big enough to shelter 
 a duck ! " 
 
 " Plenty big enough to shelter this ship. Kula 
 Kullah two miles long." 
 
 Perhaps it was. Indeed, I learned later on, that it 
 was all that and more, but it did not look more than a 
 mere rock in the ocean then. 
 
 " Put her head for Kula Kullah, then," ordered the 
 Boss, after a moment's hesitation. " It's nearer than 
 any other place, and I guess she'll stand a head sea 
 better than this infernal roll. I suppose she will hold 
 together for that distance ? " 
 
 And she just managed to, though how much further 
 she could have gone bucking the big waves which were 
 now beginning to roll in from the Pacific, we did not 
 care to think. 
 
 I know we all heaved a sigh of relief when we 
 steamed under the lee of the island, and eventually 
 ran into the long, narrow inlet in which Joe promised 
 us safe anchorage. 
 
 Short as our trial had been we were leakin;2: like a 
 
7 
 
 106 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 
 1 
 
 sieve, and most of our mules were in an indescribable 
 tangle on the deck : two of them hanged outright, and 
 two more had their legs broken. 
 
 " Pretty expensive for an hour's run," muttered the 
 Boss, as he stood contemplating the confusion on the 
 main deck. " Is there any feed on this place, Joe ? " 
 
 " Plenty good grass all winter. No snow stop 
 here." 
 
 " And how are we to get the beasts on shore ? " 
 " Dump them over the side and make them swim," 
 I suggested. 
 
 " And how about getting them on board again, 
 Whitehead ? " 
 
 That puzzled me. Mules will do most things with 
 a bell-mare to lead them, but you can't expect even a 
 bell-mare to scramble on board after swimming along- 
 side. 
 
 For a time the Boss smoked in silence. The ship 
 was hardly seaworthy. With luck, and without any 
 troublesome cargo, he might by careful handling 
 take her down to Victoria in safety ; but he had no 
 mind to risk a total loss of train and steamer together. 
 " It is my own infernal folly," he muttered at last. 
 " Could we winter all the stock here, Joe, until 
 spring ? " 
 
 " Nawitka " (certainly). 
 
 " Would you stay with them, Whitehead ? I don't 
 like asking you to." 
 
ther. 
 
 lon't 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 107 
 
 " I don't mind a bit ; but I can't manage sixty 
 of them single-handed. Will you stay with me, 
 Joe ? " 
 
 " Joe will stay where Whitehead stays," answered the 
 Indian. 
 
 " And I will get two or three of the boys to stay, and 
 you must manage to rig up some sort of a wharf by 
 next spring. Who wants to put in a winter on Kula 
 Kullah ? " 
 
 For a moment no one in the group which had 
 gathered round us made any answer. Blue-grey rocks, 
 with the sea sobbing round them, and pines grey witli 
 age, and beard moss, made no very cheerful picture in 
 the mist, and as the boys looked at the kelp-strewn, 
 desolate beaches, they no doubt yearned for the 
 delights of Victoria which now seemed very near. 
 
 " Indians stop round behind that rock," said Joe. 
 
 " What ! are there people on the island ? " 
 
 " Nawitka ; don't you see the canim ? " and he 
 pointed to where a great rock rose apparently out of 
 the beach. 
 
 From behind it glided a canoe, which, after 
 reaching the open, lay about a couple of hundred yards 
 away, its occupants watching us. I suppose it is only 
 my fancy, but a canoe always looks to me more like a 
 sea-beast, than a mere machine made by man. It is so 
 silent, its prow rises like a sea-snake's head, the body 
 of it lies almost flush with the wave, and the manner of 
 
 i it 
 
h 
 
 r' 
 
 
 108 
 
 THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 its propulsion is not so obvious as the oars of a white 
 man's boat. 
 
 This sea-snake was more than ordinarily timid, but 
 we got an answer from it at last, and it came gliding 
 alongside, the eyes in it watching us distrustfully, and 
 the fins of it ready for flight at a moment's notice. But 
 it was sufficiently human to accept a present of tobacco, 
 and after that all the rest was easy. 
 
 There was plenty of grass on the island, and only the 
 wild deer to eat it, so that we were welcome to land 
 with our mules and take all we could get. Only there 
 would be no one to help us. That was obvious from 
 the first ; and I was thankful for small mercies, when 
 one of the boys. Windy Ike, volunteered to stay 
 with us. 
 
 The seductive game of poker had reduced his 
 available finances to a condition more suited to the 
 seclusion of an island than to the luxury of life at the 
 capital. 
 
 I should have been glad to have had any other in 
 his place, but it was not in my power to choose ; so I set 
 to work as cheerily as I could to swim the animals 
 ashore, and to collect all the provisions which the ship 
 could possibly spare, with blankets, ammunition, and a 
 few old novels, to keep us from physical and mental 
 starvation during the long months to come. We were 
 lucky in having on board not only a fair supply of flour 
 an<l canned goods, but also a considerable quantity of 
 
 ' 
 
 I 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 109 
 
 set 
 lals 
 
 id a 
 
 ital 
 
 I'ere 
 
 lour 
 
 of 
 
 rough lumber, with which we had intended to build 
 stables for the mules when we had taken them " below." 
 Now the mules would have to share their lumber with 
 us. Part of it would make a shed for them, and part 
 of it a shack for us. 
 
 Guided by the natives, we took the steamer round 
 the big rock before mentioned, finding deep water all 
 the way, until we opened a second inlet — a miniature 
 of the first — not a hundred yards long, at the end of 
 which a dozen canoes were hauled up on the beach. 
 Beyond them stood a huge shed with a terrific totem- 
 pole in front of it, all bears, and frogs, and devils, 
 roughly carved and painted in red and blue toned down 
 by many years of rain. 
 
 This was the Kula Kullah rancherie, or common hall 
 of the tribe, and was perhaps from eiglity to a hundred 
 feet in length, the sides of it supported by great posts 
 twenty feet apart, and the roof-tree one huge cedar-pole 
 which looked as if it could only have been put into its 
 present position by the aid of powerful machinery. 
 
 Outside this common hall were half a dozen little 
 lean-to's made of strips of cedar-bark and rough sticks, 
 less comfortable than dog-kennels, and in these the 
 natives were camping. 
 
 Kula Kullah was a winter encampment, and the main 
 body of the tribe had not arrived yet, as we might have 
 guessed from the fact that the sides of the rancherie 
 were not yet boarded in, neither was the roof on. The 
 
 I 
 
no 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 natives who received us were but forerunners sent on 
 ahead to make things comfortable for the more im- 
 portant members of the tribe who were to come. 
 
 That it was an okl camp, in which many generations 
 had fished and hunted, was proved by the beach, which 
 was white with the ruin of clam-shells, and by the great 
 piles of shells of more recent date, as well as by a 
 number of deers' horns and bones, and the head-bones 
 of a whale, now green with age and weather. 
 
 I'here was no order in the place, nor any comfort, 
 and the only sign of art, beyond the totem-pole, was in 
 tlie pillars of the house, which were roughly hewn and 
 painted to represent gigantic human figures. 
 
 What with the bones on the beach, and the strong 
 sea-smell of the kelp, the driving rain, the steaming 
 pi lie- woods, and the roar of a waterfall which came 
 tumbling from a second story of the island, it seemed to 
 me as if I had come upon a lair of sea-wolves rather 
 than a home of men ; and the totem-pole representing 
 a gradual ascent from a vast toad — which was the base 
 of it, through several intermediate stages of animal 
 creation, until it reached the human — suggested a true 
 story of life, raw and newborn, from the great deep, 
 which ceaselessly heaved and throbbed about the 
 island. 
 
 I had to shake myself to bring my mind back to the 
 commonplace facts of life, and realize that it was my 
 business to look after the miserable quadrupeds who 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 true 
 
 the 
 my 
 who 
 
 still stood sullenly "draining" in the sedge hy the 
 water's edge. 
 
 They did not seem a bit more captivated by their 
 surroundings than I was ; but at last one old stager 
 began to wander slowly up the beach, and, after that, 
 the whole band straggled disconsolately upwards to the 
 second bench, on which, finding a certain amount of 
 green food, they settled down in a business-like way to 
 make up for time wasted upon dry and flavourless 
 swamp hay. 
 
 Here we left them to take care of themselves, and, 
 for the next three days, we had our hands full, landing 
 our stores and our lumber, patching up the Alaskan and 
 building a makeshift hut for ourselves on tlie first 
 plateau above the beach, on wlrch, between the gl<^ m 
 of the pines and the grey of the sea, lived tlie Kula 
 Kullahs, and a vast population of water-fowl whose 
 cries and scutterings ceased not neither by day nor by 
 night. 
 
 At the end of three days, the weather clearing, the 
 Alaskan left us to crawl up to our shack and hibernate 
 by ourselves, for the mules got on well enough at 
 present without us, and there was nothing in tlie 
 appearance of the natives to tempt us to associate with 
 them. 
 
 Taller than most coast Indians and somewhat lighter 
 in colour, they were fine enough men but for their legs, 
 which looked as if they had been warped and bent by 
 
 m 
 
 4 
 
 K" 
 
 i 
 
?!■ 
 
 112 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 constantly squatting in their canoes, and Windy Ike's 
 name for them, " the Clams," was well earned by the 
 pertinacity with which they clung to their shells, and 
 the obstinacy with which they kept their mouths shut. 
 
 Before the last wisp of smoke had cleared from the 
 offing we had realized that, for three months, we should 
 hear no voices but the sea's voice and our own, and a 
 fit of the blues fell upon us like a sea-fog. 
 
 For a whole week it was an effort to crawl out of our 
 blankets in the morning, and take the first dive into the 
 wet world which waited for us outside, and, even after 
 that, there was a marked tendency to crawl back and 
 cower, smoking and thinking, over the fire ; but at the 
 end of that time, in the words of Windy Ike, we too 
 began to put on scales, and grow web-footed, and went 
 about trying to earn our living by hunting and building 
 winter quarters for our stock. 
 
 ii i 
 
 
1 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 113 
 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 About a fortnight after the steamer had left us for 
 the south, there was a great stir in the Indian rancher ie, 
 and we heard the sound of men's voices singing in the 
 mist beyond the point. 
 
 Even, rhythmical, and deep, these voices drew nearer 
 and nearer, until at length the singers came in sight, 
 labouring at the paddles of a string of some twenty 
 canoes, yoked two and two by platforms of cedar jilank, 
 upon which were piled great stores of household stuff : 
 rush baskets, skin sacks, blankets, and kitchen gear. 
 When these came into the inlet the forerunners went 
 knee-deep into the water, and, taking the canoes by the 
 bows, ran them up up^m the beach; and straiglitway 
 there ensued such a chattering as if a colony of daws * 
 had alighted, but the voices came for the most part 
 from the bundles of blankets which now resolved them- 
 selves into squaws and tenasmen (children). 
 
 The warriors were brief in their greetings. 
 
 "Kula Kullahs coming to winter camp," said Joe 
 over my shoulder. 
 
114 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 III! 
 
 If 
 
 " Where have they come from ? " 
 
 " Oh, siyah.; away over there," pointing eastward 
 across the great plain of the sea. " Away where the 
 salt tchuk (ocean) runs long ways up into the 
 mountains." 
 
 '* What ! from Basting's Arm ? " 
 
 " Klunas ; maybe white man call him Hastum Arm. 
 Siwash call him other name. Plenty white sheep stop 
 there. See ! " and he pointed to the bales of coarse, 
 white goat-skins which were being piled up upon the 
 beach. 
 
 " Do you mean to say, Joe, that they have come all 
 that distance with their canoes like that ? " 
 
 " Nawitka ; very good summer camp. Winter camp 
 not too far. Suppose too much wind, canims stop ; 
 suppose good wind, travel all night. Suppose Ki-i 
 pleased, Kula KuUahs hunt good all summer ; in 
 winter come hero, sleep a little, dance plenty, perhaps 
 fight a little." 
 
 " And if Ki-i is not pleased ? " 
 
 " Then skukum tchuk black all over ; Tokseilh, the 
 sou'-west wind, scream in their ears ; Tse-a-kish, the sea- 
 snake, look up out of the wave ; kanims kilipi (turn 
 over) and no more si washes come long time to Kula 
 Kullah." 
 
 The bucks dropped their paddles as the shoremen 
 touched the bows of the canoes. They had paddled in- 
 cessantly, uncomplainingly as machines for three whole 
 
, 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 115 
 
 days, whilst the women lay at the bottom of the canoes 
 in their blankets. Now the buoks had done the last 
 stroke of work they meant to do for many a day. It 
 was the turn of the klootchman and the tenasman, 
 who, piled with odds and ends of baggage, were already 
 staggering np the beach to the rancherie. 
 
 It was easy to see, from their gestures, that the new 
 arrivals were being informed of the advent of strangers 
 in their hunting-grounds. 
 
 Groups of men squatted here and there on the 
 beach, smoking and talking, and from time to time 
 I saw them turn their heads and stare fixedly towards 
 the smoke of our fires upon the upper flat. It occurred 
 to me that, being now in force, they might possibly 
 take our presence less kindly than the first handful of 
 them had done. Although we had entered upon their 
 ground by their consent, it could hardly be said that 
 we had as yet established friendly relations with them. 
 
 It seemed wise to try to do this without any delay ; 
 so, taking my Winchester under my arm, I clambered 
 down to the beach, and walked towards the principo,! 
 group of newcomers. 
 
 Before reaching them I stopped and laid down my 
 rifle, taking care that they should see me do this. 
 Then I advanced boldly towards tliem with my best 
 smile of welcome, and what I imagined was a cheery 
 " Klahowyah." 
 
 But nobody rose or returned my greeting. 
 
 ( r;;. 
 
' 
 
 116 
 
 THE OHICAMON STONE. 
 
 1 
 
 it 
 
 I 
 
 One or two of the savages laughed rudely ; the 
 others sat still and stared at me from under bent 
 brows. 
 
 Luckily I had read somewhere of the ways of the 
 Ahts, and, conceiving that these men were not unlike 
 them in their customs, I retained my composure, and, 
 squatting down within fifty paces of them, waited for 
 them to make the next move. 
 
 Possibly this was the correct thing to do, for, after 
 waiting in dead silence for some time, the Kulla 
 Kullahs continued their conversation as if entirely 
 unconscious of my presence. 
 
 This state of things continued until I felt a perfect 
 worm, and wanted badly to brain some one in order to 
 recover my self-respect ; but, just before my patience 
 failed me, one of the leaders arose, and, leading the 
 way, seemed to invite me to follow him to the 
 rancherie. 
 
 Here, in an incredibly short time, the interior had 
 been rendered in some degree habitable. As fast as 
 nails and hammers could do it, the platforms which 
 had joined the canoes were being applied as outside 
 walls, or internal partitions of the great lodge. Men 
 were busy up above fastening on the roof, the squaws 
 had festooned every beam with bags and baskets, dried 
 meat, dried fish, and bunches of fern roots ; and in the 
 middle of the floor a cooking-fire was burning, round 
 which hung pots and the savour of food. 
 
 I! 
 
THE OHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 117 
 
 -.•*! 
 
 ;& 
 
 The place, with its garnishing of provisions, and its 
 many partitions, looked like a cross between a larder 
 and a school dormitory. 
 
 Beside the fire, in the middle of the floor, the chief 
 spread a blanket and invited me by signs to sit upon 
 it ; and then, at his order, the women set before me a 
 dish of steaming salmon and potatoes. 
 
 The portion was enormous; but I had not dined, 
 and did my best, no one speaking a word whilst we 
 ate. What I left was removed, and, as I found after- 
 wards, was taken up to our shack and left there for me 
 to finish at my leisure. 
 
 The great business of dinner being over, pipes were 
 lighted, and then at last conversation commenced. It 
 took the form of a catechism, in which my ignorance 
 of the Kula KuUahs' language gave me some advan- 
 tage, affording me an excuse for ignoring questions 
 which I did not choose to answer, whilst answering 
 those which it suited me to. 
 
 Most of all, they were anxious to know my position 
 amongst my men. Was I a chief or a slave ? and were 
 the mules my mules? I had no scruples in repte- 
 senting myself as the very biggest kind of chief, and 
 the interest I claimed in the mules was certainly 
 greater than the company would have allowed. 
 
 But my answers were politic, and, when at last I rose 
 and left my hosts, I felt that my position witli them 
 was considerably improved. But my Winchester had 
 
 r 
 
 .1 
 
 M 
 
 
 f 
 
 f H 
 
** • .'ij 
 
 ''J 
 
 !i 
 
 >i 
 
 118 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 vanished, and tu uiy inquiries about it tlie chief gave 
 no satisfactory reply. 
 
 Possibly, I understood him to say, one of the tenas- 
 men had hidden it in play ; possibly an evil spirit had 
 taken it : they did such things in Kula Kullah. But 
 he would look into the matter, and when found the rifle 
 should be returned. 
 
 Under the circumstances I dared not press the matter, 
 floods are variable in the north, and I could see storm- 
 signals already in the ugly faces around me. I could 
 ill spare the weapon — one of three only in our possession 
 — but I had sense enough to realize that I had lost it, 
 and should never see it again. 
 
 I never did, in my own hands ; but I have seen the 
 muzzle of it since, nearer than I cared to. 
 
 From this commencement of friendly (?) relations, 
 we advanced very slowly. It is true that there were 
 generally two or three Indians hanging about our 
 encampment and fingering all our possessions, but 
 they were not welcome guests. On the contrary, they 
 gave us more trouble than the mules, as, after my ex- 
 perience with the rifle, we considered it absolutely 
 necessary that some one should be always on guard 
 whenever Indians were about; and this additional 
 worry made our tempers grow shorter and shorter, 
 until one day Windy Ike, who was quicker at 
 entering upon a quarrel than braver men are wont 
 to be, f ok a particularly troublesome buck by the 
 
 f 
 
TUE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 110 
 
 shoulders and kicked hiin unceremoniously out of the 
 shack. 
 
 Now, amongst themselves, these people rarely quarrel, 
 and never resort to fisticuffs ; and this fellow had no 
 firearms, nor any knife about him that we could see. 
 
 The odds were against him, and the first law of 
 Indian warfare is, that the odds should be heavily in 
 your favour ; so, though he picked himself up, looking 
 as bitter as a November morning, he strode sullenly 
 back to his camp without a word. 
 
 But from that time out we had no more visits from 
 the Kula Kullahs, and Windy Ike, who was too much 
 of a fool to fear anything he could not see, spoke 
 sneeringly of the courage of Joe and myself, who had 
 endured the insolence of these Indians so long. 
 
 " Hang them ! " he said, " they are just dogs, and 
 should be treated as such." 
 
 Dangerous dogs I thought, and any day I expected 
 to hear them growl. 
 
 But whatever my fears were we had to live, and in 
 order to do that Joe and I had to hunt, for, in spite of 
 his swagger. Windy Ike never brought back with him 
 as much as he took out. If he left in the morning with 
 a dozen cartridges for his gun, he came back at night 
 with his gun and a fable of some dead beast which had 
 disappeared before his very eyes, but with no meat and 
 no cartridges. 
 
 So Joe used to take the ritie and briny,- in a deer 
 
 ;-(?;». 
 
 w^l 
 
 k ■ 
 
120 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 : 
 
 now and again from the higher ground, whilst I used 
 to sit with the shot-gun at the head of the sloughs 
 and shoot duck, and sometimes a seal whose curiosity 
 had led him too near to the rocks behind which I was 
 hidden. 
 
 I confess that, in those lonely watches, the supersti- 
 tions of the Indians used to take a strange hold on my 
 fancy. It seemed to me as if the sea was everything 
 and we nothing. Through the waning light I could 
 see the pines on the nearer points — shapes indistinct 
 and vague — and hear the weird, half-human laugh of the 
 loon ; and then suddenly a round head with man's eyes 
 in it would rise without a sound, within fifty feet, and 
 stare unwinkingly into my face. 
 
 At the first movement of my hand towards my gun 
 it would sink without leaving a ripple behind it, and, 
 a few minutes later, I would find it staring at me from 
 some other quarter. 
 
 Generally I let the seals alone, for they were difficult 
 to secure," even if I killed them ; but once or twice 
 when the number of heads staring at me from the 
 misty waters were too great a strain upon my nerves, 
 I fired ; and those I killed were greedily eaten by the 
 Kula Kullahs. As for ourselves, we could never 
 stomach seal-meat. 
 
 All day long, if I had wished it, I could have had 
 excellent sport with the brent which used to whirl 
 past my hiding-place, or gabble and croak as they 
 
 h 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 121 
 
 I 
 
 v^ 
 
 floated in strong fleets jnst out of shot of me ; but I 
 could not afford to waste ammunition, and I had no 
 fancy for playing retriever in the icy water which 
 surrounded Kula Kullah ; so that, as a rule, I waited 
 until the evening flight commenced. 
 
 Behind me lay mud-flats and shallow pools in which 
 the fowl fed, and, as soon as night began to approach, 
 the whole life of the ocean seemed to set towards these 
 in noisy streams. 
 
 First against the setting sun I would see the brent 
 get up and wheel in orderly ranks, something like 
 homing rooks, until their minds were made up ; and 
 then suddenly they would pack and rush in solid 
 phalanx straight at me, rise as they reached the rocks 
 behind which I lay, and then drive down with great 
 clamour into the swamp behind. 
 
 As a rule I managed to bring two or three of them 
 thumping down upon the ooze before their flight was 
 over. 
 
 After them came singly, or in small parties, high 
 up, with wings that beat with the strong whirr of 
 machinery, long-necked grebes, and mergansers, and 
 such-like fish-eating fowl, whose caution was wasted, 
 since no man wanted their flesh for food ; and after 
 them again in the dusk, when p, man had to shoot 
 rather by ear than by eye, there came a vast scuttering 
 and splashing along the face of the inlet as myriads of 
 cultus, duck, and scaup hurried past me. For an liour 
 
 Mil 
 
 MKi 
 
 t: 
 

 22 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 M^ 
 
 ^ -' 
 
 i 
 
 11 ) 
 
 before this I had seen great flocks of them working 
 slowly in towards the shore, but they never came near 
 enough, whilst swimming, to give me a pot-shot, nor 
 did they ever rise and dash past me until it was too 
 dark to see to shoot. 
 
 Last of all I would hear the full fat " quack, quack " 
 of the mallard ; but, though I knew that somewhere in 
 the dusk above me a right good dinner was going by, I 
 could rarely catch more than a glimpse of these birds, 
 except when once or twice a rising moon betrayed 
 them to me. When that happened there was a heavy 
 flop on the ooze, and I took home something really 
 worth cooking. 
 
 It was one night, after a long spell of this kind of 
 work, that I was going home half frozen, and heavily 
 laden with my spoil, by the light of a young moon, 
 which I feared would hardly last long enough to see 
 me safely home over the sloughs and logs which always 
 made my return a risky business. 
 
 Especially there was one place which always gave 
 me trouble, a broad and deep inlet, across which had 
 been thrown a single log, just broad enough to walk 
 on, which was at full tide a foot under water, and at 
 the ebb a few feet above it, but so slippery and 
 treacherous that I had already had more than one 
 experience of the temperature of the stream below. 
 
 Before attempting the crossing I made sure that 
 my ducks were securely tied about my waist, and 
 
 
 I 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 123 
 
 l)assed my gim-strap over my shoulders, aud tlieu with 
 a half prayer began to feel my way across. 
 
 About midway over, whilst my feet were slipping 
 on the greasy weed which clung to the pole, and the 
 shadows were playing all manner of tricks with me, 
 an owl called sharply and suddenly, right under my 
 feet. 
 
 Naturally my eyes left the pole, my foot slij^ped in 
 the desperate effort to recover my balance, gun and 
 ducks all shifted their position simultaneously, and the 
 next moment I was struggling in the water in the 
 dark. 
 
 Owing to the fact that the water was running out 
 very swiftly I was some distance from the pole, and 
 near the further bank, when I came to the surface, 
 with my eyes full of water and my wits considerably 
 scattered by the sudden plunge. 
 
 Between me and the bank was what looked at first 
 like a log lying in the shadow, and instinctively I put 
 out my hand to clutch it ; but before I did so the out- 
 lines of it became clearer, and a fear, worse than the 
 fear of drowning, took possession of me. 
 
 It was a war-canoe, and, sitting in it in dead silence, 
 all their eyes intent upon my face, were a dozen Kula 
 Kullahs, their faces painted black, tlieir white teeth 
 only showing distinctly in the gloom. 
 
 Before any one had time to move I floated past the 
 first canoe, only to find a dozen more moored in the 
 
 
 
 y-'i 
 
 1- vi 
 
124 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 shadow of the bank in a long, silent line, all full of 
 men armed to the teeth. 
 
 One of these, as I came alongside, reached for a kind 
 of harpooning spear, and, half rising, made as if he 
 would plunge it into me ; but one whom I recognized 
 as the chief gave some short order, and my would-be 
 murderer sat sullenly down again, whilst a suppressed 
 laugh, more like a growl than any sign of merriment, 
 ran up the silent ranks. In another minute I was clear 
 of the fleet, and, seeing a stranded snag handy, I seized 
 it and drew myself out upon the mud, shaking with 
 cold and fear. 
 
 I do not think that, under ordinary circumstances, I 
 could have taken my own clothes off, so numbed was I 
 after my long swim ; but, with the knowledge of what 
 lay behind me, I managed to scramble up the bank 
 and flounder in the direction of our camp. 
 
 If any of those who read my adventures have ever 
 been belated on a strange mud-flat when the moon has 
 gone down, they will have some idea of the miseries of 
 that tramp. As long as my gum-boots only squelched 
 in the soft ooze it was all right ; but now and again 
 one of them would leave me to go down, and down, 
 until I had to follow it into some unseen cut ( .' gulch, 
 where two or three feet of water still rar. ce, to vary 
 my misery, I would suddenly receive a stinging blow 
 across the face, and find that I had walked into the up- 
 turned roots of a great snag left stranded on the mud. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 125 
 
 Meanwhile, all round me were atranp^e voices of feeding 
 fowl — voices which they never seemed to use by day- 
 light, — whistlings and croakings and strange half- 
 human cries, and the sudden whirr of unseen wings 
 rising under my very feet. Worse than all, a terrible 
 dread haunted me, so that I kept turning to see whose 
 step that was which I heard stealthily following mine, 
 expecting every moment to see a hideous, blackened 
 face, and an upraised harpoon, before I felt the sharp 
 steel plunge into my side. 
 
 But the longest night of pain has mercifully an 
 ending, and I suppose that it was still early, when, 
 with my face bleeding, and most of my ducks lost, I 
 reached the edge of the mud-Qats where the pines grew 
 upon comparatively dry land. From this point to my 
 camp it was easy for me to find my way, and in half 
 an hour Joe was putting food before me and listening 
 to my tale. 
 
 To my surprise he expressed no astonishment at 
 what I had seen. If he wondered at anything, it was 
 that I had been allowed to return to tell the story. 
 
 " I see Kula Kullahs long time getting ready. You 
 see them scraping canoes, and making fresh paddles. 
 By-and-by they have a big feast; now they go to 
 fetch heads. In the dark the Tshimsians at Oorah 
 not see them come. Then they get heads and slaves. 
 You see in two days from now." 
 
 " Are they at war, then, with the men of Oorah ? " 
 
 % 
 
 I I 
 
n 
 
 Ml 
 
 120 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " Not now. TiOng time ago the Tshimsians stole a 
 whale that the Kula Kullahs harpooned. It floated 
 dead into the bay at Oorah, and the Tshimsians found 
 and eat it, but they gave no present to the Kula 
 Kullahs." 
 
 "Why should they? The Kula Kullahs did not 
 bag the whale." 
 
 "No. Kula Kullahs not get that whale, but the 
 Oorahs knew. They saw the floats of the Kula Kullahs 
 fast to the harpoons in that whale, and they knew very 
 well who killed him. Oh, the Oorahs had a very bad 
 lieart; and the Kula Kullahs have not forgotten." 
 
 " When was this ? Last year ? " 
 
 " Oil no ; not last year — not this many years. Some 
 very old men, I thinlv, remember wlien it was ; but that 
 is no matter. It happened long ago ; but the Oorahs 
 stole that whale, and the Kula Kullahs want heads — 
 and remember. Besides, the Oorahs are a very small 
 tribe now. Not many men stop at all at Oorah. Mtiy- 
 be after to-morrow no more Oorahs ever at all. Kula 
 Kullahs kill 'em all if they catch them asleep." 
 
 " Tenasmen stop," I suggested. 
 
 " No ; kill tenasmen too, and klootchmen. Kill 'em 
 all. Perhaps make one or two young klootches slaves. 
 Kill 'em all." 
 
 So, then, this was the devil's work on hand, and the 
 Kula Kullahs' idea of a happy Christmas. 
 
 Lost in lone seas, tliemselves the mere flotsam and 
 
and 
 
 THE CFIICAMON STONE. 
 
 127 
 
 jetsam of ocean, holding to their lives by a very un- 
 certain tenure, these fiends were starting in the niglit 
 to wipe out a whole neighbouring tribe in its sleep— a 
 tribe, moreover, so closely akin to themselves that no 
 one but a Tshimsian could tell a Kula Kullah from one 
 of his own clan ; and all this, not for an insult real or 
 fancied to themselves, but on the thin pretext of a 
 cause of quarrel wliich the oldest men might remember. 
 I was beginning to understand what the word was 
 which Nature kej)! trying to articulate in these dreary 
 northern seas: the word which is muttered in tlie 
 surges to the tossing kelp, round the slaughtering- 
 grounds at Pribyloff ; the word that hangs about the 
 rivers where the flashing salmon are slain in their 
 myriads ; the word that the wind wliispers in its ceaseless 
 roaming— surely it is " Death." 
 
 1! t 
 
 f 
 
128 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 e [; 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 G fi 
 
 That iiighfc was one of the quietest I ever saw in 
 Alaskan waters. For once there was not a breath of 
 wind, and even the swell, which generally roared on 
 Uie exposed parts of the island, now only beat witli a 
 soft, rhythmical insistence which lulled ratlier than dis- 
 turbed. But there was not a vestige of light in the 
 sky, and a fog, like a black j^all, clung over the waters. 
 Everything seemed hushed and waiting, and even 
 the rare cries of some waking sea-fowl, which may be 
 heard at times, even on the darkest nights, were 
 hushed on this one. 
 
 In the rancherie there was not a light showing. 
 There were few but women and children left there ; and 
 they were, I presume, rolled in their blankets. What 
 becomes of the old men I do not know, and it is hardly 
 good to think ; but there were no old men among the 
 Kula Kullahs. Half a dozen slaves, and a few sick 
 men, were all that remained on the island. The rest, 
 with their blackened faces, were somewhere out in 
 the fog. 
 
 ai 
 tl 
 
 W iq 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 129 
 
 ip' 
 
 " It wonld be easy to take heads now. There are no 
 fighting-men left." 
 
 I turned with a start. It was Siyah Joe who had 
 spoken. 
 
 " Good God, Joe ! you don't want to murder too, do 
 you ? " 
 
 " My cousins stop in Oorah ; they will kill them." 
 
 " You can't tell that. You are not even sure that 
 they are going to Oorah ; and, if they do, they may not 
 surprise the Tshimsians." 
 
 " They catch them to-night sure. The cl'ios all 
 blind, and the sea she says * Sleep, sleep,' and the men 
 will s],' ""1 '■' the red sj^irit leaps on the rancherie, and 
 then it will be stab, stab, stab ! " and, as he spoke, 
 he imitated the murderous motion with such savage 
 accuracy, that I felt the killing madness was upon him 
 too. 
 
 For a little longer we sat together looking out into 
 the night, and listening for sounds which we could not 
 possibly have heard, and then Joe rose. 
 
 " If Whitehead sry no kill, Joe no kill them; but 
 it is a foolish say''^^ By-and-by they kill us; " and 
 with these wurJ • o 'dked into the hut, and, in ten 
 minutes, was sleeping 05? soundly upon the floor as I 
 should have done in ii.v own cot at home. 
 
 I was going to say that the next morning broke dull 
 and threatening ; it would bo more accurate to say 
 that it never broke at all. A grey liglit filtered 
 
ji : 
 ll fl 
 
 ii I 
 
 B , i' 
 
 130 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 through the fog : a light by which we could just see 
 how miserable the world looked, and that was all. All 
 day a threat lay upon the face of the waters, and the 
 light of the sun was veiled ; but towards noon an inci- 
 dent occurred which was somewhat unusual in Kula 
 Kullah. 
 
 A visitor arrived who called in at the rancherie. 
 Now, though Kula Kullah is by the way to the main 
 northern ports, it lies some three or four miles out of the 
 direct course to Wrangel. As a result of this, though 
 we often saw the smoke of grea "^epmers going north, 
 several miles away, we seldom t even a small sail 
 within hailing distance of the island. 
 
 But towards noon, as I said, a sail came creeping up 
 to the mouth of our inlet, and, to our surprise, the sail 
 was lowered aiid the boat rowed round the rock to the 
 rancherie. I had wild hopes at first that the men in 
 her might bring some message for us : orders, perhaps, 
 to make ready for a steamer which would take us and 
 our mules down south, but it was not to be. The 
 visitors were for the Kula Kullahs, and not for us. 
 
 Although with my eyes alone I could have seen 
 little from my post on the second storey, I was able to 
 watch the landing well with my field-glasses. As soon 
 as the boat, or canoe rather, came within a hundred 
 yards of the beach, she was turned stern first to it, and 
 the men in her ceased paddling. 
 
 " Humph ! Strangers ' " grunted Joe, at my elbow. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 131 
 
 sail 
 the 
 en in 
 laps, 
 and 
 The 
 
 ^} 
 
 jlbow. 
 
 " Now they wait till some one come and talk ; " and in 
 proof of the accuracy of his guess, the canoe and its 
 occupants lay there, gently rocking stern first to the 
 beach for at least ten minutes, neither hailing the shore 
 nor making any sign, until the inhabitants of the 
 rancherie came out and sat solemnly down to look at 
 them. 
 
 For a few minutes the two parties regarded one 
 another in silence, and it occurred to me that the custom 
 had its advantages, for, in case of an unfriendly re- 
 ception, the visitors had a hundred yards' start and the 
 bow of their boat in the right direction. 
 
 Having stared one another out of countenance, one 
 of the shore-party arose to his legs and shouted some- 
 thing across the water to the visitors. What he said 
 we could not distinguish, neither could we catch the 
 answer ; but it seemed as if he was catechizing the new- 
 comers, and they answering him. 
 
 Apparently their answers were satisfactory, for, after 
 a time, the boat was pulled in to the shore, and the Kula 
 KuUahs bore a hand in running her up the beach. The 
 three who stepped out of her were apparently two tall 
 Indians and one old man, also an Indian, much bent 
 and swathed in blankets. 
 
 With my glasses I could see the men's faces 
 plainly ; but, though I could recognize the Kula 
 Kullahs, I could not recognize their visitors. They 
 were strangers to me, as I might have expected. 
 
 I 
 
132 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " Who are they, Joe ? " I askeJ. 
 
 "Nika halo comtax, halo nanich (I don't know, I 
 can't see). Won't the long-sight show you ? " 
 
 Even my "long-sight" would not tell me, and I 
 handed it to him, but he could make nothing of it. 
 Of course they become used to glasses after a time ; but 
 at first Indians cannot see as far with a field-glass as 
 with their own strong eyes. 
 
 " No good ; all same fog," Joe said peevishly, 
 handing me back the glasses. " You sure those all 
 three si washes ? " 
 
 " Sure, Joe ; two are dilate (thorough) siwashes, and 
 the old man is a si wash too ; but I can't see much of him 
 for his blankets. Why, what do you think they are ? " 
 
 " Perhaps Whitehead see good ; perhaps not. Three 
 Indians, perhaps ; perhaps two. One white man. 
 You see Tatooch ? " 
 
 " Tatooch ? " 
 
 " Nawitka ; Tatooch. That man in front Tatooch." 
 
 I brought my glasses to bear again upon the group 
 now about to enter the rancher ie. Joe was dreaming. 
 I did not think that the danger he had passed through 
 had so affected his wonderful self-possession ; but, after 
 all, an Indian's face is only a clever mask, and he may 
 feel and remember more than his features betray. 
 
 The man in front was certainly not Tatooch. True, 
 now that he had suggested it, I could almost fancy 
 that I saw something in the man's bearing which 
 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 133 
 
 after 
 may 
 
 reminded me of the witch-killer ; but this fellow was 
 as unlike Tatooch in face as a man conld be. Indeed, 
 he would have been a marked man anywhere amongst 
 Indians, for he was all but red-headed, and, though they 
 do occur occasionally amongst the Hydahs, red-Leaded 
 Indians are nearly as rare as white crows. 
 
 What bothered me more than Joe's fancies about 
 Tatooch, was a queer jerky turning of the head on the 
 part of the old man in blankets. He reminded me of 
 a bird with its head sunk on its shoulders, but 
 watching all the while with its beady eyes for a 
 chance to peck ; and reminded me too of something, 
 or some one else, but who or what I could not then 
 remember. 
 
 However, these fancies were of course ridiculous, so 
 I put my glass in its case. 
 
 "I'm going to see who they are, Joe. If it is 
 Tatooch, he w ill know me anyway : my hair has not 
 rliano^ed its colour." 
 
 " No, Whitehead always Whitehead. Tatoocli per- 
 haps sometimes black head, sometimes red. Take 
 your gun along with you. Joe won't be far off ; " and 
 with that he slijiped into the brush, whilst I took the 
 trail down to the beach. 
 
 But I was almost too late to achieve my purpose. 
 The guests were going when I reached the rancherie, 
 and, though I satisfied myself with my own eyes that 
 thev were neither Tatooch nor anv one else that I 
 
 i 
 
134 
 
 THE OHTCAMOX STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 fill 
 Hi 
 
 had ever met, I had no chance of speaking to 
 them. 
 
 More surly rascals even for Indians I never met. 
 The red-headed man stared me sullenly in the face 
 when I greeted him, and, though he was every bit as 
 ugly as paint could make him, he was not anything 
 like the witch-killer. The other two did not even turn 
 to see who spoke to them, but stepped silently into 
 their canoe and paddled off towards the north. 
 
 Neither did the Kula Kullahs seem much more 
 pleased with their visitors than I was. A medicine- 
 man and two siwashes of the Tshimsians from the 
 south they called them, and they said that they had 
 come to bring a present of whale-blubber to the Kula 
 KuUah chief, and make inquiries about a canoe-full 
 of their tribesmen, lost, it was supposed, in this neigh- 
 bourhood the week before in a squall ; but, contrary to 
 all Indian etiquette, they had barely tasted of the 
 feast set before them. 
 
 They had come to see the chief, they said, and 
 they would deal with no one else ; so they had left 
 a bad impression behind them with the men of the 
 rancherie, who, being most of them slaves, or men of 
 low degree, were peculiarly sensitive, and resented 
 other people's airs. 
 
 The only other information I could obtain about them, 
 was that they were going north to the Nasse River. 
 
 With this news I went back to Joe, whom I found 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 135 
 
 to 
 
 at a point of vantage ovei*lov:)king Dixon's Entrance 
 and the straits and inlets which lay around us. 
 
 " They say they go north ? " he said. " What for 
 Tatooch go north now ? " 
 
 " But I tell you it was not Tatooch." 
 
 Joe did not answer, but kept his eyes fixed on the 
 sail which crept along the coast of Kula Kullah to 
 the north. 
 
 For a very long time we watched it, for its progress 
 was very slow, and I could not help wondering why, 
 if the men in the canoe wanted to make the mouth of 
 the Nasse, they did not take a more direct course, and 
 obtain the full benefit of any little wind there was, 
 instead of hugging our island-shore. There seemed 
 no danger of a squall, and Indians are not timid 
 navigators. 
 
 At last the canoe disappeared round the corner of 
 Kula Kullah, and we watched to see it reappear, a 
 wliite fleck on the open sea which must be traversed 
 to reach the Nasse. 
 
 But it did not reappear. 
 
 " Camped, Joe, on the spit." 
 
 " Halo. You see by-and-by." 
 
 And by-and-by I saw, for, apparently believing 
 themselves unwatched, the men in the canoe discarded 
 caution, and, having turned the point, tacked out 
 boldly into the open at the back of the island, 
 returning towards Hecate Straits. 
 
T 
 
 130 
 
 THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 ! i 
 
 ■ I 
 
 At that distance I could not, even by the aid of my 
 glasses, identify the canoe going south as the same 
 which we had watched going north ; but if not, craft 
 in these waters were sufficiently scarce to make the 
 coincidence remarkable. 
 
 " See ; I tell you Tatooch not go north. Kloonas 
 (perhaps) plenty trouble by-and-by." 
 
 Joe's persistence was beginning to tell upon me ; 
 and the rest of that day was spent by me in a 
 struggle, which was only partially successful, to 
 convince myself that my own eyes had not deceived 
 me. 
 
 If that was Tatooch who was the man in the 
 blankets ? And then I remembered who it was with 
 the beak-like nose and the restless, shifty glances. 
 But Sandy Bill was nearly as tall as myself, and the 
 man in blankets was old and shrunk, and a boy's 
 size. 
 
 No; it could not be Tatooch. Joe was growing 
 crazy with fear and the loneliness of our life in Kula 
 Kullah ; and, lest I should become as bad, I plunged 
 resolutely into one of Hope's novels, wishing that I was 
 a prisoner of Zenda instead of a prisoner in Alaska. 
 
 On the evening of tlie third day after my immersion 
 in the slough the Kula Kullah s returned. 
 
 For three days we had had the sullen threatening 
 weather I have described. 
 On the evening of this day there was a low moaning 
 
THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 137 
 
 f'^ 
 
 amongst the trees, and a lieave and sigh at the base 
 of the cliffs, whilst the widgeon and sea-fowl generally, 
 not waiting for the flighting-time, came whirling in 
 in a hurry, by twos and threes or in small flocks. 
 They came as if something was behind them, and 
 they did not make for the feeding-grounds, but, after 
 one or two circling flights, pitched under the lee of 
 those points where there was shelter from the worst 
 of storms. The gulls too came inland shrieking, and 
 there was an unusual clamour amongst the myriads of 
 crows who dwelt in the island. 
 
 At sea, in the south-west, the ragged clouds were 
 hurrying together, torn and trailing, and, through 
 them from the low sun, great pale rays shot down to 
 the gun-barrel grey of the sullen sea, making a 
 watery archway of dim light, behind which was the 
 coming storm. 
 
 Suddenly in the midst of this we, who were watching, 
 saw the black bows of a canoe, and then another, and 
 presently, to the moan of the rising tempest, was 
 added the slow, long-drawn rhythm of the Death-song. 
 
 Now the men who had been left in the rancherie, 
 and the women, crowded down on the beach, and added 
 their cries to the cries of the colony of crows overhead. 
 But the men in the canoes made no sign that they 
 saw them. 
 
 One after another, like the joints of a liideous sea- 
 serpent, the black canoes glided out of the gloom 
 
 I tj 
 
 ! ■■ ■ * 
 
 I 
 
 I ''I 
 
 I 
 
 M; 
 
 
: 
 
 ■V 
 
 
 US 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 through the archway of stormy light, until we could 
 see the rowers' shoulders gleam as the twelve men in 
 each boat drove her nearer and nearer with strong, 
 even strokes, their wild song keeping time to their 
 paddles. 
 
 The storm broke even as they reached shore, and 
 tlie grinding of their keels on the beach, and the song 
 of the rowers, was drowned in a scream of wind, which 
 swung the tallest pines as if they had been saplings, 
 and snapped the older ones with cracks like pistol- 
 shots. 
 
 But through the veil of rain which followed the first 
 wild gust of the tempest, we saw a miserable procession 
 of captives driven like sheep to the shambles, and a 
 cargo of human heads slung out by the long hair upon 
 the beach. 
 
 As these hideous trophies rolled one after another 
 to the feet of the women^ the savage song of the 
 victors rose ever louder and louder, until, what with 
 that and the scream of the tempest, and the sighing 
 of the trees, and the crash and roar of the ocean, there 
 was such a tumult of wild sound as if Hell had broken 
 loose. 
 
 " They have had a great killing," said Joe. " Now 
 their hearts are bad, and there will be a great feast 
 and more killing." 
 
 '' My God ! is it not enough ? " 
 
 " Not yet. See— they begin." 
 
 ^r 
 
THE OHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 139 
 
 /*' 
 
 As he spoke a heavy-shouldered savage walked 
 forward shouting, pushing before him a child of, it 
 may be, nine or ten years old. Suddenly he stopped 
 in the very midst of the onlookers, there was a swift 
 movement of his arm, a gleam of blue light, and I saw 
 the child's head roll frrmi its shoulders, and the poor 
 body stand and sway, as it seemed to me, for many 
 seconds before it lurched and sank upon the sand. 
 
 As the blood spouted from the severed neck my 
 own blood leapt into my brain ; there was a red mist 
 before my eyes so that I could hardly see the sights 
 of my rifle, but Joe struck up the rifle before I could 
 fire. 
 
 " Not yet, Whitehead," he whispered — and I could 
 
 feel that even he was shaking like an aspen -" not 
 
 v^et ; we have no chance now. By-and-by ; wlien 
 
 xiey sleep. The men of Oorah were my tillicums 
 
 (friends)." 
 
 I dropped the rifle, and the cold beads of sweat 
 broke out upon my body. What devil's paradise had 
 I fallen into ? In my rage I would have killed, but 
 here was murder before my eyes which I could not 
 prevent, and murder — the murder of sleeping men — 
 whispered into my ear as justice. 
 
 Perhaps there was something which a good and 
 brave man should have done at that time. Perhaps 
 I should have sacrificed my life and my companions' 
 in a mad efl'ort to save those miserable prisoners, or 
 
140 
 
 THE cniCAMON STONE. 
 
 have f»o]ie down to plead to the deaf ears of the sea- 
 briites who liad tliem at their mercy. 
 
 But I am not a good, and perhaps not a brave man. 
 At any rate I did none of these things ; but sat down 
 crouching in my shed, hiding my eyes, and covering 
 my ears, and praying that the bitterness of these days 
 might pass from me. 
 
 Even now I cannot look back upon that wild night 
 without a shudder. The storm in itself was enough to 
 terrify most men. I remember that it tore the roof 
 from our shed, and no man iried to replace it, thouti^h 
 the rain poured in upon us, preventing sleep, and 
 glutting out our fires. I remember, too, the indistinct 
 figures of the mules, and their tramjiling and cries in 
 tlie dark. Like human beings they had come down 
 !u us for the sake of such comfort as they could find 
 Hi the neighljourhood of their masters. 
 
 And tlirough it all there was one glowing red spot, 
 like the eye of a demon on the beach, where the great 
 fires burned, and the Kula Kullahs feasted. 
 
 Thank God that the voice of tlie tempest drowned 
 all cries from that quarter ! We could see the light 
 and imagine what was being done in the glow of it, 
 but we were spared certain knowledge until with morn- 
 ing came silence. 
 
'JIIE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 141 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I THINK that it must have been near noon when Windy 
 Ike woke me — not from any care for my comfort, but 
 because Siyah Joe had been away all the morning, and 
 Ike was lonesome and frightened. 
 
 He wanted sor^o one to talk to, and I do not wonder 
 at that. The roof was off our cabin, and pools of water 
 stood upon its floor : in some of which I had been lying 
 until I was sodden through and through, and cold to 
 the marrow. I doi't know why men do not die of 
 cold and rheumatism in these places ; but for some 
 reason they do not. The earth is a sponge under your 
 feet whicli makes a puddle of every footprint, and the 
 very trees almost spurt water from their trunks if you " 
 lean against them ; but men do not take cold, nor do 
 tliey become rhc natie until past middle-life, when 
 really it would perhaps be better if all men died. It 
 is no good living when the joy of life lias gone. 
 
 8oda- water with the fizz off is a very poor beverage. 
 
 Perhaps it was the weather wliieli mu'V' luo think of 
 
142 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 these things, for Nature that morning was very flat 
 indeed. After her great carnival of storm, the world 
 looked ashamed of herself. 
 
 There was ruin everywhere. The sulky sea sobbed 
 and growled to itself, and mumbled over the wreckage 
 with which it still toyed. The beach was strewn with 
 monstrous tresses of kelp — some of them fifty feet long, 
 suggestive of the gigantic growths of the greatest of 
 earth's oceans — and with spars, and even some lumber, 
 which had been drifting a,bout at sea so long, that the 
 marks of man's labour had almost worn off it. Trees, 
 to whose fantastic proportions I had grown accustomed, 
 had lost their limbs, whose fractured ends showed 
 white and ghastly in the gloom of the dripping 
 greenery ; and one huge fellow, the home of the Kula 
 Kullah rookery, had blown over from its roots, and lay 
 there, the cause of much tribulation amongst its late 
 tenants. 
 
 Of course that fool Ike had not made a fire. Under 
 any, except the most favourable circumstances, I doubt 
 very much if he could have made one, and on that 
 morning fire-lighting was not easy. 
 
 The hearth was not only cold, it was a puddle ; 
 and it was long before I could lay my hand on any 
 kindling wood. Ike had breakfasted on cold tea and 
 canned meats, with a pull at a bottle kept for 
 Christmas, or sickness—?." I afterwards discovered— and 
 would pn»bably have kept to this diet as long as it 
 
THE CHICAMON STONF. 
 
 143 
 
 a 
 
 it 
 
 lasted rather than cook for himself; but I was glad 
 to have something to do, and set myself to repair the 
 ruins and make things comfortable. 
 
 When I had in some measure done this, Siyah Joe 
 came in, and stood draining slowly into the hot embers. 
 It was easy to see that he had not slept all night. 
 His rifle was still in his hands ; his face was drawn and 
 grey with want of rest and cold, and the water ran off 
 from his coarse hair as it is shed from a straw thatch. 
 
 But he turned to, after a lev/ moments, and sot 
 about helping me in that quiet, practical way which 
 makes even a handy white man ashamed of his help- 
 lessness. Then we sat down and ate in silence, and, 
 when we had finished, rose and left Ike still busy with 
 what we had cooked. lie liated cooking himself, but 
 no one appreciated decent food more than he did when 
 some one else had the preparing of it. 
 
 As I looked at the beach, an involuntary exclamation 
 escaped me. 
 
 " Five tens and three," said Joe, following my gaz , 
 " and most of them Tshimsian klootchmen from Oorah. 
 Kula Kullahs kill more women than men." 
 
 What we were looking at was a line of upright 
 stakes a few yards above high-water level. On the top 
 of each of them was a human head, its lung hair 
 swaying slowly this way and that in a little breeze, 
 and the dead eyes of all of tliem looking baclv across 
 the grey waters towards Oorah. 
 
■■! 
 
 144 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 'Jl 
 
 As Joe had said, there were fifty -three of them, and, 
 three nights ago, they were live men and women, free 
 to go where they would — men and women, for the most 
 part, who had never seen Kula Kullah, and who had 
 done the Kula Kullahs no wrong. 
 
 I turned away shuddering ; but Joe laughed — a hard 
 laugh between his teeth. 
 
 " Those," he said, " hyas kloosh (very good) ; no more 
 cold freeze them, no more hunger pinch them ; those 
 others down below very bad. They fear all the time." 
 
 " The Kula Kullahs ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the Kula Kullahs fear too. Last night the 
 Kula Kullah tree blow down. That very bad sign for 
 the Kula Kullahs. The crows are the fathers of the 
 sivash ; the crows' house fall, by-and-by the Kula 
 Kullahs' house fall too. They heap quash (fear), but 
 the others quash more." 
 
 " Who do you mean ? " 
 
 " The men they catch and bring along from Oorah." 
 
 I had forgotten the captives. 
 
 " How many did they bring, Joe ? " 
 
 " Thirteen. Last night they kill one : you see 
 that." 
 
 I had seen and was not likely to forget. 
 
 "There she is," he said, pointing to one of the 
 stakes from which exceptionally long black hair was 
 waving ; " she was my cousin." 
 
 His face looked unnaturally pinched and wan, even 
 
'f 
 
 THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 145 
 
 «i 
 
 lie 
 as 
 
 en 
 
 for a man who had spent the niglit as he had spent it ; 
 but he spoke very quietly. 
 
 Amongst the Indians the women will go off by 
 themselves to a place apart, and wail and cry for their 
 dead for days at a time, no one coming near to comfort 
 them, nor any taking heed of them ; but the men do 
 not weep nor utter any souna. 
 
 " Did you see the others, Joe ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I saw them. When the Kula Kullahs had 
 feasted, and were talking big of the brave things they 
 had done and the heads they had taken, I crawled 
 round to the rancherie. The dogs were full and asleep, 
 and no man heard me ; and through the boards I saw. 
 There are twelve of them." 
 
 *' Will they kill them too ? " 
 
 " Perhaps one or two for the god, but not all." 
 
 " Is there ^lo way in which we could save them ? " 
 
 "Can we pay for them? We have not enough 
 blankets to buy one." 
 
 " Won't they take money ? " 
 
 " What for ? Siwash not want any chicamon. Can 
 he eat it ? Will it keep him warm ? " 
 
 " Is there nothing we can do ? " 
 
 "Does Whitehead care very much if the siwashes 
 die ? " 
 
 "Enough to risk my life for them, Joe," I said 
 quietly. 
 
 " Nawitka. Then Whitehead and Joe will try, but 
 
 L 
 
 m 
 
 
146 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 not to-night. To-night the Kula Kullahs will watch. 
 They will not feast again to-day. They are heap 
 scared, and they have many things to make. Besides, 
 they will not kill again soon." 
 
 Even as he spoke I noticed men out upon the 
 beach, dragging in the biggest logs of driftwood, and 
 others busy amongst the trees with their axes. 
 
 That evening the neighbourhco T of the rancherie 
 was like a builder's yard, piles of logs and great stakes 
 lying in every direction ; and I think that that night, 
 to judge by the way the fires were kept up, none of 
 the Kula Kullahs slept much. Vengeance follows 
 murder ; and these men knew, by instinct as well as 
 by experience, that the slow feet had begun already to 
 travel their way. 
 
 All that day, and the next, and the day after that, 
 the Kula Kullahs worked like beavers ; and by the end 
 of that time the rancherie was protected by a very 
 fair rough stockade. 
 
 " Now they feast again, and play games," said Joe. 
 " Soon they forget all about the Tshimsians coming ; 
 and the Tshimsians know that and wait. But by-and 
 by time to let the other people go." 
 
 " Will they let them go ? " I asked, misunderstand- 
 ing him. 
 
 "No. Joe and Whitehead do that pretty soon. 
 They know we come to help them, so they keep a good 
 heart and wait." 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 147 
 
 Joe. 
 -au<l 
 
 Itand- 
 
 I soon, 
 good 
 
 I had fancied that Siyah Joe had forgotten, but I 
 wronged him ; he was )iot one to forget. And now I 
 thought of it I remembered how little I had seen of him 
 for the last few days. I had thought he was hunting ; 
 and, indeed, he had been for a part of the time, for I 
 had seen him skinning a great grey wolf which he 
 had brought in, with extraordinary care, as if he was 
 preparing a museum specimen rather than a hide. It 
 was drying at that moment behind our shed. 
 
 Two or thiee days passed, after this, without anything 
 occurring to break the monotony of our vigil. I hal 
 nothing to do except to watch the slow swaying of the 
 heads upon the beach, and staie out to sea for some 
 sign of a coming steamer. 
 
 Our boat was to go up to Wrangel some time before 
 the season opened; but even so it was too early to 
 expect her yet. But I could not help looking for her. 
 
 And then the games began. It was what the Indians 
 further south call the Feast of Klooh-quahn-nah, a 
 feast apparently of initiation to bloodsh^^d, at which 
 various fierce plays are indulged in ; the children, 
 terrified by all manner of hideous sights and sounds, 
 and taught, if not to kill, at least to handle the bodies 
 of victims without any show of terror or repugnance. 
 Ordinarily some old slave is killed as the sacrifice, or 
 used to be, for now white man's law and white man's 
 example have banished such barbarities from the 
 neighbourhood of Vancouver Island ; and, indeed, the 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 -^r 
 
t't- 
 
 148 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 1 
 
 strong arm of the Indian Office reaches far further 
 than that. 
 
 But in the old times, and perhaps still, in a few 
 remote corners which have escaped white man's notice, 
 if slaves were plenty, plenty of slaves were killed. The 
 more they killed the greater the feast, and knowing 
 this, I trembled for the unlucky Tshimsians. 
 
 The first great play was the wolves' attack — for so I 
 must call it, since I do not know the Indian name. 
 
 About noon one day we saw a great commotion 
 taking place inside the stockade. Men and women 
 rushed hither and thither, and the men were painted 
 and armed. All looked towards the edges of the pine- 
 timber where the front ranks of the trees encroached 
 upon the beach, and, following the direction of their 
 glances, I made out with my old field-glasses first one, 
 then two, and at last perhaps a dozen grey objects 
 crawling from the covert down to the beach. 
 
 I turned to call Joe's attention to this ; but though 
 he had been in the shed a moment before — or rather at 
 the back of it — softening his wolf's hide, he was gone 
 now, and, though I looked for him high and low, I 
 could not find him. 
 
 His wolf's hide had gone too, and, guessing that he 
 had taken it away to a better place to work upon it, 
 I returned to my look-out with Ike, who wanted to 
 shoot. As the wolves were well out of the longest rifle- 
 range, and as I thought the Kula KuUahs in no need 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 140 
 
 of our assistance, I told him to put up his rifle, though 
 he would have done neither good nor harm with it had 
 I let him have his way. 
 
 Like most men in the north, I had hitherto seen but 
 little of wolves. As a rule you do not see them by 
 daylight, unless it be now and again a single one 
 watching you from some hill-top or promontory as your 
 canoe glides down-stream. Before you can get within 
 range the watcher's tail drops, and with a few long, 
 loping strides he disappears in the brush. At night you 
 may hear them often enough driving the deer in the 
 winter season ; and so great is the terror they inspire, 
 that I have known a hind come and stand in the light 
 of my camp-fire, beside which I and another man 
 were sitting, whilst the long howls of her pursuers 
 echoed in the hill above us. Fear of them had made 
 her fearless of us. 
 
 But now I saw them hunting in broad daylight, or 
 rather, just at the setting of the sun. At first they 
 crept out, and lay in the shadows of the furthest pines, 
 watching, it seemed, until the whole of the band was 
 in place ; and I was able to pick them out when I knew 
 where to look for them, until I could see at least fifty 
 of the still, grey shapes lying in a semicircle round 
 the Indian stockade. 
 
 After a time they began to move. It was almDst 
 impossible to catch them actually moving, but their 
 positions changed little by little, until at last the line, 
 
 If 
 
 -Ml 
 
 :_>•■ 
 
 I 
 I 
 
150 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 which had lain in the shadow of the pines, had crept 
 some considerable distance down the shore. Then there 
 was a cry from the stockade, and, with one simultaneous 
 impulse, all the silent grey figures sprang to life, and 
 rushed forward with hideous howls, dashing at the 
 stockade, springing up it, and tearing at it with teeth 
 and claws, and in a few instances clambering over or 
 forcing a way through it. 
 
 Meanwhile those in the stockade were not idle. 
 The braves had had time, it seemed, to paint themselves 
 and make them ready for battle. Shot after shot rang 
 out from the enclosure, and little red spurts of flame 
 sprang out from between the palisades ; but the shoot- 
 ing seemed bad, for, though at such close quarters, only 
 one or two of the wolves fell, and these I noticed crawled 
 away lamely after a time. 
 
 But clubs and spears were used with terrific effect ; 
 and having seen, once or twice, individual wolves rear 
 against the palisades, and climb in such fashion as 
 no four-footed wolves could climb, I wondered how 
 so much realism could be put into Indian acting 
 without some serious casualties occurring. Perhaps 
 many a shrewd blow was given to wipe off old 
 scores, but I never heard of any serious accidents 
 occurring at these plays. 
 
 In half an hour the show was over ; the attack had 
 been repulsed, and one by one the wolves had slunk 
 back and vanished in the pines. As the shadows fell 
 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 151 
 
 tad 
 mk 
 fell 
 
 
 I could only see one of them still in the open, and I 
 question if he could have been seen except from such 
 a commanding point of view as that which I occupied. 
 
 When I first noticed him early in the fight he was 
 crawling away from the stockade badly hurt ; and I 
 imagined, from the painful way in which he dragged 
 his hind-quarters along the sand, that his hurt was a 
 real one, but no one took any notice of him. 
 
 Slowly he dragged himself along amongst the 
 wreckage near high-water mark, and then, my attention 
 being taken up with other things, I lost sight of him. 
 When I saw him next he was still creeping about 
 at the landing-place, where, in a long line, the Kula 
 Kullah canoes were moored in the deep water and 
 shelter afforded by the mouth of a small inlet. 
 
 Unlike most Indians the Kula KuUahs were 
 methodical in tlie matter of mooring their canoes. 
 As a rule these, though they are the Indians' most 
 valuable possessions, are beached here and there and 
 everywhere — handiness to the owner's dwelling-place 
 being the only condition considered. But at Kula 
 Kullah there was one point where all the fleet lay, and 
 it was here that the wounded wolf was crawling about. 
 
 In the rancherie, after the acting, all was animation. 
 A great feast was being prepared, and, the beach being 
 deserted, this one wolf had the world to himself. I 
 could not help wondering why, if he was really hurt, 
 he did not crawl back to his comrades and obtain 
 
m 
 
 152 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 assistance, or why, if he was not hurt, he did not cease 
 from his acting and walk back to his supper. 
 
 What was he doing there ? 
 
 And then an idea oc -jrred to me. Surely some of 
 the canoes had moved slightly from their moorings. 
 Surely, too, there were not quite as many of them 
 as there generally were ! The big canoe, which was 
 the end of the line and in full sight of the rancherie, 
 had not altered its position ; but the rest were afloat, 
 and some I could swear were missing. 
 
 And now I saw the lame wolf crawl towards the 
 rancherie for a few yards and lie watching. For 
 a while he watched, and then, crawling quickly into 
 one of the floating canoes, he crouched in it, and was 
 lost to sight. 
 
 After a time he slipped over the side and crawled 
 into another, and so on, from one to another, until he 
 had visited them all in turn ; and the first one which 
 he had entered was already almost flush with the 
 water of the inlet. 
 
 In another minute it had disappeared, and then, as 
 one by one the canoes vanished, the dusk fell, and I 
 could see no more. The wolf, whoever he was, was 
 scuttling the Kula KuUah fleet. As far as I could see 
 only one canoe, and that the one in full view of the 
 rancherie, still remained above water. 
 
 Quite what it all meant I did not clearly understand 
 then, but it did not seem good for the Kula KuUahs. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 153 
 
 As they were no friends of mine it did not concern mo, 
 and so I put up my glasses and went back to the 
 shed for supper, wondering if it would not be wise for 
 me to call Ike and Joe, and, crawling down in the 
 dark, take possession of the only boai left, and sail 
 away from this dangerous neighbourhood whilst the 
 owners were feasting. 
 
 We might possibly reach a plac no better for us 
 than this one, but we could not well find a worse. 
 
 Unfortunately there were the mules to be thought 
 of; they did not belong to me, and I had taken the 
 boss's money, and pledged him my word to look after 
 them. Even at the risk of my life I must try to redeem 
 that promise, and, even if this consideration had not 
 had sufficient weight with me, there was another. 
 I had promised Joe to assist him in the liberation 
 of the Tsliimsian captives, and they knew of my 
 promise, and were relying upon it as all that stood 
 between them and death. 
 
 Yes ; escape looked very easy and very tempting 
 that night. There was only one serious obstacle in 
 the way, a white man's ivord ; but that was a great 
 thing. It is the one thing, faith in which has tamed 
 the red men of British North America without much 
 assistance from firearms ; and it was not for me to 
 weaken any man's faith in that, which is the pride 
 of the race. But I wished Joe would come, and began 
 to fear that some evil had befallen him. 
 
 
 %\ 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
 Hi! 
 
w 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 j 
 
 ll 
 
 ! 
 
 ( ■ 
 
 ( 
 
 
 
 IM 
 
 154 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 As the tlioiight went througli my brair; a -jrey v.olt' 
 came iu sight upon the tiui' which leads from the 
 raiicherie to our shed, and, the next moment, Joe threw 
 the skill on the fl(jor at my feet. 
 
 " No more good now," he said. " But I think that 
 wolf-skin cost the Kula Kullahs plenty money." 
 
 {So he was the lame wolf I had seen amongst the 
 canoes. In truth no wolf had ever cost the Indians 
 nmre. 
 
 "The word that Whitehead spoke about the Tshim- 
 sians — was it a true Wv)rd ? " 
 
 "A white man's word, Joe," I answered, thinking 
 how strangely his rpiestion jumped with my own late 
 thoughts. 
 
 " ihen it is time to keep it. The Kula Kullahs are 
 tired with play and very full of food. They will sleep 
 s<»und to-night; ai\d the Tshimsians expect us." 
 
 " How can they kno»v, Joe ? " 
 
 " The lame wolf that made the canoea sink, climbed 
 
THE CUICAMON STONE. 
 
 1 DD 
 
 
 IXHJ 
 
 
 the stockade first ; the braves could not keep all the 
 wolves out." 
 
 It was a great risk he had taken, but I could see 
 now how feasible it had all been during the masquerade, 
 and I could have laughed at the shrewd use he had 
 made of their fooling. He must have forced his way 
 into the rancherie itself, and communicated with the 
 captives under the very eyes of their captors. 
 
 " When you tell me, Joe, I shall be ready." 
 
 " We will wait until the night comes. It will be all 
 black soon." 
 
 He did not take the trouble to trll me his plans. 
 He wanted my help, and that was enough ; and so wo 
 sat there waiting, whilst the rancherie grew gradually 
 quiet, until the only sound which broke the stillness 
 was the heavy snoring of Ike, to whom of course wo 
 confided nothing. 
 
 Then Joe rose and stripped iiimself to his skin. I 
 fancy that he would have liked it better if I had done 
 so too ; but, having moccasins on already, I contented 
 myself with throwing my hat and coat into the cabin ; 
 and then, one after the other, we crept down the wind- 
 ing pathway to the beach. 
 
 It was, as iie had said it would be, a black night. I 
 could not see him in front of me when ho was onco 
 beyond my reach, and only indisliiictly when he was 
 witMn arm's 
 
 •o' 
 
 y 
 
 that winding trail withotit touching a twig. As fur 
 
 
 . A 
 
 I 
 
 III 
 
!r 
 
 ! il 
 
 ! 'i 
 
 ill: 
 
 15G 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 me, I dare hardly put my feet down, and, bad I been 
 alone, I should have come to a standstill in the thick 
 brush beside the trail, before I had gone a hundred 
 yards. 
 
 The cracking of a twig was anguish to me at first, 
 but he reassured me. 
 
 " No matter," he said. ** Suppose Kula Kullahs hear, 
 they think mule come down the trail to eat seaweed ; 
 only come quick." 
 
 I suppose that in reality we did go quickly, but tlie 
 time did not pass quickly to me. 1 went through an 
 eternity of anxiety before we lay inside the stockade, 
 against the wooden walls of the rancherie, waiting, 
 whilst Joe peered through a crevice between the 
 boards. 
 
 There were many such crevices, and, imitating his 
 example, I too looked inside. At first I could see 
 nothing but a smoky darkness. Then my eyes grew 
 more accustomed to the place, and one of the dying 
 embers on the hearth flickered faintly. By it I could 
 see at first only one of the colossal figures which sup- 
 portc *. the roof-tree, its deep-set, gigantic eyes and wide 
 mouth fixed in a rigid stare, as it seemed to me, upon 
 the spot at which danger threatened. 
 
 Little by little I made out more. I could see some 
 of the sleepers. At the feet of one was a cur, such as 
 these men keep lor tracking the bears, and whilst I 
 looked it barketl. But it barked only in its dreams. 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 10/ 
 
 It, too, was too full fed to be on giianl. But the bark 
 startled me, and in moving I made a jilank rattle. 
 
 Instantly a rat scuttled along the log by which Joe 
 lay, and I never knew, nntil afterwards, that his nimble 
 fingers made the rat to cover my mistake. 
 
 One or two of the sleepers moved heavily in their 
 blaidvcts, and one klootchman reached ont her hand for 
 somctliing to throw, but her hand dropped again, and, 
 turning over, she lay still. 
 
 Tlien Joe be^^an to work slowlv at a board in front 
 of him. One by one, with teeth and fingers, he drew 
 out the nails, which had already been loosened, and 
 then gradually began to remove the board itself. Had I 
 had the work to do anxiety would have made me hurry. 
 I could not — no white man could — have endured the 
 protracted strain upon his nerves which this man 
 endured; and I could scarcely lie still, watching him, 
 as inch by inch he lowered the plonk to the grass. 
 
 I don't believe he made as much noise as a fly would 
 have done crawling over it. Then ho rose to his 
 knees, and I crept to his side and looked in over his 
 shoulder. The opening gave upon a space between 
 two of the partitions, along which a man might go to 
 the main hall by the big hcartli. In this space only 
 one man slept. He lay riglit under the board which 
 Joe had removed, and those who would go out or in, 
 must 1 iss over his body. IIow was this to be done ? 
 
 The solution of the riddle was in Joe's hand, and I 
 
 If 
 
^ 
 
 158 
 
 THE CHTOAMON STONE. 
 
 gripped his wrist only just in time. With a face of 
 fury he turned on me, and his strong teeth met like a 
 tiger's in my arm. There we lay for a moment, not 
 daring even to pant, my hand on his throat and his 
 eyes glaring into mine. 
 
 " Not whilst he sleeps, Joe ? " I pleaded. 
 
 " Wake them all and die, then ! " he hissed. 
 
 It was a terrible position. If we spared this man, we 
 must sacrifice twelve others. To save them we must 
 take the lifo of a man in his sleep. 
 
 I was young then and could not do it, or see it 
 done ; but twelve lives were of more value than one, so 
 I let go my grip, and turning away hid my eyes. He 
 understood my action if he could not realize my 
 feelings ; but I wish I had closed my ears as well as 
 my eyes, so that at night I might not hear again that 
 low, dull thud. 
 
 It might have been a rat dropping from the rafters, 
 or a log settling in the embers, but I knew better what 
 it was. 
 
 At any rate there was no cry, and the sleeper — a deep 
 sleeper now through all eternity — never stirred, except 
 perhaps that the legs straightened and the jaw dropped ; 
 and when I dared to look again, I saw, one after 
 another, eleven men crawl through the opening and 
 lie on the grass by Joe's side. There was still one to 
 come. 
 
 " Where is Skookum Jim? " I heard Joe whisper. 
 
TOE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 159 
 
 " Tied and guarded," one answered. " He was chosen 
 for the sacrifice to-night at the feast." 
 
 For a few moments they conferred together, and Joe 
 peered into the interior. Then he withdrew and pointed 
 to where some paddles lay. The others took them up. 
 
 " Are you not going to save him, Joe ? " 
 
 " No ; he must die. Come with us." 
 
 From where I was I could now see the bound 
 man, and I could see the two guards sleeping at his 
 feet. They had bound him round the knees of one 
 of the great idols which served as pillars for the 
 house. I knew by my own instinct, though I could 
 not see whether his eyes were opened, that this poor 
 wretch must be awake ; that he must have seen his 
 countrymen from Oorah crawl like snakes along the 
 floor of the rancherie and glide safely through the 
 open panel, and pictured to myself the horror of his 
 despair, left alone to die whilst they escaped safe and 
 sound to Oorah. 
 
 And then I saw the shape inside : the limp, lifeless 
 thing in the blankets. I had consented to its death 
 as the price of the other's freedom. The bargain I had 
 made with my conscience was, " one for twelve." There 
 were to be but eleven. The white man's word had 
 been passed to twelve; why should it be broken to 
 one of the twelve ? 
 
 "Wait for me one minute at the boat, Joe," I 
 whispered ; " I am going in for Skookum Jim." 
 
 h 
 
Ill 
 
 i. I 
 i! 1 
 
 i . 
 
 ItM, 
 
 tr,o 
 
 THE CniGAMON STONE. 
 
 " Yon cannot ! it is madness ! " 
 
 " White man*s word, Joe ; " and, hardly stopping to 
 think, I glided through the entrance. 
 
 How I went I don't know ; my feet found their own 
 way. I remember the look in the eyes of the tied man ; 
 I shall never forget that. And I remember the snick 
 with which the leather bands gave to my knife — too 
 loud a snick, — but it gave me a sort of pleasure then 
 to hear them give, and I slashed the other two fiercely, 
 so that the man nearly fell as his supports gave way. 
 He was numbed and paralyzed by tlie tightness with 
 which he had been bound, and his stumble was our 
 undoing. 
 
 I know it is only fancy, but I could swear that as 
 the noise of his stumble echoed through the sleeping 
 rancherie, I saw the idol to which he had been tied 
 grin all across its broad, flat face. 
 
 AVith a yell the cur was across the floor and at us, 
 and at the same moment one of the guards sprang to 
 his feet. He never saw me. As he reached his feet 
 my right hand reached his jaw, and he fell in a deeper 
 slumber than the one he had left, and with a rush 
 the captive and myself reached the opening. 
 
 A knife (thrown, I think) quivered in the boards 
 above my head as I went through ; a harpoon, driven 
 home at half arm's length, plunged into Skookum Jim*s 
 bowels, and killed him too soon for the sacrifice. 
 
 He would never see Oorah again ; but he had had a 
 

 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 161 
 
 .» 
 
 s 
 
 a 
 
 
 run for his life, and had been spared many honrs of 
 miserable waiting. That was at least something. And 
 I had kept my word ! 
 
 But 1 had no time to think then. I was fleet of 
 foot at that time as a buck ; but the last man was 
 clambering into the canoe when I reached it. That 
 man was Joe. A moment he waited and cauii;ht my 
 hand. 
 
 " Brave man, Whitehead ; now hide in the brush and 
 crawl back to camp. They will see us, and won't hunt 
 you." 
 
 He gave me no choice or chance of replying, but 
 with one strong shove sent the canoe from shore. I had 
 only just time — barely enough time — to drop behind a 
 log, and squirm thence into the brush, before the whole 
 pack from the rancherie was down upon us. But they 
 were still bemused with sleep, and excited beyond the 
 power of thinking collectedly of anything; besides 
 which, all eyes were now upon the canoe, which was 
 paddled boldly out into the open, and slowly too at that. 
 
 For a moment the dazed savages stared at their 
 escaping captives, and then, with a rush, they went for 
 their other canoes. 
 
 But there were no others. 
 
 Yesterday there were nigh upon twenty ; now, there 
 was nothing but a little one-man canoe, and no man 
 dared to take that against twelve desperate men, So 
 some ran this way and some tliat, as if they thought that 
 
162 
 
 THE CHICAMC : STONE. 
 
 It 
 
 the canoes were mislaid, and some even struck out 
 a few strokes into the water, whilst the canoe of the 
 Tshimsians lay there mocking them. 
 
 " Why don't you come to us? Has not Kula Knllah 
 many war-canoes ? " cried the men of Oorah. '* See, we 
 liave but one, and there is not a rifle amongst us." 
 
 That was a foolish speech. In an incredibly short 
 space of time a rifle was brought from the rancherie ; 
 it must have been on its way thence already ; and a 
 bullet chipped a great strip of wood from the bow of 
 Joe's boat. 
 
 Then the Tshimsians bent to their paddles, whilst the 
 man with the rifle pumped lead after them as fast as 
 he could fire ; but he did less execution than he would 
 have done had he taken aim once, and I think that, 
 when the blackness which hung over the waters swal- 
 lowed up the canoe, the men of Oorah had neither 
 scathe nor scar from that encounter. 
 
 And that was the last I saw of the Tshimsians, though, 
 long after they were out of sight, I could hear the 
 rhythmical beat of their paddles in the darkness. Like 
 a fish escaped from a net they vanished into their 
 native element, and their captors stood there as long as 
 they could hear the paddles, firing futile randv..n shots 
 in the direction in which the canoe liad gone. But the 
 shots made only harmless sparks of light in the great 
 ocean of darkness which lay around Kula Kullah. 
 
 Until nearly morning the mob of Kula Kullahs 
 
THK CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 163 
 
 as 
 
 .19 
 
 lie 
 at 
 
 remained round the scene of the rescue, shattering like 
 daws, and splashing about in the water in which their 
 canoes were sunk. Even the women came down and 
 joined them, after a time ; and each new arrival roused 
 a fresh storm of questions and answers and wild 
 invective. 
 
 All this time I dared not move. As they became 
 calmer the savages became more alert, and the snap- 
 ping of a single twig would have brought the whole 
 pack upon my heels. For the present, no doubt, 
 they believed that every one connected with the 
 rescue had escaped in the canoe ; if the idea ever 
 occurred to them that one man was lett, it would be 
 certain death for that one man. 
 
 Through those long hours I never moved ; but my 
 brain was never quiet, cursing my own foliy and .foe 
 for not taking me into the canoe. Then I should have 
 been safe; now I could almost feel one of those 
 murderous harpoons crashing into my vitals. 
 
 Little by little the blackness in the sky lost its 
 intensity, a faint, cold breeze began to move the top 
 limbs of the pines, and I heard a bird crying over 
 the sea. 
 
 The dawn was coming, and, luckily for me, the Indians 
 were going. One by one they walked back slowly to 
 the rancherie; and at last, stiff with cold and weak 
 with excitement, I rose and began to crawl homewards. 
 There was 
 
 way 
 
 my 
 
164 
 
 THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 that I had accidentally blundered upon a deer-trail, 
 which led upwards, and, knowing that the favourite 
 deer-pass from the peak was no great distance from 
 our cabin, I followed this. It was bound to lead into 
 the main trail. 
 
 As I was creeping wearily up it in the half-light, I 
 heard a rattling in the bush far below me. Every 
 sound, however faint, meant pursuit in my ears that 
 morning, and my heart went into my mouth. What 
 if, after all, some one of the savages had seen me, and 
 was even now stalking me as he would stalk a deer at 
 dawn ? For a few minutes I lay and listened, and then 
 I heard it again : a rustling in the bushes, now here, 
 now there, as if some one was quartering the ground for 
 game. Probably, I thought, that is it. A coyote m a 
 wolf hunting for a rabbit, and I hurried along the 
 narrow trail again, determined to stop no more until 
 I reached my home. How I longed then to see even 
 Ike's homely face ! 
 
 But the rustling continued and came closer, and 
 then, sharp and clear in the stillness, I heard the yap 
 of a dog hunting, and next minute saw the same vil- 
 lainous cur which had betrayed me in the rancherie, 
 running on my tracks. He had come down with his 
 masters, and, having one sense more than they had, 
 had detected my presence, and would in another 
 minute betray it to them. 
 
 But he had not seen me yet, and I had a chance. 
 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 165 
 
 I was still some distance above hiiu, and the brush 
 was thick on either side of the trail. Into this I 
 jiimpe<l, and, snatching np a stout broken limb of 
 a pine tree, ran downhill parallel with and close to 
 the trail. 
 
 I was borrowing a hint from the moose of Cassiar. 
 
 Fifty yards down the trail I crouched and waited, 
 whilst the little beast worked uphill, running entirely 
 by nose, but running keenly now. He knew I was 
 not far off. Luckily for me he did not know how close 
 I was, and, true to his training, stuck close to the 
 scent. Yap ! yap ! he came, every moment growing 
 noisier and more jubilant, until he was abreast of me, 
 and then I brought my pine bough down across his 
 back with all the strengtli left in me. From that 
 moment he was a dead dog, and, shying his Ixxly into 
 the brush as far as I could sling it, I ran the rest of 
 the way home, never stopping until 1 had my blankets 
 in my hand. 
 
 After my night's adventure even that shack looked 
 comfortable. The red blankets looked absolutely 
 luxurious, and I hurried to get my wet moccasins off, 
 and roll myself up in the soft, warm things. But I 
 woke Windy Ike in doing so, and Ike was very con- 
 servative of his right to sleep at least half of the 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 " Been out again ? " he grumbled. *' Ijooking after 
 mules, I suppose you'll say ? " 
 
166 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 " No ; but it's about time for you to get up and 
 do that." 
 
 " Well, what in thunder have you been doing ? You 
 and Joe are just the two most pernicketty night-hawks 
 I ever did strike. There ain't no peace for a man night 
 nor day in this confounded hole ! " 
 
 " Nor any work for you, either, it seems to me." 
 
 " Work ! — it's work all day and most of the night, 
 what with doing chores and cooking." 
 
 " Much cooking you do ! I'll tell you what it is : 
 you just get up now and watch, if you don't want your 
 throat cut ; I am going to sleep. I've done my spell of 
 watching, and mean to turn in." 
 
 " What is there to watch for ? The steamer ain't 
 likely to come, is she ? and, if she does, I guess she'll 
 wait for morning." 
 
 *' I'm not thinking of steamers ! " I answered angrily. 
 " But you are under my orders, and, if you don't get 
 up and watch, I'll put a bullet through you. Do you 
 understand that ? " 
 
 " Your orders ? " 
 
 " Yes ! my orders ! " and I snatched up my Win- 
 chester. I was utterly worn-out and irritable. 
 
 The man saw that I w as in earnest, and rose sullenly 
 to obey. 
 
 " And what's your orders, sir, if the steamer comes ? " 
 he asked sneeringly. 
 
 "My orders are to keep awake and keep your 
 
 
THE CaiCAMON STONE. 
 
 167 
 
 mouth shut, and, it you see any siwashes coming, wake 
 me before they come too near. Or go to sleep and have 
 your throat cut, I don't care ; " and, so saying, I turned 
 over on my side and slept. And l'r<jni the fact that 
 a fire had been lighted wlieu I woke, I fancy that 
 my mention of throat-cutting had liad some effect 
 upon Ike. 
 
 But the sun was high when I woke; nnd hunger, 
 not duty, may have prompted Ike to light that fire. 
 
 To my surprise, when I sat up in my blankets I saw 
 that Joe was rolled up in his on the floor by my side. 
 He must have come when I slept ; but how the deuce 
 liad he come back? When I last saw liini ho was 
 steering the war-canoe of the Tshimsians into the 
 night towards Oorah. 
 
J.G« 
 
 TJIE (JHICAMON STONE. 
 
 CJJAPTEK VI. 
 
 In 
 
 As 1 sat ami \vat«rhe(l Joe iie l>e<^an ti» move restlessly 
 ill his Sleep, nuittariiij^ vvouN: of v.iiieh I conM not 
 catch the sense — if indeed tlicio was any sense in them. 
 Then suddenly he rose \i\ on liis elbow and stared 
 fixedly towanls the licarth, his features convulsed with 
 what looked like fear. Jiut his eyes were fast ;shut ; 
 ho was stiii asleep, 
 
 "Joe!" I sh«)uted, " wake up! ' and 1 tossed o liillet 
 of wood at him, whi(di, striking him in the ribs, 
 brouf^ht iiim back from the land of dreams, but not, 1 
 thought, to his s' nses, for, af'^er one wild, doubting 
 stare ai the heartli, he began to tear up tlir blankets 
 in whi<di he iuid bem lying, and to pour tliem and all 
 his other possessions, with both arms, uj>on the live 
 .oals, muttering all the vvhile as he did so, "More, 
 moie I " 
 
 r was so taken aback by liis madness, tb.at for a 
 minute 1 did not inierfero. Ihit when he plucked (»ut 
 a knife, and began shisliing at his forearm willi it 
 
 f 
 li 
 
 c 
 

 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 M>9 
 
 until the blood spouted to his linger-tips, 1 «;athered 
 my wits t()<^etber, and, springing upon him, pinned his 
 arms to his sides. 
 
 This was more easily accomplished tha i I might 
 have expected. Indeed, instead of having to struggle 
 against the paroxysms <>f madness, I lound iFoe so 
 tracjtable tliat I took my hands oil' him almost at once. 
 
 When I did so, the strange fellow walked across the 
 floor to that s})i)t which had drawn his waking eyes, 
 and, sliaking the blood irom his linger-tip.v, so 
 besprinkled it. 
 
 " What foolery are you ot, Joe ? " J asked. 
 
 " Whitehead did not see the koutsmah. It was 
 there." 
 
 " V«m were dreaming ; tliere was no kdutsnmh (spirit) 
 in this shack. 1 have been awake lor half an hour." 
 
 " W'liitehead think he see; think Joe sleep. White- 
 head's koutsmah sleep; Siyah .Joe's koutsmah wake. 
 Joo see the head there very plain, and ho know the 
 the face ; only now Joe forgets; " and he pressed his 
 hand to his forehead. 
 
 '* Yes, .foe forgets," he went on, talking half to 
 himself. " The head he stop there. Whose face was 
 it? Whv was th<'ro onlv a head? Wliy was the 
 ground all white? What was it between Joe and the 
 head? The head saw it, and c(»uld not come to 't ; .loo 
 could not see. Why «'ould not .I'jo see any of these 
 things ? " 
 
 i *^ *(| 
 
170 
 
 THE (JHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 il 
 
 )* 
 
 " J]ecause you were asleep, and ha<l your eyes shut," 
 I said, witli the impatience one naturally feels lor such 
 t'hildisli lollies. "And now what are you going to do 
 for more blankets ? " 
 
 Joo looked at me, more hurt than angered. 
 *' Whitehead not believe in koutsmahs. No? By- 
 and-by Whitehead see.'* 
 
 " And about the blankets ? " 
 
 "Joe not want any more blankets now. Perhaps 
 Whitoliead not want any more after to-day." 
 " Wiiat the deuce do you mean ? " 
 " No matter, come now and watch. The Kula 
 Kulhdis como to ask (piestious." 
 
 How he knew it I cannot guess, but, as we rcjichetl 
 tlie door of tlie shed, two or three Kida Kuliahs 
 came up tlie trail. .loe stood leaning on iiis rille as 
 they drew near; and 1 think that they noticed tliu 
 ritle, and it may have altered their intentions. 
 
 After an exchange of greetings they asked us a few 
 unini[K)rtant (picstioiis, wliilst one of their number 
 wandered aimlessly around the hut. lie touched 
 nothing, but his eyes were very busy. 
 
 1 t«dd one of them that 1 had watched the W(dves 
 with my glasses the day before, and asked him what 
 all the sh<K)ting had been about at night. But 1 could 
 only learn that the god Ki-i was very angry with his 
 children, and that the home of the Kida Kidlait crows 
 had fallen, which I knew. 
 
 I ' 
 
I.llkl 
 
 ' 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 171 
 
 They did not say a word about the death of one of 
 their number, nor of the escape of the captives. 
 
 They asked where Ike was, and I told them truth- 
 fully enough that I did not know — looking after his 
 mules, I supposed. And they asked me when the big 
 smoke-ship wouKl come again, and I replied, not quite 
 so truthfully, that I expected her to come in sight any 
 minute — that indeed she was already overdue. 
 
 Then they went away and left us, some going up 
 the hill and some back to the rancherie. 
 
 Three hours later I heard something fall in the hut, 
 at the back of which 1 was busy preparing our dinner. 
 As I went to set wliether it was my kettle wliich had 
 upset, Joe came out with a knife in his hand. He 
 had picked it up on the Hour of the hut, and I recognized 
 it as that \\K which he had stabl)ed the sleeping 
 Ivula KuUah tlie night before. In his hurry he had 
 left it in tiie wound. 
 
 "Kula Knllalis know now. They knew wiicn they 
 came here, liut this is not siwash blood ; " and he 
 held up the blade to show me that it was red and wet. 
 
 I could hurtlly frame the (juestion tluit 1 wanted to 
 ask, but my eyes asked for me. 
 
 " Ike ! " was all he said. 
 
 So we were only two now ; and the poor, grumlding 
 packer had paid with his life for the life we ha<l taken. 
 
 ''They arc «ihit> now ; and tlicv will b iry llieir man ; 
 and then it will be onr turn. 
 
 n ! 
 
 it 
 
 *? f 
 
172 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 IP 
 
 Their man was, of course, he who had slept across 
 the doorway. And, during the long watch of that after- 
 noon, we lieard tho women keening, and, early in the 
 grey of the next morning, they put him to rest, wedged 
 upright in a crevice in the rocks, on the coast of Kula 
 Kullah, with his face to the sea. So are buried most 
 of his kinsmen ; and some day, if the graves give up 
 their dead, tho islands between the north end of Van- 
 couver Island and Wrangel will be grey with them. 
 
 At niglit, even now, the Kula Kullahs say that they 
 come out in the dark, and peer over the waste of waters, 
 looking for tho war-canoes to come and bring them 
 fresh company. 
 
 And now we had to let the mules shift for themselves. 
 Day and night we watched in turn, our cartridges laid 
 out in handy places, and our hut barricaded as well as 
 we knew how to barricade it. 
 
 We womM have tried to escape, but there was no 
 place to escape to on the island ; and Joe ha<l taught 
 them sucli a lessim of caution in regard to their canoes, 
 that it would have been hopeless to attempt to get 
 away in one of them. 
 
 Wo dared not leave the hut. Ike's fate was always 
 before us, and, knowing that he must have foreseen 
 tliis, 1 could not help won<lering at the loyalty whicli 
 had made .loe leave tlie Tshimsians ii. the stolen war- 
 canoe to swim ashore and sliare my prril. My attempt 
 to rescue Skookum .liiii had restored me to the |»lace 
 
iva 
 jen 
 
 lav- 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 173 
 
 ill his esteem which my soft-lieartediiess liad jeopnr- 
 dized. 
 
 For one day after the burial of the Kiila Kiillah 
 everything was quiet. It was the longest day I ever 
 spent, and the night of it was longer tlian the day. 
 I felt the oppression which Nature seems to feel before 
 a thunderstorm, and, like Nature, my whole system 
 seemed charged with suppressed excitement, and my 
 senses were so keen tliat I was painfully conscious of 
 the fall of every twig in tlie brush w1h(;]i surrounded us. 
 
 And that reminds me that, during every moment of 
 his spare time, Joe was busy with axe and knife clear- 
 ing away every bush or tree on the little plateau in 
 front of the hut. At first I thought h(^ was merely 
 cutting fuel, but the stuff he cut was green and useless 
 for that. The men wlio were watching us did not notice 
 what worthless wood Joe was cutting as soon as I did. 
 
 As yet they dared not come near enough to see 
 that ; but before the evening of that day they saw ; and 
 a bullet, which knocked his axe out of his hand, warned 
 Joe that he had carried that gajiie as far as it was sale 
 to. lie did not wait to give the marksnum another 
 chance, liut he luid doneussouut gocxl alnaily : tht re 
 was very little cover left above the edge of the 
 plateau in which an enemy could liitie. 
 
 Ou the morning of the third day a new sound came 
 to our ears. Have von ever hoard bees swarminir? 
 that N\rti> the sound in miniature. All the morning it 
 
 1 
 
 M 
 
174 
 
 THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 i:v 
 
 went on, rising and falling ; and witli nvy glasses wo 
 could see the Kula KuUahs gathered on the beacli. 
 It was the incessant murmur of tlieir angry voices 
 which had reminded me of the swarming bees. After 
 a time one man — whom I know for the cliief by his 
 huge shoulders — rose, and flinging back his blanket, 
 spoke to his tribesmen in a voice like the roaring of 
 a storm from the south-west. 
 
 I should think that he spoke for half an hour. 
 After he had spoken two or three others rose, and, 
 now and again, th'^re was a hum of approval or dissent ; 
 but, whenever the speaker's arm was raised towards 
 where we watched, there was no mistaking the menace 
 in the voice of the mob. 
 
 " To-night they come," said Joe, pumping the car- 
 tridges out of his rifle, and carefully refilling it. It 
 lield seventeen of the little brass messengers in its 
 chambers, and we had each a case of twenty more 
 su<'h messengers to fall back upon. 
 
 It they did not rush our jMisition, that night's hunt 
 seemed likely to be a costly one for the Kula Kullahs. 
 
 The first attack was made in the dark of early night, 
 before the moon rose. Even Joe did not hear them 
 coming, and, thinking that they would wait for some 
 light to shoot by, ho and 1 were snai* hing a hasty 
 meal of canned meat by the light of a little woo<l fire 
 in the middle of the hut. 
 
 Suddenly there was a rattle of shuts, the meat-can 
 
THE CIirCAMOX STONE. 
 
 175 
 
 It 
 
 Hint 
 iaVis. 
 
 Ihein 
 unne 
 lastv 
 livo 
 
 ■fan 
 
 flew out of my hands, and two or tlireo splinters of 
 wood or bullets sent the red ashes all over the 
 floor. We had no time to j:];ather them top;ether. Tf 
 the shack Imrned down we could not help it. 
 
 In a moment we were at our posts, one <j^uardin«j: the 
 front, and one the rear of the ono-roouied build in j,^ 
 and each entrenched behind a solid barricaile of lieavv 
 timber made ready for the purpose. 
 
 " Don't fire till you see thorn," whispered Joe, and, 
 in obedience to his advice, we received another volley 
 without returning a single shot. 
 
 "Soon they think wo dead. Then they (;ome 
 closer." 
 
 As he spoke I saw a stump, or what I had taken for 
 one, move a little towards me. Tliinking that my 
 eyes were playing me tricks, I waited until I saw it 
 distinctly roll slowly over towards the liut. Then I 
 fired, and the stump sprang to its feet, only to come 
 down again, with a bullet through the middle of it ; 
 whilst what I had taken for a faggot, left purposely 
 near the hut, took three bullets to keep it ({uict. 
 
 jVfean while Joe had been busy. 1 hoard him tiro 
 so quickly that I was afraid lie was tlimwing away 
 amuiuniti«m; but two out of his iive bullets told, and 
 that was good work in such an infamously i>ad liglit. 
 
 "Better watch," he said. " But I think that stop 
 them a little wluk>." 
 
 And then the edge of the clouds was toucltod witli 
 
 It 
 
176 
 
 THE CmCAMON STONE. 
 
 r n". 
 
 a silvery light, and the moon rose. We shonld die in 
 the light, and that was better than being shot down in 
 the dark. For the next half-hour there was dead silence. 
 As the moon rose higher and higher the calm of the 
 night was in strange contrast to the way in which we 
 were spending it. 
 
 " All over soon now," said Joe. " They make a ring 
 in the trees and rush us. Good-bye, Wliitehead ; I 
 go and look once." And lie crawled to the roof, and 
 stood sufficiently exposed to give a lair chance to a 
 marksman. 
 
 But they did not choose to show their positions by 
 firing, or had not enough confidence in their shooting. 
 Seeing that no one fired I joined Joe, keeping as 
 much out of sight as possible. 
 
 Below us lay tlie beach, flooded with silvery light, 
 contrasting strongly with the dense darkness which lay 
 under the shadow of tlie pines. 
 
 In the full whiteness of the moonlight stood tlie 
 long row of stakes, and the wind was playing strange 
 tricks with their Imrden, waving the hair of the dead, 
 and turning their faces, so it seemed to me, towards 
 Oorah. How soon would our dead eyes be looking tlie 
 same way ? 
 
 The answer came in one sliort order from the brush ; 
 and then, with an unearthly yell, the Kula Kullalis 
 rushed from the shadows (m all sides of us. I had no 
 time to see what happened ; 1 had enough to do in 
 
THE OHICAMON STONK. 
 
 177 
 
 Ihs 
 
 Ino 
 
 im 
 
 working the pump of my Winchester. But though I 
 fired until my barrel burned my fingers, and though 
 Joe's rifle seemed to send out one uninterrupted stream 
 of flame and sound, we could not check the rush. 
 
 There were so many of our foes that the death of one 
 of them made no difference, and already they were 
 tearing down the frail walls of our shack with their 
 bare hands, whilst one had died across our hearth, 
 brained by Joe, in the very act of driving his spear 
 through my back. 
 
 We were like a fox now in the middle of the pack ; 
 one sharp worry and it woidd have been all over. But, 
 even as we set our teeth to take our death in silence, as 
 men should, there arose such a storm of shrieks, such 
 a roar of war-cries from the beach below, that even 
 those hounds running for blood lieard it, and were 
 checked in mid-career. 
 
 For one breathing-space thoy stood in dumb amaze ; 
 and then, above the war-cries and the shrieks, rose the 
 voice of lire, and a great spout of flame shot u}) from 
 where the Indian raucherie stood. The Tshimsians 
 had come for vengeance. 
 
 Joe saw it, and, divining what had hai>pened, in a 
 moment sprang recklessly upon the roof and dropped 
 three of the Kula Kullahs in their tracks before, 
 without another glance at us, tliey turned and plunged 
 downhill through the pints. 1 did not lire ; my 
 heail was weary of slaying, and it made no matter. 
 
 H 
 
178 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Whether 1 slew, or they slew down below, the men of 
 Kiila Kullah were doomed. 
 
 The white light of the moon looked pallid now. In 
 place of its peaceful silver, a red, lurid glow was over 
 everything. From the great roof-tree of the rancherie 
 forked tongues of flame leaped and streamed; tlie 
 stockade was a river of fire through which, from time 
 to time, some hunted thing, its hair streaming in the 
 wind, dashed, only to die on the spears of the howling 
 demons outside, who hacked and stabbed at everything 
 that moved until it lay still. 
 
 A handful of our late assailants behaved like men. 
 With the flames of their home in their eyes, they 
 charged down the beach Irom the pines, and their 
 great chief led them on. 
 
 I saw a woman with her baby in her arms turn and 
 double as slie met the line of Tshimsian spears. 8ho 
 had brought her young one through the flames only 
 to die by steel. A laugh went uj) as she dodged one 
 brave after another ; it was merry work, and they made 
 no haste to catch her. But at that moment the Kula 
 Kullah charge came home, and, as 1 saw her creep into 
 the brush unhurt, 1 thanked (jod for two lives spared. 
 
 Hitherto it had been a one-sided massacre, now it 
 almost seemed as if the tide of the battle had turned. 
 Using some sort of a spear, the great-shouldered chief 
 rushed in to close (luartors. His gun-bearers, of whom 
 he had iwo, might use the rifles. In his deadly strait 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 179 
 
 
 it 
 
 he clung to the weapon he loved and knew. Tie was 
 the harpooner of his tribo now, and lie speared tho 
 Tshimsians as lie would have speared seals on tho beach. 
 
 For ten minntes the braves of 0«trah learned what 
 fighting meant. " Wah ! Wah ! " you heard his hoarse 
 cry, half sob, lialf snort, as lie drove liis weai)on 
 home, and never a man in all that mob either fendo<l 
 his blow or needed a second. 
 
 If there had been ten men like him that night 
 amongst his tribe, no Tshimsians would have gone 
 back to Oorah. 
 
 But there was not one like him. In spite of bis 
 gallant leading some fled and some fell ; and, step by 
 step, he was driven down his own beach to his own 
 killing-yard, until he stood at bay in front of that 
 dead lino of his own iiiaishalling. 
 
 Even there, and abme, lie held tlio Tsliiinsiaiis at 
 bay; and though 1 know liim for a savage and a 
 murderer, who would have addcMl my own head to his 
 trophies that night but for tlic Tshimsians' attack, I 
 could not witlihold a tribute of adminition for the man 
 lighting so gallantly in tho glow of his own burning 
 homestead. 
 
 If he was a monster, ho was at any rate one worthy of 
 the savage seas that bore him. If ho iuid tlieir cruelly, 
 he had also scmie (»f their magnificent might. 
 
 How long he wouhl have held his own amongst (ho 
 shrinking Tshimsians 1 "aiuiot toll. fi»r as thoy ringed 
 
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 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 him round I heard a cry, so tierce, so shrill that it 
 rang above the crackling of the burning beams and 
 the measured sob of ocean, and I saw a lithe, naked 
 figure cross the beach in splendid bounds like a 
 cheetah loosed upon a deer. 
 
 AVith a rush that nothing could stay, Joe — for it was 
 he — went through the shrinking Tshimsians and in at 
 his man, diving under the lifted spear, and, winding 
 his long arms round the spearman's mighty thigh, so 
 that the spear-thrust struck empty air and the great 
 chief himself was lilted off his legs shoulder high and 
 rolled crashing in the sand. 
 
 But the sand was soft, and his brawny neck was like 
 the neck of a bull ; so that, beyond a stunning shock, he 
 came to no great hurt, and moreover he clung to Joe 
 with his left arm, so that he dragged him with him in 
 his fall, and lay locked with him under the very eyes 
 of the dead of Oorah. 
 
 But the dead of Oorah were looking out to sea to 
 where their home lay, over the dark waters, so that 
 they saw neither their foe nor their champion, as the 
 two writhed and twisted on the sand, until for a 
 moment these were at deadlock, Joe still above, but 
 spent, and merely clinging to his foe. And that foe, 
 as I could see, only getting breath for a moment, and 
 drawing up his limbs for one mighty effort, after which 
 the slighter man would lie helpless as a child beneath 
 the giant's spear. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 181 
 
 And tlieii the wind changed, and, swinoing as a vane 
 swings, the ghastly beads of Oorah turned slowly 
 round, and their dead eyes looked down in the Kula 
 Kullah's face. 
 
 My friends say that of course the great brute burst 
 a blood-vessel in his struggles, or died, as such men 
 will, m a fit. So be it ; but let me believe as the men 
 of Oorah believe— and that is not their belief. 
 
 However it was, I hnow that, whilst in the very 
 act of throwing Joe beneath him, the dead eyes fell 
 upon the Kula Kullah chief, and he dropped back, and 
 lay without a struggle and witliout a wound, dead, by 
 the side of a man who was too spent to rise to his feet! 
 
 i 
 
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 m 
 
il 
 
 fl 
 
 i 
 
 ) 
 
 182 
 
 THE CHICAMON 8T0NE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 When I crept down to the beach, the warriors of the 
 Tshimsian tribe were busy preparing for their return 
 to Oorah. They had revenged the death of their tribes- 
 men, they had gathered a plentiful harvest of the 
 hideous trophies which make the pride of such a clan 
 as theirs, and had lent a hand in the extinction of a 
 race which could not, in any event, endure long before 
 the advance of white man's civilization ; but they were 
 afraid of the solitude they had created, and were 
 anxious to be gone. 
 
 The walls of the rancherie had fallen in ; the great 
 roof-tree, or what was left of it, lay still smouldering 
 amongst the embers, but the glare of the fire had 
 subsided, and the shadows, having crept back into the 
 brush, the long line of war-canoes, in which they had 
 stolen upon Kula Kullah, now gleamed ghostly in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 One party of the Tshimsians was out along the shore ; 
 l)ut whether they were burying their newly slain, or 
 
'JU(»1'W«I|"|H"1|«» 
 
 ? 71 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 188 
 
 
 whether they were finding sepulture for the heads which 
 had watched their coming, I do not know. That they 
 did not bury the dead of Kula Kullah I know, for the 
 headless trunks lay hi all directions, thickest round 
 the fallen home of the crows. 
 
 The warriors were sullen now, and savage : not 
 jubilant, as men who had won e great victory ; and when 
 I showed my face amongsfc them, they crowded round 
 me, fingering their spears as if their thirst for blood 
 was not even yet slaked ; but Joe came to my rescue. 
 " Nika tillicum (my friend)," he said. '' It was he 
 who tried to save Skookum Jim." And at once the 
 spears were dropped, and a blanket spread for me to 
 sit upon, until the preparations for sailing had been 
 completed. 
 
 I had made up my mind, of course, to go with the 
 Tshimsians. Ike was dead — that we knew, and, now 
 that the worst of the winter was passed, the mules could 
 look after themselves until I could send word to the 
 Boss and take them away in the steamer. 
 
 But, whatever might be the cost of my desertion, in 
 mules, I felt that I could not bo expected to stay 
 longer on the island. j\Iany of the Kula Kullahs had 
 been slain, but not all. Some had never faced the 
 fight. They had not stomach for such fighting as there 
 was that night upon the beach, but they would be 
 brave enough to take the head of one white man if he 
 were fool enough to remain behind at their mercy. I 
 
 *, 
 
 
184 
 
 THE CHICAMOX STONE. 
 
 had to choose between going with the Tshimsians, or 
 staying to be slain by the Kula Kullahs ; so that it was 
 easy to make up my mind. 
 
 But not as easy as it might appear, for, whilst I sat 
 watching the preparations for departure, my eyes fell 
 upon a small party which held itself aloof from the 
 rest of the savages, and which appeared to have had no 
 share in the battle. 
 
 It was composed of the three who had come as visitors 
 to Kula Kullah, and turned south instead of going 
 north to the Nasse. They were already watching me 
 before my eyes fell upon them, and, as our eyes met, 
 an unaccountable dread took possession of me. I 
 guessed that these were the men who had led the 
 Tshimsians to Kula Kullah, and that indirectly Joe 
 and I owed our lives to them. But thev had not come 
 for that. Why then had they come, and who were 
 they ? Not men of Oorah, and therefore not interested 
 in the inter-tribal war ; not seeking spoil, for there 
 wa« none to take — and tliat they must have known. I 
 remembered Joe's words, and, as if answering my 
 thoughts, he came to me at that moment and whispered, 
 following my eyes with his. 
 
 " Yes, that is Tatooch ; and with him are Lone 
 Goose and the white man. They came for us." 
 
 But if they had, they made no sign as yet, and, when 
 the rest embarked, they slipped into their own canoe 
 and followed in our wake. 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 185 
 
 It was a strange and eerie j(jurney in the dark, with 
 no sound to break the stillnoss of the night except the 
 even, mechanical dip of the paddles, and the occasional 
 scuttering of some waterfowl frightened by the passing 
 canoes. When the dawn came it was even worse, for 
 the fiendish faces all round me looked more liideous, 
 with their smearings of paint and drying blood in the 
 white light of dawn, than even in the lurid glow of 
 the burning rancherie ; and there were worse-loolcing 
 faces than those of the rowers, rolling loose in the 
 bottom of the canoe. 
 
 But at last weariness, and the even beat of the 
 paddles, and the freshness of the morning soothed me, 
 so that the whole of my surroundings vanished like a 
 nightmare, and for a time I slept. When I woke the 
 sun was up, and there was even a suggestion of spring- 
 in the air, which gladdened me and turned my tlioughts 
 to happier times ahead. 
 
 " Thank Heaven, Joe ! " I said to him, " it is all over 
 now, and we shall see white men again soon." 
 
 " Perhaps, Whitehead ; who knows. The ice could 
 not save us ; will the fire ? " 
 
 " Why should you doubt it ? The Tshimsians are 
 our friends." 
 
 " We helped them ; but so did those." And he pointed 
 over his shoulder to the canoe behind. 
 
 And then I noticed what I had not seen in the dark- 
 ness of the night before, that tlie man whom .Toe took for 
 
186 
 
 THE CHICAMON ST(WE. 
 
 Tatooch was no longer red-headed, but was 'J atoocli in- 
 deed. He and Lone Goose had abandoned their disguises, 
 and looked their own accursed selves, but the sorcerer 
 in his blankets had made no change. He was the same 
 shrivelled and heavily blanketed old savage he had 
 always seemed ; but after the revelation of the other 
 two, 1 began to watch him more closely, and was at 
 last almost convinced that Joe was right in this case 
 too, and that he was Bill mumming. But why ? 
 
 This puzzled me. So did the extraordinary de- 
 pression which had taken possession of Joe. It was in 
 vain that I tried to rally him. He had received no 
 hurt, and, as the hero of last night's tight, he ought to 
 have felt sure of good treatment at the hands of the 
 victors. 
 
 But he did not. 
 
 " It was a grand fight, Joe ; and your struggle with 
 the chief the grandest part of it. They will make a 
 chief of you when we come to Oorah." 
 
 " Tshimsians do not make chiefs of Tahl Tans, and, 
 as for the fight, Ki-i gives one good fight to most men, 
 but I must pay for the death of the Kula Kullah. He 
 was a great chief." 
 
 " And he who slew him, greater." 
 
 « So will not men think ; and the gods will punish." 
 
 That was his vein of thought, and I could not rouse 
 him from it. After his exertions of the last few days 
 a great reaction had set in, and I felt that I must wait 
 
 
m\ 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 187 
 
 
 until rest had restored him to his natural strength, 
 before I could hope to see in him his old energy. 
 
 The sun was halfway up the heavens before we 
 drew near to a certain island on the road to Oorah, on 
 the shores of which stood one or two deserted booths 
 such as Indians build in the summer season ; and here 
 we landed. It was still far to Oorah, and the men had 
 not broken their fast since their landing at Kula 
 Kullah, and even Indians cannot do without food 
 altogether. 
 
 So here we beached our canoes, and the Indians set 
 about preparing some sort of a meal, and some of the 
 weariest of them stretched themselves on the beach or 
 washed their wounds in the mouth of the little stream 
 at which they filled their cans. After that, they 
 lounged round the fires they had kindled, until Tatooch 
 and his companions rose and stood before the Tshim- 
 siau chief. 
 
 Tatooch was the spokesman of the party, and he 
 spoke in the Tshimsian tongue, which I did not under- 
 stand, but I gathered much from his dramatic action — 
 in which all Indians excel, — and the rest I learned later 
 from Siyah Joe, who listened to him now with a face 
 as set as any mask. 
 
 " Is it true, chief, that the Tshimsians have won a 
 great victory ? " 
 
 " Tatooch has seen that it is true." 
 
 "And there are many heads to take to Oorah ? " 
 
 i ^ 
 
 I 
 
I' 
 
 188 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 The chief raised his hand and pointed to the canoes. 
 
 " Is it true, chief, that Tatooch and the wise man of 
 the Tlinkits" — pointing to the silent figure in the 
 blankets — " gave this victory to the Tshimsians ? " 
 
 " It is true that Tatooch and his friends spied out 
 the land, and led us thither whilst the Kula Kullahs 
 slept." 
 
 " Does the chief forget that the tree of Kula Kullah 
 fell, as the wise man foretold that it would fall ? " 
 
 Now, whether by some dark saying, whicli might be 
 interpreted to mean either the fall of the tree or the 
 clan, the impostor had made a lucky hit, or whether 
 one of the three had made an opportunity to cut 
 through the roots of that tree whilst they were upon 
 the island, leaving the south-west wind to finish their 
 work, I do not know. The former is the more probable. 
 But at this saying I noticed that the Tshimsians, who 
 had now crowded round the speakers, looked at one 
 another, and looked, too, questioningly at their chief. 
 Public opinion was in favour of the miraculous, and 
 even a chief in the Straits of Hecate is not independent 
 of public opinion, so this chief had to bow to the 
 priests, and content himself with a portion only of his 
 victory. 
 
 " The saying of Tatooch is a true saying. The tree 
 did fall." 
 
 " And the Tlinkit foretold its fall ; and when the 
 tree falls, the clan falh. Is it not so? " 
 
1 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 189 
 
 and 
 cnt 
 the 
 his 
 
 tree 
 
 the 
 
 " It was so." 
 
 " Does the chief of Oorah give no presents to his 
 friends ? " 
 
 " There shall be blankets and rifles at Oorah." 
 
 '* But the chief promised. Will he not keep his 
 promise? The wise man of the Tlinkits asks for no 
 blankets. He has no need of rifles, and it is but one 
 slave that he asks — a slave of the Tahl Tans ; " and 
 the scoundrel's finger pointed at Joe. 
 
 But Joe sprang to his feet, and his words came like 
 rushing water. Talk of oratory ! You should hear a 
 native speak when he is in earnest. His voice rings 
 with a passion to which our most fervid eloquence is 
 cold, with a strength like the strength of the elements, 
 whilst, if his tongue was dumb, his gestures alone 
 would make his meaning plain. 
 
 " Did the chief believe words or deeds ? Was he not 
 himself a warrior; or was he an old woman whose 
 tongue was stronger than his arm ? Had the thing in 
 blankets struck one stroke for Oorah ? Had he set the 
 captives of Oorah free, or had they been freed by the 
 white man there, and himself? If the sorcerer had 
 felled the tree of Kula Kullah, and not the south-west 
 wind, who had felled the chief who speared men as 
 the harpooner spears seals ? " 
 
 Up to this point Joe was making splendid headway. 
 
 The chief of the Tshimsians was a man, who loved a 
 stalwart blow better than a crafty speech ; but he did 
 
 9*M 
 
 P. 
 
 .5 '-, 
 
1 
 
 r 
 
 190 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 not care to be reminded, in the presence of his followers 
 red from the battle, that he had stood back whilst a 
 naked man of another tribe went in and slew the great 
 Kula Kullah. 
 
 " The Tahl Tan forgets," he said, "that, but for the 
 dead eyes of Oorah, he would be now where the Kula 
 KullaJh lies." 
 
 Tatooch saw his opportunity, and burst into a harsh 
 laugh. 
 
 " The Tahl Tan jeers at the men of Oorah," he said. 
 " Would he have them believe that those arms slew 
 the Kula Kullah, whom the chief himself could not 
 reach ? He is a slave and a witch ; and but for that, 
 would have died before the Tshimsian dead turned to 
 his aid." 
 
 In truth, Joe was but a young man still, and his lithe, 
 spare figure, worn by hunger and fatigue, did not 
 compare favourably with those of the brawny oarsmen 
 r(»nnd him. 
 
 " See," Tatooch went on, growing bolder, " we ask 
 but two: the slave for the wise man and the white 
 man for us. And you have taken five times ten 
 heads." 
 
 " We promised but one, and will give no more." 
 
 « Then let it be the slave." 
 
 "You say he is a witch," said the chief, who was 
 now sore put to it, between respect for his promise and, 
 I think, an honest liking for the man who had done 
 
 
Iwas 
 lone 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 lOi 
 
 so much for his tribe. " Can your wise man of the 
 Tlinkits show the Tshimsians that this is so ? " 
 
 For a moment Tatooch stood silent ; but there came 
 a murmur from the thing in blankets, and the quick- 
 eared savage heard it, and put on a bold front again. 
 
 " The Tlinkit can do this thing," he replied. 
 
 And then he had a hurried conference with his ally, 
 after which, returning to the circle round the chief, he 
 announced that in one hour from then, the wise man 
 of the Tlinkits would prove to the assembled Tshimsians 
 that the slave, Joe, was indeed a witch — and that, not 
 by words but by deeds. In the mean time tlie Tlinkit 
 asked leave to retire to his tent, apart froiii the people, 
 that he mif^ht confer with the spirits he served. 
 
 This speech pleasing the chief, whose eminently 
 practical mind was more prepared to trust his eyes 
 than his ears, the three were allowed to retire and 
 pitch their tent apart, and I watched liim for some 
 time fetching bundles of different kinds from tlie 
 canoe to the tent, inside which a continual droning 
 and medley of strange sounds was kept up, the two 
 Indians sitting like statues outside on guard. 
 
 What devilish mummery was in hand I could not 
 tell, but my faith was strong in the scepticism of the 
 Tshimsian chief, and I had very little fear for Joe in 
 the approaching trial. But my faith did not affect 
 him. 
 
 "The man who is accursed cannot be saved," he 
 
 *«. 
 
I 
 I 
 
 If 
 
 m 
 
 i\ 
 
 192 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 replied to all my arguments. " You have seen, White- 
 head, that the ice could not save us, nor the red fire 
 that leaped on the Kulo. KuUah roof-tree. The spirits 
 are stronger than men, and Joe has slept in the house 
 of the spirits." 
 
 His mind, long sceptical with regard to the legends 
 of his people, was breaking down, and he magnified 
 his sojourns at the Castle Rock into an unpardonable 
 sin which the haunting spirits must avenge. 
 
 Towards the close of the afternoon a sudden snow- 
 squall blew up from the sea and blinded the face of 
 Nature, patching the mossy rocks with miserable gray 
 patches of snow whicli melted as it fell. 
 
 " The light goes," said Joe, " and the end comes " — 
 and as he spoke the tent opened, and a hideous figure 
 bounded across the beach and stood in the circle of 
 the Tshimsians. 
 
 It was the Tlinkit, and in a moment I knew again 
 the mask of the witch-killer, and the nodding white 
 plumes, but the rest of the man was swathed in robes, 
 so that not a particle of him could be seen save his 
 long, bare arms. 
 
 Joe knew the mask, and perhaps it was the memiry 
 of another day which made him shrink before it. His 
 action was noted, and it went against him. 
 
 I cannot stay now to describe, even if I could re- 
 member, all the mummery of the first part of that 
 witch- trial. It was not well done, and I could see 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 193 
 
 u'ly 
 His 
 
 re- 
 Ithat 
 see 
 
 that it wearied the chief, although the others looked 
 on as children migh* at a pantomime. 
 
 " Tatooch promised us a sign of deeds," said the 
 chief at last. " Until now we have had but words. 
 The Tlinkit mutters words which we do not under- 
 stand, and the Tahl Tan answers words which sound 
 true." 
 
 ** Then the chief shall have his sign. Let him bid 
 the Tahl Tan stand here.'* 
 
 Now I so mistrusted the scoundrels that I feared 
 lest, failing to obtain possession of Joe's body alive, 
 they would drive a knife into him in the very midst of 
 us, and so seal the secret of the Chicamon Stone upon 
 his lips for ever. Therefore, when he stood up between 
 the Tshimsians and the Tlinkit, I went and took my 
 place beside him. 
 
 As I did so Tatooch, the spokesman, turned and 
 looked at the masked mummer for a sign. As he 
 made none I was allowed to remain where I was. 
 
 There was a little fire still smouldering near the 
 stream, by which we were all camped, and upon the 
 banks of this stream the trial was held. By the side 
 of this fire stood one of the small " billies " which 
 miners and prospectors use in the north. At a word 
 from the medicine-man Tatooch emptied the cold tea 
 from this billy, washed it out, and then, turning to the 
 chief, said — 
 
 " The medicine-man of the Tlinkits asks the chief if 
 
 o 
 
 m 
 
 I w 
 
 IS\ 
 
 I t 
 
194 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 the water of this creek is good water, and harmless to 
 true men ? " 
 
 "The water is good water. The Tshimsians have 
 drimk it since the gods gave them the island." 
 
 " Then will the chief drink it now, before his people, 
 that they may see that it is good water? " asked Tatooch. 
 And stooping he let the pure stream gurgle into the 
 top of the billy, and then held it, brimming over and 
 dripping, to the Tshimsian. 
 
 For one moment only the chief demurred. It is 
 possible that, in that moment of hesitation, the same 
 suspicion crossed his brain and mine ; but from his it 
 was soon dispelled. 
 
 Short as his hesitation was, a murmur rose from his 
 people, as Tatooch faced him with the brimming vessel. 
 Why should he fear ? He ha 1 seen the vessel filled 
 before his eyes, and who would dare to harm him 
 amongst his own warriors ? 
 
 He held out his hand, and Tatooch, pouring out a 
 cupful of the water, handed it to him, and he drank, 
 Tatooch passing the billy back to the medicine-man. 
 
 For a moment all eyes were on the chief. Then he 
 said simply — 
 
 " It is good water. The Tshimsians know it." 
 
 Then Tatooch turned to the medicine-man, who 
 crouched still in the wide folds of his blanket behind 
 the Indian, and held to him the cup to be refilled. 
 
 " Then if the chief says the water is good water, let 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 195 
 
 he 
 
 let 
 
 the Tahl Tan drink of it. If the water harms him not, 
 then he is no witch, and his friends the Tshimsians 
 shall take him back to Oorah." 
 
 The chief smiled a little grimly. He did not intend 
 to ask the leave of these three strangers to take his 
 man back with him. But I did not smile. I feared. 
 For a few seconds our eyes had left the medicine- 
 man. What had he done to the water in those few 
 seconds ? 
 
 " Don't drink, Joe, he has poisoned it ! " I cried ; and 
 I put back the cup which Tatooch held to my friend. 
 
 The water in the cup swilled backwards and forwards, 
 and all but spilled over the brim of it. If only it had 
 quite done so ! But the Indian's hand was steady, and 
 luck was against us. 
 
 " The white man knows, and the Tahl Tan fears the 
 trial of the gods ! " sneered Tatooch. " Is the chief to 
 be obeyed ? " 
 
 The chief hesitated. He was quick-witted, and may 
 have had a suspicion of foul play as I had ; but if 
 anything had been done, it had been so well done that 
 it had escaped our eyes, and a murmur rose once more 
 from his own people. 
 
 Tatooch heard it. 
 
 " The chief will not keep his word," he said insolently. 
 " But Ki-i is stronger than the chief. See ! " and with 
 one dexterous jerk he flung the contents of the cup 
 full into Joe's face. 
 
196 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 With a scream of agony the Tahl Tau sprang 
 backwards, his hands to his eyes, and I can almost 
 think now that I indeed saw his skin smoke where the 
 water struck him. For a moment he rolled upon the 
 ground, tearing blindly at his face, and then rushed to 
 the sea, as a hurt child flies to its mother's bosom. 
 He was floundering in the waves when I caught him 
 in my arms, and it was almost more than I could do to 
 save him from drov»ning himself. 
 
 " The spirits eat my eyes ! my eyes ! " he screamed, 
 struggling desperately. 
 
 And then I heard the cold, sneering voice of Tatooch 
 ask — 
 
 " Does water burn true men or witches ? " 
 
 The murmur whicli answered him told me the verdict 
 of the Tshimsians. They had had their sign of deeds, 
 and had heard the Tahl Tan's own lips condemn him. 
 
 " The spirits eat my eyes ! " he had cried ; and that 
 was enough. They were but untaught men of blood, 
 and knew nothing of the ways of the deceitful men, 
 neither could they tell a true man from a witch, nor 
 vitriol from honest water. 
 
 .L. 
 
m 
 
 u 
 
 PART IIL-THE BLIND MAN'S HUNT. 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It ia one of the many mercies of Natnre that, whereas 
 Hope offers ns the right end of the telescopo, 3Iemory 
 reverses the glass ; whence it comes that the thinL^s 
 of the future hjok so large, and those of the past so 
 infinitely small. 
 
 There is no room for details at the small end of the 
 telescope ; and I am glad that it is so, for I at any rate 
 want no clear recollection of the days which I spent 
 nursing Siyah Joe, after the Tshimsians had left ns 
 like wounded beasts upon the island, to die or recover 
 from our hurts as the gods might choose. 
 
 Even those who had wrought our ill left us without 
 furtlier molestation, taking ship with the Tshimsians. 
 
 For It Joe was a witch, a blind wiich who could not 
 find his way to a ledge he had once seen, was not one 
 worthy of further consideration from a practical witch- 
 finder like 8andy Bill, who had been so long away from 
 
 
 'I 
 
 ^ 
 
198 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I ' 
 
 I'll 
 
 Scotland, that be had probably forgotten the very name 
 of second sight, and even if ho remembered the childish 
 superstitions of his youth, was far too level-headed a 
 man to pay any attention to them. 
 
 Vitriol would destroy any kind of sight worth taking 
 into the consideration of a practical prospector, and, in 
 Joe's case, it certainly had done so ; for when the first 
 paroxysms of pain had passed, it became abundantly 
 evident that, as he put it, " the gods had eaten out his 
 eyes." 
 
 If I wanted to I could not take you back through 
 those long days when Joe suffered, and I, closing my 
 ears, waited for the pain to pass away from him. There 
 was scarcely anything that I could do for the bliuded 
 man ; but that little I did, and found perhaps more 
 comfort in my ministrations than he did. 
 
 At the first he was a raving madman whom I had 
 to restrain from self-destruction by sheer physical force ; 
 then the days of agonized writhings, and wild screams 
 passed, and he lay moaning, face down upon the sand, 
 neither eating nor speaking, and for hours together 
 showing no signs of life whatever. 
 
 Later on I found him sitting, wliere at high water the 
 sea almost wet his feet — a rock upon a rock — as rigid, 
 as dumb, and as storm-scarred as the stones amongst 
 which he sate ; and liere he remained for the rest of our 
 stay upon the island. And whether he slept, or what he 
 ate, I know not, for, whenever I saw him, he had the same 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 199 
 
 rigid, expressionless face turned towards the sea, and 
 except once, he never showed that he was conscious of 
 my presence, nor spoke word to me, from the time he 
 took his place there until we left the island. 
 
 On the one occasion upon which he spoke, it was 
 evening— an evening so beautifully still that you could 
 almost hear what the sea and the little breeze were 
 saying to one another; aye, and come very near to 
 understanding the language in which they spoke. 
 
 "The sea say that the Alaskan come to-morrow, 
 AVhitehead. Do you hear it ? " 
 
 " No, Joe. But she must come soon. Are you sure 
 tliat the sea says to-morrow ? " 
 
 " The Tahl Tan is sure. He see now the waves run 
 from the foot of the Alaskan; he hear the thump, 
 thump, of the smoke-ship coming ; he see her black 
 breath in the pines. By-and-by Whitehead see too." 
 
 " Does Joe see anything else ? " 
 
 " Ah— ah," he answered, as if speaking to himself, 
 " the blind witch of Tahl Tan see many things ; more 
 things, many more things than eyes see. But all dark 
 Joe— all dark. No sun, no wind, no water that runs, 
 no things that talk ; only snow, and night coming, and 
 the head that waits." 
 
 I thought that he was mad ; but anything was better 
 than the dumb-madness I had endured for days, so I 
 humoured him. 
 
 " What head, Joe ? " I asked. 
 
 t?i 
 
 ' M.w 
 
 
 vi 
 
200 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " The head of the dream in Kula Kiillah. The head 
 that waits by the Chicamon Stone. Whitehead will 
 see it, and Joe will be near it then. But the smoke- 
 ship comes to-morrow ; " and with these mad words he 
 turned his face again to sea, and his wandering mind 
 went out into space, so that my voice seemed as little 
 able to pass through his ears as the light to pass 
 through his eyes. 
 
 Such a sojourn as mine upon that island is enough to 
 turn the brain of the sanest man, and it is not wonderful 
 that I dreamed that night that I was again on board 
 the Alaskan ; but it was strange that when I woke, my 
 dream had been so vivid that I could still hear, when 
 I woke, the stroke of a steamer's paddle coming near 
 to the island. 
 
 It was stranger still that when I sat up upon my bed 
 of hard-packed sand and looked out seaward, I fancied 
 that I could see the big white ship almost abreast of 
 our island, and hear a voice saying — 
 
 " The Alaskan has come. Whitehead. Make a signal 
 to call her to us." 
 
 I rubbed my eyes and shook myself, to make sure 
 that I was awake, and saw at last that the dream had 
 been suggested by the reality. It was the stroke of 
 a paddle-wheel which had reached my sleeping brain, 
 and there was the Alaskan coming rapidly towards us. 
 It did not take me long, you may be sure, to rig up 
 some sort of distress-signal ; and in another quarter of 
 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 201 
 
 > 
 
 an hour a dingy bad put off from the steamer and 
 taken us both on board, Joe showing no sign of joy, or 
 surprise, or any other emotion. He behaved all along 
 like a man who knew the future, and was waiting for 
 each new event. But I admit that the manner of the 
 Boss surprised me a great deal. I knew him for a quiet, 
 self-contained man, so easy-going that I had often 
 wondered if anything could make him hurry, or any- 
 thing stir that stolid face to passion. 
 
 I had no idea of the volcano which slept under his 
 habitual quiet. Joe was an Indian, and the Boss did 
 not go out of his way to show any special liking for 
 Indians ; and of this particular Indian he knew scarcely 
 anything ; but when his kind eyes rested on that seared 
 face and its sightless orbs, when he listened to my story 
 in the presence of the. uncomplaining victim of it, I 
 heard a great curse muttered in his brown beard, and 
 his hand clenched upon the rail until his knuckles 
 turned stone-white. 
 
 To Joe he said little or nothing. He seemed to me 
 to be ashamed, as if this thing which Bill had done 
 was that for which he, as a white man, was in some 
 measure responsible ; but he followed Siyah Joe witli 
 his eyes as he felt his way about the decks, and woe 
 befell any man of his crew who left anything undone 
 which could contribute to the blind man's comfort. 
 
 To me the Boss talked incessant Iv ; and all his con- 
 versation ran one way, the way of Bill's going and the 
 
202 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 way ill which we might most quickly follow him ; and 
 when it became obvious, even to him, that I had no 
 more to tell, he would have a soda-water bottle slung 
 up somewhere in the rigging, and devote himself 
 assiduously to revolver shooting. He was always, even 
 after many days' practice, as slow as a first-class funeral, 
 but he became fairly sure. Unless the Alaskan was 
 rolling badly the odds were against the bottle, until 
 soda-water bottles ran out. 
 
 But, like a typical Englishman, it was business first 
 with the Boss. Pleasure could come later (and I 
 should have been blind, if I had not seen what that 
 pleasure would be) ; but at first we had to go and fetch 
 tlie mules from Kula Kiillah, and look for anything 
 which might remain of Ike. 
 
 The mules we found, and brought what was left of 
 them on board, for the remnant of the Kula Kullahs 
 had destroyed some ; but unless a pickled hand nailed 
 to the totem-post belonged to Ike, we found no traces 
 of him. 
 
 We had the deuce of a time with the mules. It was 
 hard enough to catch them ; but when it came to getting 
 them on board, I began to think that, in the elegant 
 phraseology of the West, we had " bitten off more than 
 we could chew." 
 
 JMan's patience will, however, beat even a mule's 
 obstinacy ; and by dint of hauling at their heads, and 
 pushing on a bar laid across their hocks, we bundled 
 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 203 
 
 ' 
 
 them one by one head over heels into a kind of loose 
 box, which we swung on board with a derrick. 
 
 Before the poor beasts had made up their minds 
 whether they were fish, flesh, or fowl, they were on 
 their way to Wrangel, where, as I had expected, we 
 found winter still reigning upon the river, in strange 
 contrast to the spring weather of Victoria whicli had 
 tempted the Boss to bring up the AlasJcan a good six 
 weeks before there was a chance of carrying any 
 freight up to Glenora. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to tie up the steamer 
 and wait for open water, make the best provision for 
 the mules, and find some employment if possible for 
 ourselves. 
 
 " Better come and see Mac first," suggested the boss ; 
 " he will be able to tell us something, if any one can." 
 From the first it was evident that the boss had some 
 plan of action ready-made, and was taking measures to 
 carry it out. 
 
 We found Mac, as usual, amongst his dry goods and 
 curios. 
 
 " How do, Mac ? What is the news?" asked thv .^oss, 
 as he entered. 
 
 " Wal, that's a good 'un," replied the old man, " for a 
 chap as has just come from Victoria. You people make 
 the news down there. Can't you tell us of no new 
 crik since Sherry Crik ? We ain't even found out yet 
 where Sherry Crik is " 
 
 m 
 
 ■1 
 
I 
 
 204 
 
 THE CIIICAMOX STONE. 
 
 " No. We aivn't on the Pioneer's staff, and volun- 
 teer lying is prohibited." 
 
 "Same as aliens, who bring five dollars into the 
 country, for every one as they find in it. AVell, it's 
 a'most a pity. We're getting tired of the same old fool 
 kind of lies, and the same fool kind of law-makin'." 
 
 "You don't like the Alien Bill then, Mac ?" 
 
 "Like it? Who virould like it as wants to make 
 money ? I don't like no laws, nor no law-makers. The 
 country would go ahead a whole heap faster if there 
 weren't any papers or politicians. It's just laws as got 
 Fred and Sing into trouble." 
 
 " What has happened to Fred ? " 
 
 " Run in for selling whiskey, which it's been his 
 business all the years I've knowed him, an' tried before 
 a judge as is one of his best customers. Fred had to 
 pay fifty greenbacks, and the judge had to keep sober — 
 pretty nigh sober — for twenty-four hours to try him ; " 
 and the old man snorted with indignation. 
 
 " Pretty tough luck. And what is the matter with 
 Sing ? " 
 
 " Oh, Sing ! Why there's been the devil to pay 
 along of Sing. Whiskey too in his'n. He got run 
 in to the Skookum House for the winter, same as usual, 
 for selling forty rod to the si washes ; and then, what 
 with the mining rush, and one thing and another, they 
 kinder ran short on provisions and turned the old man 
 out." 
 
 ■JIM 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 '^f\r^ 
 
 05 
 
 I 1 
 
 »> 
 
 n 
 
 " Well, I don't see what he has got to kick about." 
 
 " Not got nothing to kick about ! Why, where's lie 
 going to get his grub? It's the first time, for fifteen 
 year, as Uncle Sam has i)layed it as low down as that 
 on poor old Sing. And he's a good citizen is Sing ! " 
 
 We began to see that our point of view was not the 
 common one in Alaska, so we changed our ground. 
 
 " Have you heard anything of those two prospecting 
 fellows, Sandy Bill and his partner Luke ? " 
 
 " Those two sharks ? Yes. They came sneaking out 
 maybe two weeks after you left Wrangel. Got stuck 
 in the ice, they said. I didn't see 'em when they came 
 out." 
 
 " Are they here now ? " 
 
 " No. Bill cleared before I could get i holu of him, 
 havin' had some kind of a fallin'-out with Luke ; no 
 shooting, but a whole heap of cuss-words; after which 
 he pulled out in a sail-boat down the coast with them 
 two Indians, and, just like my luck ! blowed if Luke, 
 who had figured on putting in the winter here, didn't all 
 of a suddent make up his mind and skip for 'Frisco on 
 the steamer." 
 
 " And is that the last you heard of them ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; Luke's back up the river. Seems that 
 whilst he was in 'Frisco he located a lot of suckers, and 
 now he's a-trailin' of 'em up the river to find my 
 Chicamon Stone. I seed his advertisement in a 
 Californy paper ; and it says as the deep digging of the 
 
 
 if 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 |KB 1 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 i i 
 
 I 
 
 i ' 
 
 '» 
 
 i \ 
 
 ! 1 
 
 iil 
 
 206 
 
 THE OHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Randt ain't in it with Captain Luke Haddows' Chica- 
 mon mother lode, and he's only chargin' of 'em two 
 thousand dollars apiece to show it to them." 
 
 " Does he know where it is ? " 
 
 " Sho, you make me sick ! Know where it is ! How 
 would he ? No, sir ; Luke's brought the rock as he 
 means to mine along with him : yaller-legged experts, 
 an' Californy dudes, an' English suckers — an' pretty 
 good rock, too. Why, allowin' as they'll go two hundred 
 pounds apiece, his rock'll go twenty thousand dollars 
 a ton ; and that ain't bad for the Stickine, if it dont turn 
 refractory on him." 
 
 " Is there any chance of that ? " 
 
 " Klunas," replied the old fellow, reverting to the 
 siwash, which he spoke as often as he spoke English, 
 "I don't know. He'd ought to have advertized for 
 suckers, and he'd have made his game stick all right ; 
 but he picked these up in saloons, and such-like. 
 They're proper suckers at mining, but there ain't much 
 as you can teach 'em about poker and billiards, and 
 such ; and that kind is mighty apt to turn refractory 
 when it sees its dollars goin'." 
 
 '* And these fellows have gone up the river already ? " 
 
 " Two weeks back come Sunday." 
 
 So far the game seemed clear enough. Bill had 
 gone down the river to find us — with what result we 
 knew — meaning to return in the spring to hunt up the 
 ledge at his leisure, without any danger of finding rivals 
 
 .^■s&m^K 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 207 
 
 had 
 It we 
 
 the 
 rivals 
 
 in the field, whilst Luke, despairing of the ledge itself, 
 had gone down to San Francisoo to discount it. 
 
 For two thousand dollars a head he would tell his 
 fairy story, and lead those v.\io believed in it, and paid 
 the money, to some place where he could leave them, 
 with their dollars in his pocket. 
 
 The game is played every year, and it is a lucrative 
 and fairly safe one, if " the rock," as Mac put it, does 
 not " turn refractory." However Luke's game interested 
 comparatively little. 
 
 Without the two Indians he could not find the 
 Chicamon Stone, and even that had become a secondary 
 consideration with us. We wanted the ledge and 
 Sandy Bill — but Bill first for choice. 
 
 Whilst we were still undecided as to what should be 
 done the s.s. Amur came into port, and the skipper 
 being a cheery soul, and a great friend of ours, we 
 went on board to take our evening toddy with him. 
 
 " Aren't you going up the river, captain, before she 
 opens ? " he asked the Boss. 
 
 " No, I don't think it is much good doing that," 
 he replied, " no one else seems to be going." 
 
 " Aren't they ? Well, you should know, but I half 
 fancied that there was a strike in there ; I know we put 
 one party off at the Skeena. They were going in from 
 Hazelton." 
 
 " Do you know who they were ? Amerio.ins ? " 
 
 "No, I don't think it. One was a Scotchman, 1 
 
 i'^ 
 
I 
 
 208 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 1 1 
 
 fancy, and the other two were siwashes. I could not 
 find out much about them ; they kept their mouths 
 pretty tightly shut ; and I shouldn't have known as 
 much as I've told you if one of the siwashes had not 
 talked to one of my deck hands." 
 
 " Was the white man a stout-built fellow with sandy 
 hair and light-blue, shifty eyes ? " I asked, a sudden 
 idea coming into my head. 
 
 "That's the Scotchman to a dot, and one of the 
 Indians was called Tootoo." 
 
 " Tatooch," I said, looking at the Boss. 
 
 " May be Tatooch. I didn't take much notice. A 
 strapping great siwash, and as ugly as a bear. Do you 
 know them ? " 
 
 " A little — not as well as we want to," growled my 
 friend, and then added, " Good night, skipper ! We 
 had better be going or your gang-plank won't be wide 
 enough for us." 
 
 " Nonsense ! One little glass of Scotch won't u set 
 your balance. It's no load at all for a craft your 
 size." 
 
 " Load enough, if the craft isn't built for carrying 
 such freight. Good night ! " and, so saying, the Boss and 
 I clambered over the side and went to consult Joe, who 
 we found wandering about the narrow and rickety side- 
 walks of the siwash end of the town, alone as usual, for 
 he held no communication with his fellows, and seemed 
 to need no guide. 
 
THE CFIICAMON STONE. 
 
 209 
 
 set 
 roiir 
 
 ring 
 and 
 who 
 lide- 
 for 
 ned 
 
 Indeed, in the strange, l)rooding apathy into which 
 he had fallen since the loi^ of his sight, the only 
 interest he showed was in testing the powers that 
 remained to him, and in training himself to do without 
 his eyes. And it was marvellous to see how far he 
 succeeded. 
 
 His memory was not like ours, overburdened with 
 the details of a score of useless sciences — useless, that 
 is, for meeting our daily needs. 
 
 He could not tell you how far the sun was from the 
 earth; his whole power of articulate utterance was 
 limited to the knowledge of perhaps a thousand words ; 
 but, to balance this, he remembered every road he had 
 ever trodden, so that his feet seemed to see their way 
 as plainly as our eyes saw it. The touch of the wind on 
 his cheek gave him the points of the compass and 
 knowledge of the weather which was to come, and 
 every voice of wood and water had a message for him 
 full of meaning. I could almost have brought myself 
 to believe that he might find the way to his ledge 
 without his eyes ; and it was with this thought in my 
 head that I said to him when we met — 
 
 " Well, Joe, do you think you could find your way 
 to the Chicamon Stone ? " 
 
 " Klunas. Better if Whitehead come too. The 
 Chicamon Stone will pay him well, but Sandy Bill 
 goes fast." 
 
 " Which way does Bill go ? " 
 
210 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 n! 
 
 
 " Siyali Joe cannot see the way ; but all trails go to 
 the water, and the hunter who waits by the water kills 
 the buck." 
 
 " Is the water the Chicamon Stone ? " 
 
 " Nawitka." 
 
 "And you think Bill is going to the Chicamon 
 Stone ? " ' 
 
 " Bill, and Lone Goose, and Tatooch. Luke go too. 
 Only Bill get there. He say one time he get there, 
 and he get there sure. When will Whitehead start ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," said the Boss by my side ; and though 
 I dared not have pressed it, I was glad to hear him 
 say so. 
 
 " There is no reason why I should stay by the boat," 
 he went on, as if to himself. " Bob is due now any 
 day to take charge, and I don't mean to hang round 
 camp this season anyhow. But are you sure, Joe, you 
 can find the ledge ? " 
 
 " How does white man find his way on the Skookum 
 Chuk (ocean) ? " 
 
 " By using the charts." 
 
 " All the same pictures ? Hyas kloosh. Picture stop 
 here ; " and he tapped his forehead. " Joe tell white 
 man what picture say, and white man find the Chicamon 
 Stone. But we must go quick. Bill is long ways in 
 front ; " and the mask began to fall from the Indian's 
 face, which twitched with repressed excitement. 
 
 " Do you want the gold now, Joe ? I thought you 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 211 
 
 didn't care for it. You oould have had it long 
 
 him 
 
 stop 
 
 lans 
 
 you 
 
 ago. 
 
 »» 
 
 '* No, no ; Indian want no gold. Indian want to see 
 the place of his dream. And then no more dreams. 
 Sleep, sleep ; " and as he spoke a veil seemed to fall 
 again upon his face, the light went out of it, and only 
 the empty husk of a man stood beside us. 
 
 Two days later the Boss, Joe, and I crossed to the 
 Stickine, with dogs and enough food to last us as far 
 as Glenora, even if the wind continued to blow down- 
 stream, as it had been blowing, for another month. I 
 wanted to take some more men with us, but neither he 
 nor the Indian would hear of it. 
 
 " You and I, Whitehead, can manage Bill and his 
 friends," said the Boss ; and Joe seemed to think that 
 neither of us would be needed. 
 
 We had to meet Bill ; after that Fate would take 
 charge of the rest. 
 
 Before I started for that winter journey up the great 
 river, I thought that I knew what the world looked 
 like at its wildest. I had seen it in its moods of storm, 
 and I had peered into some of its most desolate waste- 
 chambers, but I had hitherto only seen a live world. I 
 had no notion what the moon must look like, dead with 
 cold, lonely and lost in space. As I set foot on the 
 winter roadway to Cassiar, I caught a glimpse of Nature 
 in her tomb, and the awe of it struck me dumb. 
 
 At home, back east in Canada, I had in my time seen 
 
 
 ■ < * 
 
212 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 plenty of snow ; and had found it a dust of diamonds in 
 the morning sunshine ; a silver setting for bare trees ; a 
 deep, soft carpet for the sleigh to glide over to the tune 
 of merry bells, or, at the worst, when night fell, just 
 drear enough to heighten the sense of comfort round 
 the ruddy hearth. 
 
 There, snow suggested life and frolic (there was 
 always enough of both to make the snow but a pleasant 
 foil to them) ; but here was no life except our own, and 
 that seemed an outrage and an impertinence in the 
 face of the great white death in the midst of which we 
 stood. 
 
 At the mouth of the Stickine, statisticians tell us 
 that the snowfall is sometimes twelve feet deep, and 
 the thermometer registers fifty degrees below zero. 
 
 I don't know what this conveys to most minds. Pro- 
 bably as little as a statement of the myriads who people 
 Asia. There are some things of which a comprehension 
 cannot be conveyed by mere print. They must be seen 
 and felt to be understood, and of these is the real winter 
 of the north. 
 
 Men talk of " dying of cold " who have never been 
 within ten degrees of frost-bite. How much '^.an they 
 know of that cold hand which thrusts right in to 
 heart and brain and holds them still ? or of such a winter 
 scene as that we saw ? Round us there were no delicate 
 traceries of frost, no plumes of snow. Those are for 
 Enf^lish winters, or Christmas cards. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONh. 
 
 213 
 
 The rocks we had passed on our way to the river's 
 mouth were hung with icicles as thick as trees, or so 
 sheeted with ice that they looked like glaciers rather 
 than frozen rocks. 
 
 The earth itself was not so much covered with snow 
 as that there was no earth, and no indication of it, 
 except here and there the top of a black pine from 
 which the wind had torn its shroud, so that it stood 
 out in sharp contrast to the smothering whiteness in 
 which its fellows stood waist-deep, and under the load of 
 which now and again a great tree snapped with the 
 sound of a cannon-shot. 
 
 But for these occasional reports this dead world was 
 dumb in its misery ; every pulse had ceased to throb, 
 the very heart of it was stilled. 
 
 We talk of the silence of the night and of the tomb ! 
 In the tomb there must be the sound of those who 
 pass overhead ; the pulses of the earth, and the stir of 
 growing things in the ground ; and as for the night, it is 
 full of voices, though they may not be familiar to the 
 children of the day. 
 
 But on the frozen river there was no sound nor any 
 movement, not even cloud-shadows to chase bno 
 another over the snow, or a wind to drive them and 
 moan amongst the trees. 
 
 The only trace of life was in a tiny, thread-like track, 
 which went away and away to the north, until, to the 
 eyes which followed it, the dazzling whiteness of the 
 
 '" li 
 
 m 
 
 i', 
 
. I 
 
 214 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 distance turned to a weird electrical bhie, not proper 
 to any world in which life exists. 
 
 Over this track Joe was busy. Both of us had stood 
 dazed on landing, our whole minds absorbed in sight ; 
 but Joe could not see, and his fingers and feet told 
 him more than our eyes told us. 
 
 " Plenty men go up here," he said, fingering the 
 hard-beaten trail. " Some wear snow-shoes ; some 
 tehee tchakos (newcomers) wear boots. By-and-by their 
 feet freeze ; we see them soon." 
 
 " Better camp now and start to-morrow morning," I 
 suggested, feeling loath to leave the neighbourhood of 
 men. 
 
 " What for ? Travelling good now, and we have far 
 to go." 
 
 Of course he was right. So we started, led by a blind 
 man, into a dead world. 
 
 I 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 215 
 
 roper 
 
 stood 
 
 ight; 
 
 told 
 
 S , 'i 
 
 the 
 some 
 their 
 
 dof 
 ! far 
 iind 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon when that 
 hunt began, and the shadows were already falling 
 heavily ; but the snow was so hard and firm under our 
 feet, that if the Boss and I had been as expert upon 
 snow-shoes as the average man of the country, we 
 should have covered many miles before nightfall. 
 
 But we were not experts— indeed, we were but 
 novices— and, in spite of our length of limb and good 
 training, we found it impossible to keep pace with the 
 Indian, although, when we had once started, we appre- 
 ciated to the full that invigorating quality of the 
 northern air which makes many men love it more 
 than all the soft breezes of the south. 
 
 As for the Indian, he ran like a man in a nightmare. 
 The dogs of course led him and kept the trail ; but it 
 seemed to me that, had th'^^re been no dogs, he would 
 have run just as surely. For a month it had seemed 
 as if every faculty in him lay dormant; but, now 
 that his feet were on the snow, and his lungs inhaled 
 
 ill 
 
 It 
 
 IS 
 
216 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 the icy atmosphere of his home, he woke to feverish 
 life. 
 
 He ran like a hound with the scent breast-high. 
 His sightless orbs strained painfully at the distance ; 
 his coarse black hair, cropped short in Wrangel, 
 bristled like a dog's hackles ; and he ran mute. He 
 was running for blood. 
 
 In the burning desire to reach his enemy he seemed 
 to know nothing of physical conditions. Cold did 
 not bite him ; hunger could not reach him ; he knew 
 nothing of weariness, and, I verily believe, that know- 
 ing not the day from the night, and absorbed as he 
 was in his one idea, that man would have run from the 
 mouth of the river to the head of navigation, without 
 camping ; but we were white men, and not built upon 
 Siyah Joe's lines. 
 
 For a couple of hours or more, on that first day, I 
 endured torture. Of course I saw nothing of the 
 world I was passing through. I had no time to waste 
 in looking about me, nor had I the power to look if I 
 had had the time. The keen air whistled in my eyes, 
 and the lashes of them became clubbed with icicles ; 
 my thick, hot breath was caught and frozen solid in 
 my beard ; and a blanket, swathed round my head and 
 shoulders and belted at my waist, shut all sound from 
 my ears, and restricted my view to the few yards of 
 trail immediately about my feet. 
 
 Swish ! swish ! went the shoes in front of me, and 
 
 I 
 
 *hx 
 
THE CUICAMON STONE. 
 
 217 
 
 
 swish ! swish ! mine answered them ; and with the 
 unfaltering regularity of clock-work the legs, which I 
 could only see from the knees downwards, swung left 
 right, left right, hour after hour just three yards 
 ahead of me. 
 
 As far as I was concerned nothing in the whole 
 world mattered that afternoon, except those automatic- 
 ally worked legs. My whole duty was to make mine 
 move in time to them, my one hope was to see them 
 stop. My own feet were in agony from the unac- 
 customed bandages of the snow-shoes ; there was no 
 breath left in my body ; I was too far gone to even 
 feel sorry for myself. 
 
 I had been so driven from pillar to post, in the last 
 twelve months, that I ceased to worry myself by 
 thinking, or rebelling against my lot. I was just a 
 fly on the wheel, and knew it ; and knew that I could 
 not make the wheel go the other way. But I was none 
 the less heartily thankful when the Boss cried, " Halt!" 
 
 It was the first word that had been spoken since we 
 started, and I think it was the most pleasant sounding 
 word I ever heard. 
 
 " Time to camp now, Joe," he said, and, without 
 looking to see what sort of a spot we had come to, I 
 sank in the snow where I was and gasped for breath. 
 
 As I did so the Boss collapsed beside me. 
 
 " Good Heavens, Whitehead ! if that is the pace the 
 fellow means to go, I can't last a day." 
 
 i;i 
 
 II 
 
I 
 
 218 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 " He hasn't stopped yet, either," I gasped ; but as 
 the words left my lips the Indian became conscious 
 that no one was following him, and turned back 
 sullenly enough to join us. 
 
 For a moment he stood sulkily brooding, and then, 
 I suppose, he realized that if he wanted us to go through 
 with him, he would have to nurse our strength a little, 
 for he called the dogs to him, and began unharnessing 
 them while we rested. But we did not rest for long ; 
 it was a great deal too cold for that. As sooa as we 
 ceased to sweat, our bodies began to freeze, and we 
 went at the axe-work as if it were a luxury. 
 
 Even at that the blind man was as handy as either 
 of us. We found and felled the dry sticks for him, 
 and he cut them into lengths, although you would 
 have expected to see him take his own foot off at 
 every stroke of the axe. In fixing the camp the 
 blind man was master of the proceedings. 
 
 If I had not to sleep in it, I should like to see what 
 kind of a camp a hond fide tenderfoot would make for 
 himself in a Stickine snow-bank. 
 
 Given the gloom of coming night, an indefinite 
 number of feet of snow everywhere, the thermometer 
 anywhere below zero, every trec^ robed in snow and 
 sheeted in ice — what, gentle reader, would you be 
 inclined to do about it with an axt, some matches, and 
 a blanket to help you ? 
 
 What we did, under Joe's directions, was to build a 
 
 
 -mrniiafir 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 219 
 
 huge fire first against a bank, so that none of the heat 
 of it should be wasted in the wintry world beyond ; 
 then we carpeted our camp with thickly-piled pine- 
 brush and set up our tents — not as tents, for those are 
 cold things which keep in the frost and keep out the 
 fire, but as flies : great reflectors which catch the 
 light and the heat, and throw them back upon you 
 lying between the flies and the blazing logs. 
 
 liut even when we had done all that experience has 
 taught men to do to make the best of such conditions, 
 that first night of winter on the Stickine was a bitter 
 experience for me. The Indian, rolled in his blankets 
 and lying on the very edge of the fire, slept soundly 
 enough ; but I dared not crawl as near the burning 
 logs as he had done, nor had I the knack of turning 
 my blankets into such a weatherproof chrysalis as he 
 had made of his. 
 
 At first I made a stern resolve to lie still. If I 
 only coulJ do that, I thought that in time I must 
 sleep, and, to induce sleep, I recited to myself the 
 longest recitation I had ever learned in my schoolboy 
 days ; but though I did this, until the words had lost 
 their meaning, sleep would not come. I grew utterly 
 restless, and scratched myself furiously to get warm ; 
 I rose and made the fire up ; I tried a new plan with 
 my blankets ; I piled the snow over them ; I lay and 
 counted the stars ; I tried to persuade myself that I 
 really was asleep, and the cold and misery only part 
 
 ♦ 
 
 1 
 
ii 
 
 i 
 
 IS i 
 
 . 
 
 ll 
 
 220 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 of an evil dream. But it was all to no purpose. ]\[y 
 efforts at stoking helped the others, nothing I could 
 do was of any use to myself. 
 
 That night I made the moon my timepiece, and, I 
 fancy, from the distance she had swung across the 
 heavens, that it must have been somewhere midway 
 between dusk and dawn when the silence was broken 
 by a faint, grinding sound. At first this was far away 
 up-stream ; but the night was deadly still, and the 
 sound grew clearer every moment. Whatever it was 
 that made the sound, it was coming our way. 
 
 At first I could only hear it at intervals ; but, after 
 a time, it became continuous : an even scratch, scratch ; 
 and, after a while, this sound was repeated, and repeated 
 again at a greater distance, as if echoes followed it 
 from up-stream. 
 
 I sat up and looked round, and saw that the blind 
 man was also sitting up, listening. He too had heard the 
 sound, but the Boss slept on unconcernedly. He was 
 away in dreams far enough, 1 expect, from the Stickine 
 Eiver. 
 
 Very soon the noises came closer to us and to each 
 other. Those who made them could only have been 
 just out of sight, round the next bend in the river, 
 when the sound that led, and the echoes that followed 
 it, came as it were together, and were blended in a 
 rush and a scramble. Then there was a short, sharp 
 cry, so sudden and so unexpected and so quickly 
 
 'sJ* 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 221 
 
 was 
 
 hushed that my ears had not time to decide whether 
 it \\as the cry of a man or of a beast, and then the 
 stars throbbed again through an unbroken silence. 
 
 " What was it, Joe ? " I asked ; but he sat silent, 
 still listening. 
 
 " Was it men ? " I persisted. 
 
 " Halo comtax." 
 
 " Was it wolves ? " 
 
 " Perhaps w^olves kill a deer," he answered. But it 
 did not seem to me as if he spoke like one who believed 
 in his own words ; and when I last saw him he was still 
 listening, every nerve strained to hear, and at another 
 time I might have wondered at so much interest in 
 such an everyday tragedv of the forest. 
 
 But my turn had como 
 
 If Joe was sleepless now, my turn had come to 
 slumber, and, before he lay down again, the blessed 
 unconsciousness of sleep had stolen over me, and I 
 cared no more for cold, or wolves, or weariness. 
 
 But in the winter the story of the forest and stream 
 is written on a white sheet, plain for all folks to read ; 
 and beyond the turn in the river I read next morning, 
 in large print, the record of last night's doing. The 
 raspings I had heard had been the ra-ipings of snow- 
 shoes, and there had been many of them — four pairs at 
 the lefl^t. 
 
 Here, you could see, one pair had been racing by 
 themselves, and had made a false turn; there, were 
 
1 I 
 
 999 
 
 ^ ^j Li 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 the tracks of three other pairs, packed close together, 
 and following the first. 
 
 For the most part they had all kept to the beaten 
 track, but here and there they had missed it, either 
 because the shadows had hidden the track, or for some 
 other reason ; and here it was that the story was written 
 most plainly. 
 
 It was three following one : a hunt, so it seemed ; but 
 not of wolves, or deer ; until at last the snow-writing 
 came to a full stop in a wild and illegible trampling, 
 as if a band of cariboo had been " milling " there. 
 
 We turned, and looked to the Indian for an ex- 
 planation, and, though he was blind, he seemed to 
 understand, and answered with apparent reluctance. 
 
 •* Halo wolves. Men." 
 
 " What men ? Luke and his party ? " 
 
 "How can Indian know? Halo nannich (he does 
 not see)." 
 
 " It must have been some of Luke's party," said 
 the Boss. 
 
 " Perhaps Luke ; perhaps wood-cutters. White men 
 cutting cord- wood for steamers by-and-by." 
 
 " What would wood-cutters be doing here at night ? " 
 
 " All the same, Luke. What would Luke do here 
 at night ? I think wood-cutters cultus coolie (go for 
 a walk) perhaps." 
 
 Now that any one should go for a stroll (" cultus 
 coolie ") at the dead of night, in the depth of winter. 
 
THE CHICAlVrON STONE. 
 
 223 
 
 was so obviously ridiculous thai we knew Joe was not 
 telling ns his real opinion, unless he had lost his 
 wits as well as his eyesight; but having no better 
 explanation to offer, we held our peace. 
 
 "See," he added, touching another line of tracks, 
 which for a space left the beaten trail, "they have 
 gone back up the river." 
 
 " Where to ? " 
 
 " How can Indian tell ? To camp, I suppose. If 
 Whitehead want to know, better cladawa hyak. Talk 
 no good ; " and so saying he swung forward again, 
 guiding himself as surely by his stick and his feet as 
 we could with our frost-closed eyes. 
 
 The Boss, who said nothing, gave me a look, and 
 stopped to fasten his snow-shoes. I stopped beside 
 him. 
 
 " Joe doesn't want to see those fellows," he said. 
 
 " It seems not. But why ? " 
 
 "Had you any fire when you heard them last 
 night ? " 
 
 " A huge one. I was too cold to let it die down." 
 
 " Jhj foil think that they could have helped seeing 
 
 V r 
 
 (( 
 
 5. They must have seen it. 
 " "'h =1 why did they turn back ? " 
 " Because they saw it, perhaps." 
 " You think that they did not want to see us, any 
 more than Joe wants to see them ? " 
 
 ■k 
 
 1 ' 
 
 
I 
 
 ^1 
 
 224 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " Exactly. But I don't nnderstand Joe." 
 
 " I think I do. His blood is up, and he does not 
 want to change foxes. He is hunting Bill, and doesn't 
 mean to stop until he runs him to ground at the 
 Chicamon Stone. But it makes no matter. I have 
 an idea that this hunt is going to be managed for us, 
 somehow." 
 
 It was an odd speech to come from the Boss, but 
 the same idea had seized upon me. In the vastness of 
 our surroundings I had long since begun to yield up 
 my own individual will, and to submit to being driven 
 whither Fate listed. 
 
 I was just a machine, ch moved forward mechani- 
 cally, seeing little but the track under my feet, and 
 hearing only the hard-drawn breath of my companions, 
 or the occasional crash of some great tree which split 
 at last under a load too great for it to bear. 
 
 It was nearly night-time again, and I was beginning 
 to regard each snowbank we passed as a possible 
 camping-ground, when the master of the hunt called 
 another check. 
 
 The Indian was still running in the lead when the 
 trail divided : one branch of it going slightly to the 
 left, the other as slightly to the right. Joe stopped, 
 undecided which of the two branches he should take. 
 That to the left was the most worn and the widest, 
 that to the right, perhaps, more in accordance with his 
 idea of the right direction. The difference in direction 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 225 
 
 ! I 
 
 was so small tha* even his memory was not enough to 
 decide the matter without the aid of his sight. He 
 turned to us for guidance for the first time. 
 
 " Which way ? " he said ; " nika halo nannich." 
 
 Now at this point it was not easy even for us, who 
 saw, to decide with any certainty. Two roads opened 
 before us, and each looked like the main course of 
 the river ; but we knew that one of them must be a 
 slough, or part of an old course of the river, from which 
 it had been diverted by the silting up of its bed, possibly 
 followed by a heavy growth of timber thereon, whilst the 
 other was the bed down which the Stickine still ran. 
 
 Through the whole course of the river there are 
 hundreds of such sloughs, and it is easy enough for a 
 man who can see to run his head into a cul de sac. 
 
 I was just going to give the Indian such help as I 
 could, when the Boss gripped my arm. 
 
 " Let him decide," he whispered ; and though I 
 wondered, I obeyed him. 
 
 "Nika turn turn this one," he said doubtingly, 
 touching the right-hand trail with his stick. 
 
 We did not answer him. 
 
 " Can't Whitehead see ? " he asked peevishly. 
 
 " I can see, Joe, but I cannot tell. The wood is 
 thick in front on both trails. Perhaps it is a bend ; 
 perhaps it is blocked — I can't tell; both go nearly 
 the same way." 
 
 " Only one goes the riglit way," he answered ; and 
 
 Q 
 
 a -i 
 
 •'I 
 
Wff^ 
 
 1 
 
 ill 
 
 m' 
 
 i 
 
 22G 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 kneeling down, began to feel first one trail and 
 then the other with his hands, cursing savagely to 
 himself, I suppose at the loss of sight, which made 
 , him dependent upon two such fools as we must have 
 seemed to him. 
 
 The left-hand trail was the widest and the most 
 worn, and the dogs seemed inclined to take it. If I 
 was any judge it was the wrong trail for that very 
 reason, and if Joe had been master of his mind he 
 w^ould have probably agreed with me. For it was 
 natural that the dogs should want to follow the 
 freshest trail of man, and if this trail led to a camp 
 which had been made for many days, it was not 
 unnatural that it should be more worn than the trail 
 of the monthly post. 
 
 But as I have suggested before, Joe was, I think, 
 only guiding whither he himself was led, and after a 
 few minutes of hesitation took the broad trail. 
 
 On this we ran for ten minutes, and the winding of 
 it, after the first bend was passed, made him hesitate 
 again. Then I saw ahead of us, in a thick bunch of 
 pines, a cloud of blue smoke, and I think that Joe's 
 nostrils smelled the fire as soon as I saw it. 
 
 " No good," he said, stopping ; " wrong road." 
 
 But it was too late to turn back then. 
 
 " It's time to camp, Joe, anyway," said the Boss ; 
 " and as there is a fire in front, we may as well go to 
 it and see who is there." 
 
 I'l 
 
 '\i 
 
THE CHTCAMOX STONE. 
 
 097 
 
 Boss ; 
 go to 
 
 " Better not," urged the Indian ; " we don't know 
 who is there." 
 
 " All the more reason that we should go and find 
 out ; " and with no more ado he went to the front, and I 
 followed him, leaving the Indian and the dog-sleighs 
 standing where they were. 
 
 Sooner or later he would follow us, we supposed, but 
 indeed we did not then stop to think. I obeyed the 
 Boss, and, I suppose, he obeyed some Lnpulse of his 
 own : a desire to camp and save himself the trouble of 
 cutting his own firewood, as likely as not. 
 
 But we had both of us been too long in tlie woods to 
 make an unnecessarily unceremonious entry where we 
 were not expected. 
 
 A sudden noise sends a frontiersman's hand to 
 his gun, and no one wants a stranger too close to him 
 in the woods until he knows a little about him. 
 Remembering these things, and being cautious men, 
 we kept in the shadow of the pines by the edge of the 
 slough instead of running along the broad trail in full 
 view of the camp ; and so trod that the snow gave no 
 warning of our approach. 
 
 Night, which comes suddenly in the north, had fallen 
 on the pines almost as we looked. The bushes, whose 
 limbs we had seen a few minutes before on the edge 
 of the ice, were now drowned in a gulf of inky dark- 
 ness. Indeed, the whole forest was whelmed in it, 
 except the tops of the tallest pines, and these were 
 
 I 
 
228 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 gradually being lit by the pale silver of the rising 
 moon. 
 
 Slowly and carefully we crept along under the 
 shadows until we could hear the voices of men talking 
 round the camp-fires ; nor had we any notion that we 
 ourselves were being followed by one more silent- 
 footed than ourselves. 
 
 Though we waited and looked back for him more 
 than once, we saw nothing of the blind Indian ; and 
 when at last we came well within earshot, and in full 
 sight of the stranger's camp, we crouched down to 
 make our reconnaissance, in the full belief that he was 
 still behind with the dogs. 
 
 It would be time enough to call him when we knew 
 what manner of men these were. 
 
 'm ^ • 
 
 i! i 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 229 
 
 ft' 
 
 ing 
 
 the 
 
 ing 
 
 we 
 
 >nt- 
 
 lore 
 and 
 full 
 I to 
 was 
 
 new 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " There's Atkinson dead, all of us fooled, two frost- 
 bitten, let alone Spot Harris there, who's bound to lose 
 his feet, even if we ever get him out of this cursed 
 country — which don't seem certain." 
 
 " Nor any ways likely, if you ask me." 
 
 The words came to us in the darkness as clearly as 
 if we had been standing in the ring of firelight where 
 they were spoken. 
 
 "Wal, it ain't the sort of certainty as old Spot 
 there used to bet on — leastwise, not for him," the first 
 voice went on, coolly ; " but what we're at now is, what 
 are we going to do about it ? Is this sharp going to 
 swing, or isn't he ? If a gent kills another gent, not 
 on the square, he swings. That's law. If he kills ten, 
 it seems to me that he has a ten times better right to 
 swing. Now this here Luke caught us for suckers in 
 'Frisco. He's pouched the swag. One on us has gone 
 under already, and last night he tried to skin out, 
 leavin' the rest of us to do ditto. Ain't that murder ? ** 
 
230 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 r 
 
 I, 
 
 ! I 
 
 Ir ! 
 
 
 
 At this point I crept a little more forward, and 
 pushed ^ack the brush so that I could see, as well as 
 hear, what was going on. All about us was a sea of 
 blackest gloom, from which rose the tops of the taller 
 bushes, touched here and there by the light of the two 
 great fires, which made a lurid spot in the heart of 
 the night. 
 
 Round these fires sat a score, more or less, of the 
 most desperate-looking characters I ever set eyes on : 
 ragged, bearded, and worn with hardship, which had 
 told heavily upon constitutions already sapped by 
 vicious living, and long unused to physical privations. 
 
 An ordinary " hard fist " looks a sufficiently " tough 
 citizen," but his rags sit upon him naturally. Born to 
 his manner of life, he knows how to make the best of it ; 
 but these men were not of the hard fist's guild. Two 
 months ago nine out of ten of them had been sleek, fat 
 citizens, bull -throated, soft-handed, and showily clad. 
 Now their faces had fallen in, their plump bodies had 
 shrunk away, their beards had grown over their faces 
 in wisps and patches, whilst their town clothes had 
 melted away in the brush. Greed had made them 
 bold at first, and now misery and disappointed avarice 
 had made them mad. 
 
 Most of them were sitting in a semi-circle round the 
 larger of the two fires ; by the other fire sat the rest 
 of them, a blanket spread between them and the snow, 
 on which a dirty pack of cards had been dealt. Near 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 231 
 
 this group lay a roll of blankets and bedding, which 
 writhed now and again, punctuating the speeches with 
 groans and curses, whilst in the middle of the firelight 
 stood the principal speaker, a square-built fellow with 
 a dark, Jewish face, under a peaked cap such as 
 American yachtsmen wear. 
 
 For the moment the card-players had abandoned 
 their game, and all sat smoking or chewing, with their 
 faces turned to the Jew. From the look of things you 
 might have guessed that an auction of miner's effects 
 was taking place. 
 
 "I guess Soapy has about sized up the situation," 
 said one. 
 
 "Pretty well. But what about the Chicamon 
 mother lode ? " asked another. 
 
 " There ain't no mother lode," retorted the Jew — 
 " any fool can guess that — except in the pockets of our 
 pants. That's the lode as he meant to mine." 
 
 " You ain't proved that. Soapy," said a weak-faced 
 man, who had not spoken before ; " we saw his rock." 
 
 " As come from Californy, same as you did ! " sneered 
 the Jew. " Are you standing in with Luke on this 
 deal ? " 
 
 The speaker s eyes glittered dangerously, and they 
 cowed the timid objector. It required more courage 
 than he possessed to appear for the defence *' this 
 court of the woods. 
 
 "If the cursed fool hadn't have tried to skin out 
 
232 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 last night, Fd have been agin stringing him up yet," 
 drawled a grey-bearded man, spitting meditatively into 
 the embers. " There might have been an Indian, and 
 he might have gone back on him. There's no telling." 
 
 " Your head's level, Peterson," said the spokesman, 
 in a more conciliatory tone than he had used to the 
 others ; " but when he tried to skin out he showed his 
 hand. There ain't no Indian, and there ain't no Ohic- 
 amon mother lode. It's a fake from start to finish." 
 
 " Seems like it," the other assented. 
 
 " Then what's the use in foolin' any longer ? If he 
 gets another show, he may make it down to Wrangel, 
 with our wad of greenbacks in his pockets." 
 
 «To drink the 'ealth of the stiff 'uns on the 
 Stickine," laughed one of the card-players. 
 
 "Well, mates, you've got the fire, and can go on 
 gassin' if you've a mind to till midnight. I've stood 
 here as long as I want to. All I want to know is, is 
 it to be swing or shoot ? " 
 
 ' 
 
 "Shoot? 
 
 " Yep ! I said shoot ! " snapped the Jew, turning on 
 Luke's half-hearted advocate. " You can let this sharp 
 go, if you've a mind to ; but if you don't hang, I shoot. 
 No man gets away with Soapy's dollars if he knows 
 it ; and this here shoots more'n once ; " and he drew a 
 revolver and tapped it significantly with his forefinger. 
 
 The counsel for the prosecution was in earnest, and 
 a laugh which greeted his last argument showed that 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 233 
 
 he understood his jury. The crowd round him had 
 endured so much misery, in the last month, that no 
 member of it had any pity left for his fellows, much 
 less for the common enemy. For the last few minutes, 
 one of the men who had been gambling, had been 
 fidgeting impatiently with the cards. Now he spoke. 
 
 " Say, Soapy, ain't that sermon of yours pretty nigh 
 preached? Me and my friends don't want to hurry 
 Mr. Luke none, but we're mighty anxious to go on 
 with our game." 
 
 "How'd it be to ask Luke hisself ? He's a pretty 
 good sport, and wouldn't want to spoil fun," suggested 
 another. 
 
 "It would make the vote unanimous, perhaps," 
 sneered one. " And when a gent's a c uididate for such 
 an elevated position, it would be just as well if the 
 vote were all one way." 
 
 " Quit foolin' ! " snapped the spokesman. " Is any 
 one agin hangin' him ? " and he handled his revolver 
 ominously. 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and then the old 
 man said, " Take a vote. It would be more regular." 
 
 " That's so. Now, gents, them as is in favour of doin' 
 justice on the prisoner, signify the same, in the usual 
 way, by holdin' up their hands." 
 
 All hands went up at once, with the exception of 
 those of the man who had asked for proof of the non- 
 existence of the lode. Even the bundle of blankets. 
 
.^• 
 
 2U 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 ! I 
 
 M> 
 
 '; 
 
 which swathed the misery of Spot Harris, rolled over 
 and showed a couple of mitts in favour of the hanging. 
 
 " There's oco gent back of the fire there, as I don't 
 seem to see very well. His head's clear enough," 
 drawled the Jew, indicating the head with the barrel 
 of his pistol. " But I'm in doubt whether I can see 
 his hands or not. Are you with the meetin', sir, or for 
 the prisoner ? " 
 
 The red light flickered on the pistol-barrel ; that 
 remained steady enough ; and the other man seeing it, 
 put up his hand. He had no wish to share Luke's 
 fate. The spokesman put his pistol back into his hip 
 pocket. 
 
 "I congratulate this meetin' as bein' regular, and 
 unanimous. Boys, fetch up the prisoner." 
 
 At his word two of the party rose, and, leaving the 
 fireside, stepped into the gloom where the light from 
 it was quenched. 
 
 They had not apparently far to go. For a few 
 minutes we heard them without seeing them ; and then 
 three figures stood up indistinctly on the edge of the 
 shadows under a great pine — one blasted limb of which 
 leaned out over the meeting, white in the moonlight, 
 which now bathed the tops of the highest of the trees. 
 
 I looked up at it involuntarily, and the unconscious- 
 ness of Nature smote me with a chill. The sky was as 
 hard and inscrutable as the face of the sphinx, and the 
 stars seemed to have a malicious twinkle in them. 
 
 I 1 , 
 
 I:' 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 235 
 
 From the limb itself hung something like a streamer 
 of beard moss, but in the breathless calm of the night 
 it looked strangely rigid for beard moss. 
 
 Later on I knew that it was rot beard moss ; but, 
 strange as it may seem to my readers, I had in my 
 mind at that moment no fear of immediate violence. 
 Neither, I think, had the Buss. Tlie whole scene was 
 so unreal, the actors so unconcerned ard commonplace, 
 that I could not bring myself to believe that a question 
 of life or death was actually being discussed before 
 our eyes. 
 
 " Will I take the gag off him ? " asked one of the 
 three in the shadows. 
 
 " Wbat's your will, gents ? " 
 
 " It's according to rules to hear what he has to say." 
 
 " Then take it off, but hitch the line on. I don't 
 want another trip down the Stickine to-night, and I 
 guess there's only one here as does." 
 
 There was a pause whilst two of those in the shadows 
 fumbled with the man between them. Whatever they 
 were doing, he offered no resistance. When they were 
 ready the Jew spoke again. 
 
 "Luke Haddon, you've heerd what these gents 
 have to ''ay agin you ? " 
 
 "Not a word," replied a voice I recognized. 1 had 
 heard it first in old Mac's store at Wrauge). 
 
 *MIow'sthat?" 
 
 " I've beard you gassiii', Soapy. Vou haven't given 
 
 ii\ 
 
236 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 •I 
 
 ill 
 
 ' 
 
 any one else a chance. Seems to me you're running 
 this show alone." 
 
 The Jew flinched. He wanted the others to share in 
 the deed, even if he prompted it. 
 
 " Do you say as you aren't guilty ? " 
 
 « Of what ? " 
 
 " Of leadin' twenty innocent men into this cursed 
 place to die of cold or starve." 
 
 The speaker in the shadows laughed. 
 
 " Innocent raen is good," he said, " and starvin' ain't 
 bad, with all them canned goods around. But it is cold. 
 Couldn't you hurry up a bit ? or let me stand by the 
 fire till you're ready ? " 
 
 An evil look came into the Jew's face, and his thin 
 lips parted so that the firelight gleamed on his white 
 teeth ; but as he lifted his hand as a signal to the other 
 two, the old man Peterson sprang up. 
 
 "Hold hard!" he said. "Luke's right. You're 
 running this show a bit too much, Soapy ; and I want 
 to ask the prisoner a question." 
 
 The other half-opened his lips to reply; but for some 
 reason or other the old man had the authority, and 
 Soapy yielded to it. 
 
 " You*il allow, Luke," he said, " as your game's about 
 played out ? " 
 
 The other made no answer. a 
 
 " An' I guess it may as well come to a show down. 
 Is there such o, thing as the Chicamon mother 
 
THE CHTCAMON STONE. 
 
 237 
 
 le 
 id 
 
 lode? It won't hurt you none to make a clean 
 breast of it." 
 
 « There is." 
 
 " Do you know where it is ? " 
 
 ** I told you first and last as I didn't, ever since we 
 got to Wrangel." 
 
 " That isn't what you told us at 'Frisco." 
 
 " No ; but I told you plenty time enough. The Indian 
 knows where it is." 
 
 The man spoke as coolly as if he was discussing an 
 ordinary business transaction. There was not a tremor 
 in his voice, and, though I did not realize how near his 
 danger was, I could not help admiring his iron nerve. 
 Eascals you can find in plenty in the West (and 
 elsewhere), but cowards there, are peculiarly un- 
 common. 
 
 " Where is the Indian ? " 
 
 " I wish I knew ; like enough at Glenora with Sandy 
 Bill. Look here, Peterson, there's twenty of you, and 
 I'm alone and roped, and you know tho pfume I've 
 played on you. I know I haven't a show, 1 T don't 
 care a whole heap. I always calculated to pay in my 
 chips when I lost ; but, so help me God ! the Chicamon 
 Stone is no fake, and if we can find the Indian we can 
 find the ledge. If you do for me you get back wliat's 
 left of your dollars, but you can't find the Indian and 
 you can't find the ledge." 
 
 It was his last bid for life, and he made it boldly, 
 
238 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 ! ' 
 
 ! t 
 
 and, but for one man's vindictiveness, he might still 
 hvave prevailed. 
 
 For one moment, a wave of hesitation ran through 
 the meeting ; then a cold, sneering laugh jarred on the 
 silence. 
 
 " Goin* to let him fool you agin, gents ? Well, you 
 are suckers ! Why don't you tell 'em you've got your 
 Indian staked somewhere's handy, Luke? They'd 
 swaller it." 
 
 Luke made no answer. 
 
 " Give him a week to find the Indian," suggested the 
 weak-faced man, who had at first refused to put up his 
 hands. 
 
 It was his last eifort for the prisoner, and, as the 
 Jew turned on him, he slunk away from the fire. It 
 was the last we saw of him. 
 
 " And let him peach on us at Glenora ! Luscombe's 
 there ; and there's one or two of us knows Luscombe as 
 well as we want to." 
 
 " That's a bit too thin, Luke," said Peterson, medita- 
 tively. " Can't you make it anywhere nearer than 
 Glenora ? Roped and watched, we might manage to 
 give you another week ; but you can't expect us to 
 head a deputation with you to the gold commissioner. 
 Can't you find him nearer than tliat ? " 
 
 Another man might have grasped at this or any other 
 straw, and lied for the sake of another day or two of 
 misery, because it was life ; but Luke was not of that 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 239 
 
 kidney. He had no taste for another week of cold and 
 bondage ; he had played his last card and faced his 
 losses. 
 
 " How the devil do I know ! " he said fiercely. " The 
 siwash may be within a hundred yards of you, but if 
 he is where he ought to be, he's at Glenora. And 
 what's the use in foolin'? If I showed him to you, 
 you wouldn't keep your word. That black-faced dog 
 has got it in for me." 
 
 He little knew how prophetic his words were. In 
 any case they sentenced him. 
 
 " Is there anything else any gent would like to 
 say ? " sneered Soapy ; " there's no hurry." 
 
 No one spoke, so he turned to Luke. ''Hev you 
 any more to say ? " 
 
 " Well, no ; I guess the world owes every man a 
 livin', and i tried to make mine out of you. You are 
 fools, the whole lot of you ; but it's luck, not play, as 
 wins. ^ly bluif hasn't worked. You take the pot ; 
 but I wish you'd hurry up. It's damned cold standin' 
 around here." 
 
 I have been blamed so often since for what we did 
 not do, that I am afraid that, although I have set 
 down, as nearly as my memory will b^rve me, the very 
 words of these desperate men, I have not conveyed to 
 my reader's minds the absolutely calm matter-of-fact 
 way in which Luke and his judges spoke. 
 
 If they had been arguing the merits of an execution 
 
 i^.! 
 
 U\ 
 
 \i\ 
 
 :! ; 
 
 \ '' 
 
 ■ %m 
 
240 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 reported in the Colonist , they would have done it more 
 heatedly than they did here in the black shadow of 
 the pines. 
 
 The end came with a suddenness as startling as the 
 trial had been commonplace. 
 
 " Is it a go, mates ? " asked the Jew ; and the men 
 round the fire bowed their heads, and most of them 
 took their pipes out of their mouths. 
 
 The roll of bkitVets raised itself, and looked up; 
 the red light of the fire fell on its white, wasted 
 features. 
 
 " Let him go ! " cried the spokesman, kicking a log 
 in the fire as he spoke ; and the log, happening to be 
 rich in resin where it fell on the red embers, blazed 
 out in a great stream of light, which drove back the 
 shadows, until I saw Luke's features clearly for a 
 moment. 
 
 He stood calm and nonchalant as if he were taking 
 a drink at the bar. But just as the rope tightened, I 
 saw a new look come into his face, his eyes strained at 
 something beyond the second fire — something which 
 the blazing log had but just revealed ; he tried con- 
 vulsively to raise one of his pinioned hands, and I 
 heard distinctly, " The Indian ! " 
 
 The rest was cut short by the strangling cord, and, 
 in another second, he was jerked out of the lurid glow 
 of the firelight, through the black shadows into the 
 hard, brilliant light of the arctic moon ; and after one 
 
more 
 
 »w of 
 
 land, 
 
 jlow 
 
 the 
 
 one 
 
 THE CinCAMON STONE. 
 
 241 
 
 short struggle, hung, his head sunken forward on his 
 chest, from the blasted limb of the great pine. 
 
 And the firelight danced and reddened over the 
 sightless face of Siyah Joe, standing on the edge of 
 the camp. Luke had shown them the Indian, and 
 they had not kept their word. 
 
 I had no time to wonder what brought him there, 
 no time to think of him, or anything else. 
 
 As Luke shot up to his high position, there was a 
 shout and a crash in the brush by my side, and the 
 Boss went by me like a flash, into the middle of them. 
 Bare-headed and furious, with a knife in his hand, he 
 charged through the camp, straight for ihe gallows ; 
 and though the fear of God had no weight with them, 
 the fear of this one man scattered the murderers, for 
 one moment, as wind scatters dry leaves, so that he 
 almost won to the foot of the tree. 
 
 But only for a moment. In my haste, clumsy as I 
 was upon my snow-shoes, I tripped, and came down 
 headlong almost into one of the fires. When I 
 struggled to my feet I saw two of the men close with 
 the Boss. One was the Jew. He fell like a pole-axed 
 ox, and I wish that the Boss had struck with the. knife 
 instead of with his clenched left hand; but he was 
 true to his training, and he had other work for the 
 knife to do. 
 
 Not even pausing to shake off his second assailant, 
 he carried him with him to the foot of the pine, and 
 
 R 
 
 
242 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Hi 
 
 If 
 
 li 
 
 i! . 
 
 with one swift stroke cut the rope so that the body 
 of Luke came down with a rush from amongst the 
 stars, and fell with a dull thud upon the snow, where 
 it rolled over and lay as it fell. 
 
 Too late! Man's mercy was slower than man's 
 justice. All that was worth saving — if it was worth 
 saving — in that lump of clay, had gone ; and at the 
 moment it seemed as if we were likely to follow it, for 
 with a rush the whole pack of rascals was upon us. 
 
 Then it was that the Boss's readiness of resource 
 showed through his habitual phlegm. 
 
 Rushing at one of the leaders, he seized him by the 
 throat and yelled to me — 
 
 " In the name of the law, seize them, boys ! seize 
 them ! Ho, Luscombe ! — Luscombe, quick ! " 
 
 It W61S the name most dreaded on the Stickine River. 
 The name of that courtly, quiet, precise chief of police 
 I had met on my first journey up the river; and it 
 worked like a charm. 
 
 Every head turned to see who was coming ; and a 
 crashing in the brush, and a shot which sang high 
 overhead, completed the panic. It was only our dogs 
 in the brush, only blind Joe who fired high at a 
 venture ; but it did the trick. No one stopped to see 
 Luscombe and his stout constables come upon the 
 scene. 
 
 The man whom the Boss had gripped, wrenched 
 himself free (I doubt if he could have done so, had 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 243 
 
 the Boss wanted to hold him) ; and in a minute there 
 was only the roll of blankets left on the trampled 
 snow, and that was trying to crawl painfully away into 
 the brush. 
 
 " Shoot, Whitehead, shoot ! " hissed the Boss, firing 
 himself recklessly in all directions, " and follow." And 
 I did as I was bid ; and I heard Joe's rifle ringing 
 down by the river. 
 
 His must have been dangerous shooting, if there 
 was any one in range of him, for his bullets were in 
 the hands of Fate — and Fate, like Joe, is blind. 
 
 But when we reached the river, the greater part of 
 those who had lately sat in judgment on one man 
 were far enough away, strung out like startled wild- 
 fowl : most of them going south down the river trail, 
 though one small bunch of fugitives, who had (so we 
 thought) lost their heads, could be seen struggling up- 
 stream towards Glenora. AVhen we had fired a round 
 or two after them, just to keep them moving (as the 
 Boss said), the night swallowed them up ; silence settled 
 on the river and in the pines ; and we went back to 
 camp alone, but for the dead man and the footless 
 thing in the blankets. 
 
 In camp we found Siyah Joe sitting by the body of 
 Luke. He was cutting a notch on the butt of his 
 Winchester. 
 
 ii 
 
 1 
 
 „ 1 
 
244 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 At first the Boss and I sat very silent round Luke's 
 camp-fire. Events had happened so rapidly that we 
 badly needed time to think, and there was more than 
 enough to think about. As for myself, I don't mind 
 confessing that I kept my head over my shoulder, and 
 my ears very wide open indeed. Every bush that 
 creaked in the wind suggested the stealthy approach 
 of a foe; every shadow made by a swinging bough 
 sent my hand to my Winchester. 
 
 It was bad enough to know that we had nearly a 
 score of enemies at large somewhere in the forest — 
 enemies who would stick at nothing if they knew that 
 we were unsupported; with no friends nearer than 
 Wrangel ; but it was even worse to think of that 
 indistinct figure prone upon the snow, round which 
 the shadows were gathering ever thicker and thicker ; 
 or of that other which still moved in the blankets by 
 the fire. 
 
 Common humanity required that we should do 
 something for Spot Harris, but there was very little 
 
 ;,,*> i»»HTr. » . » < H (j p i_ 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 245 
 
 irly a 
 rest — 
 that 
 than 
 that 
 ^hich 
 iker ; 
 [ts by- 
 do 
 llittle 
 
 which men like ourselves could do. A very short 
 examination of his condition convinced us that no one 
 but a surgeon could be of much help to him. Both 
 his feet were severely frost-bitten, and the knife would 
 have to be applied with very little loss of time if it 
 was to prevent mortification spreading beyond his 
 knees. A cripple he must be all his life, even if his 
 life could be saved. 
 
 " That means a journey back to Wrangel the first 
 thing to-morrow morning," said the Boss, when our 
 examination was over. " If we are lucky enough not 
 to run into any of Luke's party, we may manage to 
 get him back the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " What for ? " asked the Indian, who had been 
 listening intently. " He die pretty soon." 
 
 The poor wretch must have heard him, or so I 
 gathered, from the movement of the blankets. 
 
 " Kubbish ! If we can get him down to Wrangel a 
 surgeon will soon fix him up all right." 
 
 " Halo ! Medicine-man halo give him new legs. 
 He halo walk any more ; halo hunt any more ; halo 
 travel. What for live any more? Boss leave him 
 here — pretty soon die." 
 
 We tried to explain to Joe the duty we owed to our 
 fellow-man, the necessity of saving even a crippled 
 life ; but it was in vain ; the Indian could not see it. 
 This man was an enemy, therefore we ought to kill 
 him. If he had been a frienJ, crippled as ho was, it 
 
 ^l 
 
246 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 might liave been our duty to pile our roLes over him 
 and smother him, that he might die easily ; as it was, 
 if we had not sufficiently strong hearts to kill him, we 
 could at least leave Nature to save us the trouble. It 
 was no business of ours any way, and certainly we could 
 not be mad enough to give up our hunt to enable a 
 useless cripple to live a little longer. 
 
 " Suppose Whitehead go back," he concluded, 
 " Siyah Joe go on alone." 
 
 " Siyah Joe can do what the devil he pleases ! " 
 retorted the Boss, savagely ; " but if the man's alive 
 to-morrow morning we take him back to Wrangel." 
 
 For a moment the Indian's lips moved, but he said 
 nothing that I could hear ; and we left him crouching 
 over the fire, brooding, I suppose, on white man's 
 folly. 
 
 That night, tired as I was, I slept but ill. I kept 
 hearing a voice which called to me in my sleep, and 
 when I woke with a start, the first thing my eyes 
 always lighted upon was the bone-white limb of the 
 dead pine which pointed down the river. It seemed to 
 me that it was warning me to desist from my mad 
 hunt, and turn back from this accursed land. 
 
 I don't remember very clearly ; but it seems to me 
 that, whenever I awoke, I saw the Indian still sitting 
 by the fire. He never seemed to sleep now ; but I had 
 become so used to his vagaries that, if I thought of 
 this at all, it was only to be thankful that some one 
 
 ! 
 
!»♦ 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 247 
 
 was keeping vigil whilst we slept. Once, in a half- 
 waking state, I thought that I heard scuffling in the 
 snow ; but if I did it ceased before I was well awake. 
 Probably I thought it was a lynx or a carcajou foraging 
 amongst our scraps, and that is not enough to tempt 
 a man out of his blankets on a winter night in the 
 arctic. 
 
 When I woke I supposed that it was about an hour 
 to dawn, and the othe^^s still slept. Even Siyah Joe 
 had curled up at last, and seemed to be sleeping 
 heavily. As we had work to do, and a man's life to 
 save, I roused the Boss and called to Joe. 
 
 " We'll boil the billy first, and then wake him," I 
 said, pointing to Spot Harris. 
 
 " All right. Whilst you do that I'll go and make a 
 cache of our grub. That will make room for him on 
 the sleigh." 
 
 As he spoke, Joe groped his way to the bundle of 
 blankets by the fire, and stirred it roughly with his 
 foot. 
 
 " Let him alone, Joe ! Didn't you hear the Boss 
 say you were to let the poor devil sleep ? " I cried. 
 
 " He sleep all right ; Joe no can wake him." 
 
 Something in the Indian's manner, more than in his 
 words, made me go over to his side and put my hand 
 upon the blankets. I don't know what told me, but I 
 knew that Spot Harris was dead before I touched him. 
 Dead he was, and stiff already, and the snow just round 
 
 t ■ 
 
248 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 ' i. 
 
 him, I noticed, was disturbed almost as if the poor 
 wretch had writhed in agony before his troubles were 
 over. Indeed it looked as if he had hastened hi? own 
 end by his struggles, for there was a distinct impress 
 in the snow, as if he had turned face downwards and 
 smothered in it. 
 
 But that can hardly have happened, for had he 
 suifered so acutely he would surely have cried out, in 
 which case I must have heard him ; but he had made 
 no sound. If he had, Joe at any rate would have 
 heard him, and would have 
 
 Ah! what would Joe have done? The question 
 suggested a terrible train of thoughts to my mind ; so 
 that when I next looked at that inscrutable and blind 
 mask by my side it was with a shudder of fear and 
 al)h'jrrence. 
 
 But my suspicions had nothing substantial to justify 
 them. Whatever had liappened had happened in the 
 night whilht we slept, end nothing that had been dune 
 could be proved now or mended. 
 
 AVith heavy hearts and in dead silence we set about 
 our morning's work. If wo could not save the frost- 
 bitten man, we could do our best to bury hin and 
 liUke ; but even of this we made a desperately poor 
 job. The frozen earth would neither suppc/t man's 
 life nor take him into her bosom wlien dead ; and the 
 ))est that we could do for tlie two bodies was to break 
 the ice at the river's edge and shove '^lem under it. 
 
 ' « «a:«r: 
 
TUE CHICAMON STONE, 
 
 249 
 
 or it. 
 
 There they vvonld be safe at least from the \vt)lves, and 
 the rivor would take them down to the sea for burial. 
 I don't know why we should have thought them bettei- 
 placed there than in the snow by the river* edge ; but 
 we wanted to do something for them, and this was all 
 that could l^e done. 
 
 After burying our dead, the wind being fair, we 
 decided to proceed up-stream. That, I suppose, is the 
 way in which the ease would ordinarily be stated ; but 
 if I so stated it, it would be at variance with the fact. 
 As we stood by tlie edge of the ice, neither of us could 
 have said whetlier we were going backwards or for- 
 wards. AVe had 1 )st all heart in our quest ; there were 
 enemies both before and behind us, and, tliough wo 
 followed the Indian up-stream, our natural instinct 
 was, I think, rather to flee from than to follow him. 
 
 Neither tlie Boss nor I had mucli to say to him, but 
 that did not affect him — indeed, I don't suppose he 
 noticed it. Ho was livi:ig in a world of his own, and 
 talking to his ow7i heart, so that he neither knew nor 
 cared what happened outside him so that it did not 
 interfere between liim and his goal. 
 
 1 don't pretend to explain all tliat luippencd in the 
 last part of our journey. T know — for I have asked him 
 since — tliat the Boss, like mysell', luvl determined to 
 abandon the journey nt Olenora; but we camped some 
 distance short of the little town, and, when in tlie 
 early morning we passed it, the Indian leading us 
 
250 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 steadily on, neither the Boas nor I oifered any resist- 
 ance. We did not want to go, but we went; and 1 
 don't think that we realized what we were doing, 
 until we were tramping some distance north, along the 
 winter trail, to Dease Lake. 
 
 " I suppose we may as well see it through, now that 
 we have come so far," said my friend that night, by 
 the camp fire. 
 
 "I don't feel as if we could help oiu'selves," I 
 admitted ; " and that fellow would go on alone and die 
 by himself if we turn back." 
 
 " T don't know whether that is any worse than he 
 deserves." 
 
 " Tliat's just it : you don't know, and I don't know, 
 and it's no good speculating. All I care to remember 
 is, that he was a good friend to me before those fiends 
 blinded him, and I'm not going to leave him in the 
 lurch now." 
 
 "That's wholesome doctrine, Whitehead, ami we'll 
 make it the last word said on the subject. Mad or 
 sane, we will follow Siyah Joe till we reach the 
 Chicamon Stone, or the Great Divide : I don't know 
 that it matters much which, the hunt is out of our 
 hands, and has been since we started." 
 
 " So are all hunts. Boss," I said. And in that spirit 
 we let the Indian lead us on day by day, until we had 
 passed through a hundred miles of snow-smothered 
 willow-swamps, and come down to the little clearing 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 251 
 
 
 
 at the bead of the hike, where last summer the hard- 
 fists bound for Pelly Banks, had made them a boat- 
 builder's yard. 
 
 Now, though this story may seem to travel fast, 
 it must not be understood that we travelled quite 
 as fast as the story. There were many days of 
 stubborn collar-work, enlivened by no incident at all. 
 From dawn to dark we broke the trail, or plodded 
 after the dogs, straining our muscles and thinking our 
 own thoughts, longing, as many a pioneer does, for the 
 fight to be over, and the day to come when we could 
 turn back home. 
 
 How many of them ever do go home ? At first it 
 seems so easy. A year or two of saving, and privation, 
 and liard work, and then tliey think they will go back 
 just as young as ever, and crowned with success, to 
 receive the plaudits of those they left behind. But all 
 the time the good recedes. Only one more year — only 
 one year more, whispers Hope ; but the years come, 
 and the years go, and the grey steals into the hair, 
 whilst news comes, even to those outlandish parts, tliat 
 first one, and then another, of those for whose applause 
 the wanderer has been working, will not be there to 
 welcome him at his home-coming, until at last, even 
 if in the long run he wins, his is but a barren victory, 
 with no smiles, no cheers to make it sweet. The 
 devil gold, or the empty baubles of amljition, have led 
 him on a fool's chase, only to prove to him as he 
 
252 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 clutches them what will-o'-the-wisps they are. The 
 real thing, the life which he has spent, has passed by 
 him unnoticed. Well for liim if he has left nothing 
 worse than a blind trail beliind him. 
 
 By the time we reached Dease Lake we were hard, 
 tired men, and the signs of spring were beginning to 
 appear. ]\Iore than once a chinook wind had blown, 
 and beneath its warm breath the snow had disappeared 
 in places, as if it had been cut off with a knife. Over- 
 head from time to time there was a whistle of wings, 
 going north, and nearly every day we came across 
 some tiny splash of open water, in which the earliest 
 of the ducks were making merry. But the lake itself 
 was still a solid sheet of ice except where, here and 
 there in the coves, a little ribbon of open water 
 bordered the shore. The main sheet of ice was still 
 several feet in thickness, though it was honey-combed 
 through and through like a log which the teredos 
 have eaten. 
 
 But it was not only the lake which had changed ; 
 the camp at the head of it, too, was a very different 
 place to that which I remembered. In the early 
 summer from a hundred to four hundred men were 
 living there or thereabouts ; at least twenty boats 
 were in course of construction — great boats to contain 
 from two to live tons of winter supply, and built out of 
 lumber, whip-sawed upon the .sjxjt. 
 
 It was a merry enougli spot then, with stacks of 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 253 
 
 provisions round each tent, duck and fish in the lake, 
 and generally at least one carcase of cariboo or moose 
 in camp, a ruddy stove in the one log building on cold 
 nights, and a game of whist (not bumble puppy) for 
 those who cared to play. 
 
 Then a pack-train arrived twice a week ; and after 
 each arrival we used to go down to the shore, and see 
 at least one of the wooden scows just built start upon 
 its journey — a journey down the arctic slope, from 
 which the travellers luight return in one year, two 
 years, or never. 
 
 Now the place was empty, the whip-saw silent, and 
 the Jew pedler, who used to catch fish for us. and the 
 bird-stuffer from Scotland, and the pretty young man 
 from Califuniia, who used to bore us about the girl he 
 left behind him, and the Herefordshire farmer (good 
 fellow), an<l the two ragged scholars who wanted to 
 know whether they could earn their living as working- 
 men, were all gone. I saw the la-;t of the Hereford- 
 shire farmer at the first sharp bei.'<l in Dease llivcr. 
 He had just successfully accomplished tlie salvage of 
 five tons of grub. Both he and it were on tlio bank 
 draining. The Jew pedler, and some other ftdlows, 
 were bringing back the boat. The ragged scholars 
 were beating the Hudson Bay Indians in open com- 
 l^etition, as oarsmen, at two dollars and a half a day, 
 and the rest of the merry crowd had passed on to 
 Pelly Banks, T suppose, or beyond. 
 
' 
 
 i 
 
 254 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 Every trace of the old camp was buried under the 
 snows of winter, except the old log-house, which we 
 found closed and deserted; but human beings had 
 evidently been at the lake -head not long before our 
 arrival, for on the edge of the lake were two dead 
 camp-fires, and a hole in the ice from which the 
 campers had been drawing their water. 
 
 An investigation of these camp-fires showed that 
 they were barely cold, while the ice-hole had not 
 frozen over again. 
 
 " They can't have been gone long," said the Boss. 
 " 1 suppose they are some of those fellows we scared 
 on the 8tickine." 
 
 "Maybe," I said; "but there are a good many of 
 them. What do you think, Joe ? " 
 
 " How can Joe know ? Joe not see. Whitehead see 
 which way trail come." 
 
 The rebuke was deserved, and, acting upon the hint 
 contained in it, I followed the trail back for some 
 distance, and, finding that the two parties came in 
 from diflferent directions, I told the Indian what T saw. 
 
 " Nawitka/' he said. " Luke's men come along trail 
 from the Stickine ; Bill and his tillicums come from 
 away over there by the 8keena." 
 
 " And both go away this morning early ? " 
 
 " Nawitka." 
 
 " Well ; and if he's right, as 1 suppose he is, " said 
 the Boss — " what next ? " 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 255 
 
 As he spoke a low wind was rising, and the Indian 
 was busy prodding the ice with a long i)ole. Strong as 
 it appeared, the ice was mushy and gave easily, like 
 wet brown sugar, beneath the pole. 
 
 " S'pose strong wind come to-night," said the Indian, 
 turning towards us, "ice all go, and no boat stop here. 
 Bettei start to-night — perhaps we pass them in the 
 dark." 
 
 As he spoke I noticed a little rift in the ice near the 
 shore. It was gradually widening. Though it did not 
 look as if the great lake could possibly clear itself of 
 ice as quickly as Joe suggested, it did look as if the 
 break-up was coming ; and if that came, and left us 
 without a boat, it would give to any one in front of us 
 H dangijrously long start to the reef for which we had 
 cndure<l so much. 
 
 " I don't believe in the Chicamon Stone," grumbled 
 the Boss, " and I wish I had never heard of it ; but, 
 having started, we can't very well let those fellows beat 
 us on tlie post. Lead on, ^lacDiiflfl " 
 
 4 
 
 ft 
 
 
 ! 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
256 
 
 THE CniOAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ; '■ 
 
 For some time we sat cowering over the dying fire, 
 and peering out into the darkness in which the frozen 
 lake lay, listening to the rising wind and the strangely 
 ominous sounds of the great ice-field. For months 
 this had formed a solid highway, but now, just when 
 so much depended upon it, it was dissolving before 
 our eyes, whilst the deep snows which lay slowly 
 melting in the heavy timber along the lake's edges, 
 made it all but impossible for men to scramble that 
 way to the head of Dease River. 
 
 The lake itself is twenty-four miles long ; and about 
 sixteen miles from the hither end of it is Laketon, the 
 natural centre of the Cassiar mining district, where 
 the recorder lives and a few miners pass the winter. 
 Once, in the seventies, this was a place of some 
 importance, and a street of timibled-down shacks 
 remains as a memento of the seven or eight million 
 dollars skimmed by the hard -fists from the rich gravels 
 of Dease and Thibert Creek. But, as we sat blinking 
 at the fire, we had no thought of the handful of men 
 
THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 257 
 
 who might possibly be found halfway down the lake. 
 All our thoughts were bent upon eight desperate gold- 
 seekers, who, somewhere out in that frowning darkness, 
 were blundering on blindly towards that reef for which 
 we had risked so much. Would the devil, who cares 
 for such as they, take them safely through the dark, 
 and leave us helpless at this end of the lake ? That 
 was the question in our minds, and every time we 
 heard the ice move, our spirits fell another point. 
 
 At last the moon rose, and a faint and pallid light 
 showed us fresh and larger spaces of open water. It 
 looked madness to attempt a crossing, but it was not a 
 case for waiting. 
 
 " Come now ! " said Joe, rising and feeling his way 
 through a foot of water to the ice. " S'pose wind not 
 too strong we make it by morning." 
 
 As we followed him it seemed as if the wind had 
 heard him, for it swept against us with fresh energy, 
 and the ice heaved and throbbed as if the water below 
 it, knew of the freedom from its icy bonds which was 
 so near at hand. 
 
 Mile after mile we travelled swiftly, as men travel 
 who know that their road is sinking beneath their leet ; 
 and ever as we went the wind rose higher and higher, 
 until the great trees creaked and groaned with the 
 strain of it, and, where the moonlight struck tliem, we 
 could see them tossing and swaying like a crowd which 
 waved to us 
 
 I 
 
 * 
 
 go 
 
 S 
 
258 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 1 : 
 
 ill, 
 
 I ' 
 
 li 
 
 III 
 
 Here and there we came upon water which we had 
 to skirt, and once or twice the leader crushed through ; 
 but, by falling upon his belly, and spreading his weight 
 over a larger surface, he escaped total immersion, and 
 we hauled him back to safety, whilst ever and anon 
 we felt that that upon which we trod was loose and 
 floating. 
 
 I>ut, with immunity from accident, confidence in- 
 creased in us ; so that at last we passed Laketon, and 
 kept on down the lake, though one star of light which 
 we saw upon the shore drew me strongly towards it- 
 Had I been alone I should have yielded to the tempta- 
 tion, and escaped from the din and darkness through 
 wliich we were struggling ; for now the wind had risen 
 to a perfect hurricane, so that we were buffeted this 
 way and that, and could not hear «»ne another's voices 
 for the roar of the wind and the grinding of the ice. 
 
 I saw the Boss stop and point to the light, and I 
 suppose that he s2)oke, but I could hear no sound. 
 I'or a moment we stood in doubt, and then both looked 
 at the bent figure in front, in which there was no sign 
 of pause or rest or deviation fvom the path ahead. 
 Already the outlines of the figure were gone, and in a 
 few more seconds it would be out of sight. Throwing 
 up his hand as if in despair the Boss turned again, and 
 both of us plodded on behind the silent siwash. 
 
 At last the dawn began to come — a faint grey light 
 which did more to frighten than to hearten us, for by 
 
 _—■-■' j F ■■■* ■ •* 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 259 
 
 and I 
 
 )Uiid. 
 )i)ked 
 sign 
 head. 
 1 in a 
 owing 
 n, and 
 
 for by 
 
 it we saw the chaos through which we went, or some 
 portion of it. Along the shore now ran a black ribbon 
 of open water, and the ice, which the night before had 
 been solid as dry land, was now cut by long black 
 rivers, and those long floes which still remained, broke 
 every moment into smaller ami still smaller sections, 
 until some of the smallest of them were mere islets 
 floating free upon the bosom of the lake. But ahea<l 
 of us the ice, though it heaved uneasily undur us as 
 we hurried on, seemed still continuous. Either our 
 floe, or that upon our right, seemed still the main body 
 of the ice, and these two ran parallel to one another, 
 extending towards the head of Dease Iliver, and 
 separated only from one another by a dark, heaving 
 gulf, too wide already to leap, and growing every 
 moment wider. 
 
 But the greater part of the journey had been accom- 
 plished in safety, and I mis beginning to strain my 
 eyes for a glimpse of the end of the lake, wliere 1 knew 
 that the shores must come curving in towards the 
 outlet of the Dease, when, to add to our discomfort, a 
 fine snow began to drift into our faces, rendering 
 everything dark again. 
 
 It was at this time, when the noise of the grinding 
 ice and the roar of the wind was deafening us, and the 
 shifting veil of the snowstorm partially blinding us, 
 that, as I turned my eyes to see how the chasm grew 
 upon my right, I became aware that we were not alone. 
 
II 
 
 260 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 ^: 
 
 )! 
 
 I i: 
 
 At first I thought my eyes were playing triclts with 
 me, or that my nerves were giving way, for though 
 perfectly reasonable — when you had time to reason — 
 it seemed at first unnatural that we should be racing 
 neck and neck with those other eight men beyond the 
 chasm, without our ears giving us warning of their 
 presence. But it was natural enough. In that pan- 
 demonium of sound you could not have heard a park 
 of artillery going by, and if we had not heard them 
 they certainly had not heard us. Strung out like a 
 skein of wild-fowl, dim as a procession of ghosts, swift 
 and silent, they sped on, unconscious of the competitors 
 ill the race so close alongside of them. I suppose that 
 we ran like this for half an hour, and I don't think 
 that they saw us, or that either of my companions 
 once caught sight of them, so intent were all upon 
 tlie road before them, and so often did the whirling 
 snow swallow the dim figures in its veil. 
 
 The end came suddenly. I, who was toiling along 
 painfully just in sight of my leaders, saw the Boss 
 break into a run, and, dashing up to Joe, clutch him 
 by the shoulder. In a minut<3 I was up alongside 
 them. In front of the Indian, and only just in front, 
 was open water — fifty feet of it at least. Our bridge 
 had come to an end, and ahead of us I could see (or 
 was it only fancy ?) the faint outlines of the curving 
 shore. 
 
 Beyond the open water there was ice again, but 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 261 
 
 lulig 
 
 iOSS 
 
 liim 
 Iside 
 lont, 
 jdge 
 (or 
 ring 
 
 but 
 
 
 whclher continuous or not, no man could tell in that 
 dim light. The snow drifted more thickly near the 
 surface of the lake, so that, though you miglit now 
 and again make out the outlines of a tree-top at some 
 distance on the bank, you could see but a very little 
 way along the floe. 
 
 For a few moments Joe and the Boss stood senam- 
 ing into each otlier's ears, but though I stood close by 
 them, I could not catch a Aord of tlieir conversation. 
 It seemed madness to go on. It was equally madness 
 to try to go back. Oiu- road had in parts sunk as we 
 passed over it. Even those two hesitated for a wliile, 
 and attracted, I presume, by the open water on their 
 left, tha string of figures on the other Hoe turned our 
 way and saw us, for the first time. The situation 
 needed no explanation. They evidently gras})e(l it in 
 a moment, as, bunching together, they stood a moment 
 looking at us. The goal was just a]iea<l, but our 
 bridge had broken down, and theirs stret<died on still, 
 sound, into the mist. 1 suppose the Boss told Siyah 
 Joe who stood alongside us, for I saw him turn his 
 blind face towards them, and shake his iron-shod staff 
 furiously in their faces; and then, it seemed to me, 
 though I could not hear, nor even see distinctly, that 
 those others laughed, and, before they went on into the 
 mist, one whom I knew came out from amongst them 
 and raised his hat mockingly to us before he dis- 
 appeared. 
 
H 
 
 20 
 
 THE OHICAMON 8T0KE. 
 
 f 1 
 
 i' 
 
 
 
 The cards wore certainly against ii«, and, n(» don!>t, 
 as Bill saw his band^ he «'hnckled at our position, and 
 went on towards the ledge, leaving ns to dro\\n at ( nr 
 leisure. Bat it is had pr)liey to mock a beaten foe. 
 Many men have fonnd that, in the ring and elsewhere, 
 there is generally one last blow left i^* the beaten 
 man, and that blow nmy reverse tlie issue of the fight. 
 
 So it was now, for Joe, wIkj seemed to realize what 
 had Ituppened as (dearly as if he had had eyes and ears 
 whieh could overcome (lie darkness and diu of the 
 storm, held out his pole to the Boss, and, clinging to 
 one end nf it whilst my friend held on t<> the other, 
 slid over the edge into the open water. 
 
 I expevi-fd to see him swim jor it, and tried to harden 
 my heart to fidiow him, Imt it was unnecessary, lie 
 was nevev waist-ccep, or more tlian waist-deep, inmi 
 one edge of Mie water to the other. What looked !ik{5 
 a rent in (lie ice was but a depressiim, over which the 
 lake had risen, and, though I shall not easily forget 
 the horror <.f that slo[)iiig, pulsing sulnnarine llo<»r, 
 a ad though once 1 lot>t my feet and slid right under 
 the cidd black water, they hauled me somehow safely 
 to the firm ice again. 
 
 Firm ! Well, 1 <'alled it so in contrast to that thin, 
 waving floor which 1 had crossed ; but the ice of the 
 lake V as n';w movini'- like the ccdoured atoms in a 
 kaleidoscope. Another (|Uurter <»f an lunir w«iuld see 
 the \Nhole surfaie black, I thought ; and > '.nady. as the 
 
 — S*«Jirl*« 
 
M 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 2G3 
 
 (» 
 
 tlior, 
 
 lovget 
 
 Hour, 
 
 under 
 
 satV'ly 
 
 tiiiii, 
 
 ol tlie 
 
 h ill ti 
 
 Id H(e 
 
 as till' 
 
 licfht iiiorensed, I could sec small white caps driven 
 across the larger spaces of open water l>y the roaring 
 wind. 
 
 We were wet now to the neck, and weak in the 
 knees from the long nigl.c's journey in the teeth of 
 the wind and from the constant strain upon our nerves ; 
 but we were Imt with the spirit of the race, and reck- 
 less as desperate men are wont to be. Thuso otliers 
 had vanished in tlie mist in fnmt of us, but under our 
 feet again was something wliich wo could still walk 
 U[)on, and, with the glimpse wiiii^h we hiul now and 
 again of a black pine in tiic nii,-:t, wo were ready, if 
 need bo, to phmge in and swim for it. And indeed at 
 this point we were almost as often in the water as out 
 of it. Towards th»' edges of tlie lake the ice was 
 breakitig up more rajndly tlian elsewhere, so tliat wf 
 had to go as men go n[)on stepping-stones, from one 
 small cake to another. Nor was it better witli the 
 other lloe, between whicli and our own there was miw 
 a space of many liundrcd yards. Itetweeii the oml 
 of it, on whi<'h we couhl sec (»nr rivals InnMlcd to- 
 gether, and the shore, there was at least six hundred 
 yards of open water. 
 
 It was a weird sight in the early dawn, that group 
 scrambling like seals upon tlw edge of the ice from 
 which great cakes kept detaching themselves, until tlu^ 
 whole mass was cliurning an-' grinding together in the 
 black water, the cakes rearing up and l<oarding one 
 
 
264 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 U 
 
 I A 
 
 another or sinkinnr suddenly into the ever-p^rowinp 
 blackness. 
 
 As we stood and looked a fissure ran across the floe 
 upon which we stood, yawned, grew wider and, in a 
 moment, we were rocking upon a detached island over 
 which the water lapped, and drifting — that was tlie 
 marvel of it — right in the teeth of the wind, to the 
 shore. 
 
 But it was not so witli tlie otlier ico-field. As that 
 broke up into smaller and smaller sections the wind 
 played with them, and ground them together, and drove 
 tliem away from shore as long as they remained above 
 water. 
 
 It seemed inexplicable, or as if the hand of Provi- 
 dence had at last been extended for our rescue, and 
 was drawing us to land and safety, whilst those others 
 were driven back to perish in the stormy ca\d(lr<»n of 
 tlie lake. 
 
 The siwash must liave felt what was happening, fur 
 ho knelt and trailed his hand in the water. 
 
 "Dry laud close now ? " he asked. 
 
 " Coming closer, Joe, on our left ; we are drifting to 
 it against the wind." 
 
 " l*()lo, polo! " he cried, " pole hard to the left, tlie 
 river draws us ! "and, suiting tlie action to tlie word, lie 
 drove down his })ole until his shoulder was wet with 
 the water of the lakt». 
 
 liut he could not reach tl»e i)ottom. Again nnd 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 2ri5 
 
 apfain he tried ; ami at last I just felt the ooze, 
 thougli I could get no hold up<»n it. Bnt ho did; 
 and the next moment the course of our ice-raft bepan 
 to alter a little, and the ooze came up nearer and 
 nearer until we p^ot a firm grip of it witli our poh's. 
 Then a clumsy efllort of mine putting too much weight 
 ujMm (me side ol' the fragile thing, nuidc it hroak again ; 
 and for thirty or I'orty yards I was luilf swimming lialf 
 clinging t(» the ice upon wliich .loo and the Hoss still 
 p(d(Hl for dear life, whilst the dotaclied fragment spun 
 round and round until it sliot out of siglit throiigli 
 the outlet of tlie Dease. 
 
 They had no leisure to haul me up. The Tmiss saw 
 that 1 had hold, and was swimming with them; and in 
 the interests of all i>f us, he strained every mus(de to 
 keep our raft out of the current and drive her inshore, 
 /vud indeed it was not long that I was alone, fur, when 
 within a stone's throw of the sliore, the ice dissolved 
 into a score of fragments, and we were all lloundering 
 togetiier in the water. Ihit wo were out of tiie suck of 
 the current, and the water was hardly as daugerous as 
 the mud, for, whereas there was not three feet of the 
 former, the latter seemed unfathouiaMe. One man 
 alone would surely have been drowiied. Tht» di'cp 
 ooze would iuive held his feet, an<l the longer \w stayeij 
 and strugirled the deejw-r w.iuld he liuvo sunk, until 
 even three feet of water wauld have been enough to 
 drown what renuiined »f hint. Hut, lieliiinjLr one 
 
 ! I 
 
 \ A 
 
1 i 
 
 266 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I i 
 
 h il 
 
 another with our poles, we made a better fight of it than 
 a single man could have done, until at last, panting, 
 struggling, fighting for life itself, we staggered into 
 the swamp, and lay motionless and spent in the wet 
 grass, too exhausted to look for a better resting-place 
 than a shallow not deep enough to drown us. 
 
 As I lay, the immediate terror of death passed away 
 from me, and it seemed as if plates which had been 
 exposed when I was too busy to look at them were 
 i^resented to my mental vision. Just as the scream 
 " Pole, pole ! " had come to my ears, my eyes must 
 have been looking back upon the lake, which was 
 heaving and breaking like the surface of a cauldron 
 which is just at boiling-point ; and in the middle of 
 the tumult, springing wildly from cake to cake, was 
 one lonely figure. If it had been the devil the little 
 floes could not have treated him worse : as he toucln d 
 them they dissolved beneath his feet. Again and 
 again I saw liim sink in the black waters ; again and 
 again I saw him gripping the ice edges, and crawl- 
 ing out only to sink again. It seemed cruelty to let 
 him sufHer so long ; but he would not drown, and 
 when I last saw him, he was still setting liis ]»uny 
 strengtli against the raving wind and the grinding, 
 treacherous ice. 
 
 1 half rose now and l«v»ked back to where \ hud last 
 seen hint, l>ut he wa.> gone. (H' {ho eight, li<^ alone 
 had been left wlien our ice-raft broke hK)se ; and 
 
 i <i 
 
f it than 
 panting, 
 red into 
 the wet 
 ig-plat-e 
 
 ed away 
 id been 
 m were 
 scream 
 js must 
 ch was 
 anldron 
 ddle of 
 ke, was 
 e little 
 oik'Im d 
 lin and 
 in and 
 crawl- 
 to let 
 n, and 
 I puny 
 nding, 
 
 THE JHICAMON STONE. 237 
 
 now the daylight had come, and, far as the eye 
 could see, the ice was broken into little pieces, near 
 the shore, and beyond, the white caps ran unhindered 
 over the black water. There was no sign of living 
 thing upon the lake ; and as I looked T knew that by- 
 and-by, somewhere against the sedges, there would be 
 eight white faces, flusli with the water, rising and 
 falling, wliieh never again would grow bright witli 
 hope or keen witli m-eed of iroM. 
 
 " That is tlie last of Bill," \ uiuttered lialf to myself. 
 But tlie Indian answered me. "Not yet," lie said. 
 " Bill vait for Joe at the Chicamon Stone." 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
 lid hist 
 
 alone 
 
 )| atid 
 
268 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1 ) 
 
 ill 
 
 " What do you think of it now, Whitehead ? " 
 
 It was the ]5oss who spoke, as wo [)icked our way 
 slowly thron«^h the swamp towards a «!oiiplo of cabins 
 and a ruined store, which stand near the junction of 
 tlie Dease and the Dease Lake. 
 
 We had hoard that a oarty of [)rospectors was wintor- 
 i\v^ tliere, and we had some hope of obtaininj^ a i«>at 
 from tliom in wliicli to continue our journey — or at 
 the least a solid meal, of which we stood iji urj^ent 
 need. 
 " I tliink that wo were born to be hanpjed." 
 " iJocauso we can't drown? Ihit vluit do you tldnk 
 rthe hunt? Are you boginninj^ to l»olieve?" 
 
 o 
 
 "In J(K''s crood?— that we shall meet Sandy liill 
 at the Chicamon Stone? \(>. If I luid not come so 
 far, I woidd turn back now." 
 
 « 
 
 I would not. I b(»y:in to btdiove, 
 
 salt 
 
 my 
 
 friend, 
 
 (piietly. " Kill is not doa<l yet. 1 tliink I can fed 
 him in tlie woods now." 
 
 1 tunio(l H startled glanoo on my comrade. Surely 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 2(>9 
 
 fed 
 
 even iii^ great strenpftli and sound common sense was 
 not beginning t<j give way under the strain of the last 
 two weeks ? 
 
 But \\v- met my look with a <iuiet, steady oye, and 
 even laughed a little as he answered me. 
 
 "You would never make a woodsman, hoy. Things 
 don't talk to you. Tliey used not to talk to mo ; hut 
 I am beginning to hear and I'ecl tilings now which 
 were always there, but novor seemed <juite to reach 
 me before, //f- hears them more plainly, that's all;" 
 and, by a gesture, he indicated Siyah Joe, wlio was now 
 following (juietly in our rear. 
 
 Just then an axe-stroke rang out clearly in front 
 of us, and I suppose I raise<l my head at the sound 
 of it. 
 
 "Ah! you hear that ! 'J'hat is good, phiiu, human 
 language, isji't it ? and yet not always. Did you ever 
 hear of the Whoopers? " 
 
 I had; but 1 had no time to say so, for at tiiat 
 moment I caught siudit of the axeman, nnd was glad 
 of it. My friend certainly wanted a s<|nare nual 
 badly. 1 had lived now ior months witli one. lunatic, 
 but I ilid not feel e([ual to living with two ot the 
 same kind. 
 
 "Ilalht! When were ymi drowned?" asked tiie 
 man, dropping his axe and coming towards us. 
 
 " fiast night," an-'Wered the Bo^o, hiconically. '* (^ot 
 
 any gru 
 
 b? 
 
ill. 
 
 270 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 ill 
 
 " Mighty little ; but I guess there's some still. 
 Ain't you fellows full up with water ? " 
 
 " Pretty nearly ; but that's poor stuflf to travel on. 
 Are you alone ? " 
 
 ** No ; my partner is up at the shack. The ice has 
 all gone on the lake, hasn't it ? " 
 
 ** Yes ; we came in on the last of it." 
 
 " Looks as if you'd swum in. Well, I guess we'll 
 soon be able to get off prospectin' again now." 
 
 " Are you going down-stream ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Have you any boats ? " 
 
 *• We're building one ; but it won't be ready for a 
 week yet." 
 
 " Aren't there any on the Dease ? " 
 
 " They say there's one cached just below Cotton- 
 w(K)d Rapids, but I haven't been down to see. 
 'ome m. 
 
 We bent our heads and entered the dim and com- 
 fortless abode in which these two men had passed the 
 long months of winter, sleeping, cooking, smoking — 
 and, I suppose, thinking ; tliough how any man dare 
 tliink, or could think in such a den, with such a world 
 outside, and the memory of mankind behind him 
 without going mad, passes my understanding. But 
 scores of them do it, and, ns very few make any 
 money out of their venture, 1 suppose that they 
 like it. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 271 
 
 " There's nothing but beans and sow belly," said our 
 host ; " but you look hungry enough tor anything. 1 
 guess they are pretty nearly as badly off, if not worse, 
 down at the lower posts." 
 
 " Why is that ? " 
 
 " A crowd came in last fall and had to winter there ; 
 and the old man had only enough for himself and the 
 Chinamen on the creek. They'll go hungry, poor 
 devils ! " 
 
 But though foc^d was so scarce that starvation might 
 be threatening other men within comparatively few 
 miles of him, our newfrien<l never stopped to count the 
 cost, but cut into the poor remnant of his bacon as if 
 he had a well-lilled store to fall bai'k upon. 
 
 Our Western prospector has his faults, but lueanness 
 is not one of them. As hmg as he has a bite or a sup, he 
 will share them with the lirst man who comes along; 
 and that morning we ate till we could eat no more, 
 and then slept in his dry blankets while he hung up 
 our sodden cljthes to drain lirst and then, if possible, 
 to dry. 
 
 It was evening when we woke, and ate again ; and as 
 Joe, to my surprise, did not protest, we jnerely smoked 
 a pipe and turned over again and slept until the dawn 
 was creeping througli the chinks in the eabin. It was 
 the first time 1 had felt rested since i left the mouth 
 of the Stickine, and so good was it to feel a man again, 
 that I was almost keen to take the trail 
 
 it- 1-. 
 
1 
 
 \il 
 
 ||u 
 
 . 
 
 E i 
 
 1 '^■' 
 
 'li 
 
 • i 
 
 ' ■ i 
 1 1 : n 
 
 1 J ' 1 
 
 ■ Ml! 
 
 i ■ '' '!( 
 
 i M! 
 
 ! i| 
 
 III 
 
 u 
 
 272 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " How long will it take us to reach 3I(' Dame's ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " If you make Cottonwood Cy'reok in three days, yon 
 will do pretty well; and if yon jjet across that all ri^ht, 
 yon mifijht make McDame's in another three." 
 
 "Is Cotton Wood dangerous?" 
 
 " You bet slie is ! and she'll be just humming now. 
 No man as ever drank wliisky could ford that creek 
 for tlic next month. Two tenderfect trie<l to last year. 
 Thev ain't been lieard from since." 
 
 "That's so," struck in the other fellow; "but you 
 fellows are in big luck. Do you mind, Seth, that 
 Sraitli party felled a log across the creek last fall. I 
 guess tlie log is tliere yet." 
 
 " Should be ; there's no tellin'. But it it isn't they 
 can fall another if they can lind one handy." 
 
 As this was about the sum of their informati(tn, we 
 secured from them a certain amount of dried moose- 
 meat, tougli as leather, and musty as old parchments, 
 and bade them farewell. 
 
 It was true that we seemed to have the huut to our- 
 selves; but now that tlic spring was ojuMiing, otlier 
 prospectors might soon appear in tlio country, aiul 
 blunder upon the prize for which we had sacriliced so 
 much, so tluit it behoved us not to linger upon tlie 
 road unnecessarily. 
 
 It soems hardly wortli wliilu to dwell upon our three 
 days' tramp to Cottonwood Creek. In one of the old 
 
 i! 
 
THE CIIICAMON STONE. 
 
 273 
 
 A) (Uir- 
 other 
 
 '. and 
 •ed so 
 
 i)U the 
 
 tlireo 
 10 oM 
 
 Hudson 15ay records of travel, it woidd occupy leas 
 than three lines. In a modern hook of travel it would 
 make three vivid chai)ters. Tlio less you travel the 
 easier it is to write. After a time discomfort becomes 
 commonplace, and dan«;er is oidy realized when it is 
 a little too late to write ahout it. 
 
 Imagine, if you will, a river-forest as dense as forests 
 grow, with here and there a little axe-slashing to make 
 a rough towing-path for the Indians, but for the most 
 l)art dense brush througli which you can just push 
 your way along bear-trails, witli the boughs in your 
 eyes all the time, the roar of waters in your ears, and 
 the pleasant, spicy smell of i>ine or cedar, cruslied 
 currant-bush, or the young buds of the balsam, in your 
 nostrils. Water seemed the one commodity of which 
 there was no lack. It welled up under our feet, roared 
 down the winding river, streamed or dri}>i)cd from the 
 bushes, and soaked up tlirougli the tliickest l»rusli-bed 
 which we coidd make at niglit. 
 
 There was plenty of it everywhere; but at Cotton- 
 wood Kapids it gathered to a head and indulged in an 
 orgy of evil-(h)ing. Wo could hear the creek or the 
 rapids, or both, half an hour before we reache«l tliem, 
 and wi5 were glad that we had not found a boat in 
 which to run tliose ra[)ids. 
 
 \Vitl\ a ilrst-rate steersman, and a good man in tlie 
 bow, a crew would no doubt have won through, if they 
 ha<l had way enough upon their boat : Imt it would 
 
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274 
 
 THE CniCAMON STONE. 
 
 have been a nice piece of steering, for, right across the 
 stream, in the worst and whitest of the water, great 
 teeth of rock protruded, to touch any one of which 
 would have meant instant destruction. Once upset 
 in that water he would have been a quick man who 
 had time to try to save himself ; but if he had fallen 
 in the creek near its mouth, I think his brains would 
 have been dashed out almost before he had had time 
 to get wet. 
 
 " There is no wading that," said the Boss, as we came 
 to it. " If a man could touch bottom, his feet would 
 never stay there ; and there is no bridge that I can see, 
 though this must be the crossing." 
 
 " And here is the butt of the cotton wood tree," I 
 said, pointing to a great stump on the brink. 
 
 " Washed out, I suppose ; but there is no sign that 
 the water has been as high as that." 
 
 " Tree gone ? " asked Siyah Joe. 
 
 " Yes, it has gone, Joe." 
 
 The fellow laughed. 
 
 " Does Bill thinlv a crik can stop a Talil Tan ? " 
 he muttered. " Better look for another higlier ujj. 
 Whitehead," he added. 
 
 " Bill on the brain," I said to the Boss. But he did 
 not laugh ; he seemed to take the Indian seriously. 
 
 We had a long way to go up-stream, and it was 
 bitterly hard work forcing our way through the forest 
 tangle, but we found the right tree at last, and dropped 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 275 
 
 Lcross the 
 :er, great 
 of which 
 ice upset 
 man who 
 I ad fallen 
 lis would 
 had time 
 
 3 we came 
 et would 
 I can see, 
 
 i tree," I 
 
 sign that 
 
 1 Tan?" 
 glier up, 
 
 ut he did 
 usly. 
 d it was 
 le forest 
 
 uro 
 
 ppe 
 
 1 
 
 it neatly across the creek. It did not quite span it ; 
 and no blind man but Joe would have crawled across 
 the swaying length of it, much less have dared to jump 
 into space from the end of it. But he would have jumped 
 at the Maelstrom if we had told him to, and we caught 
 him as he landed, and made the passage in safety, after 
 which we worked our way down to the crossing again 
 for the sake of any trail there might be. 
 
 Here there was a surprise for me, though the other 
 two took it as a matter of course. 
 
 On the bank where the end of the tree should have 
 rested was a pile of chips, and part of the tree itself 
 dragged into the brush close by. The rain had so 
 bespattered the chips with mud that they did not show 
 white from the other side, but when I handled tliem I 
 found places where the wood was white enough. They 
 had felt tlie bite of the axe within the last twenty- 
 four hours, and all round them, a little blurred by the 
 rain, were the square-toed prints of a prospector's 
 boots. Bill had escaped the ice, after all : was in front 
 of us, and had deliberately destroyed the bridge behind 
 him; and in spite of myself, I could not help ad- 
 miring the dogged tenacity with which this lone man 
 ignored danger, saw his companions die round liiin, 
 and still struggled towards his point, determined, 
 as he put it, to " get there," in spite of tlie Almighty 
 Himself. 
 
 " No idea of giving in, has he ? " paid the Boss. " Do 
 
ii 
 
 11 
 
 m'; 
 
 1 1' 
 
 ii 
 
 I . 
 
 ) ') 
 
 276 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 you think that it is worth while going off the trail to 
 look for the boat ? " 
 
 " He may not have known about it," I answered. 
 
 " True. Come along then ; " and we went. 
 
 But the Indian stayed on the trail, and in twenty 
 minutes we were back at his side, having found the 
 rough skids which Bill had made, and the little furrow 
 where the boat had been shoved into the water. 
 
 " That will give him four days' start, even if we can 
 get a boat at McDame's." 
 
 "I would follow if he had a month's start. Any 
 other man would drown between this and the Hyland, 
 running the rapids single-handed ; but he won't." 
 
 " You're as mad as the siwash. Boss." 
 
 " Or as sane. He has not made many mistakes yet." 
 
 There was nothing to answer to this ; so we plodded 
 on in gloomy silence, until we reached the tiny settle- 
 ment where a poorly paid Hudson Bay man and a few 
 little yellow Chinamen passed the winter. 
 
 Here there were two boats, but they would sell 
 neither. They did not want money, though they had 
 come so far to earn it ; but they wanted food badly, and, 
 of course, we could not tell them wliy we were so 
 anxious to obtain a boat. 
 
 The merest hint of a " strike " will rouse the most 
 dormant prospector into feverish energy, and for the 
 present we wanted to be alone. So that night we 
 entered upon a course of crime, and, under cover of 
 
 r''r-R*UP5rT:;;**i--.T.,t 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 277 
 
 trail to 
 
 red. 
 
 twenty 
 md the 
 ) furrow 
 
 ' we can 
 
 :. Any 
 Hyland, 
 
 fc." 
 
 [es yet." 
 
 plodded 
 
 settle- 
 
 d a few 
 
 lild sell 
 
 ey had 
 
 |ly, and, 
 
 ere so 
 
 most 
 
 for the 
 
 jht we 
 
 )ver of 
 
 darkness, slipped off with the best of the boats, and had 
 our reward in being wrecked upon a snag two hours 
 later. But the damage done was easily remedied, and, 
 though the boat leaked like a sieve, we ran her down 
 in safety to the mouth of the Hyland Iviver. And then 
 began the worst part of our journey — poling like galley- 
 slaves, and travelling always higher and higher, and 
 further and further away from the coming spring. In 
 five days from McDame's we had snow round us again 
 as thick as ever, and the nights had a snap in them 
 which we had already grown unaccustomed to. 
 
 But, as we ascended, the country changed rapidly. 
 Everywhere in the banks were veins of quartz: some- 
 times white and hungry-looking, at other times of a 
 rich, rusty yellow such as the miners love ; and in 
 one place we came upon a stringer of galena, which, 
 at another time, would have kept us there for a month 
 prospecting for the main body into which it ought 
 to run. 
 
 No doubt the country was becoming richly mineral- 
 ized. But so far there was no sign of Bill ; not even a 
 column of smoke to tell us that he had camped, or a 
 scrap of wreckage to make us hope that he had drowned ; 
 and if he reached the ledge before us, in time to put 
 in a dozen stakes, he might go out and record his 
 claim, and snap his fingers at us. 
 
 No doubt Tatooch had given him the bearings of 
 the ledge, and, though we might try to ht>ld him for 
 
278 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 ! i! 
 
 i ■! 
 
 his share in the outrage upon Siyah Joe, it would be 
 long odds against our getting a conviction in that 
 country, and, even if we did, that would not affect the 
 ownership of the Chicamon Stone. 
 
 Under these circumstances it should not be hard to 
 imagine the intense excitement of the last few days 
 of that journey : straining every muscle upon the pole 
 as long as the daylight lasted, watching for any trace 
 of a landing, and at every bend straining our eyes for 
 a glimpse of that lone figure which we knew must still 
 be ahead of us. 
 
 But we never saw a sign of a landing, nor other 
 trace of Bill, until I, at least, had again begun to 
 regard him as a myth. 
 
 Every day we relied upon the map in Joe's brain 
 for our guidance. At starting he would make us 
 describe the spot minutely, and would calculate the 
 distance done the day before, and then give us some 
 landmark to look out for, from which to make a fresh 
 departure. 
 
 In this way we travelled three days, and had risen 
 so rapidly in that time, that in the main chain to 
 which we were approaching, it was deep winter still. 
 On the third day we stopped at the foot of a hogsback. 
 
 " Whitehead see no tracks there ? " asked Joe. 
 
 ** None, Joe." 
 
 " Land and look well." 
 
 I did as I was bid, but could find nothing. 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 279 
 
 rould be 
 
 in that 
 
 ffect the 
 
 hard to 
 'ew days 
 the pole 
 tiy trace 
 eyes for 
 ust still 
 
 )r other 
 gun to 
 
 s brain 
 ake us 
 ate the 
 is some 
 a fresh 
 
 1 risen 
 ain to 
 r still, 
 sback. 
 
 "All the same, we stop here. Bill not know the 
 short cut. He go up to the moutli of the crik. We 
 go over here, and come down on the head-waters. 
 Chicamon Stone pretty close now." 
 
 Near the landing we cached our canoe ; we had no 
 spare food to cache; and then we climbed our last 
 divide. 
 
 From the top of it we could see the Chicamon 
 Stone Creek— a narrow stream running between snow- 
 banks—the ice broken, but the snow still there ; and, 
 in the snows of the gulch, we came again upon those 
 square-toed tracks. 
 
 After this it was as easy as tracking a grizzly, and 
 as dangerous— or more so, for, if we saw his tracks, 
 there was no good reason why he should not see us ; 
 and, if he did, one straight shot would reduce tlie 
 whole affair to a duel, for blind Joe could not have 
 done any effective shooting, and the odds would liave 
 been distinctly in favour of the unencumbered man. 
 
 But Bill either did not see his opportunity, or was 
 so crazily set upon driving the first stake that he 
 forgot all else ; and, though the tracks told us plainly 
 that he was tramping up and down the long, deep 
 gulch whenever we were resting, neither lie nor we 
 were yet much nearer the ledge than we had been a 
 month ago, for in this place of shadows, into which 
 the sun rarely penetrated, the snows still lay heavily, 
 and even the Indian's memory, unaided by his eyes, 
 
280 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 could not definitely locate the exact spot at which the 
 ledge lay. 
 
 I thought that it was the same old story of a ledge 
 of fabulous richness, which grows less and less real as 
 you approach it, until it finally disappears when you 
 reach the spot where it should be. There have been 
 many such ; but if this was one of the number, two 
 men at any rate did not think so. All day the Indian 
 led us up and down the gulch, looking for places where 
 the snow had slid down and left bare patches of the 
 rock wall ; and all night it seemed to us that another 
 who had been crouching in the brush all day, came 
 out and took up the quest by moonlight. 
 
 And, meanwhile, our food was all but spent. If 
 no Chinook wind came, or rain to set those snows 
 moving within the next few days, we should be obliged 
 to choose between abandoning the ledge, and starving 
 at the foot of it. 
 
 f 
 
 :.« 
 
which the 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 281 
 
 of a ledge 
 ess real as 
 when you 
 lave been 
 nber, two 
 le Indian 
 ces where 
 9s of the 
 t another 
 ay, came 
 
 )ent. If 
 le snows 
 i obliged 
 starving 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I SOMETIMES think that in those last few days we were 
 ail of us nearly mad. 
 
 We had struggled until then as men who race for a 
 prize-one of u^ perhaps as a hound who races for blood 
 -and m the spirit of contest had been able to overcome 
 the obstacles which we had met. 
 
 Blan we had struggled against successfully; we had 
 pitted our strength and skill against the currents of 
 the Arctic Slope ; we had staked our lives, fortunately 
 upon the strength of a quivering sheet of ice ; in sweat 
 which seemed the very blood of our bodies, we had 
 plodded through clinging brush, deep swamps and 
 blind tangles of fallen timber. We had dispensed with 
 all things which most men need; dared all things 
 done all things, but now we had our hardest task before' 
 us. At our very goal Nature bade us do notliing 
 " Wait ! " she said ; and though man may strive against 
 her, who can wait against her ? 
 The spring was at the door, but she might linger 
 
m 
 
 :1 ' 
 
 OQi 
 
 82 
 
 5? 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 many days yet, and meanwhile the deep snows chmg 
 to the sides of the gorge and hid our prize from ouv 
 eyes. jMan's strength could not move that mantle, 
 nor greed's eyes see through it. Here and there was 
 a tiny track on the snow, and at the foot of it the 
 little gleaming ball of pure white detached snow 
 which had made it. That was the precursor of the 
 slides wliich were to follow, but as yet that which 
 had moved could be measured by handsfull and there 
 were thousands of tons to come. 
 
 On the first day we divided what little food we had 
 into daily rations, and then we sat down to wait. But 
 a fever took us before we had waited half a day and 
 drove us out into the canyon to plod backwards and 
 forwards, glaring at the sloping white walls until our 
 eyes ached. Was it in this slide, or in that slide, we 
 asked each other, as we paused at the foot of the great 
 pathways which the snows had ploughed in former 
 years, reaping the pines as man reaps the wheat. 
 
 But there was no answer, except Nature's inexorable 
 " Wait ; " and meanwhile, though we never saw him, 
 another walked too. He must have lain hid in one 
 of the clumps of brush until we crept back weary to 
 camp, and then his beat began. I believe there was 
 never an hour when some human sentry did not pace 
 at the foot of those silent, mocking snows. 
 
 Once I sat hid half the night watching for him, with 
 my finger on the trigger ; but I was spared that crime, 
 
ows clung 
 ) from ouv 
 ^t mantle, 
 there was 
 of it the 
 led snow 
 or of the 
 at which 
 md there 
 
 d we had 
 lit. But 
 day and 
 ards and 
 mtil our 
 slide, we 
 he great 
 former 
 it. 
 
 3xorable 
 iw him, 
 in one 
 eary to 
 lere was 
 Lot pace 
 
 m, with 
 ; crime, 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 283 
 
 and I crept away without having seen him, shamed 
 by the silence and majesty of night. When man 
 was away that still gorge was like a sanctuary of 
 God, and, strangely enough, only the wild mm had 
 sense enough, blind as he was, to see it. He too, 
 wearied with waiting, but he waited as one who has a 
 sure hope. It might not be to-day or to-morrow, but 
 he knew that the Fates would bring him and his enemy 
 to the tryst before his night fell, and hour after hour 
 whilst we tried to sleep he would sit blindly staring into 
 space and talking to the man he was to meet. 
 
 Over and over again I caught the same words, 
 until it seemed to me as if he were rehearsing a part 
 in a play, and my flesh crept at the grimness of it. 
 
 Towards noon of the third day, which we passed at 
 the head of the gorge, the clouds gathered and a warm 
 wind began to blow. The Indian raised his face and 
 snuffed at it as a dog who finds game, and into my 
 brain without my will came thoughts of English 
 daffodils, and the scent of warm English earth. 
 
 It was one of those brooding days, when all created 
 things seem hushed, expectant of the recurrent 
 miracle of spring ; and when the night came, though it 
 w^as dark and boisterous, it was so warm that we only 
 lit our fire from habit, or it may be for that sense of 
 homeliness which the ruddy embers stir even in the 
 heart of a wilderness. 
 The rain began with nightfall, and because of it we 
 
I If 
 
 i i 
 
 
 i: 
 
 i: 
 
 'I ■ !■ 
 i I ' 
 
 284 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 had rigged up a fly with our blankets, and sat, all three 
 together, cowering under it, and as far as the Boss and 
 I were concerned, drowsing like dogs by the hearth. 
 But empty stomachs make poor sleepers, and besides 
 this, the feverishness of the last few days had reached a 
 climax. Joe now was worse than either of us. I could 
 feel him trembling as I sat beside him, and knew that 
 every sense in him was strained to listen. 
 
 I would have given much to have screamed or 
 rushed somewhere ; but instead, I had to sit and hear 
 Joe's hard-drawn breath and the beat of his heart, and 
 almost I fancied throbbings, and movements, and voices 
 half articulate, but growing plainer every moment 
 somewhere just behind the veil whicli at other times 
 is drawn between man and the rest of creation. 
 
 " Has the new moon come yet ? " 
 
 The words made my heart leap, and something 
 seemed to stop to hear my answer. 
 
 No, it had not come, but by some wonderful instinct 
 or eifort of memory, the Tahl Tan was right. It was 
 the night of the new moon. 
 
 For another hour, it may be, we all sat watching and 
 waiting, and then by a common impulse all three of us 
 sprang to our feet. 
 
 The wind had dropped and a dead, warm stillness 
 dwelt in the valley, when a sudden mighty rush- 
 ing sound blanched our cheeks and set our knees 
 knockiug together, and as we gazed out into the dusk 
 
 *mtm 
 
 JM^' 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 285 
 
 the tip of tlie pale new crescent rose above the black 
 fringe of pines on the top of the far side t)f the canyon. 
 
 " The snows move and the new moon lias come," said 
 the blind savage, as if he had seen it. " Joe goes now. 
 The white medicine-man waits for him ; " and witliont 
 another word he picked up a great stake and \\ent out 
 into the night. 
 
 " He goes to his death if he goes down the canyon 
 now," said the Boss, as we heard the Indian's staff strike 
 a rock from time to time. " I don't know that it matters 
 much. That is the last oi our food, and it is lono; 
 odds that none of us will get out." 
 
 " I shall try to as soon as the light comes, ledge or 
 no ledge." 
 
 ** Curse the ledge ! " 
 
 And after that we both sat again watcliing the night 
 go by, hearing from time to time the rushing sound 
 of the sliding snow, and the rending and crushing of 
 the pines it took on its path, and longing to be away 
 from the great things of Nature and safe among the 
 littlenesses of our fellow-men. 
 
 It was one of Nature's carnivals that night, and the 
 strange, warm calm of that lonely gorge, broken at 
 intervals by the roar ofi avalanches and tlie sound 
 of their reapings, told upon our nerves so that we were 
 tired, white-faced men when the moon went down and 
 the first grey light of dawn crept into the sky. 
 
 I think neither of us spoke ; but the Boss rose and 
 
286 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 %' 
 
 h 
 
 kicked the embers into the snow, and for a few 
 minutes we both stood munching our ration of cokl 
 and heavy clamper. Then he fokled the rest of the 
 bread in a handkerchief, and taking his rifle in his hand 
 turned down the canyon. 
 
 During the days of our waiting we had cut and 
 squared the stakes with which to locate the ledge when 
 we found it, and had even written out and attached our 
 miners' notice to one of them ; and partly from habit, 
 and partly because I Avanted a staff to walk with, I 
 picked up this stake as I left camp. 
 
 " It is safer to climb, and go by the top." 
 
 As the Boss spoke, another slide roared into the 
 canyon. 
 
 " Yes, it is longer ; but safer, I suppose," I assented. 
 
 It had to be a very real danger which would persuade 
 me to go out of my way for it on my way home, but 
 some of the new-piled snow was visible from wliere we 
 stood, and we knew what it meant to be caught on its 
 path ; so wo climbed slowly up the north wall of the 
 canyon, and went down along the edge of it, from 
 which we could see, but indistinctly as yet, into the 
 shadowy land below. 
 
 But the light had come more generously by the time 
 that we were abreast of the first of the three great 
 slides, where the Boss suddenly stopped. 
 
 "Didn't you hear it? " lie asked. 
 
 " No." 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 1 for a few 
 ition of cold 
 e rest of the 
 J in his hand 
 
 lad cut and 
 3 ledge when 
 attached our 
 from habit, 
 ''alk with, I 
 
 tl into the 
 
 I assented, 
 d persuade 
 home, but 
 1 wliere we 
 ght on its 
 all of the 
 f it, from 
 J into the 
 
 J the time 
 ree o^reat 
 
 287 
 
 " Listen, then. There it is ai?ain." 
 
 Surely it was a voice speaking, but it was so faint, 
 and my nerves were so unstrung, that I was hardly surJ 
 of it at first, although when once we were well round the 
 bluff, and directly above the slide, we could hear it 
 distinctly enough, and see too the vast sheet of snow 
 piled in the gorge below. 
 
 " There is no hurry, white man," it was saying, " and 
 it is no good to call. Joe hears you, but the rocks do 
 not hear, nor the snows, and there is nothing else. 
 The other ^^hite men have gone back. They were 
 afraid when the snows began to walk." 
 
 We crept to the edge and peered over, and there, 
 crouching on his knees, staring into space as we had .sJ 
 often seen him, was Siyah Joe. 
 
 It was the old i)lay he was playing. In front of him, 
 at his feet, was the debris of last night's slide, and 
 in It one dark boulder on the far side, a little boulder 
 showing very plainly above tlie piled whiteness ; but 
 there was no one to hear him but ourselves, nor any to 
 answer him. 
 
 ^ " iMad ! " muttered the Boss, " and the next slide 
 will cover him. Look at the far side." 
 
 I looked, and saw how that in places the rock was 
 bare, but great buttresses of snow still hung, as it were, 
 by a thread, from >vhich every minute fresh blocks 
 detached themselves and slid without sound into the 
 valley below. 
 
':i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 ^1 
 
 288 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 " What are we to do ? " asked my comrade ; but 
 before I could answer him the Tahl Tan spoke again. 
 
 " If the Indian were not blind he would come to yon, 
 white man. It would be easy to come and draw you out. 
 " But he is blind, wliite man — blind ! blind ! " 
 
 It seemed almost as if a groan came as an echo 
 from the far side of the canyon, but we saw nothing — 
 nothing moved. 
 
 " Help ! help. For God's sake, help ! " 
 
 There was no mistake that time, at any rate. Tho 
 wild, agonized shriek rang through the gorge, and the 
 horror of it would not be drowned even in the silence 
 of the snows. 
 
 A low laugh came from the Indian. Men of his 
 race rarely laugh, and if that laugh had any mirth 
 in it, it was the mirth of fiends when lost spirits 
 read the inscription on hell's gates — " There is no 
 return." 
 
 " Why does the medicine-man not help himself ? He 
 is strong. He said he would get there in spite of the 
 Great Spirit. Let him push away the snow before 
 the ravens come ; then it will not be lonely." 
 
 He paused for a moment. 
 
 " Poes the white man remember the black birds of 
 Kula Kullah? By-and-by they will come to him. 
 Round and round they fly long time, then one come 
 and look in his eyes and see he live man, strong man. 
 
 Ni 
 
>mrade; bnt 
 
 )oke again. 
 
 come to yon, 
 
 raw you out. 
 
 I!" 
 
 as an echo 
 
 ^ nothinfr— 
 
 rate. The 
 ?e, and the 
 the silence 
 
 ^len of his 
 any mirth 
 fost spirits 
 lere is no 
 
 iself? He 
 )ite of the 
 ow before 
 
 '^ birds of 
 3 to him. 
 one come 
 3ng man. 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 289 
 
 Kula Kullah bird heap fear. By-and-by he come closer. 
 White man no move. Crow come closer, closer. Bill see 
 him look in his eyes again. Then peck, peck-one 
 eye gone ! Peck, peck— two eyes gone ! and Bill see 
 no more— all same Siyah Joe." 
 " Give me life ! For God's sake give me my life ! " 
 It almost seemed as if the cry came from the little 
 black boulder in the snows. 
 
 " Tkve, Tkve-Life, Life ! It is the cry that the 
 Ahts make on the shore in the night. But life is not 
 good for the blind. Can the medicine-man give back 
 the sight he took away ? " 
 " I can ; so help me God, I can." 
 It was the boulder that spoke. 
 " White man's word. Bill." 
 " White man's word, Joe." 
 
 The Indian laughed again ; but he rose to his feet 
 and took his great staff in his hand. 
 
 " Then call, Bill, and Joe will come to you. But call 
 often, for the Indian cannot see ; " and so saying he 
 began to feel his way slowly across the snow. But 
 even to us who watched him, knowing how wonderfully 
 he went without his eyes, it seemed that never man 
 moved as slowly as he did. 
 
 " Joe dig you out, and you give him back his sight, 
 and then we stake the Chicamon Stone. Bill, no come 
 behind with the axe. No, no. AVhite man's word eh 
 Bill? Call again. Bill ! " ' * 
 
 V 
 
290 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 1 s 
 i 
 
 ' 
 
 j 
 
 lil.f 
 
 1 
 
 i: 
 
 1 
 
 ■ i 
 
 1 
 
 \:1 
 
 pi i 
 
 til 
 
 " Here, here ! " 
 
 And this tune there was no mistake about it. The 
 voice came from the boulder, and as we strained our 
 eyes in the growing light, I thought I saw it move. 
 
 « My God ! It is a man's head, Boss ! " 
 
 The head of Joe's dream ! 
 
 In his mad determination to stake the ledge at all 
 costs, the poor fool must have gone to the foot of the 
 slide when the new moon rose, and his own movement 
 possibly at the foot of it had set the snows sliding 
 which had caught him and buried him to the neck, 
 holding him down with the weight of a hundred tons, 
 but leaving him whole, though helpless, to look out 
 into the white world until the ravens or death came 
 to release him. 
 
 Even so he had pledged a white man's word and 
 called on the Creator to witness to his last lie, and it 
 seemed as if God had made the lie seem true to the 
 Tahl Tan. 
 
 '' Here, Joe, here ! " 
 
 " Coming, Bill, coming. Joe is coming." 
 
 The Indian's staff almost touched the boulder. It 
 seemed as if it played round it, and dwelt about it. 
 Surely it must touch it. 
 
 " Joe is coming ; but he is blind, Bill, blind, and 
 cannot see his friend ; " and, slowly fumbling with his 
 staff, the Tahl Tan tvent hy. Then a scream of despair 
 rent the stillness, and a torrent of mad blasphemy 
 
 .rta: 
 
 ,i_! -^A^^■',^Jl£^ - 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 291 
 
 It it. The 
 trained our 
 t move. 
 
 dge at all 
 foot of the 
 movement 
 ws sliding 
 the neck, 
 idred tons, 
 ) look out 
 jath came 
 
 word and 
 lie, and it 
 rue to the 
 
 ilder. It 
 about it. 
 
 lind, and 
 
 with his 
 
 •f despair 
 
 asphemy 
 
 polluted the place. The moase saw that the cat 
 played with him. Bill's last lie had failed him. 
 
 But another saw it too, and, disregarding all risks, 
 the Boss went over the edge and began to scramble 
 down the steep wall of the gorge, I following him, as 
 I Avas always ready to do. I doubt if I have much 
 pluck myself, but he was one of those men who inspire 
 pluck in others, and I should have followed him 
 anywhere. 
 
 The wall was fearfully steep, and our descent utterly 
 reckless, so that stones flew from under our feet, and a 
 regular slide of rock and gravel went rattling before 
 us into the canyon. 
 
 Both those below heard it, and one saw us coming. 
 To him it meant salvation from the very jaws of death, 
 and his wild cry smote us as we dashed to his rescue. 
 But the blind man heard if he did not see, and his 
 ears told him the story not less certainly than Bill's 
 eyes. 
 In a moment he drew himself up rigid, listening. 
 "Quick, quick! Save me! For God's sake save 
 me ! " cried the head at his feet, its poor eyes straining 
 our way, and a voice behind, answered — 
 
 " Yes, Joe save you now ; Joe find you now, quick, 
 «iuick!" and with swift, uneri-ing feet, in startling 
 contrast to his former feigning, the Tahl Tan went to 
 his enemy and stood over him, the huge stake raised 
 in both hands. 
 
292 
 
 THE CHIOAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 II 
 
 U| 
 
 " Listen, white man ! Listen, white devil ! " he hissed. 
 " They are coming. The strong white fools are coming 
 to save you. They spoil blind Indian's play. Such 
 a fine play too : it was a pity it was so short. They 
 are close now — close, close ; do you hear them ? Look 
 up, Bill. Blind Indian find you now. Loolv ! Ach ! 
 Ach ! " And the great stake came down twice with a 
 dull thud in the snow ; but twice it missed its mark bv 
 a hair's-breadth. 
 
 Again it came down, and again it missed, and we 
 were all but there, and the poor wretch had the courage 
 to be mute with help all so close at hand, and murder 
 striking at his helpless head ; when there was a puff of 
 white in the valley, and I, who was the fleeter of the 
 two and in front, was caught in the strong grip of the 
 Boss. 
 
 " Back, Whitehead ! for your life — back ! " and, half 
 dragged by him, half by instinct, I turned almost as 
 I reached those two, and the next moment a cloud 
 of white particles filled the air ; something struck me, 
 but I struggled on ; something struck me again, and 
 I staggered ; and then a wave of white took me to the 
 knees, and a deafening roar filled the whole valley, 
 and it seemed as if a vast snow-shell had exploded in 
 the canyon, and all was sound and movement and 
 whiteness. 
 
 When it ceased I hardly knew whether I lived or 
 
 was dead. I could see and feel, but I could not move. 
 
 m 
 
THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 293 
 
 '"he hissed, 
 are coming 
 >Iay. Such 
 lort. They 
 3m? Look 
 ok I Ach ! 
 vice with a 
 ts mark by 
 
 »cl, and we 
 le courage 
 id murder 
 s a puff of 
 ter of the 
 rip of the 
 
 and, half 
 timost as 
 ' a cloud 
 ruck me, 
 ?ain, and 
 le to the 
 > valley, 
 bded in 
 ent and 
 
 lived or 
 •t move. 
 
 I was dead from the knees down ; but, as good luck 
 would have it, I had all but reached safe ground before 
 the slide caught me, and the Boss had reached it, and 
 before long had me beside him, unhurt, but stunned 
 by the din and the panic. 
 
 " Thank God, the dream is over ! There's the end 
 of it ! " 
 
 I followed his glance into the bottom of the gorge 
 where now there was neither white man nor redskin, 
 only one white chaos of tumbled snow, many feet deep, 
 and above, the bare rock-bed of the slide. 
 
 Higher and higher we climbed upon the side of safety, 
 and as we went the very hillside was dissolving under us; 
 but there was no more snow to come, and, after an hour's 
 rest, we went back to try to dig out our dead. 
 
 But without spades, or an accurate knowledge of 
 the spot at which they lay, we knew that our efforts 
 were hopeless from the first, and, after a day's work, 
 we abandoned it. 
 
 " Let us mark the spot, and leave them. It is our 
 only chance of saving ourselves." 
 
 I was too spent to answer, but I took up the post I 
 had carried and climbed up the bed of the snow-slide. 
 
 " Put a post in there and I will put one in above 
 it, and one on the other side of the gulch, to give us 
 a line if we ever get back," ordered the Boss, and, 
 routing amongst the debris, I found what looked like 
 a soft spot, and drove the post home. 
 
 a 
 
II 
 
 294 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 
 
 I 
 
 ilsi 
 
 
 
 It went in so easily that I stooped to see what I had 
 struck, and there, round the base of my post — my post 
 with the miner's notice upon it — was a riband of dull, 
 yellowish matter not very different from the soiled snow. 
 
 But it was gouge, the soft, decomposed stuff which 
 sometimes lies between a vein and the country rock 
 in which it is embedded ; and this gouge was full 
 of particles which gleamed with the same steady, 
 unchanging glare, no matter from what point you 
 regarded them. 
 
 I was standing upon the price of men's lives — almost 
 the only god that men worship nowadays — the ugly, 
 gleaming metal for which men will give up the spring 
 sunshine, and all that makes life worth living. 
 
 I looked up, and saw that the Boss had set up his 
 stake across the gully. It was in a true line with the 
 lead. We had but one more stake to set, a few words 
 as to date and bearings to add to our miner's notice, 
 and we had, without seeking it at the last, staked 
 Siyah Joe's reef, whilst he and his enemy lay buried 
 at the foot of it. 
 
 * 
 
 M"i; 
 
 if 
 
 \s\ 
 
 There is practically nothing more to tell. The race 
 or the battle is the thing worth doing, and possibly 
 worth recording ; the prize is only a lure to evoke 
 
what I had 
 t — my post 
 nd of dull, 
 oiled snow. 
 Jtuff which 
 mtry rock 
 e was full 
 le steady, 
 point you 
 
 s — almost 
 ■the ugly, 
 he spring 
 
 I' 
 
 iet up his 
 ! with the 
 few words 
 's notice, 
 t, staked 
 ly buried 
 
 THE CHICAMON STONE. 295 
 
 effort ami develop what is in a man. The prize, as 
 lar as I have seen, becomes smaller and more worthless 
 as you draw nearer to it. But I must not be ungrateful. 
 I crawled out, thanks to the Boss, or this would 
 never have been written; thanks, too, to his sober 
 -mty of mmd, I sold out for a comparatively small 
 pnce to the first bidder, and now what money I have 
 » in the Consols. Any one who mentions minin<^ or 
 busmess is shown to the door by my servant with 
 surprising alacrity, and I am able to dwell outside 
 
 dear Mother Nature meant for her children, in sober 
 quiet. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 rhe race 
 possibly 
 evoke 
 
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